Chapter 6 - The Interrogation and the Crack
By Friday morning, Margaret and Richard surrendered themselves at the county precinct accompanied by a very expensive, very nervous defense attorney.
They weren't put in holding cells immediately—their lawyer arranged for an orderly surrender—but they were brought into the interrogation suites for formal questioning. Aaron allowed Daniel and me to watch through the one-way observation glass in the adjacent room.
Margaret sat upright at the metal table, her posture rigid, her face locked in a mask of wounded, aristocratic dignity. Richard sat beside her, staring blankly at his hands, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of thirty years of deception had finally crushed him.
Across the table sat Detective Miller and a prosecutor.
“Mrs. Bennett,” the prosecutor began, sliding a glossy 8x10 photograph of the disassembled teddy bear across the table. “Do you recognize this item?”
Margaret glanced at the photo with a look of supreme disdain. “It appears to be a stuffed toy we purchased for our granddaughter’s birthday. What of it?”
“That toy contained a high-definition wireless surveillance lens and an active audio transmitter,” the prosecutor said smoothly. “Registered to an IP address assigned to your home router. We have server logs showing data packets transmitted from that device to your personal tablet every single day for the past week.”
Margaret didn't blink. Not an eyelash fluttered.
“We are concerned grandparents,” she said, her voice dripping with practiced, righteous indignation. “Given the hostile and erratic behavior of our son and his wife, we simply wanted to ensure our granddaughter was safe in their care. Any parent with half a conscience would do the same when shut out by ungrateful children.”
“Unlicensed electronic surveillance inside a minor’s bedroom is not ‘checking for safety,’ Mrs. Bennett,” the prosecutor replied, his voice sharpening like a blade. “It is a third-degree felony.”
For the first time, a crack appeared in Margaret’s impenetrable facade. Her eyes flicked toward her lawyer, who was hastily shaking his head, signaling her to remain silent.
“We did nothing wrong,” Margaret hissed, her voice rising in pitch as panic finally pierced her armor. “We raised Daniel! We built this family! We have rights!”
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“You have a court date,” Miller cut in coldly.
Beside her, Richard let out a low, ragged sigh, burying his face in his hands. The empire of control was crumbling, and not even Margaret’s iron will could hold the pieces together anymore.
