Chapter 5 - The Statements
Three days later, my father underwent successful skin graft surgery on his right arm.
While he recovered in the post-operative ward, Detective Marcus Vance from the Major Crimes Division arrived at the hospital to take our official depositions for the Commonwealth of Virginia's case against Helen Vance and Rebecca Vance.
We sat in a quiet private consultation room down the hall from the burn unit. Detective Vance placed a digital audio recorder on the table between us, its red light blinking steadily.
"Mrs. Margaret Turner," Detective Vance began, "for the record, please state in your own words what occurred at approximately 3:10 p.m. on June 14th."
I looked at the recorder, took a deep, steadying breath, and recounted every detail. I told him about the months leading up to the birth, the comments made at the hospital, the constant insistence that I had "betrayed" the birth order, and the strange, unprompted decision by my mother to light a charcoal fire pit on an eighty-degree afternoon.
"Did your mother give any indication of her intent prior to lifting the child?" the detective asked.
"She called the entire shower over to the pit," I said, my voice strong and clear. "She explicitly stated to the crowd that I had disrespected the family order. Then she looked directly at me, lifted Lily above her head, and threw her into the flames."
"And your sister, Rebecca?"
"Rebecca stood in front of me to prevent me from intercepting the baby," I stated firmly. "When I tried to push past her, she held her ground and said, 'You caused this.'"
Detective Vance nodded, taking detailed notes on his legal pad. "We have obtained search warrants for both your mother's and sister's mobile phones. Forensics uncovered a series of text messages sent between Helen and Rebecca in the forty-eight hours leading up to the baby shower."
I looked up, my hands tightening around my coffee cup. "What did the texts say?"
Detective Vance looked at me with deep sympathy. "Your mother sent a message to Rebecca on Thursday evening stating, 'She needs to learn that she cannot steal your birthright. I will make sure everyone sees what happens to selfish daughters at the shower.' Rebecca replied with, 'Do what you have to do, Mom. I won't stand in your way.'"
A cold, heavy nausea settled into my stomach. It hadn't been a sudden impulse or a tragic moment of insanity. It had been a premeditated, malicious plan conceived by my own mother and enabled by my own sister to inflict maximum emotional trauma on me.
My father, who had been wheeled into the room in his wheelchair, his arm wrapped in thick white surgical bandages, closed his eyes tightly as the detective read the text messages.
May you like
"Detective," my father said softly, opening his eyes. "I want to file a formal restraining order against both of them on behalf of myself, my daughter, and my granddaughter."
"Already in progress, Mr. Vance," Detective Vance assured him. "The prosecutor has upgraded Helen's charges to Attempted First-Degree Murder, and Rebecca is officially being charged as an Accessory Before the Fact. Neither of them will ever come near your family again."
