My mother walked into the courthouse in an expensive pearl necklace and a tailored suit. Beth followed in an imported winter coat, and my father walked stiffly between them, furious that the financial world no longer bent to him.

The prosecutor played the Grandview Manor security footage on a large screen. The jury watched my mother strike me across the face without hesitation.

They watched my body crash into the deep water. They heard the audio of Beth laughing while my father shouted, “Leave her there so she learns.”

The courtroom went dead silent. No one looked at my family the same way after that.

My mother’s team argued she’d acted on emotional impulse, but the prosecutor countered with certified phone records. One text from my mother read: Get the eighteen thousand today.

Scare her if you have to. Beth had answered with a laughing emoji and She always folds under pressure.