I’m Being Charged With Threatening A Coworker In The Office. I’ve Been On Medical Leave In Another

An Impossible Accusation

I’m being charged with threatening a coworker in the office; I’ve been on medical leave in another state for three months.

The registered letter arrived at my sister’s house in Phoenix on a Thursday morning, forwarded from my address in Seattle. I was sitting on her couch with my leg elevated, three months into recovering from a motorcycle accident that had shattered my femur in four places when she handed me the envelope with a concerned expression.

Inside was a restraining order filed by someone named Olivia Kent, along with a notice that criminal charges were pending. According to the documents, I had been threatening Olivia at our workplace, Cascade Analytics, for the past six weeks.

The restraining order cited specific incidents: confrontations in the breakroom, aggressive emails sent from my work computer, photographs I’d allegedly taken of her without consent, and a final threat made in person on January 18th. I had reportedly cornered her in the parking garage and told her I’d make her regret rejecting me.

The problem was simple and impossible to ignore: I hadn’t been in Seattle since October 22nd. I’d been in Phoenix, Arizona, 1,500 miles away with a titanium rod in my leg and enough prescription painkillers to stock a small pharmacy.

I couldn’t walk without crutches, and I couldn’t drive. I hadn’t sent a single email from my work account because I’d been on short-term disability leave, and I’d never met anyone named Olivia Kent in my entire life.

I stared at the documents, reading them three times and waiting for the words to make sense. My sister Rebecca stood in the doorway of her living room, watching me with the expression she’d worn when our father died—that mixture of concern and helplessness.

“Nathan, what is this? Who’s Olivia Kent?” Rebecca asked. I looked up at her, my hands shaking enough that the papers rustled.

“I have no idea. I’ve never heard that name before.” I replied. Rebecca moved closer, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“It says here you threatened her at work multiple times, but you’ve been here since October.” She said. “Exactly.” I responded.

I set the papers down and pulled out my phone, scrolling to my email. There was nothing from HR, nothing from my manager, no warnings, and no notifications that anything was wrong.

There were just automated disability status updates and a few messages from colleagues wishing me a speedy recovery. The restraining order had been filed eight days ago.

The criminal charges were scheduled for a preliminary hearing in Seattle on February 8th, which was 11 days away. I was being summoned to appear in court to answer for crimes I couldn’t have committed because I’d been recovering from an accident that had nearly killed me.

I called Cascade Analytics immediately. The receptionist, a woman named Linda who’d worked there for 15 years, answered with her usual cheerful tone.

“Cascade Analytics, how may I direct your call?” Linda asked. “Linda, it’s Nathan Cross. I need to speak with Douglas Hampton in HR. It’s urgent.” I said.

There was a pause just a fraction of a second too long. “Mr. Cross, I’ll transfer you to Mr. Hampton’s office.” Linda replied. The hold music played for two minutes before Hampton picked up.

His voice was careful, measured in the way HR professionals spoke when they were documenting every word. “Nathan, I was expecting your call.” Douglas said.

“Douglas, what the hell is going on? I just received a restraining order from someone named Olivia Kent. I’ve never met this person. I’ve been in Arizona for three months recovering from a motorcycle accident.” I exclaimed.

Hampton was quiet for a moment. “Nathan, I understand this must be confusing, but we have multiple documented incidents of you harassing Olivia. She’s provided evidence to both HR and the police: witness statements, emails, and photographs.” Hampton said.

He continued that the situation was serious enough that they had to involve law enforcement. I felt my chest tighten.

“Douglas, I haven’t been in Seattle since October. I physically cannot have done what she’s claiming. I have medical records, hospital documentation, and witnesses; I’ve been living with my sister in Phoenix. How could I possibly have threatened someone at an office I haven’t set foot in for three months?” I argued.

“The incidents she reported occurred at the office, Nathan. She has witnesses who saw you there. She has emails sent from your work account. She has security footage timestamps.” Hampton replied.

My mind was racing, trying to make sense of impossible information. “That’s not possible. Someone is impersonating me or framing me or I don’t know what, but I did not do this. Can you send me the evidence—the emails, the witness statements, anything?” I asked.

Hampton’s tone shifted, becoming more formal. “I’m not at liberty to share that information with you directly. It’s part of an active investigation. I’d suggest you retain legal counsel.” Hampton said.

He added that the company was taking these allegations very seriously and that I was currently suspended without pay pending the outcome of the criminal proceedings. I was suspended without pay for something I didn’t do, something I couldn’t have done.

I ended the call and sat there, my leg throbbing with the familiar ache that came whenever I stayed still too long. Rebecca was watching me with growing alarm.