I told them, evenly, that the feed had already been uploaded to a secure off-site server and sent to my legal team, so that destroying the camera itself would accomplish precisely nothing.

The paramedics lifted me carefully onto a gurney, and the second officer told Beatrice to hand over the prescription bottle, now.

And as the medical team began checking my surgical leg, Jacqueline Vance walked into my garage carrying a laptop, her face cold and absolutely resolute.

She set the laptop on the workbench, and she played the video for the police.

There it was, in high definition: Beatrice knocking away my crutch.

Christopher taking my arm to drag me down the hall.