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I did not stand in front of cameras, did not shout questions outside courthouses, did not pretend a microphone made me braver than everyone else.
My work happened in archives, in call logs, in deleted metadata, in the quiet spaces between public claims and private records
That was why the call came at 12:43 a.m.
I was sitting at my kitchen table with cold coffee and an open laptop when my phone lit up with the name Lydia Voss.
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