Chapter 4: Teresa’s Version
Teresa made bail with a relative’s money and immediately began a campaign of victimhood.
Family group chats filled with scripture and accusations. Amy was a gold digger. I was an ungrateful son. The police had been “confused by a jealous wife.” Rachel told us to save every message and reply to none. Ruiz collected enough to keep the forgery and theft threads warm. The original deed returned to our possession through official channels; the quitclaim draft became an exhibit.
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I sat Amy down with a notebook and asked her to list, as best she could, the rules Teresa had imposed—phone checks, meal permissions, when she was allowed to nap, when Frederick was “not sick enough” for a doctor. The list filled two pages. Each line was a brick. I did not make her read it aloud. I gave it to Rachel. Then I held my wife while she shook.
Frederick’s fever broke. His birthday cake, finally cut in our kitchen with only three plates, tasted like sugar and apology. I apologized anyway. Amy said she wanted locks more than speeches. I changed the locks a second time for the upstairs windows Teresa used to “air the rooms.”
