Poor Teacher Is Fired from School, Hours Later SUV Picks Her up & Takes Her to a Private Jet – Story of the Day

Linda gets fired from her job and contemplates how to pay for her daughter's expensive medical treatments. Suddenly, an SUV swerves in front of her bus, forcing it to stop. The SUV driver rushes inside and escorts Linda to a private jet to meet his boss.

Linda was as nervous as a fish out of water. Mr. James, the principal of the school she worked in, frowned as he fiddled with some papers, and Linda knew this would be a serious discussion.

"Linda, I heard some serious allegations about you," Mr. James finally broke the silence as Linda stared him in the eye, her heart pounding.

"Did you help one of your students cheat by giving him higher marks in the exam?"

Linda smiled. "Cheating would be a very strong word, Mr. James. I just gave the boy higher marks. Without it, he would've failed the first semester."

"Why on Earth would you do it?" Mr. James crossed his arms.

"Have you ever seen Kyle's records, Mr. James?" Linda replied. "He's consistently scored in the top percentile of his class. But his grades only started dipping after he lost his parents in a car accident."

"Which is very sad...but we can't favor one kid over sympathy."

"Mr. James, Kyle's a bright student. It would be unfair to penalize him after suffering a personal tragedy. He needs some time out of it...and we need to be a little considerate."

"Unfortunately, the faculty doesn't share your sentiments, Linda. I'm sorry...but I'll have to let you go."

"What?? Mr. James...please don't do this. I need this job. My daughter recently underwent a major surgery. I won't easily get another job at my age."

"I'm sorry, Linda. I hate to let you go...but you've left me with no choice. There's an inspection coming up, and if I don't fire you, the school board will start questioning me."

"This is so UNFAIR...Please, have a heart!" Linda teared up. But Mr. James' silence disheartened her. She disappointedly rose from the seat, reaching for the door.

Linda exited the school building carrying her personal items in a cardboard box and boarded a bus. She took an aisle seat and was lost in deep thought about her uncertain future when the woman seated beside her shrieked all of a sudden.

"Jesus...what's that maniac doing?"

Linda snapped out of her thoughts and glanced out the window. A car was overtaking another vehicle in the next lane. It swerved just in time, avoiding a headlong collision with a truck coming from the opposite direction before entering the same road the bus was on.

In split seconds, the brakes squealed with a screeching rumble as the bus suddenly stopped in the middle of the road.

"Are you mad?" the bus driver rose from his seat and barked at the car driver, who climbed onto the bus. "You could've gotten us all killed...stopping in front of me like that!"

"I'm sorry, sir...but I had to make you stop the bus. I urgently need to speak with a passenger," the man said. "I'm looking for a teacher named Linda."

"I'm Linda...what's going on?"

The man approached Linda. "My boss, Mr. Robinson, has been searching for you, Miss Linda. You gotta come with me now."

"Mr. Robinson? I'm sorry...but I don't recognize anyone by that name. I'm not going with you, young man...whatever this is about...."

"Ma'am, this is about your job."

"My job? Jesus...am I getting it back? Is this 'Mr. Robinson' the new chair of the school board or something? Oh, please...let them have changed their mind." Linda's heart raced as she agreed to go with the driver and exited the bus.

Linda got into the SUV and fastened the seatbelt, confused about who Mr. Robinson was.

"Could he be my former student? But I don't recall teaching a Robinson boy."

"I don't know anything, Ma'am. I was only instructed to go to this school and find you," the man looked at Linda in the rearview mirror.

Around 20 minutes later, the SUV sped down the runway at a small airport on the city's outskirts before coming to a screeching halt beside a private jet.

"That's Mr. Robinson!" the driver told Linda, pointing to a man near the jet.

"But I don't recognize him at all," Linda's brows furrowed.

Mr. Robinson opened the car door for Linda and grinned widely at her.

"It's you!" he exclaimed. "Finally...after all these years!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember even meeting you before," Linda said.

"Then you'll be even more shocked to hear that I owe my life and success to you, Linda! That's what the judge told me, at any rate," Mr. Robinson chuckled.

"Alright, let's refresh your memory first. Twenty years ago, you were summoned for jury duty. You served in the trial of a 14-year-old boy accused of murdering his father, remember?"

"That's true. But what does it have to do with you?" Linda's eyes widened in disbelief as she looked closely at Mr. Robinson.

"Oh my God...It's you!"

20 years ago...

A bailiff escorted Linda as she joined eleven other jurors in the jury room.

"Okay, we all know how this works," the jury foreman addressed the gathering. "This is a murder trial that needs a unanimous verdict."

"Yes, yes, you don't have to repeat everything the judge just said," Juror Twelve said. "It's clear the boy did it...so let's just wind this up soon. Everyone who thinks the boy is guilty of murdering his father, raise your hand."

All the jurors raised their hands except Linda.

"Are you kidding me?" Juror Two asked Linda. "That boy is guilty."

"Maybe...but we were told not to vote guilty if we had a reasonable doubt."

"Reasonable doubt? There are two witnesses, lady! The old man downstairs heard the boy threaten his dad, heard the body falling, and the boy's footsteps as he fled. The woman in the tenement across from them saw the stabbing. What more do we need now?"

"I'm not sure. But I feel we're still missing out on something."

"If you're so determined to waste everyone else's time, let me remind you of the facts of this case," Twelve snorted.

"One, this kid has had several run-ins with the law before. Two, the pawnshop dealer recognized the knife as the same one the boy bought from him earlier that day. We all saw that it's a pretty unique knife too...the only one of its kind the pawnshop dealer has ever seen."

"And lastly, we have eyewitnesses...the older man downstairs and the lady across the street. So why waste time chatting about it when everything points to just one thing: that the boy is guilty?"

"Because of this!" Linda pulled out a knife resembling the murder weapon.

"Where'd you get that? It's crucial evidence," the foreman was alarmed.

"Thanks for proving my point! I bought this replica from a store two blocks from the boy's house. Maybe the murder weapon isn't so unique after all," Linda replied.

"So what...it was still the boy's knife that was found in his father's chest," Juror Two argued.

"But he said it fell from his pocket earlier that evening...anyone could've picked it up."

"And stabbed his father? Yeah, right!" Two pulled a face.

"Not likely...but it's possible," Linda glanced around the table. "There are too many questions the defense lawyer didn't pursue in cross-examination. Now it's up to us to figure it out."

"Can I see that knife?" Juror Eight asked Linda.

Linda passed the knife down the table as Eight examined it closely. "It's almost like the murder weapon. Guess the pawnshop owner was wrong about its uniqueness."

"So let's vote again," Linda declared. "Most of you are upset with me for not voting guilty. So, I'll abstain from this vote. If everyone is in favor of a guilty verdict, I'll change my vote. But if someone else votes for acquittal, we discuss this further."

"Guilty, guilty, guilty...wait," the foreman paused at the last vote, frowning. "Not guilty!"

"Oh, come on!" Juror Two slammed his palm on the table. "One of you changed your vote after seeing that knife replica? The woman saw the kid stab his father with that knife!"

"She saw through the windows of a passing train," Linda interrupted.

"What's the point?" Two argued.

"The train! Didn't the old man say he heard the boy threaten his father...and the sound of the body falling to the floor? And the footsteps? How could he hear anything clearly if the train was passing around the same time the old lady saw the kid stab his father? The train would've been too loud."

"Fine, maybe the old man didn't hear clearly," Twelve said. "...he still said he rushed to the door in fifteen seconds and saw the kid fleeing the spot after murdering his father."

"But how?" Linda asked. "That old man walks with a cane and needs help to get to the stand. Wait, let's practically test this using the layout of the floor plan for the apartment that was admitted into evidence."

"Start timing me!" Linda said as she mimicked the way she'd seen the older man walk in court.

"What's my time?" Linda asked, reaching the end of the route.

"Twenty-eight seconds!" Juror Five replied. "Even if all this is guesswork, there's still no way he would've reached the door so fast to see the boy in the stairwell."

"I've had enough of this!" Two rose from his chair. "Are you people out of your mind...going over these minor details like they make a difference?"

"He's right," Twelve added. "And don't forget this kid has a proven record of violence. He's just like every other miscreant from the slums. Violence is their first language...."

"Excuse me?" Juror Nine yelled. "I grew up in a tenement. Do I look like a thug to you?"

Everyone stared at Nine, a man in a crisp suit with a buzz cut and glasses.

"Hang on, Juror Nine. May I ask you a question?" Linda raised an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"Do you remove your glasses when you wash your face?"

"This woman is crazy," Two frowned. "What does Nine removing his glasses while washing his face have anything to do with this murder case that's gnawing at our brains now?"

"It does!" Linda replied.

"The woman said she was washing up when she saw the boy stab his father through the bathroom window...she was wearing glasses when she appeared in court, remember?"

"Yeah, so what are you trying to prove here?" Two asked.

"How could she have seen the boy clearly through the train window when she wasn't wearing her glasses while washing up?"

The jurors exchanged awkward glances. Soon, they changed their votes to 'not guilty,' except for Juror Twelve.

"There's an easy way to fix this problem," he said. "Why not declare a hung jury? The case will be passed on to a different jury who will send this kid to jail...which is where he belongs."

"Why are you still so convinced he's guilty?" Linda argued.

"The woman testified that she saw the murder. Glasses or not, she must've been pretty certain," Twelve replied.

"Do you think she'll testify the same if the defense lawyer brought up her glasses in cross-examination?" Linda asked.

"I don't know!"

"Exactly! Nobody's playing lawyer here, Juror Twelve. But we need to ensure justice is served. This boy's future depends on us now. I don't know if he's guilty... But there are holes in the prosecution's argument. The legal system failed to provide this boy with an adequate defense lawyer...do you at least acknowledge that?"

"Yeah...I guess," Twelve sighed.

"The witnesses were the backbone of this case...but if neither of their testimonies can be trusted, then...." Juror Two leaned back in his seat.

"The kid killed his father. He doesn't deserve to go free," Twelve nodded.

"But did he really kill his father?"

Twelve remained silent as everyone stared at him. After a momentous pause, he looked up at the jurors.

"Not guilty!"

"We're now unanimous!" Linda exclaimed. "But whether the boy murdered his father or not, somebody must answer for this crime. And I propose we present our doubts to the judge...do the rest of you agree?"

Present day...

"Thanks to you...the case was reopened," Mr. Robinson told Linda. "Investigation later revealed that our downstairs neighbor's son killed my dad. Turned out Dad had an affair with the guy's wife. He found the knife that fell from my pocket and went to confront my Dad...I think you can guess what happened next."

"I'm so sorry..." Linda said.

"When I was acquitted, it was like I got a second chance in life...and I promised myself I wouldn't let it go to waste," Mr. Robinson said.

"It certainly looks like you kept that promise!" Linda smiled at seeing the jet's luxurious interiors.

"Thanks to you. I would've had a very different life if you didn't stand up for me, Linda. You looked out for me when nobody else did. Now I want to repay you."

"Repay me? What on earth do you mean?"

"It took a long time to track you down. And when I finally found the school you worked at and called this morning, they told me you were fired. Their loss! From now onward, you don't have to worry about work, rent, or anything. It's time you lived for yourself."

Linda smiled as tears gushed into her eyes. "That's very kind of you. But I can't live for myself until my daughter is back on her feet. She had to have surgery recently...."

"Say no more, Linda. Money can't fix all of life's problems. But I'll gladly pay for your daughter's treatments. Just let me know where she is."

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