story
Volume 35, Number 3

Fallacy

Sarah M. Prindle

Ohio
May 2024

Monica Stuart was pleasantly surprised when she knocked on her boyfriend’s door and he actually answered it. “Hi, Tad! Can I come in?”

Tad’s face brightened when he realized who it was, and he grinned. “Yeah, sure.” He stepped back to let her in.

This was unusual. Lately she’d barely been able to pry him away from his computer long enough to have a nice, long chat. In fact, she’d seen a lot less of him in the past four months, and even then, he’d seemed distracted and snappish.

As Monica took a seat on the small sofa in Tad’s duplex, she was glad to notice that his unfriendly roommate, Steven, didn’t seem to be around. Tad took a seat next to her, and Monica pushed her long brown ponytail back over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied her boyfriend.

Tad was a handsome young man with blond hair and light brown eyes. His eighteenth birthday was six months ago, and now he was looking forward to his high school graduation. Their high school graduation. “How have you been?” Monica asked.

“I’m doing okay.” Tad shrugged. “Not a lot to report. What about you?”

“I’ve got some good news,” Monica smiled and took Tad’s hand. “I’m no longer on the waitlist. I’ll be going to OSU in the fall.”

“Congratulations, Monica,” Tad beamed and kissed her lips. She kissed him back, pleased to be getting more attention from him. “I knew you’d get in.”

I didn’t. God, when I was told I was wait-listed, I thought I was screwed!”

Something in Tad’s eyes darkened. “Well, at least they accepted you. That’s not so easy with all the diversity let-ins nowadays.”

At first, Monica wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She stared at her boyfriend in disbelief. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

“You know, they’re letting in all these minorities just to fill the diversity quotas. So, whites like us are left out.”

There was a shocked silence. Whites like us? “I can’t believe you just said that,” Monica burst out.

Tad snorted. “I bet your friend Tiana got in without hassle.”

Was he implying that Tiana had gotten accepted only because she was black? “That has nothing to do with her skin color. Tiana has a 4.0 GPA. She’s salutatorian, for heaven’s sake! If that’s not good enough for college, then what is?” Monica suddenly had a realization. “Tad… did you get rejections from the colleges you applied to?”

The grimace on her boyfriend’s face told her the answer. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Monica couldn’t say she was too surprised, Tad had always struggled in school. She felt for him. But she wouldn’t accept his meanness. “Look,” Monica tried to speak in a calming manner, “I’m sorry you got rejected. That really sucks. But there’s no need to say that stuff about Tiana—or anyone else.”

Tad got to his feet; his arms clenched at his sides. “That’s easy for you to say. But I’m serious. Whites are being kept out of schools and jobs. We’re being replaced with migrants. It’s an invasion and you don’t even know about it.”

As Monica stared at Tad in open-mouthed shock, she had another realization, a worse one. “Is that why you’ve been on the computer so much lately? Have you been reading this racist crap online?”

She had heard all the news stories about hate groups, about the spread of lies and misinformation online, but it had all seemed so distant, happening to other people. But now? This was Tad, this was her boyfriend, who was saying these awful things.

He confirmed her suspicions with a defensive, “So what if I am? There are lots of people who think like me. We’re sick of being stepped on.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. You’ve never had a problem with minorities before. You like Tiana, remember? She came to your birthday party six months ago.” But that had been before he’d gotten so wrapped up in his computer and the lies he’d found there. Had he really changed so much since then?

Tad’s eyebrows narrowed. “Well, I won’t be inviting her over again, I’ll tell you that!”

As Monica glanced around, she noticed for the first time that the gift Tiana had given Tad on his birthday, a small ceramic figurine shaped like a greyhound—Tad’s favorite type of dog—was nowhere to be seen. She had the sinking feeling that he’d gotten rid of it.

Monica held up both hands, rising from the sofa. “I can’t listen to this. You need to snap out of it, Tad. It’s not Tiana’s fault you didn’t get into college.”

“Fine, side with them! You’ll see, though. They’re trying to replace us, to take over the country, to…”

Monica didn’t hear the rest as she stormed out and slammed the front door behind her.

*

How can Tad believe that stuff? How could he have changed so much in a matter of months? What happened to the fun-loving, easy-going guy I fell in love with? He hadn’t seemed like Tad at all—more like a crazy stranger she’d bumped into on the street.

“Are you okay, Monica?” Tiana asked from across the booth in the café, pausing to sip her milkshake. “You look upset about something.”

How could Monica tell Tiana what Tad had said? She didn’t want to hurt her friend, but she couldn’t lie to her either. “I went to see Tad,” Monica finally replied.

“Did you two have a fight?”

“Yes. And it was one I never saw coming.” Slowly, Monica filled Tiana in on the rest of it, trying to soften the words as much as she could. But could anyone ever soften hate?

Tiana’s dark eyes flashed from shock to a mixture of anger and hurt. “Tad said all that? Really?” When Monica nodded, Tiana sank back in her seat. “I never would have expected that from him.”

“Me neither. He was like a different person.” They were silent for a minute. “I’m sorry, Tiana.”

“It’s not your fault. If anyone should apologize, it’s him. What are you going to do now? Are you going to break up with him?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, I was too shocked.” Monica chewed her lip, staring at her half-eaten hamburger. “If I could just get through to him… snap him out of it somehow.”

Tiana sighed. “Monica, I know you won’t want to hear this, but something’s very wrong with Tad. You’d be safer by staying away from him.”

“Tad wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Everyone says that about people they know.”

That was true. How many families had been devastated to discover their loved ones were serial killers or rapists? But this was Tad; he wasn’t a serial killer or a rapist. Somewhere inside him was the man she’d loved. She had to find a way to get him back. “I need to talk to him again, try to make him see sense, before I do anything else.”

Tiana sighed again and glanced down at the crossword puzzle in front of her. “Here’s the clue for number four across: a false notion, an erroneous belief based on false information. Seven letters. Starts with F.”

Monica listened, wondering what Tiana meant. Her friend had a habit of talking in riddles when she was trying to make a point.

“Fallacy.” Tiana scribbled the word down onto the paper, then looked at Monica.

“I get it, that Tad’s believing in false things,” Monica said.

“That’s true, but I meant you. Believing that you can change Tad’s mind is the fallacy.” Tiana folded the newspaper and put it down. Her eyes softened a bit as she looked at her friend. “Don’t you remember? I thought I could change my boyfriend, too, once he started getting mean and controlling. But you told me to leave him, that he had to want to change. I couldn’t do it for him. The same thing applies now.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Monica admitted. “I just…I don’t want to give up on Tad without a fight.”

“He won’t accept your help.”

“Maybe not. But I have to try.”

“Just be careful. Don’t be alone with him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” She paused, then added, “He could drag you into this stuff, too.”

Monica leaned over and touched Tiana’s hand. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Tad would probably have said that once, too.” She squeezed Monica’s hand. “Be careful.

*

That evening, Monica headed back to Tad’s duplex. She ran through her mind all the things she could say and all the facts she could tell him. Surely something would get through to him. He hadn’t been raised as a racist, it had started recently. If she could just get him to remember who he was before he started reading all that crap online, get him to be the man she’d known…

There was no answer to Monica’s knock. Tad and his roommate must be out with friends. Monica knelt and checked under a loose floorboard for the spare key. With it in hand, she unlocked the door and went inside to wait. Monica took a seat on the same sofa she’d sat upon earlier, her legs jiggling impatiently.

Unable to sit still for more than a couple minutes, Monica finally got to her feet again and began to wander around the duplex. She kept an eye out for the greyhound figurine, hoping to see it somewhere, but there was no sign of it. She meandered through the kitchen and into the back, where there were two bedrooms. Monica had been here before and knew which one was Tad’s, and as if pulled by an unseen force, she found herself headed there.

Tad’s room was notoriously messy, and she was somewhat relieved to see it still was. There was still the old Tad in there somewhere, after all. She picked her way among the strewn clothes, the fast-food wrappers and approached the desk.

Monica frowned as she looked at the computer, the conduit that had opened Tad up to horrible lies and hateful screeds. She was half-tempted to smash it, but she kept her cool.

With nothing to do but wait for Tad, Monica found herself snooping around. She opened the closet in Tad’s room and grimaced at the sight of clothes tossed into a pile. She was about to close the door again, when she noticed an odd shape in the back, something long.

Monica turned on the closet light and froze in her tracks.

A gun. An assault rifle.

That’s impossible. Tad doesn’t own a gun.

But there it was, right in front of her. The proof was undeniable.

Then, she noticed a packet of papers sticking out from under the clothes pile. Monica crouched down and picked it up. Her blood turned to ice when she saw what it was. The top sheet was a hand-drawn map of a building, with exits labeled clearly and different rooms marked. In the biggest room were several horizontal lines labeled pews. This was a map of a church. Why would Tad, the world’s biggest atheist, have a map of a church?

Also in the packet was information about a local church. Monica recognized it as the one Tiana went to. Someone had highlighted the days and hours of their services. To Monica’s horror, the date of the upcoming church social, one week away, was circled in red.

The last few pages in the packet were labeled Manifesto. Monica’s eyes took in the terrible words. “Race war.” “Replacement theory.” “White pride.” “Killing.” “Shooting.”

And at the bottom were signed two names. One was Steven, Tad’s roommate.

The other was Tad.

Everything came together with terrifying clarity. Tad and Steven were deeper into this rabbit hole than she’d ever imagined possible. They hated minorities and planned to shoot up a church that was located in a mainly black neighborhood. Tiana’s neighborhood. They were going to attack during the upcoming church social in one week.

With shaking hands, Monica put the papers back where she found them and closed the closet door. She had to get out of here. Tiana had been right. Saving Tad from himself was a fallacy, one she’d desperately wanted to believe in. But she no longer could, not after what she’d seen.

Monica started to head for the bedroom door, when she heard the front door opening. Terror shot through her like a lightning bolt. If Tad and Steven saw her here, if they figured out that she’d seen something, what would they do to her? Acting on instinct, Monica dove beneath Tad’s bed.

She could hear Tad and Steven talking in the other part of the house. At first, it was just about their friends and an action movie they’d seen, such normal subjects. But as their voices neared the bedroom, their conversation shifted.

“Did you do more reconnaissance?” Tad asked.

“Yeah, nothing new to report. I don’t think they have any idea they’re about to be targeted.”

“Good. We don’t want them catching wind of this and upping security.”

Monica closed her eyes and mentally started praying. Praying she’d escape from this house alive and get the chance to warn the police. She knew, without a doubt, that was what she must do now. Tad couldn’t be allowed to carry out his plan. As much as she loved him—or loved the man he used to be—Monica couldn’t stand by and let innocent people be hurt.

There had been too many shootings and hate crimes already, there didn’t need to be another one.

“So, you had a fight with Monica today?” Steven sounded like he was right outside the bedroom. “What happened?”

“I tried to tell her about what’s going on in this country, but she reacted how I expected.” Tad sounded annoyed, as if Monica were a silly airhead for disagreeing with him. “She’s too woke. She didn’t listen to anything I said.”

Monica gritted her teeth.

“You didn’t say anything about what we’re—”

“God, no! I love Monica, but she’s a sheep, like the rest of them.”

Monica’s heart twisted. A part of Tad still loved her after all. But she had to face it—he was no longer the man she’d fallen in love with.

He had become someone else entirely.

The men’s voices faded as they went to another part of the house. Monica stayed where she was, silent, until she heard the front door open and close. Then, a car engine started up, then faded into the distance.

Was it safe to come out yet? Were both Tad and Steven gone, or was one of them still in the duplex? Would she have to stay under here all night and wait to escape until tomorrow morning? Or should she risk leaving now?

Keeping her ears perked, Monica carefully slid out from under the bed. Rising to her feet, she tiptoed across the room and listened at the door. No sound. But one of them could still be out there. Monica crept away from the door and over to the window that led to the side of the house.

Her heart pounded as she turned the lock and lifted the window inch by inch. She paused a couple times, listening for any sound, then slipped through the window and onto the grass outside. Closing the window behind her, Monica bolted for the sidewalk.

It was getting darker; the sunset streaked the sky with shades of orange and pink and yellow. She kept an eye out for Tad or Steven’s car as she fled towards the center of town, ready to dive behind a tree or parked car if she saw them coming. But she saw no one and made it to Main Street safely.

A few minutes later, Monica walked into police headquarters, panting from being out of breath. A female officer in uniform looked up from the front desk. “Can I help you, Miss?”

Monica swallowed hard and mentally bade farewell to the Tad she had once known. “I need to report that someone’s planning a mass shooting.”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted, but she stayed composed. “What are you talking about? Who is planning a shooting?”

“My boyfriend. Tad.” Monica pulled the spare key to his house out of her pocket and held it out to the policewoman.

*

A week later, Monica sat in the café with her friend Tiana, scanning the newspaper headline. Ohio men arrested for planned attack. She must have read it a thousand times by now. Thankfully, it didn’t use her name anywhere, the only reference to her at all said a tip led police to a mountain of incriminating evidence. That was fine. She didn’t want accolades. So far, only the police, Monica’s family, and Tiana knew her role in what had happened. Or rather, what didn’t happen.

Tiana put down her coffee cup. “Are you sure you should keep looking at that? It just upsets you.”

Monica offered a tired smile. “I’ll be upset for a while, whether I look at the papers or not.” She glanced at the calendar on the wall and shivered. “I keep thinking how it was supposed to happen today.”

“Me too,” Tiana admitted. “And I likely would have been there.” Her face twitched, as she thought about what might have been. “Thank God for you, Monica.”

The church had postponed the event just in case there were other attackers in on the plan. So far, though, it seemed that Tad and Steven had planned the shooting alone. They had been charged, incarcerated and were facing a trial within the next year.

Monica wasn’t looking forward to facing them in court, to seeing how much Tad probably hated her, but she’d do it. She’d do it for Tiana. For all the people who might have been killed that day.

“You were right all along. Thinking I could rescue Tad was a fallacy.” One that could have cost Monica her life, if he’d caught her in the duplex. “Still, part of me hopes Tad will come around on his own.” But it wouldn’t be Monica’s responsibility anymore. If Tad was to change his ways, that was ultimately up to him. The important thing was that his plan had been stopped before more lives were destroyed.

“There’s too much hate out there right now,” Tiana murmured. “Not just online, but in real life. This won’t be the last of it.”

That was all too likely to be true. Still, the optimist in Monica pointed out, “It’s not the last of us, either. Me and you. People like us.” If there was anything the past week’s events had taught Monica, it was that decent people had the power to change things for the better, if only they tried.

Tiana considered this and nodded. She lifted her coffee cup. “Here’s to people like us.”

Wordlessly, both women clinked their cups together as a gesture of solidarity in a complicated world.

~