CHAPTER THREE
The meeting room was dimly lit, designed more like a private cinema than an academic boardroom. Its soundproof walls, plush seating, and deep mahogany finish gave it an air of secrecy — a fitting place for whatever words were about to be spoken within.
Every professional lecturer, every PhD holder employed by the college, sat in hushed anticipation. Low murmurs floated between colleagues as they questioned one another under their breath, each wondering what the sudden meeting could mean. The air was thick with speculation.
Moments later, the large double doors swung open. Conversation died instantly.
Through the doors entered Doctor Janet, the Vice Chancellor, followed by the President, Vice President, and Deputy Vice Chancellor. The sight of all four together in the same room was rare — and serious.
The President and Vice President were not mere figureheads. They were the founders and principal shareholders of Truth and Justice College, the very individuals responsible for appointing both the Vice Chancellor and her deputy.
A dark-skinned professor whispered under her breath, "Now this looks serious."
The four senior figures took their seats at the front of the room, though the President remained standing. Clutching an iPad, he stepped up to the small podium.
"Good evening, everyone," he began, his voice calm but commanding. He placed the iPad on the stool beside him, adjusted his tie, and surveyed the silent room.
"I know it's late," he continued, "but I appreciate your attendance on such short notice. I'm sure most of you already have an idea why we're gathered here."
He opened a sleek leather glasses case, removed his reading glasses, and slipped them on before sighing softly.
"This meeting concerns the incident that occurred earlier today. Thankfully, it hasn't escalated into a murder case — not yet, at least."
The words hung in the air like a heavy curtain.
"Does anyone here know the victim personally?" he asked, scrolling through something on his iPad.
"I do," came a calm voice from among the seated professors. It was Professor Muslimat, a chocolate-skinned woman wearing a neatly wrapped hijab. She raised her hand confidently.
"Ah, Professor Muslimat," the President acknowledged, nodding. "I understand she lives next door to you, is that correct?"
"Yes, she does," Muslimat replied, standing to address the room.
"Have you ever noticed whether she was bullied? Or if she's come home injured in the past?" he asked.
"I can't say I've ever seen her being bullied," Professor Muslimat replied thoughtfully. "But yes, she has returned home injured once or twice — though from what I recall, it wasn't related to anything that happened here in school."
"I see. Thank you for clarifying," said the President — Doctor Michael-son — with a respectful nod. Muslimat returned to her seat.
"So," he continued, addressing the room again, "no one else has witnessed any form of bullying directed at the victim?"
Silence.
"Very well. I'll take that as a no. That means this may have been an unfortunate coincidence rather than an ongoing problem."
He looked back down at his iPad, swiping through several clips. "Unfortunately, there are no security cameras installed on the rooftop itself — an oversight that will be corrected immediately — but there is a camera on the stairway leading up to the roof. I've been reviewing the footage, and I've noticed a familiar face."
He gestured to one of the technicians at his side. "Please, connect this to the projector."
A few moments later, the large screen at the front of the room flickered to life. The video played, showing a few students ascending the stairway minutes before the incident.
"As you can see," said Doctor Michael-son, "these are the students who accessed the rooftop shortly before the fall." He paused the video and tapped his screen again. "I've also taken screenshots of each individual captured in the footage."
Images appeared on the projection, showing several students' faces.
"Does anyone recognise any of them?" he asked, scanning the room.
A hand went up from one of the professors. "I recognise one, sir."
The President leaned slightly forward. "Who?"
"Doctor Stones's son."
A low murmur rippled through the room.
"Yes," Doctor Michael-son said, glancing at the screen. "That's the only familiar face I can make out as well — the Director of Law's son."
All eyes turned towards Doctor Stones, whose expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief. He glanced briefly at Professor Clement, as if seeking some kind of explanation, before facing the President again.
"What exactly are you suggesting my son was doing there?" he asked slowly.
Doctor Michael-son fixed him with a measured look. "That's precisely what I intend to find out. Tell me, do you know what class your son was supposed to be attending at the time?"
"Yes," Stones replied confidently. "He had Criminology."
"Ah," said Michael-son, glancing at his secretary, who had been standing quietly beside him.
"Sir," the secretary interjected, "I've checked the timetable — Professor Hansel didn't conduct his Criminology class at that hour."
The President turned to face Hansel directly. "Is that true, Professor Hansel?"
Hansel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes, sir. I… I was occupied with other matters today. I didn't take the class."
"Occupied?" Michael-son repeated, his tone sharp. "Too occupied to attend to final-year students? The very ones who will become the next generation of detectives and legal scholars?"
Hansel swallowed hard. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
The President waved the apology aside. "See that it doesn't." Then, turning back to Stones, he continued, "Well, Doctor Stones, it seems your son had the opportunity — if not the motive — to be at the scene. That places him among the prime suspects."
The room erupted into murmurs, some shocked, others sceptical. Professors leaned towards one another, whispering rapidly.
Doctor Stones clenched his jaw. "With all due respect, you can't accuse my son without evidence," he said firmly.
Michael-son gave a half-smile. "You're right. I'm not accusing him — merely stating facts. He'll be among those questioned. Nothing more… for now."
"I understand," Stones said quietly, though his hands were tightly balled into fists.
"Good," the President replied, returning his focus to the iPad. "Now, before we proceed, does anyone have a suggestion or addition regarding how to handle this matter?"
Professor Kate, seated towards the back, raised her hand. "Sir, what about the social media coverage? Truth and Justice College is one of the most prestigious institutions in the state — and among the top ten globally. Once the story breaks, it'll spread like wildfire. We should get ahead of it."
"A valid point," Michael-son said with approval. "We've already discussed it with the Vice President, Vice Chancellor, and Deputy Chancellor. Fortunately, we have someone within the upper division of Mass Communications who can help suppress the story before it escalates." He smiled reassuringly. "We'll keep it contained."
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room.
For the remainder of the meeting, the discussion centred on crisis management — how to prevent the scandal from damaging the school's reputation, how to assist Mariam's family, and how to ensure tighter security measures across the campus.
As the clock neared seven, the President finally closed his iPad and stood. "Thank you all for your time. Until we have more evidence, we'll treat this as an unfortunate accident — but rest assured, we'll uncover the truth."