Chapter 7 - THE ARREST AND THE CHAOS OF EXPOSURE
From the dining room, the sharp, authoritative sound of police commands broke through the quiet atmosphere.
“Ma’am, stay where you are! Keep your hands where we can see them!” Officer Vance’s voice echoed loudly.
“Don’t touch me! You can’t arrest me! I’m the victim here!” Corinne shrieked in response, her voice pitching up into an ear-piercing, hysterical wail.
“My husband is a monster! He’s framing me! He planted those things in the basement!”
Peeking past the living room archway, I watched as the two police officers hauled Corinne up from the hardwood floor.
She thrashed and kicked wildly against their grip, her expensive silk blouse tearing at the shoulder seam, her hair flying across her face in a wild, unkempt mess.
“Get those cuffs off me!” she screamed, foaming slightly at the mouth as the full, unadulterated fury of her narcissistic collapse took complete control of her mind.
“Arthur! You cowardly bastard! You’ll pay for this! You’ll never see your precious little brat grow up!”
Officer Vance didn’t flinch, expertly snapping the cold steel handcuffs around her wrists with a sharp, definitive click.
“Corinne Miller-Sterling, you are under arrest for willful child endangerment, abuse of a minor, and unlawful deprivation of necessities,” Officer Vance stated clearly, reading her rights aloud as he guided her toward the front door.
She continued to scream obscenities and hurl wild accusations right up until the moment they shoved her head down and pushed her into the back of the marked police cruiser.
The cruiser doors slammed shut, muffling her hysterical shrieks into a dull, distant rumble, and the vehicle backed down the driveway, its red and blue lights flashing against the morning sky.
Social Worker Miller stood up, gently patting Desmond on the shoulder before turning her attention to me.
“Mr. Sterling, we’re going to need to take the children down to the county medical facility for a complete pediatric evaluation to document any signs of malnutrition or physical neglect,” she explained calmly.
“Once that’s completed, we can begin the formal family support proceedings. You’ve done the right thing by calling us immediately.”
“Thank you, Ms. Miller,” I said, letting out a long, exhausted breath that felt like shedding a twenty-ton anchor.
“Whatever the doctors need, whatever evaluations are required, I’ll cooperate one hundred percent.”
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“Good,” she nodded approvingly.
“Let’p get your coats. I’ll follow your vehicle to the hospital myself.”
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