I gave my neighbor CPR after she drowned in her pool and now she’s suing me for sexual assault.

We noted the arrival time of the paramedics and the names of the EMTs if we could remember them. Rebecca pulled up the 911 call recording through an online portal, and we listened to it together.

Her voice on the recording was calm and professional, giving our address, explaining that our neighbor had drowned and was receiving CPR, and answering the operator’s questions about Vanessa’s condition. The operator had specifically instructed me to continue chest compressions.

“Do not stop compressions until paramedics arrive,” the voice on the recording said clearly.

We saved the audio file. It was evidence that I’d been following emergency dispatcher instructions.

After the kids went to bed, Rebecca and I talked about what this meant. A sexual assault accusation could destroy everything.

My job as a software engineer at a consulting firm that worked with schools and youth organizations, my coaching position with the soccer league, my reputation in our neighborhood, and our kids’ schools were all at risk. Even if I won the case, the accusation alone would follow me forever.

Background checks would show I’d been sued for sexual assault. People would wonder, and some would believe it regardless of the truth. Rebecca held my hand across the kitchen table.

“We fight this with everything we have. You saved her life and she’s trying to destroy yours. I don’t understand what’s happening in Vanessa’s head, but we’re not letting this stand.”

I told her I didn’t understand either. Vanessa had seemed grateful when she was released from the hospital. She’d waved at me from her driveway a few days after coming home.

There had been no indication that she felt violated or assaulted, no awkward conversations, and no angry confrontations. There was nothing to suggest what was coming.

Rebecca suggested maybe it wasn’t really Vanessa’s idea.

“Gregory’s a successful businessman, right? Maybe he sees a lawsuit as a payday. Sue the neighbor, claim trauma, settle for a few hundred thousand from your homeowner’s insurance.”

I considered that possibility. It made a cynical kind of sense, as people filed bogus lawsuits all the time hoping for settlements.

But this accusation was so extreme and so damaging. They had to know it would destroy relationships and create permanent animosity. Gregory had seemed genuinely grateful, unless that had all been an act.

The next morning, I called the first attorney on my list, a woman named Diana Shepard. She had spent 15 years defending medical professionals against malpractice claims.

Her practice had expanded to include Good Samaritan cases, where people who’d helped during emergencies faced legal retaliation. Her secretary scheduled me for that afternoon.

I took a sick day from work and drove to her downtown office. Diana was in her early 50s with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and sharp, analytical eyes.

She listened to my entire story without interrupting, taking occasional notes. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

“This is one of the most clear-cut Good Samaritan cases I’ve ever seen. California has strong protections for people who provide emergency medical assistance. You can’t be held liable for harm caused during good faith efforts to help someone in a life-threatening situation.”

She pulled up the relevant statute on her computer and showed me Section 1,799.102 of the Health and Safety Code.

“You’re protected as long as you acted in good faith without expectation of payment and the person was in imminent peril.”

I felt a wave of relief.

“So the case gets dismissed?”

Diana held up a hand.

“It should get dismissed quickly, yes, but we still have to go through the process. File a response, potentially go through discovery, attend hearings. The accusation itself is public record. That’s the real damage here.”

She pulled out a legal pad.

“Tell me everything you know about Vanessa Hartley. Is there any history between you two? Any arguments, any conflicts, anything she could twist into a motive for assault?”

I shook my head. We barely knew each other beyond being neighbors. I’ve never been alone with her before that day, and never had any kind of inappropriate interaction.

Diana made notes.

“What about her husband? Any conflicts there?”

I told her about Gregory thanking me, the bottle of wine, and the emotional gratitude. Diana’s expression turned thoughtful.

“So he was grateful immediately after, but now three weeks later they’re filing suit. Something changed. Either they consulted with a lawyer who saw dollar signs, or something else happened in their relationship.”

She tapped her pen against the pad.

“I’m going to hire a private investigator to look into the Hartleys’ financial situation and personal background. Often these cases are motivated by money problems or other stressors that make people desperate.”

She explained her fees were $450 per hour with an initial retainer of $15,000. I felt my stomach drop. That was money we didn’t really have, but I had no choice.

Diana saw my expression and her voice softened.

“I know it’s expensive, but you need proper representation. This accusation is too serious to handle any other way.”

I agreed to the retainer and signed her representation agreement. She said she’d file a response to the lawsuit within the week and start gathering evidence for a motion to dismiss based on Good Samaritan protection.

I drove home feeling slightly better at least I had an advocate. But the financial burden was already crushing, and the case hadn’t even really started.

That evening, I checked my email and found a message from my boss at the consulting firm.

“Colin, I need to speak with you first thing Monday morning about a sensitive matter. Please come to my office at 8:00 a.m.”

My heart sank. Someone had already told them about the lawsuit.

I spent the weekend in a haze of anxiety, barely able to focus on anything. Rebecca tried to keep things normal for the kids, but they sensed something was wrong.

Lucas asked me Sunday night why I seemed sad. I told him I was just tired from work.

Monday morning, I arrived at the office early and went straight to my boss Gerald’s corner office. He closed the door and gestured for me to sit.

“Colin, I received a call Friday afternoon from a client who’d run a routine background check on our team members. Your name came up flagged because of a recent lawsuit filing. Sexual assault allegations.”

My mouth went dry.

“Gerald, I can explain.”

He held up his hand.

“I’m sure there’s a story here and I’m willing to listen, but you need to understand the position this puts the company in. We work with schools and youth programs. The sexual assault accusation against one of our senior engineers creates liability issues we can’t ignore.”

I explained everything: the drowning, the CPR, the Good Samaritan protection, and the baseless lawsuit. Gerald listened carefully, his expression neutral.

When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment.

“I believe you, Colin. I’ve worked with you for eight years and you’ve never given me reason to doubt your character. But belief isn’t the issue here. Perception is.”

He pulled out a folder from his desk.

“I’m putting you on administrative leave pending resolution of the lawsuit. Full pay, full benefits, but you can’t work on client projects or represent the company until this is cleared up. I’m sorry, my hands are tied.”

I wanted to argue, but I understood his position. The company had to protect itself.