“We just started, Elena.”
“I want my mom!”
There was a heavy pause. Julian set the action camera down on the hood of his truck, unaware that it was still actively recording wide-angle video and crystal-clear audio.
He pulled a cold beer out of a cooler in the truck bed, took a long drink, and reviewed the footage on his smartphone.
“That recording got ruined,” he muttered, annoyance clear in his voice. “We need another clean run for the video.”
“I don’t want another run!” Elena cried.
“Elena, stop it!” Julian snapped.
My daughter stopped crying instantly. I recognized that sudden, eerie stillness—it was the exact same silent, rigid child who had walked through my front door yesterday afternoon.
Julian pointed firmly toward the ATV. “Get back on.”
I immediately called my family law attorney, Valerie.
“Valerie, I have raw video footage,” I said, my hands shaking.
“Does Julian know you have it?” Valerie asked quickly.
“No. The body camera automatically backed up to my home cloud storage when her backpack reconnected to my Wi-Fi.”
“Don’t say a word to him,” Valerie instructed. “Export the raw, unedited files with full metadata and email them to my office right now.”
I obeyed, then opened the second video file.
Elena was back on the ATV, walking with a visible limp due to the pain in her leg.
The vehicle accelerated down the dirt track toward the same curve. A front tire slammed into a concealed drainage ditch.
My daughter was thrown violently over the handlebars.
This time, she hit the hard-packed dirt with immense force.
“My legs hurt! My side hurts!” she shrieked in agony.
Julian rushed over and yanked her up off the ground by both upper arms. His fingers dug directly into the exact spots where the pediatric doctor had documented deep thumb bruises hours later.
“You’re hurting me!” Elena screamed.
“Then stop squirming!” Julian barked.
“I want a doctor!”