Chapter 4
The stolen tablet turned a painful family crisis into something even larger.
Detective Green moved fast.
My bank froze online access.
I changed passwords from a secure device.
Terrence changed Jayla's passwords too.
Then police traced the tablet.
It had connected to Wi-Fi twice after disappearing.
Once at Kiara's cousin's apartment.
Once at a storage facility across town.
That second location made no sense.
"Why would a nineteen-year-old have a storage unit?"
Terrence asked.
Detective Green didn't answer.
The warrant came the next morning.
Police searched the unit.
I wasn't there.
Thank God.
Green called afterward.
His voice was careful.
"We found the tablet."
Relief.
Then:
"And several phones."
My stomach tightened.
"Whose?"
"We're determining that."
"What else?"
"IDs."
"What kind?"
"Student IDs."
My skin crawled.
"How many?"
"Six."
I stopped breathing.
All girls.
Ages fifteen to eighteen.
Some reported lost wallets.
Some hadn't.
There were also small bags with jewelry.
Phones.
Cash.
Items taken from parties.
Leverage.
Evidence.
Trophies.
I didn't know what to call them.
Then police found something that made the investigation explode.
Videos.
Not explicit sexual recordings.
Thank God.
But clips of intoxicated girls.
Laughing.
Stumbling.
Being mocked.
In one, Jayla appeared briefly.
She was sitting on a couch.
Her eyes looked unfocused.
DeShawn's voice came from behind the camera.
"She gone."
Then laughter.
I couldn't watch more.
Neither could Terrence.
The police wouldn't show Jayla unless necessary.
Good.
She had enough images in her own head.
By afternoon, DeShawn was arrested.
Not for everything yet.
Charges included burglary, theft, unlawful access to accounts, and offenses related to evidence police recovered.
The sexual-assault investigation remained separate and ongoing.
Jayla heard "arrested" and burst into tears.
Not relief.
Panic.
"What if he tells everyone?"
I sat beside her.
"What?"
"About the pregnancy."
My heart tightened.
"People may find out eventually."
"No."
She shook her head.
"Mom, school will destroy me."
"You're not going to school tomorrow."
"For how long?"
"As long as we need."
She cried.
"I don't want everybody staring."
Terrence sat across from us.
"We can do online school."
Jayla looked at him.
"I don't want my whole life to change."
There it was.
The impossible wish.
She wanted the truth handled without consequences reaching beyond the man responsible.
But pregnancy changes bodies.
Investigations create rumors.
Life does not stay in neat compartments.
I took her hand.
"We can't promise nothing changes."
She cried harder.
"But we can decide who gets access to you."
She looked at me.
"How?"
"One day at a time."
The next problem came from Kiara.
Her mother called me furious.
"Why are police questioning my daughter?"
I stayed calm.
"Because DeShawn used a key connected to Kiara."
"Are you accusing her?"
"No."
"Jayla better not blame my child for her choices."
My anger surged.
"Careful."
Silence.
I lowered my voice.
"My daughter is fifteen."
"So is mine."
"Exactly."
That softened me.
"Maybe both of them were manipulated."
Kiara's mother went quiet.
Then:
"Kiara says Jayla drank on purpose."
"That does not answer what happened after."
Silence.
I continued.
"Please don't turn scared girls against each other because an older boy may have used both."
That landed.
She hung up.
Two hours later, Kiara texted Jayla.
I'm sorry.
Then:
I gave DeShawn the key because he said he needed to get your backpack after you left it.
Jayla stared.
"What backpack?"
She called Kiara.
On speaker.
Kiara was crying.
"The morning after the party."
"What did he say?"
"That you left your green backpack at home and needed it."
"That makes no sense."
"I know now."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"He told me you knew."
Jayla closed her eyes.
Another manipulation.
DeShawn got the key.
Made a copy.
Returned it.
Entered our house weeks later.
All while making each girl think the other knew.
Then Kiara said:
"He asked me something else."
"What?"
"Where your mom kept money."
My skin crawled.
Jayla looked at me.
"Did you tell him?"
Kiara sobbed.
"No."
Then:
"But I said your mom owns a business."
I frowned.
I did own a business.
A small event-planning company.
Nothing huge.
But enough to make me look wealthier than I was.
DeShawn may have assumed I had money.
Was the entire thing partly financial?
No.
That couldn't explain other girls.
But maybe he exploited whatever he could.
Teenage fear.
Alcohol.
Photos.
Stolen items.
Parents' financial information.
He built control from weaknesses.
Detective Green later told us a similar pattern appeared with another victim.
DeShawn took her mother's credit card after being invited into their house.
Another girl had paid him to delete a humiliating video.
This wasn't one bad night.
This was behavior.
Jayla's guilt shifted.
"I'm so stupid."
I corrected her immediately.
"No."
"I trusted him."
"You barely knew him."
"Exactly."
"That doesn't make what he did your fault."
"I drank."
"That's a mistake."
"I lied to you."
"Also a mistake."
"I stole money."
"Serious mistake."
She stared.
"But?"
"But none of those give someone permission to exploit you."
She cried.
"I don't know how to stop feeling disgusting."
My heart broke.
I moved closer.
"You are not disgusting."
She looked away.
"Mom."
"No."
I made her look at me.
"You are not what happened at that party."
Her face collapsed.
I held her.
That night, she climbed into my bed for the first time since she was ten.
I didn't mention it.
Just moved over.
At two in the morning, she whispered:
"I think I want to end the pregnancy."
I was awake instantly.
"Okay."
She turned toward me.
"That's all?"
"What do you need me to say?"
"I thought you'd be mad."
"I have feelings."
Her eyes widened.
"What feelings?"
"Sadness."
She stiffened.
"Not at you."
I took a breath.
"I think about what could be."
She looked down.
"And I think about what carrying a pregnancy could do to you physically and emotionally."
She listened.
"And I think about how this pregnancy started under circumstances you still don't fully remember."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I don't want to feel him inside me."
That sentence destroyed me.
I kept my face calm.
"Then we tell Dr. Bennett."
She nodded.
"Would Dad be mad?"
"That's his feeling to manage."
She looked scared.
"Can you tell him?"
"Yes."
The next morning, I told Terrence privately.
He went silent.
Then:
"She wants an abortion?"
"She wants to discuss ending the pregnancy."
He stood.
Paced.
"I don't know how I feel."
"Neither do I."
"I was raised—"
"So was I."
He looked at me.
"I keep thinking that's my grandchild."
"I know."
His eyes filled.
"But I also keep thinking about my daughter being fifteen."
"Exactly."
He sat.
"What do we do?"
"We don't make her carry our beliefs."
He stared at the floor.
Then nodded slowly.
"I need time."
"You can have time."
"But not to pressure her."
He looked at me.
"Agreed."
We met with a counselor and doctor.
Jayla asked questions.
Medical process.
Pain.
Recovery.
Emotional effects.
No one rushed her.
Then Georgia law complicated everything.
We needed current legal guidance about minors, parental involvement, and gestational limits.
The clinic explained the options available at that time and referred us to appropriate providers.
What mattered to me was that Jayla understood.
No internet rumors.
No friend's cousin.
Real medical information.
She remained certain.
Then, two days before the scheduled appointment, something changed.
Jayla woke up bleeding.
Not a little.
She screamed from the bathroom.
I ran.
Her face was white.
"Mom."
My heart stopped.
Terrence called 911.
At the hospital, I held her hand while doctors worked.
Hours later, Dr. Bennett met us.
There had been a miscarriage.
Spontaneous.
No procedure needed.
Jayla stared at the wall.
I didn't know what emotion would come.
Relief.
Grief.
Both.
She whispered:
"Is it my fault?"
"No."
Dr. Bennett answered before I could.
"Absolutely not."
Jayla started crying.
"But I said I didn't want it."
I squeezed her hand.
"Thoughts don't cause miscarriages."
She sobbed.
"I feel bad for being relieved."
I climbed beside her carefully.
"You can feel two things."
She looked at me.
"I feel sad too."
"I know."
Neither feeling made her wrong.
That night, Terrence sat on the other side of the bed.
Our daughter between us.
No decisions left to make about the pregnancy.
But everything else remained.
The investigation.
The trauma.
The secrets.
The question of how we rebuilt trust.
Then Detective Green called.
I stepped into the hallway.
"Monique."
"Yeah?"
"We found something on DeShawn's phone."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"A conversation about Jayla."
I braced myself.
"With who?"
Green paused.
"Malik."
My heart stopped.
"What does it say?"
May you like
His answer made the hallway feel suddenly cold.
"Malik knew more about that night than Jayla thinks."
