Chapter 5: The Stolen Deed
"Call the police," I yelled to a neighbor who was still lingering on the porch. "Now!"
"Colin, don't!" my mother screamed, lunging forward to grab my arm. "Let's just talk about this! Marcus is drunk, he doesn't know what he's talking about!"
"Get your hands off me," I shoved her grip away. The rage I felt was blinding.
Marcus stepped between us, shoving me hard in the chest. "Don't you touch her, you ungrateful punk!"
I stumbled back but kept my footing. I didn't retaliate. I just stared at them, watching the panic set in. Sirens were already wailing in the distance—the neighbor had actually made the call, or perhaps someone else had complained about the noise earlier. Either way, the flashing red and blue lights illuminated the front windows within minutes.
Two officers stepped through the open front door, hands resting cautiously on their belts. "We got a call about a domestic disturbance. Who owns this property?"
"I do," I said immediately. "Colin Ashford. These people are trespassing."
"That's a lie!" my mother cried, playing the hysterical victim perfectly. "Officer, my son is having a mental breakdown! This is my house! I have the deed!"
The older officer looked between us. "Alright, everyone calm down. Let's see some identification."
While I pulled out my wallet, I noticed Marcus edging toward the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. He was sweating profusely, glancing nervously at the cops.
"Hold on a second, sir," the younger officer said, pointing a flashlight at Marcus. "Where are you going? Step back into the room and hand over your ID."
"I don't have it on me," Marcus stammered, patting his heavy denim jacket. "I left it in my truck. I'm just gonna go get it."
"You can get it in a minute. Come here."
Marcus panicked. He bolted for the back door. He didn't make it two steps before the younger officer tackled him into the drywall, sending a framed picture crashing to the floor. A brief scuffle ensued, but the alcohol slowed Marcus down. Within seconds, he was pinned to the floor in handcuffs.
"Are there any weapons on you?" the officer demanded, patting down Marcus's heavy jacket.
"No! Get off me!" Marcus yelled.
The officer reached into the deep inner pocket of the denim jacket. "What's this?"
He pulled out a thick, manila envelope folded in half. The officer opened it to inspect it for weapons or contraband. Instead, he pulled out a stack of legal documents with a shiny gold notary seal on the front page.
I recognized the header immediately. It was a property deed.
The officer scanned the front page, frowning. "This is a quitclaim deed. Transferring ownership of this address from Colin and Evelyn Ashford... to Judith Ashford."
The room fell dead silent.
"Let me see that," I demanded, stepping forward. The officer held it up. There, at the bottom, were signatures meant to be mine and Evelyn's. But they were wildly inaccurate. They were forged.
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I turned slowly to look at my mother. She was backed against the kitchen counter, trembling like a leaf, the color completely drained from her face.
She hadn't just been stealing my money. She had been trying to steal my home.
