Chapter 2 - DIANE’S STORY
The officers interviewed me inside Mara’s conference room.
I gave them the urgent-care report.
I gave them photographs of Lily’s cheek.
I showed them Diane’s threatening message.
Then I described the birthday dinner from beginning to end.
One officer watched Lily sleeping against my chest.
The other wrote every word down.
“Did you push Diane into the table?”
“No.”
“Did you strike her?”
“No.”
“Did you strike your husband?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
Mara glanced at me but did not interfere.
The officer stopped writing.
“You understand that Jason Bennett could file a complaint.”
“I understand.”
I hated saying it.
I hated remembering the sound of my palm against his face.
But I refused to become like Diane.
I would not change the facts simply because the truth made me uncomfortable.
The officers left after explaining that Lily could not be kidnapped by her own custodial parent when no court order existed.
They also said another team would speak with Diane and Jason.
Less than ten minutes later, someone from the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services called.
Dr. Howard had made the required report.
A caseworker named Nicole Grant wanted to interview me that afternoon.
Mara arranged everything.
She also filed the emergency custody petition before noon.
Jason finally left a voicemail.
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Emily, this has gone too far.”
He paused as though waiting for me to agree.
“Mom didn’t mean to hurt Lily.”
Another pause followed.
“She was embarrassed about the rug.”
I replayed those words twice.
His mother had struck our daughter.
His concern was still the rug.
Jason continued.
“You attacked me in front of my family.”
I closed my eyes.
“You humiliated Mom on her birthday.”
He still did not mention Lily’s injury.
He did not ask whether she was frightened.
He did not ask whether she had slept.
He did not ask whether she needed medication.
Mara took the phone from my hand and saved the voicemail.
“Forty,” she said.
That afternoon, Nicole interviewed me in a small room filled with children’s books and stuffed animals.
She observed Lily while asking questions about our home.
Lily played quietly with a wooden puzzle.
Whenever Nicole lifted her hand to adjust her glasses, Lily flinched.
Nicole noticed.
She moved more slowly after that.
“Has anyone struck Lily before?”
“Not that I witnessed.”
The answer made me feel sick.
I had photographed bruises.
I had questioned Diane.
I had listened when Diane said toddlers fell all the time.
I had accepted Jason’s explanation that his mother was old-fashioned.
Now I wondered how many times Lily had been hurt when I was not in the room.
Nicole asked about Jason.
“He never hit Lily.”
“Did he prevent other people from hurting her?”
I looked toward my daughter.
“No.”
That single word felt heavier than all thirty-eight folders.
When the interview ended, Nicole explained that she would visit Diane’s condo.
She would also inspect the home Jason and I had shared.
Mara drove us to a small furnished apartment owned by a women’s legal support foundation.
The address would remain confidential.
Before sunset, Mara called.
“The judge granted a temporary emergency order.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Lily would remain with me.
Jason could not remove her from my care.
Diane was forbidden from approaching or contacting Lily until the full hearing.
Relief washed through me.
Then Mara’s tone hardened.
“There’s another problem.”
“What happened?”
“Brooke uploaded part of the livestream.”
My chest tightened.
“She posted only the section showing you slapping Jason.”
The video already had thousands of views.
The caption called me violent, unstable, and dangerous.
May you like
Diane had not simply invented a story for the police.
She had released it to the entire city.
