Chapter 4 - THE DEPUTY’S VISIT
Deputy Miller was a woman in her late thirties with sharp gray eyes and a no-nonsense manner.
She met me in a private study room at the library. She took high-resolution photographs of my swollen lip, the bruising on my cheekbone, and the bloody paper towel I had saved in a ziplock bag.
Then she put on headphones and listened to the audio recording.
When the file finished playing, Deputy Miller removed the headphones, set them on the table, and looked at me.
"That's your mother's voice?" she asked.
"Yes. Diane Thompson."
"And the second female voice laughing?"
"My sister, Jenna Thompson."
Deputy Miller made a notation in her leather notebook. "You said the property destroyed was an iPhone 13?"
"Yes. I have the original purchase receipt right here showing I paid eight hundred and ninety dollars for it with my own money from my previous freelance work."
"That puts the property damage over the five-hundred-dollar threshold for criminal mischief," Deputy Miller said, her pen moving steadily across the page. "And the physical contact, combined with the visible injury to your mouth, meets the statutory requirement for Class A Domestic Battery."
"Will she be arrested?" I asked, my voice flat.
Deputy Miller looked at me carefully. "If I drive to that residence right now and she is on the premises, yes. She will be taken into custody and processed at the county jail. Is she home?"
"She's driving my sister to Chicago for the weekend," I said. "They won't be back until Sunday night."
Deputy Miller nodded. "That gives us time to secure a formal warrant through the State Attorney's Office. It also gives you time to secure your belongings and establish a safe residence."
"What about this?" I pushed the printed credit report across the table.
Deputy Miller licked her thumb, flipped through the pages, and stopped at the Chase credit account.
"This account was opened using your credentials without your consent?"
"Yes. My sister Jenna added herself as a user. You can see the billing address was listed as my mother’s house, but the statements were sent to an email address I don't own: [email protected]."
Deputy Miller closed her notebook with a soft snap.
"Ms. Thompson," she said, leaning forward. "This isn't just a domestic dispute anymore. This is a felony financial crime investigation. I’m going to contact our financial crimes unit immediately. Do you have a safe place to stay tonight?"
"I have enough money for a motel for two nights," I said.
"No," Deputy Miller said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a business card. "You’re going to the County Victim Advocacy Center on 4th Street. They have emergency housing funds for victims of domestic assault, and they will provide you with a temporary mobile device so you can keep in contact with my office."
I took the card. My fingers were cold, but for the first time in eight months, I felt like I was standing on solid ground.
"Thank you, Deputy," I said.
"Don't thank me yet, Lauren," she said, stepping toward the door. "When your mother and sister find out a warrant has been issued, they are going to call you. They are going to beg, they are going to threaten, and they are going to try to turn your family against you. Are you ready for that?"
May you like
I looked down at the business card in my hand.
"I've been ready for eight years," I said.
