Part 4: The Welcome They Welcomed
Ten minutes later, two police cruisers pulled up to the curb with their lights flashing.
The neighborhood was dead quiet, making the arrival of the police incredibly loud. Neighbors began peeking through their blinds. I stepped out onto the front porch just as the officers walked up the driveway.
“What’s going on here?” the older officer asked.
My mother immediately rushed forward, putting on her best damsel-in-distress act. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Officer! This is a family misunderstanding. My daughter Jenna is having a bit of a mental episode and is locking her sister out of her own home!”
“Is this your home, ma’am?” the officer asked Brooke.
“Yes! I mean, it’s our family property,” Brooke stammered, suddenly looking pale. “I’m moving my stuff in today.”
The officer turned to me. “Ma’am, do you own this house?”
I handed him a neat, clear plastic folder I had been holding. Inside was the official, certified copy of the deed, my North Carolina driver’s license matching the name, and the printed invoice from the locksmith who had changed the locks two days ago.
“I am the sole owner,” I told the officer. “Nobody else is on the deed. I have explicitly told them multiple times they do not have permission to be here. They broke my back gate to get onto my property, and I have the doorbell footage right here showing them trying to pick my lock earlier.”
I handed him my phone, playing the video of Brooke and my mother trying to force their way in.
The officer’s expression hardened. He turned to my family. “Alright. This is private property. You people need to put everything back in that truck and leave immediately. If you step foot on this lawn again, you will be arrested for criminal trespassing.”
