Chapter 8 - My accusation
I made a mistake that afternoon.
A serious one.
Not criminal.
Still damaging.
I texted Megan.
Her phone remained off.
I wrote:
You nearly killed my son because you cared more about getting pills than whether a five-year-old found them. If you come near him again, I will make sure everyone knows exactly what you are.
Send.
Then:
You poisoned Lucas.
Send.
My attorney, Rebecca Sloan? Different Rebecca already not. Let's make my family lawyer later. Detective called. But this is criminal case. Officer Cole saw the texts once Megan’s phone was recovered? Maybe. More directly Robert saw them and told me to stop.
He read over my shoulder.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Stop messaging her.”
“She did this.”
“We don’t know exactly what happened.”
“We know enough.”
“No. We know medication was in our pantry. We think it was hers. Lucas thinks he found it.”
“Which part do you dispute?”
“The word poisoned like she deliberately gave it to him.”
I stared.
“Dr. Miller used it.”
“He clarified.”
I hated him for being correct.
I showed the texts to Officer Cole voluntarily the next day.
She said:
“Do not contact Megan further.”
“Could this hurt the case?”
“It can create arguments about pressure, intimidation, or your certainty before facts are complete.”
I felt sick.
“I wasn’t threatening violence.”
“No. But ‘I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you are’ can be characterized as coercive. Stop.”
I stopped.
Later, Megan’s attorney would use my messages to argue the family had decided she was guilty before her interview.
That did not erase evidence.
It created noise.
May you like
My anger had become part of the record.
Mine.
