Chapter 3 - The Interrogation Room Hubris
At 8:00 AM the next morning, I walked through the heavy glass doors of the Central Police Precinct. I had spent the night sleeping in a plastic chair next to Frederick’s hospital crib, holding Amy's hand. When the sun came up, Amy told me to go. “Finish it,” she had said, her eyes flashing with a spark of the fierce woman I married.
Detective Ramirez, a seasoned investigator with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, met me in the lobby.
"Mr. Bradley. Glad you could make it," Ramirez said, shaking my hand. "Your son?"
"Recovering. Thank God," I replied. "What’s the status of the trespassers?"
"We cleared the house last night," Ramirez said as he led me down a narrow, fluorescent-lit hallway. "We arrested your mother, Teresa Bradley, for assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, and trespassing. We also have Mason Bradley in custody. The folder he was carrying contained a quitclaim deed attempting to transfer your property to a blind trust. The signatures look highly suspect."
"They're forged," I confirmed. "Mason is a notary public. He stamped them himself to make them look legitimate."
Ramirez let out a low whistle. "That bumps this up to felony forgery, grand larceny, and real estate fraud. Do you want to see her?"
I nodded.
Ramirez led me to an observation room overlooking Interrogation Room B. Through the two-way glass, I saw the woman who had given birth to me. Teresa looked disheveled, her makeup smeared, her expensive dress wrinkled. Yet, her posture remained rigid with arrogance. She was currently berating a young public defender who was desperately trying to get her to shut up.
"I don't need a public defender!" Teresa screeched, slamming her hand on the metal table. "My son makes three hundred thousand dollars a year! When he finds out these idiot cops arrested me at my own grandson's birthday party, he's going to sue this entire department! Get my son on the phone! He's going to bail me out!"
I pressed the intercom button on the wall. My voice echoed into the interrogation room, cold and absolute.
"I'm not bailing you out, Teresa."
Teresa’s head snapped up. She stared directly at the two-way mirror, realizing I was on the other side. For a split second, panic flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by her signature manipulative glare.
"Connor!" she cried out, her voice instantly shifting from demanding to a pitch-perfect whine of a victimized mother. "Connor, thank God you're here! These animals attacked me! Amy must have called them because she was jealous of the party I threw for Frederick! She’s trying to tear our family apart!"
I opened the door and stepped into the interrogation room. Detective Ramirez followed closely behind, carrying a thick file.
"Amy didn't call the police," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting directly across from her. "I did."
Teresa froze. The public defender looked between us, sensing the impending explosion.
"You?" Teresa stammered. "Why would you... Connor, I am your mother! I run your house! I take care of your worthless wife!"
May you like
"You tortured my wife," I corrected, my voice dropping an octave. "You treated her like a slave while my son was burning up with a 104-degree fever. But that's just the tip of the iceberg, isn't it? Let's talk about the offshore account in the Cayman Islands. Let's talk about the fake power of attorney. Let's talk about Mason."
At the mention of Mason's name, all the color drained from Teresa's face.
