I looked through the nursery glass at my three-pound daughter. “Then you won’t mind repeating that to the police.”

The line went silent for two seconds. Then she laughed. “Your father’s close friends with the county sheriff. No one in this town will take your word over your own family’s.”

She was wrong on both counts.

Derek had already secured the venue’s high-definition security footage before my father could tell the maintenance staff to delete it. Four guests had also recorded the attack — one video catching my mother demanding the cash, striking my face, and stepping back as I fell.

Another caught my father blocking Derek and yelling, “Leave her there so she learns her lesson.”

Detective Norman arrested my mother at Beth’s house that afternoon.