Chapter 8 - The Deputy's Report
I wrote down the exact time of the call from security, the supervisor’s name, and everything Rhett had told me. I requested that the resort preserve available security footage from the restroom area, the nearby walkway, and the transportation zone. The guest safety supervisor confirmed that the request had been forwarded to management and local officials.
My family continued messaging.
Dad: Your mother is upset. Isolde: The boys are asking why everything is ruined. Mom: Rhett is going to feel guilty when he understands what you caused.
That message changed something in me. Even after leaving him alone, they were already preparing to make him responsible for the consequences.
I replied once. Do not contact Rhett directly. All communication regarding him must go through me.
My mother responded immediately. Mom: You cannot keep our grandson from us because of one misunderstanding.
I did not answer.
Thirty minutes later, a deputy called. He introduced himself as Deputy Aaron Mills from the county sheriff’s office. He told me Rhett was physically well but tired and deeply unsettled. My parents and sister had returned to the park only after officers contacted them.
“They are describing the event as an accidental separation,” he said.
“It was not accidental.”
“Do you have information supporting that?”
“I have their messages. They wrote that they left him because he was slowing them down. They also wrote that they planned to return after lunch.”
The deputy paused. “Please preserve those messages.”
“They’ve already been sent to my attorney.”
Another brief silence followed. “That was a sensible decision,” he said.
“When I arrive, I want Rhett released directly to me.”
“That is already noted. A child services representative is also being contacted as part of our standard procedure.”
“Will my family be in the room?”
“Not while you reunite with your son. Afterward, we may ask everyone to remain available for separate statements.”
I thanked him and ended the call.
May you like
The plane landed in Orlando shortly after sunset. Warm, humid air met me the moment I stepped outside the terminal. Families moved past with rolling suitcases, tired children, souvenir bags, and matching vacation shirts. Shuttle buses lined the curb. Palm trees bent lightly in the evening breeze.
For everyone around me, Orlando was still a place of excitement. For me, the city had become the place where my son learned that the adults he trusted could walk away from him because he moved too slowly.
