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?

Digging Deeper

I started using the library computers during lunch. The librarian, Mrs. Chen, didn’t pay much attention as long as you were quiet. I dug deeper into public records. Brian’s mom, Catherine, had quite a history. Two previous restraining orders from ex-boyfriends, an arrest for assault at a bar—all before she met Brian’s dad.

I was printing pages when someone cleared their throat behind me. Mrs. Patterson, the nosiest parent volunteer, stood there with her arms crossed.

“Shouldn’t you be at lunch?”

I grabbed the papers and stuffed them in my backpack.

“Just finishing homework.”

That afternoon, Mom was waiting in the principal’s office when I got called down. Mrs. Patterson sat beside her, looking smug. Principal Morrison held up the printed pages.

“Care to explain why you’re researching restraining orders during school hours?”

Mom’s face was stone.

“We’ll discuss this at home.”

The car ride was silent until we pulled into our driveway. Then Mom exploded. Mrs. Patterson told me everything.

“You’re obsessed with defending these people. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with everyone else?” I shouted back. “You’re destroying an innocent family because you’re too stubborn to look at evidence.”

“Go to your room. You’re not leaving this house except for school until you get your head straight.”

I stomped upstairs and slammed my door. Outside my window, I could see Mrs. Patterson’s house across the street. She was probably already texting the other moms about my “concerning behavior.”

Under Surveillance

At school the next day, it was worse. Kids moved away when I sat down. My usual lunch table was suddenly full. Even teachers looked at me differently. Brian caught my eye in the hallway and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

I ate lunch alone in the bathroom stall, planning my next move. Mom had taken my phone and restricted my computer access, but she couldn’t stop me from using school resources. I just had to be smarter about it.

Over the next week, I developed a routine. I’d volunteer to help teachers after school, then use their computers when they stepped out. I found more about Catherine. She’d been fired from three jobs for interpersonal conflicts. Her social media, before it went private, was full of rants about ex-boyfriends who’d wronged her.

Brian started leaving me notes in library books—small updates about his dad.

“Lost another job interview when they Googled him.”

“Landlord wants us out by end of month.”

“Dad won’t eat. Says food should go to me.”

Each note made me angrier. I started writing everything down in a notebook I kept hidden in my locker. Evidence, dates, connections. I was building a case.