Chapter 2 - The Arrest at the Colonial
At four o'clock that afternoon, two black-and-white county sheriff cruisers pulled up the long, winding driveway of Arthur and Diane Vance’s colonial home in the affluent suburb of Oak Ridge.
The snow that had blanketed the lawn three days ago had begun to melt slightly under a weak winter sun, leaving dirty grey slush along the edges of the manicured brick driveway.
Inside the house, Diane Vance was pacing back and forth across the imported Persian rug in the formal living room. She wore a beige cashmere sweater and pearl earrings, but her hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold her porcelain tea cup.
"Arthur!" Diane yelled toward the hallway. "Did you fix it? Did that ungrateful little girl drop the police report?"
Arthur walked into the living room, slumping onto the leather sofa. He looked ten years older than he had that morning. He tossed his leather briefcase onto the floor.
"She refused to talk to us, Diane," Arthur said in a flat, dead voice. "Her attorney filed the emergency custody motion. The judge signed an immediate ex-parte order granting Emily sole physical and legal custody of Josie. Travis has zero visitation rights until the criminal trial concludes."
"Criminal trial?!" Diane shrieked, setting her cup down so hard tea spilled onto the mahogany side table. "Are they insane? She was standing on our porch! It was a family matter! Travis was just disciplining his wife!"
"Mother, shut up!" Travis yelled from the doorway, leaning against the frame. He had been drinking straight bourbon since they returned from downtown. "She has the video from the neighbor's house! They have audio, Mother! They heard what you said!"
"The neighbor?" Diane’s face twisted in rage. "That miserable old firefighter Jenkins? I knew we should have reported his illegal garage workshop to the zoning board years ago!"
Before Arthur could answer, the loud, sharp heavy thud of a police baton struck the front door.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
"County Sheriff’s Office! Open the door!"
Diane froze, her hand flying to her chest. "Arthur... do something!"
Arthur slowly stood up, walking toward the grand foyer. Through the frosted leaded glass of the front door, the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers illuminated the white entry hall.
Arthur opened the door six inches. Two tall, uniform-clad sheriff's deputies stood on the porch, flanked by a plainclothes detective holding a signed warrant.
"Arthur Vance?" Detective Miller asked, holding up his badge. "We have a warrant for the arrest of Travis Arthur Vance for felony child endangerment, domestic abuse in the second degree, and reckless endangerment."
"Detective, I am a senior partner at Vance, Sterling & Associates," Arthur stated, stepping onto the threshold. "My son is currently arranging legal representation. We can have him self-surrender at the precinct tomorrow morning—"
"Step aside, sir," Detective Miller commanded firmly. "This is an active felony arrest warrant issued by Circuit Judge Harrison. If you impede us, I will arrest you for obstruction."
The two deputies pushed past Arthur into the warm, scented hallway.
Travis attempted to bolt toward the back kitchen, but his intoxicated state caused him to trip over the corner of the hallway runner. He crashed heavily onto the hardwood floor, spilling his glass of bourbon across the rug.
"Travis Vance! Stay on the ground!" a deputy shouted, stepping over him, grabbing his right arm, and forcing it behind his back.
"Mother! Dad! Help me!" Travis screamed, his cheek pressed flat against the cold wood floor as the steel handcuffs snapped around his wrists with two sharp, echoing clicks.
Diane rushed into the hallway, screaming hysterically. "Get your hands off my son! You filthy animals! Do you know who we are? I will have all of your badges by tomorrow morning!"
Detective Miller turned to Diane, pulling a second official paper from his coat pocket.
"Diane Vance?" Detective Miller asked calmly.
Diane straightened her collar, glaring at him. "Yes! And you are making the biggest mistake of your career!"
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"Diane Vance, you are being served with a grand jury subpoena to testify in the felony endangerment case of the State versus Travis Vance," the detective said, shoving the document directly into her hands. "Furthermore, Emily Vance’s legal counsel has filed a civil lawsuit against you personally for intentional infliction of emotional distress and third-party facilitation of child abuse. Have a good day."
As the deputies hauled a sobbing, disheveled Travis out the front door in handcuffs, the neighbors across the street—including retired firefighter Mr. Jenkins—stood on their porches, watching silently as the county police car backed down the driveway, its lights flashing red against the snow.
