“No.”
“Did you ever agree to hold money for your mother’s surgery?”
“No.”
“Did you take any funds from either parent related to medical care?”
“No.”
Each answer was small.
Each answer felt like putting a brick back into the wall of my own life.
The officer looked down at my father’s signed statement.
Then he said, “False reports are serious.”
I did not smile.
I did not celebrate.
I was too tired for victory to feel good.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked.
The older officer’s expression softened.
“Based on what you’ve shown us tonight, no,” he said. “But we need copies of those messages and documents.”
Jenna answered on the first ring.
I put her on speaker.
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