I Came Home From A Hospital Shift To Find My Fiancée And Baby Gone. The Police Called It A “Civil Matter” And Refused To Help. How Do I Find My Daughter?

The Final Piece of Evidence

That afternoon Reed called. “Remember how I’ve been digging into Keith’s background?”

“Yeah. What did you find?”

“I found someone who knows him. A guy named Christopher who lived in the same neighborhood as Keith about 3 years ago. Christopher has information.”

“What kind of information?”

“Keith moved in with a single mother in their neighborhood. Christopher watched the whole thing unfold. Keith isolated her from friends and family, controlled her money, eventually drained her savings and moved on to the next relationship. Christopher says it’s a pattern. He targets vulnerable women with kids.”

Reed paused. “Christopher is willing to testify about what he witnessed.”

“That’s huge. Can you send me his contact information? I want Jeffrey to talk to him.”

“Already done. I sent everything to Jeffrey an hour ago. He’s setting up a call with Christopher tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Reed. This could make a real difference.”

“Just doing my job. But yeah, this guy Keith is bad news. The more I dig, the worse it gets.”

Parenting Reality

Saturday came around again. My fourth unsupervised visit with Lily. I picked her up and brought her back to my apartment. She was comfortable there now, walked around like she owned the place. We played with blocks on the living room floor. I built towers and she knocked them down, laughing every time. Then she wanted to read books. We sat on the couch and I read her favorite stories. She pointed at pictures and named things. Cat. Dog. Moon.

Around noon she started getting fussy, rubbing her eyes, whining. “I think somebody’s tired. Let’s have lunch and then a nap.”

I made her a sandwich and cut it into small pieces. She ate a few bites but mostly pushed the food around her plate. “Not hungry?”

She shook her head. “Tired.”

“Okay baby, let’s get you down for a nap.”

I picked her up to carry her to the crib. She went rigid in my arms. “No nap!”

“Yes nap, you’re tired.”

“No!”

She started crying. Real tears. Her face turned red. I tried to soothe her. “It’s okay. You just need to sleep a little.”

She thrashed in my arms. “No no no no!”

I sat down on the couch with her. She was having a full tantrum now, screaming and crying. I held her gently but firmly. “I know you’re tired. I know you don’t want a nap. But your body needs rest.”

She kept crying. I started rocking her slowly, humming a quiet tune. She fought it for a few minutes, then gradually her cries became softer. Her body relaxed against mine. I kept rocking and humming. Within 10 minutes she was asleep.

I carried her carefully to the crib and laid her down. She didn’t wake up. I stood there watching her sleep, feeling proud of myself. I’d handled a tantrum, stayed calm, got her to sleep without giving in or getting frustrated. These were the normal parenting moments I’d been fighting for. The hard parts along with the easy parts.

I took photos of her sleeping peacefully. Documented the whole afternoon in my notes. Fed her lunch. She had a tantrum. I calmed her down and got her to nap successfully. Jeffrey said documentation was important. Proof that I could handle all aspects of parenting, not just the fun stuff.

Lily slept for 90 minutes. When she woke up she was happy again. No memory of the tantrum. We played more and had a snack.

At 4:30 I packed her things. “Ready to go back to Mama?”

She nodded. “Okay Daddy.”

The drive back was quiet. She looked out the window. At the exchange, Becca took her. “How was today?”

“Good. She had a small tantrum before her nap, but I got her calmed down. She’s fine now.”

Becca’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of tantrum?”

“Normal toddler stuff. She was tired and didn’t want to sleep. I handled it.”

Becca didn’t respond, just turned and walked to her car with Lily.