Chapter 4 - The Emergency Protection Order
The private car dropped us off at the Hilton Anaheim, three miles away from the resort where my family had booked their suite. I had specifically chosen a hotel where they had no reservations, no points, and no familiarity with the staff.
Once we were safely inside the room, I ordered room service—chicken tenders, fries, and a massive chocolate milkshake for Leo, along with a pot of black coffee for myself. I drew a warm bath for him, sitting on the edge of the tub while he played with the complimentary bubble bath, watching the tension slowly drain out of his small shoulders.
"Mommy?" he asked, looking up at me through a beard of white bubbles. "Are Grandma and Aunt Chloe going to jail?"
I paused, reaching for a dry towel to wipe a splash of water from his cheek. "They are going to a place where they have to answer questions to a judge about why they broke the rules, Leo. In our family, and in the world, when you hurt someone or leave a child unprotected, there are serious rules that get broken."
"I was really scared in the store," he whispered, his fingers tracing circles in the water. "Aunt Chloe told me if I didn't stop asking for you, she was going to leave me with the security monster who locks bad kids in the dungeon. That's why I walked away. I was looking for the exit to find you."
My heart stopped. The breath left my lungs so fast I had to grip the ceramic edge of the sink to steady myself. The security monster. She hadn't just ignored him; she had actively terrorized him before he wandered off. She had planted the seed of panic that drove a seven-year-old into the crowded concourse alone.
"There are no monsters, baby," I said, kissing his wet forehead, my voice trembling with a fresh wave of protective rage. "Alyssa wasn't a monster, was she?"
"No," he agreed, a small smile returning to his face. "She gave me stickers and let me watch cartoons."
"Exactly. And I am going to make sure that Aunt Chloe and Grandma never, ever get the chance to tell you a scary story or make you feel alone again."
As soon as Leo was asleep in the king-sized bed, surrounded by extra pillows and wrapped in my cardigan for comfort, I opened my laptop and began my search. It was 9:00 PM on the West Coast, which meant it was midnight in New York, but I didn't care. I needed local counsel immediately.
I found a twenty-four-hour emergency intake form for a prominent family law and victim advocacy firm in Orange County—Briggs & Associates. I filled out the narrative box with precise, clinical detail: the fifty-minute abandonment, the police report number, the names of the arresting officers, and the psychological intimidation Chloe had used prior to the incident.
At 10:15 PM, my phone buzzed with an unknown California number.
"Ms. Vance? My name is Sarah Briggs," a crisp, professional voice said on the other end. "I just reviewed your intake submission and the police report flags from the Anaheim precinct. I understand you are flying back to New York tomorrow afternoon?"
"That's the plan," I said, pacing the carpeted area near the hotel window, keeping my voice low so I wouldn't wake Leo. "But I need to know what happens when they get bailed out. My mother has resources. She will hire a local attorney, bail them out by morning, and try to intercept us at the airport or back home."
"Not if we file an Emergency Protective Order first thing at 8:00 AM," attorney Briggs replied. "Given the arrest records and the child endangerment charges, I can stand before a magistrate in the morning and secure a temporary restraining order that covers both you and your son across state lines under the Uniform Child Custody Jurisdiction and Enforcement Act. They won't be allowed within five hundred feet of you, your home, or Leo’s school."
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"Do it," I said without hesitation. "Whatever your retainer is, bill my card right now."
"Consider it done, Ms. Vance. Get some rest. The ugly part isn't just starting—we are going to finish it before they even get their shoelaces back from the intake officer."
