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

On the kitchen table.

Sometimes I checked the same pages several times a day.

Ruth encouraged me to store the records securely and let the official process handle what it was supposed to handle.

I resisted.

I worried that if I stopped checking, someone would change the story again.

Then one evening, I realized something.

The records didn’t become less accurate when I closed the drawer.

The camera still showed Aaron entering my room.