My 14-year-old Son Beat His Stepmother Unconscious At Her Own Wedding. My Entire Family Disowned Him Until He Showed Us What Was On His Phone. Now She Is Trying To Frame Me For A Felony To Keep Us Quiet?
Cyberstalking and Therapy
One morning I woke up to dozens of Facebook messages from accounts I didn’t recognize. They were all saying horrible things about me and my son but using details only Lauren would know. Casey documented every single message and tracked the IP addresses back to Lauren’s apartment building. We filed contempt charges since she was violating the no-contact order through her friends.
The judge scheduled an emergency hearing about possibly revoking her bail. Lauren showed up with a different lawyer who argued she couldn’t control what her friends did, but Casey had proof she’d been logged into the fake accounts herself.
My son started trauma therapy but wouldn’t talk for the first three sessions. He just sat there drawing pictures of birds and trees while the therapist waited patiently. On the fourth session, he finally said one sentence about feeling dirty all the time. The therapist gave him special soap to use when the feelings got too strong. Week by week he started saying a few more words about what happened. Sometimes he’d stop mid-sentence and go back to drawing birds. The therapist said this was normal and healing would take time.
Tommy was doing better in his therapy, using play dolls to show what happened. His therapist was documenting everything for the criminal case. My friend’s family was being amazing with him and he’d started smiling again sometimes.
Military Fallout
The military board reviewed all my documents and testimony from Casey about the false allegations. They decided to extend my humanitarian leave but put me on administrative duty when I returned. My security clearance stayed intact but would be reviewed again in 6 months.
Conrad’s parents finally sent one email saying they needed time to process everything. They admitted they should have listened when my son first spoke up. Potter started texting again asking if the boys needed anything, then sent gift cards for clothes and toys but still couldn’t face us in person. The family was slowly trying to figure out how to move forward with all this guilt.
The school called me 3 days later about setting up my son’s return. We sat in a conference room with the principal, two counselors, and the special education coordinator. They kept using words like “trauma-informed approach” and “modified schedule” while I filled out stacks of paperwork. My son would start with half days and work up to full-time over 6 weeks. A counselor would check on him every morning and afternoon. He’d get extra time for tests and could leave class if he felt overwhelmed.
The principal assured me they’d keep everything confidential, but I knew how schools worked. By the time we left I could already see teachers whispering in the hallway.
That same afternoon I checked my email and saw the promotion list had posted. I scrolled through 15 years worth of peers getting their names on there. Mine wasn’t anywhere. My commanding officer had warned me this would happen, but seeing it made my chest tight. All those deployments, all those perfect evaluations, gone because of one incident that wasn’t even my fault. I closed my laptop and tried not to think about the retirement points I’d never earn now.
