Chapter 14 - THE FIRST TIME I HELD THE PHONE WRONG
Trauma made me obsessive about evidence.
I saved videos.
Screenshots.
Voicemails.
Then I started recording conversations with relatives without telling them.
Whether lawful depended on jurisdiction.
Naomi stopped me.
“Do not create a privacy problem.”
“I need proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That Mom has been saying things.”
“She cannot contact you under the order.”
“I mean relatives.”
“Then tell them to send written statements if relevant.”
I hated that.
Then one aunt called.
“She said she only wanted your sister to have a turn.”
I pressed record.
Then remembered Naomi.
Stopped.
“Can you text me what you remember?”
My aunt became defensive.
“I don’t want to be involved.”
Fair.
Not everyone owes me testimony.
Then I realized I had started treating the family like a surveillance network.
Exactly the opposite of what I wanted for Marcellus.
I deleted recordings that counsel said I should not rely on.
Preserved only what was lawfully relevant.
No secret family archive.
Then Dr. Mira asked:
“What are you trying to prevent?”
“Someone changing the story.”
“You have the videos.”
“I know.”
“Then?”
I cried.
“I want enough proof that nobody can ever tell Marcellus it didn’t happen.”
There.
Future.
I was already arguing with a six-week-old’s imagined adult memory.
Mira said:
May you like
“You can preserve the truth without making him inherit the case file.”
That stayed with me.
