I’m Lacy Keane – The Day a Town Became One Woman

It started, as these things often do, with Big Rob on a quest.

Not the noble kind involving dragons or community housing solutions. No — this was a Facebook Quest for Truth™, complete with pixelated memes, late-night rants, and the solemn belief that he alone could unmask the sinister figure behind the Lismore Fake News page.

That figure, he decided, was a mysterious troublemaker named Lacy Keane.

Who was she?

Where did she hide?

And most importantly — how dare she write words he didn’t like?

Rob had a plan:

Step 1: Point the digital finger.

Step 2: Post names and photos.

Step 3: Let his loyal keyboard army do the rest — a time-honoured tradition in which locals get tagged, dissected, and verbally mauled in the comments section until they either delete their accounts or move to Kyogle.

But something strange happened.

Instead of cowering, the town… multiplied.

One by one, people stepped forward online:

“I’m Lacy Keane.”

“No, I’m Lacy Keane.”

“You’re all wrong, I’m Lacy Keane.”

Like some B-grade remake of Spartacus, the chorus grew.

Artists. Baristas. Retirees. That bloke who always busks with a kazoo. Even a dog’s Instagram account joined in.

Lacy Keane was suddenly everywhere.

She was buying milk at the IGA.

She was down at the flood levee.

She was whispering snarky truths into the mango trees.

Big Rob’s quest hit a snag:

How do you cancel someone when everyone’s wearing the mask?

In the end, we never found out whether Lacy Keane was one person or a hundred.

What we do know is that for one glorious week, the community turned his favourite tactic — public naming for sport — into a game he couldn’t win.

And maybe that’s the moral of the story:

If you go hunting for witches in Lismore, don’t be surprised if the whole town turns up in pointy hats