They Faked Their Deaths, I Faked My Recovery Chapter 04
People saw right through it immediately.
My evidence was more complete than Sloane’s. My timeline held together. Hers didn’t.
And then there was Sloane, perfect makeup, not a scratch on her, skin like she’d spent the last three years at a spa. She didn’t look like someone who’d ever been near a criminal operation.
Complaints flooded the department. People wanted Sloane fired and the Medal of Valor given to its rightful owner.
I thought it was almost over. I thought I was getting my life back.
Then Sloane went live.
She sat in front of the camera, crying, and started talking.
[Mara is my sister. I tried to protect her. For our family’s sake, I never wanted any of this to come out. But she’s twisting the truth and taking credit for my work, so I don’t have a choice. I have to tell everyone what really happened.]
[I spent three years undercover. Three years risking my life to build that case. And Mara? She was working with the organization the whole time. She conspired with them to steal every piece of evidence I collected.]
My mother appeared on screen next, holding photos of me with the syndicate boss in one hand and my police ID in the other. In the photos, I was laughing, casual, every undercover shot stripped of context. Her voice was bitter.
[I’ll testify to it under oath. Mara’s been involved with these criminals for years. I have photo after photo of her with their boss. She’s a traitor to the badge and a disgrace to this family.]
My best friend came on next, dabbing at her eyes as if she’d been crying.
[I’m Mara’s best friend, so believe me, this isn’t easy to say. I saw them wire money to her, more than once. And I caught her leaving the boss’s room half-dressed. That happened more than once too…]
I couldn’t look away from the screen. Each word hit like something blunt being driven into my chest, over and over, until I couldn’t breathe.
I posted the truth. Again and again. Nobody saw it. Every post got buried under thousands of comments tearing me apart.
[Mara’s got no shame. She’s really out here trying to steal her own sister’s work.]
[This woman is disgusting. She doesn’t deserve a badge. Somebody call BPD HQ and get this psycho fired NOW.]
[Firing her isn’t enough. She worked for criminals. She IS a criminal. Lock her up.]
My phone buzzed. I closed the livestream and opened the message. My hands were shaking.
[Effective immediately, your employment with the department is terminated.]
[Your status as a sworn officer is permanently revoked.]
I just stood there. I couldn’t feel my legs.
Gone. My badge, my career, gone. I had nothing left.
For years I’d kept investigating on my own, even after the department told me to stop.
There was nothing on record to prove my contact with the syndicate was part of the investigation. Nothing to separate what I’d done from collusion.
And my own family was on camera calling me a traitor.
No one would question a mother’s testimony against her own child. Why would a parent lie about that?
Nobody was going to believe me now.
I didn’t know how long I stood there. When I finally looked up, someone was walking toward me.
Graham. Staggering.
He stopped in front of me and brushed the tears from my face with his thumb.
“Mara, don’t be scared.”
“I’ve been looking at your case. If you turn yourself in now, we can plead it down. Sloane has the department’s ear. If she vouches for you, the judge will go easy.”
“Eight years, tops. I’ll be there the day you get out. I’ll talk to your parents, I’ll talk to Sloane. We’ll all be together after that.”
A kind of cold I’d never felt before crawled through every bone in my body.
I’d given up everything for this case. For the truth.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should I be the one in a cell?
I shoved Graham away and ran. I couldn’t see through the tears, but I ran until I reached the stairwell of an abandoned building and climbed to the roof.
High above the street, I went live.
The comments were a wall of hate. I looked into the camera, smiled, and spoke.
[I wrote down everything that happened to me during this investigation. Every incident matches a piece of evidence I still have, and a scar on my body.]
[If my life is what it takes to prove I’m innocent, then take it.]
I closed my eyes and let myself fall backward off the edge…