And mine broke his collarbone in Helmond, of all places. Touch rugby. Every single time. “All right, come on.
Talk me through it again. ”
“Well, you heard what I told the police. ”
“Yeah, I just want to make sure it still sounds the same this morning. ”
“Why?
Don’t accuse me of lying. I didn’t do anything. ”
“You were running away. ”
“Because I only chased him.
She was drunk and shouting, right? And you were knocking on for Joseph. ”
“Yeah, I always used the back. ”
“Babe, ask if that’s true.
”
“You ask her. ”
“I spoke to Christina. You know that. And whoever else was there.
So if your story still doesn’t match theirs, you might have a problem. ”
“Whose side are you on? ”
“I’m the one who goes through your statement with you. Okay.
So, you need to describe exactly what you did when you found her on the ground. ”
“Right. Showtime. ”
The whole situation was a mess.
Every parent in the neighborhood was losing their mind with the kids off school, and now my lad—a good kid, an apprentice plasterer with his whole life ahead of him—was sitting in an interview room, trying to explain why he’d run. He’d been at the shops with his mates. A woman named Christina had been drunk, shouting in the backyard, and he’d filmed her, chucked water over her, and scarpered when she started screaming. But according to the other lads, my boy wasn’t even there for the worst of it.
He was playing on the bandit, minding his own business. Then some bloke came flying out of nowhere, wrestled him to the ground, and broke his collarbone. And now they were calling it assault. “Oliver Driscoll, I’m arresting you on suspicion of assault.
What? Oh, no. Please. Come on.
You’ve got to be kidding me. ”
It was ridiculous. I tried to explain that to anyone who would listen. I’m the one who’s supposed to be keeping people out of prison, for crying out loud.
“If I go to jail for carrying out my civic duty, we might as well all pack up and go home. ”
But no one wanted to hear it. The officer on the other side of the table just stared at me with that blank look they save for suspects. I tried to reason with him.
I’d heard raised voices. I went into the backyard and saw a middle-aged woman sprawled on the floor and a figure running off. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let him go?
She could have been mugged, assaulted—anything. Those instincts don’t stop to check ID. “A bloke? Have you heard this, babe?
A bloke? He’s a kid. ”
“Yeah. And if you behaved like any normal person, none of this would have happened.
”
My ex showed up, backing me up. Made me look weak. When my dad got wind of it, he came storming in, ready to break the guy’s other collarbone. It was embarrassing.
He’s been doing that my whole life. I got into a scuffle playing field hockey once, and he came charging off the touchline to have a go at the kid and the umpire. I didn’t need that here. Not in front of the police.
“You should lock him up and his son and all. ”
Luckily, an off-duty officer stepped in before my dad could make things a hundred times worse. He told me to leave. That the whole thing would blow over.
But I could see the doubt in his eyes. The problem was her name. Casey. She was the one who’d set this whole mess in motion.
She had a friend—Layla—who’d orchestrated it all. Layla had introduced herself to my partner Adam, saying her son was starting at the same school as his boy, Harry, in September. She offered to have Harry for the day. Adam, always trying to make people feel welcome, took her up on it.
Dropped Harry off at some “mate’s house” while he went to his deposition. But it was all lies. The boy wasn’t starting at that school. And Layla wasn’t being friendly.
She was doing a favor for her friend on the inside. Casey. Harry’s mother. She’d been in prison, and she wanted to get her hooks into her son.
She’d posted pictures on social media to find my Harry. “She poses some images. It’s not a crime. ”
Not a crime, maybe.
But it was a threat. A direct threat to my boy’s safety. “So her friend could blackmail Sarah, right? Well, she’s likely to encounter worse than that before she gets released.
”
I couldn’t believe it. The police weren’t interested. They had bigger fish to fry. An eye for an eye.
They said it was a “slim chance” I’d see any jail time, but they weren’t ruling it out. “Are you going to recommend that this is permanent? ”
“Slim chance. ”
I sat there, my head spinning.
This wasn’t justice. It was just revenge dressed up in procedure. If I’d been the one on the ground, if I’d been the one crying for help, they would have thrown the book at anyone who walked away. But because I stopped to help a woman in trouble, I was the criminal.
And all the while, Harry was out there. Adam had picked him up from Layla’s. He had him safe. But the damage was done.
Casey was out of prison, and she knew where her son was. She’d used her friend to get to him. Next time, it could be her. “What do we do?
” I asked. “Everyone needs to be more vigilant,” the officer said. “Don’t let him go out with strangers. She’s absolutely terrified.
”
“She made a bed and it’s a single bed and it’s a prison cell. Sorry to be blunt. ”
“What if she does something stupid? ”
“She won’t.
”
I looked at him. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t believe that any more than I did. I stood in the kitchen, staring at the kettle, my hand shaking.
My collarbone ached. My pride was in shreds. And my son, my innocent boy—he was in the middle of it all. I didn’t know who to trust, who to blame, or how to keep him safe.
I’m not a violent man. But as I watched Harry sleep that night, a cold, hard thought settled in my chest. If Casey thought she could just walk back into his life and take him from me, she had another thing coming. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
Not to my boy. Not after everything. Not after all this. They thought they had me.
They thought a threat of prison would shut me up. They were wrong.
