the beginning

It began eight months ago when police hammered at our door with a search warrant. It was before 6:30 a.m. and I had just come downstairs to bring in the newspaper and make breakfast before taking the kids to middle school. Oatmeal in the microwave, scrambled eggs on the stove, newspaper on the table, kids upstairs getting ready for the day, my retired husband still asleep.

The police yelling about a search warrant made no sense to me. Obviously, they had the wrong house. I opened the door and they pushed me back out of their way. I don't know how many officers there were. Too many. All wearing black jackets and--dear God--the first one through the door aimed his gun at our dog as she came growling toward the door. I threw myself toward her, shouting "Don't shoot the dog!"

As I held the dog back, I saw my daughter come down the stairs with her hands up. Bless her heart, she gave her usual eye-roll at the stupid adults. Her brother followed her with his hands up, trying to look his cool self.

I demanded to see the search warrant and was told they would show me as soon as they "secured the premises." I was aware that the police were everywhere in the house but I kept my eyes on the children. That is all I could think about. That and asking again and again to see the search warrant. After we were all gathered in the kitchen and the cops were satisfied that they were safe, I realized that my husband was there with us. He was quiet, not looking at anyone.

The police took me aside, showed me the warrant, told me the were looking for child porn. There was a roaring in my head. This made no sense. I said something like, "Okay, but you won't find any here." 

That is how it began. Chaos, shouting, frustration, guns. Fear and anger.