Chapter 11: The Desperate Move
Priscilla made her last attempt five days after the hearing.
She contacted the hospital administration and claimed she had new evidence of my father’s “rapid cognitive decline,” demanding an emergency psychiatric evaluation. At the same time, Derek left a message for the assigned detective suggesting that I was manipulating the situation for personal financial gain.
Both efforts collapsed quickly.
The hospital already had the protective order and the attending physician’s notes. The detective forwarded Derek’s message to the prosecutor’s office as further evidence of witness interference. By the end of the day, Priscilla’s attorney was advised that any additional attempts to contact the hospital or my father would be treated as violations of the existing order.
I received the updates while sitting in my father’s room. He was stronger now, sitting up for longer stretches, the bruises on his arms fading from deep purple to a mottled yellow-green.
“They’re getting scared,” he said after I finished explaining.
“They should be.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“I keep thinking about how long I let it go on. How many times I told myself it wasn’t that bad.”
I reached over and took his hand.
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“You survived it. That’s what matters now. The rest is on them.”
Outside, the late afternoon light slanted across the parking lot. Inside, the case continued to tighten.
