Since I wouldn’t leave, Trish used the ultimate bait to force my hand. She drove to my new apartment and left her small children on the curb. She tucked a note into my nephew’s pocket.
I watched from my window as the children sat on their backpacks, looking terrified. I didn’t run down; I called 911 for a welfare check and social services immediately.
I met the police in the lobby with my phone recording the scene. The note in my nephew’s pocket said: “Since you love your house so much, watch these.” Trish was gone.
Trish reappeared ten minutes later, screaming that I had kidnapped her children. She didn’t realize the security cameras had captured her dropping them off and speeding away.
My parents arrived to “de-escalate” by claiming I was mentally unstable. They didn’t know Miller was behind them with a folder full of fraud evidence. The truth was coming.
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