I Was Clinically Dead For 90 Seconds Because My Teacher Thought My Epilepsy Was A “Trend.” My Friend Didn’t Survive, And The School Is Trying To Cover It Up. We Just Leaked The Security Footage. Is This Enough To Put Her In Jail?

The Walkout

The next morning, Principal Penn’s voice crackled over the PA system during homeroom and everyone stopped writing to listen. She cleared her throat twice before speaking and I could tell from her tone she was reading from something prepared.

“Any student participating in walkouts or protests during school hours would face automatic suspension and removal from all extracurricular activities, effective immediately.”

The room went silent and I saw kids exchanging looks across the aisles. My hands started shaking because I knew what this meant for our plans. We’d been talking about organizing something bigger than just collecting evidence, and now they were trying to scare us into staying quiet. The announcement went on for another minute about maintaining order and respecting the learning environment, but I stopped listening and started texting under my desk. Within five minutes our group chat had 40 messages all saying the same thing: we were doing it anyway.

Third period was when we planned it and nothing was going to stop us now. Not after what happened to David. The bell rang and I grabbed my stuff and headed to English, trying to look normal even though my heart was pounding. In the hallway I passed three security guards I’d never seen before standing by the main entrance. They were watching everyone and writing things down on clipboards. Two more were stationed by the side exits. The message was clear, but it just made me angrier.

Second period dragged on forever and I kept checking the clock every two minutes. The teacher was talking about symbolism in some book, but I couldn’t focus on anything except what was about to happen. Finally, the bell rang for third period and I stood up with everyone else. But instead of going to class, I turned toward the main entrance.

Emily was already there with Illy and Malik and about 10 other kids. More were coming down the hallway from different directions. The security guard stepped forward blocking the doors, but we kept walking. One of them started saying something about consequences, but 40 kids pushing forward was more than three guards could handle. We pushed through the doors and out into the parking lot where more students were already gathering. Some teachers stood in their doorways watching, but nobody tried to stop us. A few even nodded slightly as we passed.

We walked to the front lawn and stood there in a group, not chanting or holding signs, just standing together in silence for David. Cars driving by started honking and some people took pictures with their phones. After 20 minutes, we walked back inside and went to our classes like nothing happened. By the end of the day, there were yellow detention slips stuffed in all our lockers with dates and times written in red pen. Mine was for every day after school for two weeks.

Social Media Warfare

That night Walsh decided to make everything worse by posting an old video on social media from a family barbecue three years ago. In the video I was laughing at something my uncle said and playing cornhole in the backyard, looking completely normal and happy. He captioned it saying,

“This proved I’d always been fine and just played up my condition for attention when it was convenient.”

The betrayal hit harder than anything because he was using our shared memories as weapons. He knew that video was from a good day between seizures, but he made it look like evidence I was faking.

I’m curious why the detective kept using “alleged” when there’s a death certificate right there on his desk. What exactly needs more investigation when someone’s already gone? The way David’s parents need $130,000 for medical bills while the school gives Miss Blackwood paid leave feels like there’s something really twisted about these priorities.

Within an hour it had 200 shares and the comments were brutal. People calling me a liar and saying David’s death was my fault for creating drama. I threw my phone across the room and heard the screen crack against the wall.

The next morning Darren found Walsh by his locker before first period, and I heard about it from three different people before I even got to the school. Darren grabbed Walsh’s shirt and slammed him back into the metal lockers hard enough that everyone in the hallway heard it. Walsh tried to say something, but Darren shoved him again and his head hit the combination lock on the locker behind him. Two teachers came running and pulled them apart, but not before Darren got one more push in that sent Walsh’s books flying everywhere. They both got marched to the office and by lunch they both had three-day suspensions. Darren’s mom had to leave work to pick him up and I felt sick knowing his protective instinct was costing him his education. He texted me that night saying it was worth it, but I knew his parents were furious.

Breaking the Silence

Three days later, I finally agreed to do the interview with a student journalist after saying no five times. We met in an empty classroom after school and I set clear boundaries about what I would and wouldn’t discuss. No questions about my family or medical history before the incident. No speculation about blame. Just facts about what happened that day. My voice shook the entire time and I had to stop twice to drink water because my mouth went completely dry.

She asked about the strobe lights and I described the feeling of my brain misfiring. She asked about the locked door and I explained how trapped we felt. She asked about David and I couldn’t speak for almost a minute. When it was over I felt empty and exhausted, but at least I’d said it out loud to someone who would write it down.

The article went online that night on the school paper website and within two hours the comment section exploded. Half the people supported us and shared their own stories about teachers ignoring medical conditions. The other half called us hysterical attention seekers looking for someone to blame for a tragedy. One comment said David’s death was just unfortunate timing and we were using it to attack a good teacher. Another said we were drama queens making everything about ourselves. Reading strangers debate whether David’s death was preventable made me run to the bathroom and throw up. My mom found me on the bathroom floor 20 minutes later sobbing.