Officer Daniel Ruiz was a man who clearly preferred paperwork to domestic melodrama. He stood in my kitchen, notebook out, radiating a steady, detached calm.

I handed him my driver’s license, the deed, and the property tax statement. Then I pointed to the pathetic plastic grocery bag on the floor, where Grace’s pajama pants and school hoodie were crammed over her geometry textbook.

Officer Ruiz looked at Eric, who was leaning against the refrigerator like a condemned man. “Sir, did your daughter voluntarily leave the residence tonight?”

Eric dragged both hands over his face — a gesture of profound exhaustion and cowardice. “It got… complicated.”

“No,” I said sharply. “It did not.”

Patricia moved closer, trying to project the aura of a concerned, reasonable grandmother. “Officer, Grace was incredibly disrespectful. She told Avery to get out of her room.”