My home, technically, since the divorce papers had finally gone through. I could hear them moving around upstairs, probably in what used to be our bedroom. Leo's voice was getting louder, more aggressive, while Marissa was fighting back with the kind of vicious anger that comes from having nothing left to lose. Then I heard the slap.
Then the crash. Then more shouting, followed by what sounded like furniture being thrown around. I waited exactly five minutes before calling my contact at the police department. "Hey, Detective Morrison."
"Yeah, it's happening again. Same address. Domestic disturbance, possible assault. You might want to send a couple units."
The police arrived just as Leo came stumbling out of the house, clutching his face where Marissa had apparently connected with something heavy. She followed him onto the porch, screaming obscenities that would have made a sailor blush. That's when Leo made his second mistake of the day. He shoved her.
Marissa went down hard on the concrete steps, and that's when the officers decided they'd seen enough. Leo was in handcuffs before he could explain that he was just trying to collect money he was owed. Marissa was cuffed 30 seconds later when she tried to attack the officers who were arresting her meal ticket. The beautiful thing about having a criminal investigation already open is that any new charges get added to the existing case file.
Leo's assault charge became part of the larger fraud investigation. Marissa's disorderly conduct and resisting arrest joined her embezzlement charges. By the time the dust settled, they were both looking at serious jail time. The custody hearing was scheduled for the following week, but it turned out to be a formality.
When one parent is in county lockup awaiting trial, and the other parent has documentation proving systematic fraud and infidelity, family-court judges tend to make decisions pretty quickly. I walked out of that courthouse with full custody, the house, the cars, and a clean slate. Our son was staying with my sister during the proceedings, blissfully unaware that his mother had destroyed her own life through a combination of stupidity and greed. That night, I sat in my quiet house with a glass of 20-year-old scotch, listening to the absence of lies, manipulation, and betrayal.
The place actually felt like a home again instead of a crime scene. My phone buzzed with a text from Detective Morrison. "Case closed. Both defendants pleaded guilty."
"Marissa got 18 months. Leo got two years. Thought you'd want to know." I deleted the message and poured myself another drink.
Sometimes justice isn't blind. Sometimes it just takes a little help seeing clearly.