Brad Hughes drifted like vapor through the White County News office. While in town on other business, the editor/publisher of the Early County News in Blakely stopped in for a visit. Alas, I was otherwise occupied, probably photographing a prize tomato, something like that.
He left his name and number. So, I called. I sent emails. Called his newspaper office a few times, left a message with a sweet lady named Carol. Not a peep from the peculiar Mr. Hughes.
I’ve wondered ever since: why did a South Georgia newspaperman and former political flack/failed candidate visit my office on Friday, June 6, the day Truett McConnell University’s Board of Trustees met in Cleveland to place President Emir Caner on administrative leave?
As one of TMU’s 24 trustees, all men, Hughes was in town to grapple with that unpleasant business. So, I already knew why he was in Cleveland. But if I’d known he was planning to pop in — at a time when other trustees were hanging up on me — I would’ve rescheduled with the tomato!
In all sincerity, I would have welcomed him as a fellow ink-stained wretch, asked politely if he’d answer some questions about the doings at TMU, and if not, we could talk shop, have coffee.
At any rate, the trustees had hastily assembled a week after the Roys Report released the story about former student Hayle Swinson and her allegations that former TMU vice president Brad Reynolds had groomed and abused her, under the guise of spiritual mentorship, and that Caner had covered it up for years.
Now, the Georgia Baptist Convention — which picks TMU’s trustees — isn’t exactly a beacon of transparency. Even simple procedural information is protected like a state secret. For instance, when asked how trustees are chosen, the official reply was, “no comment.”
But since Swinson went public, the cone of silence has only thickened and the trustees have become like a cloistered order, committed to a vow of silence. Given all of that, Hughes’ timidity isn’t surprising.
What is surprising — astonishing, really — is that he invited contact in the first place. Minutes after confronting a seriously troubling situation at an institution he’s supposed to govern, Hughes thought it was a good idea to stroll into the local newsroom — where journalists were trying to keep up with TMU’s unfolding mess.
After driving off, Hughes was probably somewhere between Cusseta and Louvale before it dawned on him that maybe the little busman’s holiday wasn’t a smart move — I’ll bet he didn’t tell his fellow trustees about the visit, lest he hear, “you got hammers in your head, boy?”
Anyway, the trustees have nothing to worry about. Hughes has stuck to the party line — he’s been ghosting us. That’s what they call it on social media when someone reaches out to you and then stops all communication without any explanation. Ghosting.
It’s an appropriate word because Hughes, like the rest of the board, has gone spectral.
The trustees drifted through the scandal like apparitions, untouchable and unreachable, and but for a few pen strokes, uninvolved. If nothing else, their example has given us some idea of what it feels like to be a TMU student who’s been haunted by leadership that isn’t really there.
Jerry Grillo is the editor/publisher of The White County News.