My grandson called me from the police station at 2:47 a.m., choking back tears: “Grandma, my stepmother says I made her fall and Dad believes every word she says, he doesn’t believe me,” but when I arrived the officer saw me, froze, went pale and whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who you were,” and from that moment my family was forced to face the truth.

It was 2:45 p.m. Ethan was standing in front of the mirror in my living room, checking his shirt. The buttons with the hidden cameras were invisible to the naked eye. I checked for the tenth time that the transmission was working correctly on my phone.

“Clear audio, clear video,” I said. “Are you ready?”

Ethan took a deep breath.

“Ready.”

Linda was outside in her car, half a block from Rob’s house. We would be the backup. If something went wrong, we would go in immediately.

“Remember,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders. “You go in, say hello normally, go to your room, pack your clothes. Meanwhile, you observe. If you see the candlestick or any other evidence, you record it, but don’t touch it. We don’t want her to accuse you of stealing anything. Understood?”

“Understood. And if she gets aggressive, I leave immediately.”