Chapter 3 - THE BURIED TRUTH
The search of the patrol car took less than ten minutes,
and the result was exactly what I had suspected.
A rookie officer,
eager to please Landry,
had tossed the blood-stained Louisville Slugger into his trunk before they even arrived at the station.
When Major Vance brought it into the lobby in a clear evidence bag,
the room went silent again.
The wood was splintered,
and the dark,
dried streaks of my mother's blood were unmistakable under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Brooke saw the bag and let out a strangled sob,
collapsing into Arthur,
who finally had to hold her up.
"It's over,
Brooke,"
I said,
standing over them like a ghost of their own making.
"The forensic team will find your prints all over the grip,
and they'll find Mom's DNA on the barrel."
"But I think what's more interesting is why."
"Why tonight,
Arthur?"
"Why did you let her do this?"
Vance gestured for two troopers to bring them into the separate interrogation rooms.
As they were led away,
Arthur finally looked at me,
his eyes red and filled with a desperate,
hollow light.
"We needed the money,
Clara,"
he whispered,
his voice cracking.
"The house is in Mom's name,
and she wouldn't sign it over to us."
"Brooke said if we could prove she was incompetent,
we could get power of attorney."
"It was just supposed to be a little scare,
but Mom fought back,
and Brooke...
Brooke lost it."
I felt a wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to lean against the wall.
They had beaten an elderly woman for a piece of real estate.
They had planned to gaslight her into a mental institution to pay for their failing lifestyle.
"You sold your mother's safety for a down payment on a life you couldn't afford,"
I said,
my voice trembling with a rage I could barely contain.
"You didn't just let her hit her,
Arthur."
"You participated in the conspiracy to ruin her."
As they were taken into the back,
the State's digital forensics team announced they had successfully recovered the body-cam footage.
Landry had tried to "accidentally" wipe the server,
but he wasn't as tech-savvy as he thought.
We watched the screen on a laptop on the sergeant's desk.
The video was shaky,
the rain blurring the lens,
but the audio was crystal clear.
I heard my mother screaming for help.
I heard Brooke yelling,
"Sign the papers,
you old bitch!"
And then I heard the sickening thud of the bat.
The responding officers stood by,
listening to Brooke tell them exactly what story to write in their reports.
Landry’s voice came over the radio,
telling them to "bring the old lady in" and "keep the niece out of the paperwork."
Every word was a nail in the coffin of their careers.
I turned to Landry,
who was sitting on a bench now,
his head down.
"You're not just losing your job,
Thomas,"
I told him.
"I'm going to ensure the Department of Justice looks into every single arrest you've made in the last five years."
"You turned this station into a family business,
May you like
and tonight,
the business is bankrupt."
