Chapter 2 - The Police Interrogation
The police precinct smelled of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner. I sat in a small interrogation room, still wearing my graduation gown, the maroon fabric contrasting sharply with the cold metal table. Detective Miller, a seasoned investigator with sharp, empathetic eyes, sat across from me, reviewing the contents of the envelope.
“You’ve been building this case for a while, haven’t you, Lila?” Detective Miller asked, tapping a pen against the meticulously organized tabs I had created.
“Two years,” I replied, staring at my hands. “I found out during my sophomore year. I went to the financial aid office to apply for a small grant for textbooks. They told me I was ineligible because my federal loan limits were entirely maxed out. I didn't understand. I had never taken out a loan; my grandfather left a trust specifically for my tuition.”
Detective Miller flipped to the bank records. “And that’s when you found out the trust was drained?”
“Yes. They forged my signature to emancipate the funds, transferred them to a joint account they created in my name when I was a minor, and then bled it dry. When that ran out, they took out private student loans using my Social Security Number. They bought Lucas a brand-new BMW. They remodeled the kitchen. They ruined my credit score before I was even old enough to rent an apartment.”
The door opened, and another officer stepped in, handing Miller a slip of paper. Miller read it and sighed.
“Your parents are in holding,” Miller said. “Your father is demanding a lawyer and claiming you authorized all the transactions. Your mother is currently having a panic attack in cell block three, screaming that you’re a sociopath.”
“Let them scream,” I said, the lingering sting on my cheek a constant reminder of why I couldn't back down. “I have the digital footprints. I have the IP logs provided by the bank’s fraud department. I have the recorded phone calls where my father impersonated me to the loan providers.”
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Miller looked at me with a mixture of awe and sorrow. “You are an incredibly brave young woman, Lila. You do realize that pressing these charges means they are facing significant federal time? Wire fraud, identity theft, grand larceny. This isn't a slap on the wrist.”
“They didn't give me a slap on the wrist when they tried to destroy my life,” I said coldly. “Press the charges.”
