Chapter 7 - THE SLAPI reported the slap.
Not immediately.
The next morning.
My cheek had reddened.
No serious injury.
No medical treatment required beyond documentation.
I photographed it.
Then called police.
Evelyn’s lawyer later argued I weaponized the incident.
Maybe I did partly.
I was furious.
But she had struck me and then falsely accused me of attacking her.
I gave the officer the full video.
Including something I wished it did not show.
Before Evelyn slapped me, I stepped toward her and pointed within inches of her face.
“Do not touch my mother’s things again.”
Aggressive.
Not assault.
Still not calm.
The officer asked:
“Did you touch Ms. Hartman?”
“No.”
“Did she touch you before the slap?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten her?”
“No.”
Then I remembered a text.
Three weeks earlier.
To Daniel.
If she destroys one more thing of Mom’s, I swear I’ll drag her suitcase onto the lawn myself.
Not:
drag Evelyn.
Her suitcase.
Still ugly.
May you like
Still useful to her defense.
I disclosed it.
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