You’re going to the hospital and I’m riding with you. But first, I need you to tell these officers exactly what happened. I hadn’t noticed the two police officers who had entered with the paramedics. They stood nearby, taking in the scene. Daniel spoke to them briefly, his credentials as a federal prosecutor adding weight to his words.
They approached my parents, asking them to step aside for questioning. As the paramedics lifted me onto a stretcher, I heard my mother’s voice rising in protest. This is completely unnecessary. She’s fine and we haven’t done anything wrong. One of the officers responded in a professional tone. Ma’am, we have multiple witnesses and video evidence of an assault on a pregnant woman.
You’ll need to come with us to give your statement. The reception guest parted as the paramedics wheeled me toward the exit. I caught glimpses of shocked faces, heard whispered conversations. My cousin Bridget stood near the door with her new husband, her face stricken with concern. She touched my hand as I passed, mouththing, “I’m so sorry.
