My In-Laws Assumed a Wife Would Stay Silent — They Forgot I’d Spent Nine Years as a Forensic Accountant
The photographs were evidence.
The intake record was evidence.
The recording on my phone was evidence.
The medical report would be evidence.
And somewhere in a locked directory on my laptop at home sat six months of other evidence, of an entirely different crime, that I had gathered before any of this and never used.
I want to be honest that I was frightened, and in pain, and grieving the collapse of a life I had believed in that very morning.
All of that was true, at the same time.
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