My Grandson Called Me In The Middle Of The Night: ‘Grandma, I’m At The Station… My Stepfather Told Me To Leave, And Now He’s Saying I Caused Trouble, And They Took His Word!’ When I Arrived At The Station, The Officer Paused And Said, ‘I’m Sorry… I DIDN’T KNOW.’

“I want to speak with him privately.”

He hesitated. “Department protocol requires supervision for all—”

“Officer,”

I cut him off, my voice dropping to the quiet, precise tone that had silenced countless courtrooms. “I spent 30 years sending people to federal prison for civil rights violations and abuse of power.

Would you like to explain to your captain why you denied a minor access to his legal representative?”

“You’re his legal representative?”

“For the moment, I’m the only advocate he has. Open the door, please.”

He complied, and I entered the room to find Tyler rising quickly to his feet, relief washing over his face. “Grandma,”

he exclaimed, his composure cracking.

In three steps, I had crossed the room and embraced him, feeling the slight tremor in his body that betrayed his fear despite his attempts to appear strong. “Are you all right?”

I asked, drawing back to examine the mark on his face. “I’m okay,” he insisted, though the way his eyes darted toward Peterson suggested otherwise.

“We’ll speak privately,”

I told him, turning back to the officer, who hovered uncertainly in the doorway. “Officer Peterson was just leaving to arrange for medical attention and to gather the complete case file for my review.”

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