Hearing Everyones Story

Char comes into my office with an angry face and stomping. I know she is mad, for my throw pillow she is whomping. I get her settle down, and we share a laugh or two. If Mrs. McLead is around the corner, her ears are blue. Ten seconds after Char is gone, McLead comes storming in. There is a storm in her eyes, nasty in the set of her chin. She gives me her side, and I listen without taking sides. Adding nothing to the story that sounds nothing like Char Guides. A third person enters in the afternoon and tells me what she saw. Her accounting is as farfetched as the other two’s anger was so raw. Now I understand why detectives are confused at every crime scene. None of these tales resemble the one given to me by Jim Green.