Samantha stepped in. “Was Mrs. Ashley free to leave the house?” My mother hesitated. “She was pregnant. Keeping her inside was for her safety.” “Did you take her car keys?”

“Only temporarily.” “Break her phone?” “An accident.” “Did your husband grab her wrist?” “He only wanted to stop her from doing something foolish.” The officer wrote down every word.

“You wouldn’t let them arrest your own mother,” Florence sobbed.

“You let my little boy sleep on a cold floor next to a leaking bucket.”

Stephanie turned to venom. “Ashley doesn’t love you. She married you for money. And Samuel isn’t even your real son.”

I stood and looked at her. “Samuel is my son. I’ve raised him since he was one. He runs to me after nightmares. And I legally adopted him — a celebration you attended.”