Two officers knocked firmly. Inside came frantic movement.
“I am just helping her bathe. Nothing is wrong,” Ashley called.
The door opened. Ashley blocked the entrance, hair messy, face flushed. On the chair sat her phone, flipped face down, screen still lit. She grabbed it quickly.
An officer spoke firmly.
“Step aside. We need to see your patient.”
Jason rushed in. His mother lay on her side, blanket pulled too high, face pale, eyes terrified. He took her hand. It was cold and trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She pointed weakly at bruises on her wrist and upper arm. Old bruises. Yellow and green.
Jason’s chest tightened with guilt and rage.
Police demanded Ashley hand over her phone. She denied wrongdoing at first, claiming it was a personal call. But when officers requested to see call history, she broke down crying.
“I needed money. Someone tricked me.”
Jason’s voice turned sharp.
“Tricked you into showing my mother on video.”