Chapter 5
Chapter 5
In the police station interrogation room, Dad sat like a zombie.
“Based on the scene investigation and coroner’s report, your daughter died from traumatic brain injury.”
The officer slid over a stack of photos.
“Blood and hair samples from the table corner match your daughter’s DNA.”
“What happened in that moment?” the officer asked.
“I pushed her…” Dad’s voice was hoarse. “Stella was screaming, I panicked. I didn’t realize she hit the table…’
“Do you often treat your daughter this way?”
“No! Of course not!” Dad’s head snapped up. “At least, I didn’t think…”
The officer opened another file.
“We pulled your daughter’s medical records from the past three years.
Six instances of cuts and scrapes, three cracked ribs, and one mild concussion.
The hospital flagged possible abuse each time, but you and your wife insisted they were accidents.”
Dad’s face went sheet white.
All those memories he’d deliberately ignored suddenly came rushing back-every time Stella had an episode, I’d somehow end up with fresh bruises.
“We spoke with your daughter’s teachers and classmates.”
The officer continued.
“Everyone described her as quiet and well-behaved. But in the past six months, she’d often show up to
school injured, claiming she’d fallen.”
A photo was pushed in front of Dad-my arm covered in finger shaped bruises from when those girls grabbed me last month.
“The bullying went on for nearly a year. As her parent, you never noticed?”
Dad finally started crying. “She never told us…”
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Chapter 5
“According to her classmates, your daughter once said, “There’s no point telling my parents. They’d just think I’m causing trouble.””
The officer’s voice was ice cold.
“We also found this in her school locker.”
A pill bottle was placed on the table-antidepressants, prescribed three months ago, still mostly full.
Dad froze like he’d been struck by lightning.
He grabbed the pill bottle with shaking hands, staring at the prescription label-Downtown General
Hospital, Psychiatry Department, Riley Williams.
“This can’t be right!” His voice cracked. “Riley was perfectly fine!”
“Fine?” The officer let out a harsh laugh.
“Mr. Williams, your daughter weighed 82 pounds when she died. Severe malnutrition. Self-harm scars on her wrists, old bruises covering her back. That’s what you call fine?”
Dad’s breathing turned rapid. He gripped the table edge to keep from collapsing.
All those ignored details suddenly clicked-Riley’s increasingly pale face, how she always wore long sleeves,
how little she’d been eating…
“We need to discuss your other daughter.”
The officer suddenly switched topics.
“According to school records, she does have a depression diagnosis, but it’s not severe. So why does your
household treat her like…”
“That’s impossible!” Dad got agitated.
“Stella’s condition is serious! The doctor said she could attempt suicide at any moment! We have to watch
her emotions constantly!”
The officer slid over another file.
“This is your younger daughter’s latest psychological evaluation. Her depression is actually stable with medication. It’s your older daughter who…”
Dad numbly took the papers.
When he read “condition stable, recommend reducing supervision,” his eyes went wide,
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Chapter 5
“This report’s from last week,” the officer said pointedly. “You and your wife never saw it?”
Dad’s lips trembled. “Stella’s doctor always told us she was in critical condition…”
“Which doctor?”
“Dr. Martinez.”
The officer checked his notes. “Weird. The hospital says your younger daughter’s psychiatrist is Dr. Thompson. Dr. Martinez was your older daughter’s therapist.”
Dad’s world collapsed right then.
The door burst open and a female officer rushed in. “Chief, situation at the hospital. The girl’s awake, but
she…”
She glanced at the shell-shocked father and lowered her voice.
The officer’s face went stone cold.
“Mr. Williams,” he stood up, his voice deadly calm, “we need to get to the hospital right now. Your daughter
just admitted to some things…”
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