PART 9 – The Officers Had Been Looking at Me as the Primary Caregiver, but I Wanted Them to Look at Everyone Who Had Entered Our Home

I didn't sleep that night.

I don't think anyone expected me to.

My daughter had undergone surgery, and I was still trying to understand how thirty-six magnets had ended up inside her.

The image Officer Bennett had shown me kept returning to my mind.

Thirty-six tiny shapes.

All gathered inside Lily's abdomen.

I couldn't stop thinking about how much pain she must have endured before coming to my bedroom.

She had tried to explain it in the only way a five-year-old could.

And I had nearly mistaken her words for a nightmare.

That thought hurt almost as much as everything else.

I wanted to be beside her.

I wanted to know whether she was awake.

I wanted to hold her hand and tell her that she wasn't alone.

But I also knew the investigation mattered.

The officers needed to establish what had happened before the magnets were discovered.

I had already told them about the dining room security camera.

Now I wanted them to consider the entire household.

Not just me.

Not just the person who happened to be home when Lily became sick.

Everyone who had access to her needed to be considered.

Daniel sat nearby.

He looked tired, but he still seemed angry.

I wondered whether he was beginning to understand how serious the situation was.

I hoped he was.

I didn't want another argument.

I wanted us to be parents for our daughter.

That was all.

At one point, I asked whether there was any update about the investigation.

The officers explained that they were following up on the information I had provided.

I nodded.

I didn't ask them to hurry beyond what was reasonable.

I knew they needed to handle the evidence properly.

But waiting was difficult.

Every unanswered question seemed to grow larger.

I thought about the dining room again.

The camera had always been there.

It recorded an ordinary part of our home.

The table.

The chairs.

The space where Lily spent time with the family.

I had never imagined that I would one day ask police officers to examine it.

I had never imagined that I would need a recording to defend myself against an accusation involving my own child.

I looked at Daniel.

"Have you told them everything you know about the house?"

He looked at me.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing. I want them to check everything."

He didn't answer.

I turned away.

I was tired of having ordinary questions treated as accusations.

I wasn't trying to blame him.

I wasn't trying to blame Patricia.

I was trying to find out what had happened.

That distinction mattered to me.

It mattered more than I could explain.

Click here to continue reading: PART 10: My Daughter’s Surgery Had Revealed the Damage, but the Question of How It Happened Still Had No Answer