I’m Being Charged With Threatening A Coworker In The Office. I’ve Been On Medical Leave In Another

They found a burner phone with a call log showing texts sent to Olivia’s number on the dates she’d reported receiving threatening messages. Most damningly, they found a journal.

Keith had been documenting his plan for months. The first entry was dated July 15th, about a month after he’d started at Cascade:

“Saw Nathan’s name on the company directory today. He works here. Same company, different floor. He has no idea I’m here. After all these years, fate has brought us back together. He took Stephanie from me. He always took everything. Always the golden boy. Always the one girls wanted. He ruined my college experience. Made me feel like a second-choice friend. It’s time he understood what that feels like. It’s time he lost something, too.”

The entries continued, detailing Keith’s growing obsession. He’d researched my life, my work, and my routines.

He’d planned to destroy my reputation, my career, and my freedom. When I’d had the motorcycle accident in October, Keith had seen an opportunity.

With me out of the office, he could act without risk of being seen with me and his impersonation being obvious.

He’d chosen Olivia almost at random. She was new to the company, wouldn’t have known me personally, and, according to Keith’s journal, she reminded him of Stephanie.

The harassment campaign had been about making me look like a stalker, a predator—someone whose life would be destroyed by allegations alone.

On February 18th, Keith Brennan was arrested and charged with stalking, harassment, criminal impersonation, identity theft, and making false statements to police. The charges against me were formally dropped.

Lang called me with the news and I sat in Rebecca’s living room staring at my phone, unable to process that it was actually over.

“Nathan, you’re clear. The DA issued a formal apology. Cascade Analytics is being notified that the charges were false. Your suspension should be lifted.”

I should have felt relief; instead, I felt numb. My reputation had been destroyed.

My colleagues believed I was a stalker. My name had been in police reports and in court documents.

Even with the charges dropped, some people would always wonder if I’d somehow gotten away with it.

“What happens to Keith?”

I asked. Lang was quiet for a moment.

“He’s facing significant prison time. The stalking and harassment charges alone could mean years. Add in the identity theft and false statements—he’s looking at a minimum of 5 years, possibly up to 10.”

I thought about my old friend, the person I’d lived with and trusted, who’d spent months planning my destruction over a woman from a decade ago. The waste of it all was staggering.

Closure and Aftermath

On February 22nd, I spoke with Olivia Kent for the first time. She’d requested to meet me through Detective Reigns, wanting to apologize in person.

We met at a coffee shop near Cascade’s office with Reigns present as a neutral party. Olivia was smaller than I’d expected, fragile-looking in a way that made the terror she’d experienced feel even more real.

She sat across from me with her hands wrapped around a coffee cup, not drinking, just holding it for warmth.

“Mr. Cross, I don’t know what to say. I was so sure it was you. The emails came from your account. The person looked like you. I never questioned that it was anyone else. I’m so sorry for what I put you through.”

I looked at this young woman who’d been victimized and manipulated, who’d believed she was protecting herself by reporting me, and who’d had no way of knowing she was being used as a weapon in someone else’s vendetta.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

I said.

“You were terrorized by someone who went to great lengths to make you think I was responsible. You did everything right. You reported it. You protected yourself. You trusted the evidence you had. None of this is your fault.”

Olivia’s eyes filled with tears.

“But your life was destroyed. Your job, your reputation—”

“Can be rebuilt.”

I interrupted gently.

“You were genuinely in danger. Keith’s obsession was real. If you’d ignored the threats and stayed quiet, something worse could have happened. You did what you had to do.”

Reigns added:

“Ms. Kent, you were a victim of a sophisticated scheme. Mr. Brennan used you to hurt Mr. Cross. Neither of you is responsible for his actions.”

We talked for another 20 minutes. Olivia described the fear she’d lived with, the hypervigilance, and the constant looking over her shoulder.

I described the helplessness of being accused from 1500 miles away, unable to defend myself, watching my life crumble.

There was something cathartic about sharing our experiences—two people who’d been collateral damage in Keith Brennan’s decade-old grudge.

When we parted, Olivia hugged me briefly.

“Thank you for understanding. I hope you can rebuild your life.”

I returned to Seattle in early March, medically cleared to travel and walk without crutches. My leg still ached—probably would for years—but I was mobile.

Cascade Analytics offered to reinstate me with back pay and a formal apology. Douglas Hampton, the HR director, met with me personally to explain that the company took full responsibility for not thoroughly investigating before suspending me.

They offered me a settlement: $60,000 in addition to back pay to avoid a wrongful termination lawsuit. I took the settlement and gave my notice the same day.

I couldn’t work there anymore. Every hallway, every breakroom would remind me of Keith’s campaign to destroy me.

I needed a fresh start. I used part of the settlement to pay off Lang’s legal fees and put the rest in savings.

Starting Over

Within a month, I’d accepted a software development position at a startup in Portland, Oregon. It was a smaller company with a better culture and no ghosts from my past.

Keith Brennan’s trial was scheduled for June. The evidence against him was overwhelming and his attorney advised him to take a plea deal.

He pleaded guilty to all charges in exchange for a reduced sentence of 7 years in prison. I attended the sentencing hearing, sitting in the back of the courtroom.

I watched my former friend stand before a judge and accept responsibility for what he’d done. The judge asked if he had anything to say.

Keith turned slightly, his eyes finding mine in the gallery.

“I’m sorry.”

He said, his voice barely audible.

“I was angry for so long—about Stephanie, about feeling like you never valued our friendship, about always being in your shadow. But none of that justifies what I did. I hurt Olivia. I hurt you. I hurt everyone who trusted me. I’m sorry.”

The apology felt hollow—too little and too late. But as I sat there watching him be led away in handcuffs, I realized I felt something unexpected: pity.

Keith had wasted years of his life nursing a grudge over a college relationship that had meant nothing in the long run. He destroyed his own future because he couldn’t let go of old resentments.

I left the courtroom and drove to the cemetery where my father was buried. I sat by his grave—something I hadn’t done since the funeral 3 years ago—and told him everything: about the accident, the accusations, the investigation, Keith’s arrest.