Chapter 8 - The Law Arrives
"Officers," I said, turning to the two precinct deputies standing beside my mother. "That woman, Melissa Miller, physically assaulted my mother, Evelyn Miller, in front of multiple witnesses less than forty-five minutes ago. She struck her across the face, leaving visible trauma."
The lead officer, a tall, stern-faced sergeant, stepped forward, his hand resting on his belt. "Is this true, ma'am?" he asked, looking at my mother.
My mother looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. But this time, she didn't look down at the floor. She saw me standing at the head of the table, strong, unyielding, and completely solid.
She took a deep breath, straightened her frail back, and looked the officer dead in the eye.
"Yes, Officer," my mother said, her voice clear and strong. "She struck me. And it wasn't the first time."
"You lying old hag!" Melissa screamed, losing all composure, lunging across the corner of the table toward my mother. "I barely touched you! You dropped my expensive platter!"
"Ma'am, stay right where you are!" the sergeant commanded, stepping smoothly between Melissa and my mother, pulling his handcuffs from his belt. "Turn around and place your hands behind your back!"
"Derek! Do something!" Melissa shrieked as the cold metal cuffs clicked securely around her wrists. "Tell them she's lying! Tell them this is our house!"
Derek looked up, his face hollow, his eyes completely empty. "Melissa... shut up..."
"Don't you tell me to shut up!" she screamed, thrashing against the officer's grip as she was led toward the front door in front of all her country club friends, who were already pulling out their smartphones, whispering furiously and taking videos of the spectacle.
"Wait!" Brenda yelled, standing up frantically. "You can't arrest my daughter! This is a private residence! I demand you leave!"
Before Brenda could take another step, the front doors of the mansion swung wide open once again.
In walked Richard Vance, accompanied by two junior legal associates carrying heavy leather briefcases, and three Cook County Sheriff's deputies carrying official court eviction warrants.
Richard pulled a pair of reading glasses from his jacket, unfolding a thick stack of court orders stamped by the Chancery Division.
"Brenda Hayes, Derek Miller, and Melissa Miller," Richard announced in a booming voice that echoed through the high ceilings of the foyer. "I am serving you with an Emergency Ex-Parte Order of Protection and a Notice of Immediate Summary Eviction issued by the Circuit Court."
Brenda blinked, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. "Eviction? You can't evict us! We live here!"
"You are unauthorized trespassers on a property owned 100% by Sarah Elizabeth Miller," Richard corrected her with ice-cold precision. "Furthermore, due to the pending criminal charges of elder abuse, grand larceny, and financial exploitation filed against you, the court has granted a thirty-day restraining order barring all three of you from coming within five hundred feet of this property or Evelyn Miller."
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"Five hundred feet?" Derek stammered, standing up slowly, his voice squeaking. "Richard... please, I'm Sarah's brother! I'm Evelyn's son!"
Richard looked at Derek with profound, disgusted pity. "A son who lets his wife beat his mother and forces her to sleep in a laundry room is no son at all, Derek. You have fifteen minutes to gather your personal clothing in plastic bags under the supervision of the Sheriff's deputies. Everything else in this house—the furniture, the art, the vehicles—has been frozen under a court-ordered lien to satisfy the financial restitution owed to your mother."
