At 3 A.M., My Brother Dragged Me Out of My Bedroom While Dad Laughed—He Had No Idea What the Smoke Detector Had Recorded
It sits in a locked drawer in my duplex.
The original records remain where they’re legally required to be preserved.
The working copies are organized.
The photographs are labeled.
The relevant dates are correct.
The receipt for the police report is in a white envelope.
The recorded files are available through the proper process.
I no longer carry all of them with me.