Dad walked to the door, then turned back.
“I’m still going to file that report. You’ll see what happens when you cross your own blood.”
He left, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frames on my walls.
I made another cup of coffee and tried to focus on work emails, but my concentration was shot.
The morning stretched into afternoon.
Around 300 p.m., my phone rang with an unknown number. I almost didn’t answer, but something made me pick up.
“Is this Juliana Harris?” a male voice asked.
“Yes, this is.”
“This is Officer Marcus Webb with the city police department. I’m calling regarding a report filed this morning by a Thomas Harris. I understand he’s your father.”
My stomach tightened. “That’s correct.”
“Mr. Harris has accused you of fraud and identity theft related to accessing his financial information. I’d like to ask you some questions about that if you have time.”
I took a breath. “Of course. I can come to the station if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary right now. I just need to understand the situation. Your father claims you illegally obtained details about his mortgage and bank accounts. Can you explain how you came to have this information?”
I walked off web through everything.
The bank’s phone call, my role as a reference, the public records, my meticulously documented timeline of events.
He listened without interrupting, occasionally making sounds of acknowledgement.
When I finished, there was a long pause.
“And you have documentation of all this?”
“Yes, sir. Everything’s properly filed and dated.”
Another pause.
“Miss Harris, would you be willing to bring that documentation to the station today, if possible?”
“Absolutely. When?”
“As soon as you can get here. Your father and mother are currently in the waiting room. I’d like to address this situation with everyone present.”
My hands went cold. “They’re both there?”
“Yes, ma’am. They came in together this morning and have been here since. Your father seemed quite determined to pursue this matter.”
I grabbed my folder and keys. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
The police station was a squat brick building downtown, filled with a grim bureaucratic silence.
Phân cảnh 3: Legal truth and fallout
I found Officer Webb at the front desk, a middle-aged black man with kind eyes and an expression that suggested he’d seen every variety of human stupidity imaginable.
“Miss Harris?”
“That’s me.”
He led me through a door into a small conference room where my parents sat on one side of a table. Mom’s eyes were red and puffy from crying.
Dad looked grimly satisfied, like he’d already won.
“Please have a seat,” Officer Webb said, gesturing to the chair across from them.
I sat and placed my folder on the table. Dad’s eyes fixated on it immediately.
Officer Webb remained standing, his arms crossed.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harris, I’ve spoken with your daughter about the allegations you’ve made. She’s provided an explanation that differs significantly from yours. I’d like to give you both an opportunity to respond after I clarify a few things.”
Dad leaned forward, bristling.
“Officer, our daughter has committed a crime. She accessed our private financial information without permission and has been using it to blackmail us emotionally. We want her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
“I understand that’s your position. However, Miss Harris has documentation showing that she was listed as a reference on your mortgage application, that the bank contacted her directly, and that she pulled additional information from public records that anyone can access.”
“Can you dispute any of those facts?”
Mom’s mouth opened and closed. No sound escaping.
Dad’s confidence wavered slightly.
“Even if the bank called her,” he insisted, “she had no right to keep that information or use it against us the way she did.”
Officer Webb nodded slowly.
“Let me make sure I understand the sequence of events. You listed her daughter as a reference on a loan application. The bank contacted her to verify information, which is standard procedure. She then compiled additional publicly available financial information.”