My Mother Demanded Both My Kidneys For My Alcoholic Brother. She Said I Don’t Need Them Because I’m Childless. Now The Whole Family Is Harassing Me.

Security Intervenes

Security guard Bo came around the corner right then. Someone must have reported the shouting because he walked straight toward us looking alert and focused. He recognized Mom immediately from the hospital alert system, said her name, and told her she needed to leave hospital property right now.

Mom tried to argue, said she was just talking to her daughter, but Bo cut her off. He said she was trespassing on the hospital property and if she didn’t leave immediately he would call the police. His voice was firm and professional, not mean, but absolutely clear that he wasn’t negotiating.

Mom looked at me one more time with this expression like I’d betrayed her. Then turned and walked toward the garage exit. Her shoes clicked hard against the concrete floor. She stopped about 10 ft away and spun back around, her face twisted with anger.

“You’ll regret this when Tyler dies and it’s all your fault!” she screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls. “When he’s gone you’ll have to live with knowing you could have saved him but chose yourself instead.”

Bo stepped between us, his body blocking her view of me. He didn’t say anything, just stood there solid and calm until Mom finally turned and left for real this time. I heard her car start somewhere on the lower level, the engine noise fading as she drove away.

Bo walked me to my car and waited while I unlocked the door and got in.

“You should think about changing up your schedule if you can,” he said through the open window. “Come and go at different times, use different entrances, that kind of thing.”

His words made something click in my head. This wasn’t just awkward family drama anymore. Hospital security was worried enough about my safety to suggest I change my daily routine. I thanked him and locked my doors, then sat there for a minute letting that sink in.

My own mother had become enough of a threat that trained security personnel thought I needed to take precautions.

Taking Legal Action

I drove home on autopilot, my hands tight on the steering wheel. When I got to my apartment, Evan was already there making dinner. He took one look at my face and asked what happened. I told him about Mom in the parking garage and what Bo said about varying my schedule.

Evan stopped chopping vegetables and pulled out his phone.

“I found a lawyer,” he said. “Alberto Campos. He does family law and harassment cases. I called him this afternoon after you texted about your mom showing up again.”

I felt this wave of relief that I wasn’t handling this alone anymore. Evan had already researched lawyers and made calls while I was at work. He showed me Alberto’s website with all his information about restraining orders and family court cases.

I called the number right then, standing in our kitchen while Evan finished making dinner. Alberto answered on the third ring and his voice was professional but not cold. I explained the basic situation: Mom demanding both kidneys, the harassment at work, tonight’s scene in the parking garage.

He listened without interrupting then said he could meet with me tomorrow afternoon if I was available. He asked me to bring all my paperwork. The texts from Mom, the hospital incident reports, the police report from when she showed up at my building.

“Bring anything that shows a pattern of behavior,” he said. “We need to document everything.”

The next day I left work early and drove to Alberto’s office in a building downtown. His waiting room was small but clean with normal office furniture and magazines on the coffee table. A secretary checked me in and 10 minutes later Alberto came out to get me.

He was maybe 50, wearing a suit but no tie, and he shook my hand firmly before leading me back to his office. I sat across from his desk and pulled out the folder Evan and I had put together. All the screenshots of Mom’s texts organized by date. The hospital security reports from each time she showed up. The police report from my apartment building. The statement from the transplant surgeon about the illegal double kidney request.

Alberto spread everything out on his desk and went through it piece by piece, taking notes on a yellow legal pad. I walked him through the whole story from Mom’s first demand through last night in the parking garage. He asked questions about specific dates and times, about witnesses, about whether Mom had ever been physically violent.

I told him no physical violence, but lots of screaming and showing up places she shouldn’t be. When I finished, Alberto leaned back in his chair and looked at all the papers covering his desk.

“You have a strong case for a restraining order,” he said. “The pattern is clear. You have multiple witnesses and the workplace disruption is well documented.”

He explained that harassment doesn’t have to be physical threats. That stalking and repeated unwanted contact counts too. Hearing a lawyer say I had a strong case made something loosen in my chest. I wasn’t overreacting. This was real enough that the legal system would take it seriously.

Alberto explained the whole process step by step. We’d file a petition for a restraining order with the court, which would trigger a hearing date in about 2 weeks. At the hearing, I’d need to testify about Mom’s behavior and present all this documentation. He’d help me prepare my testimony and make sure everything was organized properly for the judge.

“Given what you’ve shown me, I’m confident the judge will grant the order,” Alberto said. “You have hospital security involved, police reports, workplace complaints, and a clear pattern of escalating behavior.”

He explained that the restraining order would legally prohibit Mom from contacting me, coming to my work or home, or posting about me on social media. If she violated it, she could be arrested. The order would last for one year initially, and we could renew it if needed.

Alberto’s confidence helped calm the nervous feeling in my stomach. This was the right step. I wasn’t being dramatic or cruel. I was protecting myself from someone who refused to respect basic boundaries.

We scheduled another meeting for next week to prepare for the hearing, and I left his office feeling like I’d finally taken real action instead of just reacting to whatever Mom did next.