It was a thing that would keep you up at night, the look on the face of man who believes he is leading the charge but turns around to find the troops behind him gone. Truly the thing of nightmares, the broadcast breath of a man who learns he’s been abandoned mid-battle. He didn’t go down without a fight, though. He said, “To my faculty colleagues in this room—you could be next.” He was looking right at me. It would have been what the kids these days call a mic drop, except that the mic was wrested out of Meyer’s hands, and he and his life’s work were instantly rendered irrelevant.
