MIRACLE IN MUSKOGEE: Ultrasound Reveals Fetus 100% Stefon Diggs-Free

MUSKOGEE—At 9:47 a.m. Central Standard Time, board-certified sonographer Dr. Marisol Peña pressed a transducer against the abdomen of 29-year-old Hailey Broderick and delivered what historians are already calling the most astonishing medical bulletin since the parting of the Red Sea. The grayscale image was unequivocal: fetal DNA registered 0.000% Stefon Diggs.“

This is unprecedented in the literature,” Dr. Peña told me, voice trembling with the gravity usually reserved for Nobel announcements. “I have personally logged 312 Diggs-positive gestations since 2023. My wand has never returned a null result. I triple-checked the gain settings.”

Broderick, a substitute teacher and part-time barista, lay on the exam table clutching a rosary, a rabbit’s foot, and a laminated trading card of former Buffalo Bills safety Jordan Poyer—insurance, she explained, “in case the football gods got confused.”

Muskogee Regional Medical Center immediately activated Protocol Zeta-14, a contingency drafted in 2024 after Diggs’ paternity index surpassed the reproductive output of Genghis Khan by 2.7 standard deviations. Under Zeta-14, any Diggs-negative fetus must be verified by three independent labs, baptized in triplicate, and escorted by armed guard to the delivery room.

Governor Kevin Stitt, reached while touring a turnpike tollbooth, declared Friday “Stefon-Free Day” and ordered every state flag lowered to half-staff in honor of “the one that got away.” Church bells in downtown Muskogee rang for 19 straight minutes until the city manager received a cease-and-desist from a local audiologist citing “acoustic trauma.”

Demographers at the University of Oklahoma have revised their 2030 population projections downward by 41,000 after removing the anticipated Diggs cohort. Lead researcher Dr. Lionel Tate warned that Broderick’s anomaly “threatens the actuarial tables we spent eighteen months calibrating with NFL Combine 40-yard-dash splits.”

In a joint statement, the Duggs-Positive Mothers Coalition expressed cautious optimism. “We support Hailey’s miracle,” read the release, “but we remind the public that Stefon still leads the league in third-trimester separation.” The group has scheduled a candlelight vigil outside the hospital, though organizers stressed that candles will be battery-operated “to avoid any open flames near the remaining 50 pending paternity suits.”

Stefon Diggs, currently en route to Houston for Sunday’s divisional clash, issued a three-word comment via his verified burner account: “Respect the streak.” League sources confirm the Texans have installed a new sideline amenity: a laminated sonogram framed in gold, captioned “In Case of Emergency, Break Glass.”

Back in Labor & Delivery Room 3, Broderick’s husband, Derek, a high-school offensive-line coach, wept openly. “I’ve been diagramming blitz packages against my own potential stepchildren for two years,” he said, clutching his playbook like a hymnal. “Today I can finally run Cover-2 without looking over my shoulder.”

As I left the ward, a nurse handed me a freshly printed birth-plan addendum: “Contingency 12-B: If fetal heartbeat syncs to the Monday Night Football theme, evacuate wing.” Beneath it, someone had scribbled in red ink: “See also: Exodus 14:21.”

The Brodericks have declined all endorsement offers, including a seven-figure deal from Trojan Brand Group. Hailey told me she simply wants to raise “one normal kid who doesn’t have a 4.39 forty time in the birth canal.”

Outside, the bells finally stopped. In the sudden quiet, Muskogee felt less like a city and more like the eye of a hurricane—one that, for the first time in three seasons, wasn’t named Stefon.