“Lieutenant Colonel Ashford. Your husband told us you were coming. He’s extremely shaken.”
“I need to see my mother.”
“Ma’am—”
“Now.”
Corinne sat inside a sterile interview room.
An EMT held a cold pack against her shoulder.
One lens of her gold-rimmed glasses was missing. The frame was twisted. Her blouse was torn.
A dark swelling had already formed across her cheek.
Seeing her like that broke something inside me.
I knelt beside her and took her cold hands.
“You’re going to the hospital.”
Within minutes, she was on a stretcher.
Only after the ambulance left did I ask Sergeant Sloan for Nolan’s statement.
And that was when I heard his story.
According to Nolan, he had gone to Corinne’s house at approximately 9:30 that evening carrying a freshly baked apple pie as a peace offering because of recent “family tensions.”
He claimed Mom had suddenly become confused and paranoid.
Then violent.
Nolan said she attacked him with a heavy cast-iron fireplace poker.
He supposedly pushed her away in self-defense.
She fell.
That was how she had been injured.
