My Mom Removed My Bedroom Door So Her New Boyfriend Could “Monitor” Me. She Said I Was Making Up Lies About Him. Then I Found My Father’s Secret Journal Hidden In The Attic.
The Aftermath
Brandon’s trial date was set for 6 months out. The prosecutor said with his confession and all our evidence he’d probably get life without parole. They’d linked him to three other murders in different states all with similar patterns.
He’d frame someone close to the victim then swoop in to comfort the grieving family. The detective said we were lucky that his other victims hadn’t survived to expose him. I went back to school but everything felt different.
Kids whispered when I walked by. Everyone knew about Brandon and dad by now. Ashley stuck by me though, and a few other friends who actually mattered.
My teachers were extra nice which almost made it worse. I didn’t want pity, I just wanted normal, but normal was gone probably forever. Dad started working construction with Uncle Henry.
Manual labor, he said, helped clear his head. He’d come home exhausted and covered in dust, but he seemed calmer. He was seeing a therapist too.
Some guy who specialized in wrongful conviction trauma. Dad didn’t talk about the sessions but I could see they were helping. He stopped flinching when doors slammed. Stopped checking locks obsessively.
Mom moved out after 2 weeks. She rented a small apartment across town, said she needed space to figure things out. I was relieved honestly.
The tension when her and dad were in the same room was suffocating. She betrayed him in the worst way possible, even if Brandon had manipulated her. Some things you can’t come back from.
She asked if I wanted to stay with her sometimes but I said no. I needed to be with dad. The divorce papers came a month later.
Dad signed them without reading them. Just wanted it over. Mom gave him everything: the house, the car, full custody of me.
Her guilt was eating her alive. She started seeing a therapist too, trying to understand how she’d been so blind. I felt bad for her sometimes, but then I’d remember how she chose Brandon over dad, how she didn’t believe me, and the sympathy would dry up.
Uncle Henry became a regular at our house. He’d bring his kids over on weekends and we’d have cookouts like the old days. His twins, Elijah and John, were only eight but they idolized dad.
They didn’t care about his past, just that he could throw a football and tell funny stories. His daughter Deborah was my age and we got close fast. She understood what it was like to have your family turned upside down.
Her mom had left when she was 10. 3 months after dad got out I had to testify at a pre-trial hearing. The prosecutor said my testimony would help ensure Brandon couldn’t claim insanity or coercion.
