Chapter 2 - The Lawyer and the Law
The woman at the back door was Lena.
My lawyer.
The one I had met in secret three times over the past month.
The one who told me I would never be free unless I stopped being afraid.
Michael froze three feet from her.
"Who the hell are you?" he snarled.
Lena didn’t flinch.
She held up the manila envelope like a badge.
"Sarah’s attorney.
These are divorce papers.
She signed them at nine o’clock this morning.
You’ve been served." Then two uniformed officers pushed past her into the kitchen.
More officers came through the front.
The house was suddenly full of blue uniforms and stern voices.
I sat on the floor with my back against the couch, unable to move.
My son ran to me and threw his arms around my neck.
"I did what you said, Mom," he whispered.
"I called Grandpa.
I pressed record.
I sent it to the police email you showed me." I held him so tight my arms ached.
"You were so brave," I said into his hair.
"You saved us." Dad knelt beside us.
He put one hand on my shoulder and one on my son’s back.
I had never seen my father cry before.
Not when his wife died.
Not when his business almost failed.
But now his eyes were wet.
"I should have come sooner," he said.
"I should have known." One of the officers knelt in front of me.
She was young, with kind eyes and a scar across her left eyebrow.
"Ma’am, I’m Officer Torres.
We received the video your son sent.
Can you stand up so we can photograph your injuries?" I nodded.
Dad helped me to my feet.
Every muscle screamed.
My left arm had welts crisscrossing like railroad tracks.
My right shoulder was already turning purple.
There was a cut above my eye that was still bleeding.
As the officer took pictures, I watched two other officers lead Michael out in handcuffs.
He was yelling over his shoulder.
"This is a setup!
She’s crazy!
She put the kid up to it!" He looked right at me.
His eyes were black with rage.
"You think this is over, Sarah?
You think you can take my son?
I’ll burn everything to the ground before I let you win!" The officers pushed him through the door.
His voice faded down the driveway.
But I could still hear him.
I would hear him in my head for months.
Lena came over and handed me a tissue.
"The video your son sent is very clear," she said.
"Audio and video.
Him yelling.
The belt striking you.
His threats.
It’s the strongest evidence I’ve ever had in a domestic violence case.
May you like
He won’t get bail tonight.
Maybe not for a long time."
