My Mother-in-law Poisoned My Food To Prove My Deadly Allergy Was Fake.

She said my brain was trying to protect me by making me afraid of food. She taught me breathing exercises for when the panic started.

She explained that my hypervigilance made sense given what happened. But she said we needed to work on not letting it control my whole life.

She gave me homework assignments, like eating one meal prepared by James each week. She said we’d work up slowly to eating in restaurants again.

It helped to know I wasn’t losing my mind. It helped to know other people had survived this kind of thing.

James spent three days calling every family member he could think of. His cousin picked up on the first ring.

She remembered that dinner two years ago like it was yesterday. Linda had made this special sauce she swore was safe for people with tomato sensitivity.

The cousin ate it because Linda kept insisting it was fine. Within an hour, she was covered in hives, and her face had swollen up.

Linda acted shocked and said the restaurant must have mislabeled the tomato paste she bought. But the cousin found the empty can in the trash later; it had tomatoes listed right there on the front.

She thought maybe Linda made an honest mistake reading the label. Now she realized Linda knew exactly what she was doing.

James called his uncle next. The uncle told him about his girlfriend, who had a severe dairy allergy.

Linda made her a special dessert at Thanksgiving. The girlfriend ended up in the emergency room with her throat closing.

Linda cried and said she forgot about the cream cheese. But James’ uncle found the empty cream cheese container hidden at the bottom of the trash under other garbage.

It was like Linda was trying to hide it. James made a list of seven different people over five years.

Every single one had an allergy or food sensitivity that Linda decided was fake. Every single one ended up sick after eating something Linda prepared.

Some just got mild reactions; others ended up in the hospital. I was just the one who finally had enough proof to nail her.

The preliminary hearing happened six weeks after I got poisoned. The courthouse smelled like floor cleaner and old paper.

I had to sit in the witness chair and tell the whole story again. Linda sat at the defense table in a nice blue dress, looking like somebody’s sweet grandma.

Her lawyer stood up when it was his turn. He smiled at me like we were old friends.

He asked if I had a history of being dramatic about my allergy. I said no.

He asked if I’d ever exaggerated symptoms for attention. Blake stood up fast and objected.

The judge agreed and told the lawyer to move on. The lawyer asked if I had any reason to be vindictive toward Linda.

I said she’d been trying to poison me for two years. He said that sounded extreme.

I said she literally poisoned me with concentrated shellfish extract. Blake presented my medical records going back to when I was six years old.

Three different times I’d ended up hospitalized from accidental shellfish exposure. Once was from cross-contamination at a restaurant.

Once was from a friend’s mom who didn’t believe me about the allergy. Once was from food at a school event.

The records showed my throat closing, my blood pressure dropping, the EpiPen injections, and the hospital stays. Everything matched what happened at James’ birthday dinner.

The defense lawyer stood up again after Blake sat down. He said Linda was a confused older woman who didn’t understand how serious my condition was.

He said she thought she was helping me overcome a mental block about seafood. He said she never intended to cause real harm.

Blake waited until he was done talking. Then Blake asked the judge if he could play a video.

The bailiff set up a laptop on a table where everyone could see. Blake played the security footage from the restaurant.

The video showed our whole table, me and James getting up to go to the bathroom together. Linda was sitting alone at the table for maybe three minutes.

She looked around twice to make sure nobody was watching. Then she pulled a small bottle from her purse.

She unscrewed the cap. She poured liquid from the bottle into my pasta.

She stirred it with my fork. She put the bottle back in her purse.

She looked around again, then she sat back and waited for us to return. The judge watched the whole thing without saying anything.

When the video ended, he looked at Linda for a long time. Then he said the video showed clear premeditation.

He said Linda knew exactly what she was doing and took steps to hide it. He said anyone who would do this represented a danger to other people.

He ordered Linda held without bail until trial. Linda started crying and saying it wasn’t fair.

Her lawyer tried to argue, but the judge was done listening. The bailiff took Linda away through a side door.

James and I started couples therapy two weeks after the hearing. We sat in Summer’s office on a gray couch that was supposed to be comfortable but wasn’t.

James kept saying he should have protected me better. He kept saying he should have cut his mother off years ago.

I wanted to comfort him, but I was also angry. I was the one who almost died.

I was the one who couldn’t eat without panicking. But somehow, I was spending half our sessions making James feel better about his guilt.

Summer stopped us after the third session went that way. She said we were both victims of Linda’s abuse but in different ways.

She said James’ guilt was real and valid, but she also said it couldn’t become my job to manage his feelings when I was trying to survive my own trauma. She taught us how to support each other without drowning together.

James learned to process his guilt in individual therapy instead of dumping it on me. I learned to tell him when I needed support instead of trying to be strong all the time.

It helped slowly. Blake called us to his office three weeks after the hearing.

He had a thick folder on his desk. He said the forensic psychologist finished evaluating Linda.

The report was forty pages long, but Blake gave us the summary. Linda had narcissistic personality disorder.

She genuinely believed she was helping people overcome fake limitations. The psychologist said Linda couldn’t understand that other people’s medical conditions were real.

She’d never experienced severe allergies herself. In her mind, that meant nobody else could have them either.

Her need to be right about everything overrode any empathy or concern for other people’s safety. The psychologist said Linda would never accept responsibility for what she did.

She would always believe she was the victim. She would always think everyone else was wrong and she was trying to help.

Blake said this made her dangerous. Even if she went to prison and got treatment, she’d probably never change.

More family members stopped talking to Linda after they heard about the other victims. James’ dad filed for divorce.

Two of James’ cousins sent messages saying they believed us and supported us. But James’ aunt sent me a letter in the mail.

The envelope had my name written in shaky handwriting. Inside was three pages of cramped writing.

The aunt said I should drop the charges. She said prison would kill Linda.

She said Linda was family and family forgives each other. She said I was being cruel by pursuing this.

She said Linda made a mistake but didn’t deserve to have her life ruined. She said I was tearing the whole family apart.

I read the letter twice; my hands shook the whole time. I showed it to Blake at our next meeting.

He read it carefully, then he said it was witness tampering. He made a copy for the evidence file.

He said the aunt probably didn’t realize she was breaking the law, but she was. Blake called us back to his office two weeks later.

He said the prosecutor’s office was offering a plea deal. Linda would plead guilty to aggravated assault instead of attempted murder.

She’d serve five to eight years with mandatory psychiatric treatment. Blake said the deal would save us from going through a trial.

It would be over faster. We’d know exactly what sentence Linda got instead of risking what a jury might decide.