It had been recording when the two of them dragged me across the floor.

It had recorded every word they said, including the ones about the medication and the papers.

And it was not saving that recording to any device in that garage that they could find and destroy.

It was streaming it, automatically, to a private cloud server — one whose emergency administrative login my attorney already had.

Lying on that concrete floor, I understood that the crime they had just committed to make me powerless had, instead, been filed into evidence, in real time, by the powerless woman herself.

They thought they had trapped me.