Chapter 9 - The Interrogation
Five miles away, inside the sterile, windowless interrogation room of the Grand County Sheriff’s Department, Tyler Harrison was sitting at a metal table, his hands cuffed to a ring bolted into the center of the wood.
The arrogance that had defined his nineteen years of existence was completely gone. His eyes were red and swollen, his golden hair messily tossed, his chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths.
Across the table sat Deputy Rodriguez and Detective Miller, a seasoned investigator with the state police domestic violence task force.
A heavy Manila folder sat open between them, displaying high-resolution color photographs of the bruises covering my back, alongside a clear, glowing printout of my spinal MRI.
"I... I told you, it was an accident," Tyler whimpered, looking at the floor, refusing to look at the photos. "She tripped. She’s clumsy. She’s always falling over things."
Detective Miller leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Tyler, we’ve heard the 'clumsy' story from your father three times tonight. But bone scans don't lie. Wood steps don't cause a hairline fracture on a T-8 vertebra that healed two years ago."
Miller tapped his finger directly on the MRI printout.
"This fracture was caused by an intense, concentrated impact against a sharp, narrow surface," Miller said coldly. "Like, say, the steel frame of a laundry room door."
Tyler flinched as if he had been struck. His breath hitched. "I... I was just wrestling with her. We were playing. It wasn't a big deal!"
"Playing?" Rodriguez interjected, her voice sharp as glass. "Your sister was sixteen years old. You were seventeen, six-foot-two, and two hundred pounds. You slammed her into a doorframe, broke her back, and then spent two years threatening her so she wouldn't tell anyone."
"I didn't break her back!" Tyler screamed, slamming his cuffed hands against the table. "She’s lying! She’s always trying to ruin my life! She knows I’m going to state next semester! She’s just jealous because Dad loves me more!"
Detective Miller slowly leaned back in his chair, looking at the nineteen-year-old boy with profound disgust.
"Son," Miller said softly, "your father can't save you out of this one. We have your sister’s recorded statement. We have the medical evidence verified by two independent trauma surgeons. We have the EMT testimony regarding the old and new bruising. And twenty minutes ago, one of your high school football teammates—a kid named Marcus—answered a call from our deputies. He gave us a statement confirming he was in your basement two years ago and saw you slam Olivia into that door."
Tyler’s face went entirely slack. The color drained from his lips.
"Marcus... talked?" Tyler whispered, his voice cracking into a high-pitched whine.
"Everyone talks when the state police show up, Tyler," Rodriguez said, pulling a fresh set of documents from her folder. "Tyler Harrison, you are formally charged with second-degree assault, felony child abuse resulting in serious bodily harm, and witness tampering. Bail is set at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. You will be transferred to the county jail at dawn."
May you like
Tyler stared at the steel handcuffs holding him to the table. For the first time in his life, the golden boy realized that the world wasn't going to bend to his family’s name.
---
