My Ex-husband Accused Me Of Selling Our Son After He Vanished At The Park. Then My 7-year-old Daughter Handed The Police A Secret Notebook. Am I Wrong For Wanting Them Both To Rot In Prison?

“Mom what does courageous mean?” She asked looking up at me with those big brown eyes that were so much like mine.

“It means being brave even when you’re scared,” I told her pouring orange juice into her favorite purple cup.

“Like when you told the truth about who broke Grandpa’s vase even though you thought you’d get in trouble.”

She nodded thoughtfully and went back to her workbook. If only I’d known how much courage she’d need to show just hours later.

The divorce had been final for six months and we were finally finding our rhythm as a family of three. The apartment was smaller than our old house sure but it was ours.

No more walking on eggshells no more Derek coming home at midnight smelling like another woman’s perfume. No more arguments that made the kids hide in their rooms.

Derek had fought the divorce every step of the way not because he wanted to save our marriage but because he couldn’t stand losing. He was the successful real estate agent with the perfect smile and firm handshake.

I was the nurse who’d lost her job during the pandemic cutbacks. In his mind that made him the winner by default.

When the judge granted me primary custody anyway something shifted in him. The mask he wore for judges and social workers started slipping.

“Mommy are we seeing daddy this weekend?” Jonah asked wandering into the kitchen with his favorite truck.

“Not this weekend baby next weekend is daddy’s turn.” I said.

That was the schedule every other weekend alternating holidays. Derek had been pushing for more claiming I was alienating the children from him.

His mother Constance had been helping him build a case. She showed up at school pickups with her little notebook documenting every minute I was late every time Vera’s hair wasn’t perfectly braided every time Jonah had a runny nose.

“She’s building a case,” My lawyer had warned me.

“Document everything on your side too.”

So I did. The folder in my bedroom was growing thick with receipts school reports medical records photos of the kids thriving despite the upheaval.

Derek had missed three child support payments but somehow could afford a new BMW. He’d returned the kids two hours late last Sunday because he’d taken them to his girlfriend Amber’s pool party without telling me.

Vera had come home sunburned and upset because daddy’s friend kept trying to be our new mommy.

“Can we make pancakes?” Jonah asked climbing onto his chair at the table.

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips,” I agreed reaching for the mixing bowl.

As I stirred the batter Vera put down her pencil.

“Mom why does Grandma Constance hate us?”

“She doesn’t hate you sweetheart,” I said.

“She hates you though she told Mrs. Patterson at the grocery store that you’re an unfit mother I heard her.”

I set down the whisk and knelt beside my daughter’s chair.

“Sometimes adults have complicated feelings what matters is that I love you and Jonah more than all the stars in the sky.”

“More than all the pancakes in the world,” Jonah chimed in.

“Even more than that,” I laughed ruffling his hair.

We ate breakfast together Jonah getting syrup on everything within a three-foot radius. Vera carefully cutting her pancakes into perfect squares.

They were good kids happy kids despite everything. The court-appointed evaluator had even noted how well adjusted they seemed how secure their attachment to me was.

“Can we go to the park today?” Vera asked as she helped me clear the dishes.

“Jonah wants to feed the ducks.”

“Of course we’ll go after lunch,” I replied.

Those normal everyday moments feel like a lifetime ago. Now if I could go back would I do anything differently?

Would I have skipped the park ignored my brother’s call held Jonah’s hand tighter? The what-ifs could drive you crazy if you let them.

Chaos at Riverside Park

Riverside Park was crowded that afternoon filled with families enjoying what might be one of the last warm Saturdays before fall really set in. The playground buzzed with children’s laughter parents chatting on benches and the distant sound of dogs barking in the off-leash area.

Jonah had been so excited when we arrived practically vibrating out of his car seat as I unbuckled him.

“Swings first swings first!” He chanted pulling me toward his favorite spot.

I lifted him into the toddler swing the one with the high back and safety bar. His little hands gripped the chains as I pushed him gently his giggles floating through the air with each arc.

Vera had already claimed her spot on the monkey bars moving across them with the determination of an Olympic athlete in training.

“Higher Mommy touch the sky!” Jonah squealed kicking his legs with joy.

That’s when my phone rang. The caller ID showed my brother Nolan’s face.

I almost didn’t answer but our father was scheduled for heart surgery on Monday and I’d been waiting for updates about the pre-op appointments.

“Keep swinging baby mommy needs to answer this real quick,” I told Jonah stepping exactly three feet away to the nearest bench.

I could see both kids clearly the swing was still moving in its gentle rhythm.

“Renata dad’s surgeon wants to move the surgery to Tuesday,” Nolan said immediately.

“Something about the anesthesiologist’s schedule mom’s freaking out about it being a bad sign.”