Chapter 4: The Evidence They Forgot Was Still Live
Chapter 4: The Evidence They Forgot Was Still Live
At 7:12 the next morning, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Collins?"
"Yes."
"This is Detective Angela Morris."
My pulse quickened.
"I'm following up on Officer Ruiz's report."
"Yes."
"I have one question."
I waited.
"Are you absolutely certain your sister was livestreaming?"
"Yes."
"Not recording?"
"No."
"Livestreaming."
The detective became noticeably interested.
"Excellent."
"...Why?"
"Because livestreams leave digital footprints."
I sat upright.
"What does that mean?"
"It means deleting the video afterward doesn't necessarily erase it."
Hope flickered inside me for the first time.
"We've already submitted preservation requests to the platform."
My heart pounded.
"If the original broadcast still exists on their servers..."
She paused.
"...we'll have the full recording."
Not Vanessa's edited version.
Everything.
Including the minutes she had cut away.
By lunchtime, the internet had become brutal.
Someone had found my workplace.
One-star reviews appeared online.
"Employee assaulted her own sister."
"Violent woman."
Parents messaged demanding I be fired.
Anonymous emails flooded my inbox.
Child abuser.
Psycho.
Jealous loser.
Vanessa was posting every few hours.
Fake tears.
Perfect lighting.
"My family has always supported my sister despite her anger issues."
Hundreds of thousands of views.
Thousands of sympathetic comments.
Brands even commented with heart emojis.
She smiled into the camera while my daughter lay asleep wearing medicated eye patches.
Then, at exactly 2:46 p.m., Detective Morris called again.
This time...
She sounded different.
"Ms. Collins."
"Yes?"
"We recovered the livestream."
I couldn't breathe.
"The entire thing."
Tears instantly filled my eyes.
"You have it?"
"We do."
"And..."
Her voice became very quiet.
"Your sister never stopped streaming."
"What?"
"The viewers saw everything."
I frowned.
"But she edited—"
"She edited the replay."
My pulse raced.
"The live broadcast continued."
There was a long silence.
Finally the detective spoke.
"I've watched it three times."
"What happens?"
"You hear your daughter beg."
My eyes closed.
"You hear her say, 'Please don't.'"
My hands trembled.
"You hear your sister laugh."
A tear rolled down my cheek.
"You clearly smell the paint before the bucket tips."
More silence.
"And after your daughter starts screaming..."
My heart pounded.
"...your mother can be heard saying—"
The detective stopped.
"What?"
"'Don't ruin Vanessa's content.'"
I covered my mouth.
No.
No...
"There is something else."
Her voice was ice cold now.
"The camera never stopped recording after you knocked the phone away."
"What did it capture?"
"The phone landed face-up."
Every hair on my arms stood.
"It recorded nearly twenty-three uninterrupted minutes."
"What was on it?"
"The truth."
She took a slow breath.
"Your father admitting they planned the prank yesterday."
I froze.
"Vanessa complaining that she used solvent paint because washable paint 'wouldn't look dramatic enough.'"
My entire body went numb.
"And finally..."
The detective's next sentence changed everything.
"Your mother telling everyone to lie if the police asked questions."
Silence.
May you like
Then she said the words my family never imagined they would hear.
"We're requesting criminal charges."
