Everyone In Town Thinks My Friend’s Dad Is A Monster. I Just Found Out The Real Monster Is His Mother, And Now She’s Coming For Me. How Do I Stop Her?

The Deal with Dad

Saturday morning Dad took me to get a haircut. On the way he said quietly,

“I drove by that grocery store again last night. They’re still there because they have nowhere else to go. Your mother means well. She’s trying to protect you.”

“From what? From helping innocent people?”

Dad was quiet for a long moment.

“Show me your evidence.”

I stared at him.

“Really?”

“I’m willing to look. But if I’m not convinced, you drop this.”

“Deal,” I agreed immediately.

That night while Mom was at book club, I showed Dad everything. The photos Brian had shared, the court documents, Catherine’s social media posts, her history of restraining orders, the threatening messages. Dad studied each piece carefully. His expression grew more troubled with each page.

“This is substantial,” he finally said.

“So you believe me?”

“I believe there’s more to this story than we’ve been told.” He rubbed his face. “But your mother will never accept this. Neither will the community. They’ve invested too much in their version.”

“So we just let them suffer?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dad looked thoughtful. “But we need to be smart about this. Catherine clearly knows you’re investigating. These threats… we should go to the police with what she’s careful. Nothing directly threatening enough for them to act on.”

Dad’s phone rang. Mom was calling to say book club was ending early. He quickly helped me hide the evidence.

“We’ll figure something out,” he promised. “But be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

The Setup

Sunday passed quietly. Too quietly. No notes from Brian. No threats from Catherine. The calm made me nervous. Monday morning, everything exploded.

I arrived at school to find police cars in the parking lot. Students clustered in groups whispering excitedly. I pushed through until I could see what was happening. Brian’s dad was in handcuffs. Brian stood beside a police car, tears streaming down his face.

Catherine was there too, holding a bloody tissue to her nose, talking animatedly to an officer.

“He attacked me,” she was saying. “I just wanted to talk about our son and he went crazy.”

I knew immediately what had happened. She’d provoked him somehow, maybe hurt herself, and called the police. Classic abuser tactic. Provoke a reaction then play victim.

“That’s not true!” I shouted, pushing forward. “She’s lying!”

An officer stopped me.

“Stay back, son.”

“But I have evidence! She’s the abuser, not him!”

Catherine’s eyes found mine over the officer’s shoulder. She smiled slightly, triumphantly. They put Brian’s dad in the police car. Brian tried to go with him but Catherine grabbed his arm.

“You’re coming home with me, sweetheart. Where you belong.”

“No!” Brian tried to pull away. “I won’t go with you!”

“He’s my son,” Catherine told the officers. “I have custody. He’s just confused because his father has been filling his head with lies.”

They made Brian go with her. I watched helplessly as she led him to her car, her grip tight on his arm. He looked back at me, terrified.