Chapter 3 - The Police Saw Both Slaps
The ballroom cameras did not capture every angle.
They captured enough.
Evelina taking Hattie’s arm.
The strike.
Hattie falling backward.
Me entering.
Moving my daughter behind me.
Then walking toward Evelina.
My slap.
Separate conduct.
The police interviewed witnesses.
Most had seen at least part.
No one claimed Hattie attacked Evelina.
Obviously.
No one claimed Evelina was physically threatening me when I hit her.
Also obvious.
My attorney, Samuel Reed, reviewed the video the next morning.
When Evelina struck Hattie, he paused.
“Clear.”
Then the footage continued.
I pulled Hattie behind me.
Evelina spoke.
I moved toward her.
Slap.
Sam paused again.
“That one belongs to you.”
“I know.”
“Do not call it defense of your daughter.”
“I won’t.”
“Your daughter was already behind you.”
“I know.”
He studied me.
“You’re going to keep saying that?”
“Until I stop wanting to say something else.”
The urge was there.
She hit my child.
She knocked out a tooth.
She deserved—
No.
The law does not work by transferring one person’s misconduct into a permission slip for another.
The prosecutor later offered me diversion on a misdemeanor assault charge.
No prior record.
One strike.
Minor injury to Evelina from the impact and table collision.
Anger-management assessment.
Community service.
No unlawful contact.
Successful completion would lead to dismissal.
I accepted.
Evelina’s case proceeded separately.
Her intentional strike of a seven-year-old, combined with the resulting mouth injury and her words, created more serious exposure.
Still:
No attempted murder.
No imaginary felony because I hated her.
The investigation would take time.
Meanwhile, a temporary protective order prohibited direct contact with Hattie.
That was the boundary I cared about most.
Hattie heard relatives talking.
One afternoon she asked:
“You get police trouble too?”
“Yes.”
“Because you hit Evelina?”
“Yes.”
“But she hit me.”
“She did.”
“You hit her because she hit me.”
“I was angry because she hit you.”
Hattie waited.
I continued.
“But once you were behind me, I didn’t need to hit her to keep you safe.”
She made the face children make when adult ethics seem unnecessarily complicated.
“So what should you do?”
“Take you away. Call security. Call police.”
“Yell?”
“I could yell.”
“Really loud?”
“Very.”
She considered.
“Do that next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
She nodded.
May you like
“That too.”
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