Chapter 9: The iPad
Sasha called on a Wednesday morning, twelve days later.
"We executed a formal request for the device," she said.
"Mrs.
Diane refused to surrender it voluntarily.
A court order was issued yesterday.
Her attorney advised her to comply."
"Did she?"
"She did.
We have the iPad." A brief pause.
"I'm calling because you should know what we found before the formal report is issued."
I sat down.
"There were forty-seven video recordings," Sasha said.
"Spanning approximately nineteen months.
Some were taken in your home.
Some at hers."
"In my home."
"Yes.
We believe she used a small device — a secondary camera — placed in your kitchen and living room on the days she was watching Noah.
The recordings were transferred to the iPad."
I didn't speak.
"The majority of the recordings show ordinary parenting," Sasha continued.
"You reading to him.
Feeding him.
Correcting him.
Normal.
But she had annotated several of them — written notes attached to specific clips, describing what she claimed the footage showed.
The annotations do not match the footage."
"She fabricated descriptions."
"In several cases, yes.
The clip your husband was shown — the one where Noah was crying — the original footage clearly shows a large truck passing outside the window.
The sound is audible on the recording.
Her annotation describes it as, quote, 'child in distress following maternal outburst.'"
I pressed my hand flat against the kitchen table.
"There are also three recordings," Sasha said, "that show Mrs.
Diane using the chain.
Two with Noah.
One with an older child we haven't yet identified."
"What happens now?"
"The report goes to the district attorney's office.
Child endangerment.
Unlawful surveillance — recording inside a private residence without consent is a criminal matter in this state.
Her attorney will likely attempt a plea, but the recordings are unambiguous." She paused.
"Mrs.
Diane has been formally advised not to have contact with Noah pending the outcome."
"She can't see him."
"Not until this is resolved."
I exhaled.
"Thank you," I said.
"Thank your son," Sasha said.
"He told you about the videos.
Without that, we wouldn't have known to look."
After I hung up, I sat at the kitchen table for a long time.
Ryan came in from the garden.
He had been out there most of the morning — he did that now, when he needed to think.
He looked at my face.
"Sasha called," I said.
I told him everything.
He sat down across from me.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.
"The other child," he said.
"On the recording."
"They're trying to identify them."
He nodded slowly.
His face was very still.
"She did this to other children," he said.
Not a question.
"It looks that way."
He put his hands flat on the table.
He stared at them.
"When I was small," he said.
I waited.
"She used to lock me in the basement.
When I misbehaved." He didn't look up.
"She called it cooling off time.
I thought—" He stopped.
"I thought that was just how things were."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Ryan," I said.
"I should have seen it," he said.
"With Noah.
I should have—" His voice broke.
"He's four.
He's four years old and I stood there and defended her."
"You didn't know the full—"
"I knew enough." He looked up.
His eyes were red.
"I knew enough and I told myself it was discipline and I let her into our home and I let her—"
He stopped.
I reached across the table.
I put my hand over his.
He looked at it for a moment.
Then he turned his hand over and held mine.
We sat like that for a long time.
Not fixed.
Not forgiven.
But present.
Both of us, finally, in the same room, on the same side.
"What do we do now?" he said.
"We protect him," I said.
"Together.
That's what we do now."
From upstairs, Noah called out for his breakfast.
Ryan stood up.
May you like
"I'll get him," he said.
I watched him go.
