Chapter 8 - Cuffed in the Foyer“Get your hands where I can see them! NOW!” Officer Davis barked, drawing his taser and pointing it straight at Ryan’s chest.
“Wait! Listen to me!” Ryan screamed, throwing his hands into the air, his voice cracking hysterically. “She’s crazy! She’s postpartum depressed! She fell on the soup herself! It was an accident!”
Chief Miller didn't even look at Ryan. He pulled his smartphone from his tactical vest, tapped a file, and held it out.
The audio from my father’s clock played loudly in the entry foyer:
“Look what you made me do!” Ryan’s voice echoed clearly from the speaker.
“Maybe now she'll stop being selfish,” Patricia’s cold voice followed.
Patricia let out a horrified shriek, covering her face with her hands.
“Ryan Cole,” Chief Miller said, stepping forward and grabbing Ryan’s arm, twisting it behind his back with practiced efficiency. “You are under arrest for felony domestic battery on a pregnant person, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and witness intimidation.”
CLICK.
The heavy steel handcuffs snapped around Ryan’s wrists.
“Mom! Mom, do something!” Ryan wept as the officer forced him toward the door. “Call the lawyer! Call Uncle Richard!”
“And Patricia Cole,” Chief Miller continued, turning to my mother-in-law, who was cowering against the kitchen island. “You are under arrest as an accessory to felony assault, filing a false police report, and child endangerment.”
“You can't touch me!” Patricia screamed, kicking and squirming as a female officer grabbed her wrists. “Do you know who I am?! My late husband was a judge in this district! I will have your badge for this!”
“Your husband isn't here, Patricia,” Chief Miller replied coldly. “And the magistrate who receives this video file won't care about your last name.”
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As the officers dragged Ryan and Patricia out through the front door, half the neighborhood stood on their lawns watching. The local news van from Channel 4—which I had also tipped off thirty minutes prior—was already set up on the curb, their cameras flashing as Ryan was shoved into the back of a police cruiser in tears.
I stood on my wrap-around porch, holding my unborn daughter beneath my heart, watching my tormentors drive away in chains.
