Chapter 8 - Tabitha’s VersionTabitha requested to meet through lawyers.
Naomi advised against direct contact.
I agreed.
Then Tabitha sent a twenty-page written statement.
Her version.
She said Dad manipulated her.
She said she believed I was unstable.
She said Juniper’s medication use frightened her.
She said Orson told her doctors overprescribed children.
She claimed the inhaler incidents were attempts to determine whether Juniper “truly needed intervention.”
I read that sentence three times.
Determine.
Intervention.
Words designed to sterilize cruelty.
Then:
I never intended Juniper to be harmed.
I believed that.
And somehow it made me angrier.
Because intention had become her shield.
Naomi said:
“Intent matters legally in some contexts.”
“I’m not talking legally.”
“No.”
Tabitha admitted approving the four-hundred-thousand distribution.
Orson told her it was temporary.
He said Juniper’s trust would be repaid.
It never was.
She received fifty thousand because her divorce left her insolvent.
“I needed rent,” she wrote.
Fifty thousand dollars for rent.
Sure.
Then the guardianship plan.
Tabitha claimed Orson developed it after the twenty-million trust loan stalled.
He told her:
Evan is emotionally compromised. We may need temporary control to protect everyone.
Everyone.
Again.
She admitted photographing me.
Tracking work.
Collecting social-media posts.
Recording how often I used babysitters.
She insisted she believed it proved I needed help.
Then came the part I could barely read.
Dad said if Juniper had more documented asthma episodes while Evan was absent, the court would see the pattern.
There.
Tabitha knew.
Not confusion.
Not concern.
A plan.
She wrote:
I thought we were observing. I didn’t think Dad wanted us to cause anything.
Then why take the inhaler?
Her explanation:
He said if medication was always given immediately, we couldn’t know whether Evan was exaggerating her condition.
I closed the document.
Willa sat across from me.
“What?”
“I can’t.”
She nodded.
“Then don’t.”
“I need to.”
“No.”
She took the pages.
“You need to know enough for court. Naomi can summarize the rest.”
She was right.
Trauma can become obsession when you keep rereading the betrayal hoping to find a version that hurts less.
There wasn’t one.
Tabitha’s statement ended with apology.
Not to me.
To Juniper.
I failed her.
That line was true.
She asked for supervised contact eventually.
I said no for now.
Maybe later.
Not punishment.
Juniper was afraid.
Her comfort mattered more than Tabitha’s redemption arc.
Dad did not cooperate.
He denied manipulation.
Called Tabitha unstable.
Of course.
The daughter who obeyed him became disposable once she confessed.
Tabitha learned that painfully.
She called Willa crying.
“Dad says I ruined everything.”
Willa asked:
“Did he say anything about Juniper?”
No.
That was answer enough.
Mercer Development’s lenders accelerated review.
Rumors spread.
Employees worried.
I hated that innocent people might suffer.
Dad used that too.
He emailed:
Four hundred families depend on me. Think about what you’re doing.
Naomi wanted no response.
I wrote privately:
Four hundred families depend on you making lawful decisions.
Then deleted it.
Not my job to save him.
That was difficult.
Mercers were raised to rescue the family name.
I was choosing my daughter over the institution.
Dad considered betrayal.
Mara would call it parenting.
One afternoon Juniper asked:
“Is Aunt Tabitha bad?”
I paused.
“No.”
“Did she do bad?”
“Yes.”
“Is Grandpa bad?”
Harder.
“Grandpa made choices that were not safe for you.”
“Does he love me?”
I swallowed.
“I think he does.”
“Then why?”
Four-year-old question.
Adult answer impossible.
“Sometimes people want something so much that they make choices that hurt the people they love.”
Juniper frowned.
“That’s dumb.”
“Yes.”
May you like
She returned to crayons.
Children often summarize entire legal cases accurately.
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