The screenshots went into the file.
Police received copies as well.
Nobody attempted to enter on Tuesday.
Perhaps the arrest changed their minds.
Perhaps their attorney told them exactly how catastrophically stupid the plan would be.
Either way, I still spent that day working from a conference room at my office instead of home.
The court hearing arrived two weeks after the temporary order.
I wore a dark suit.
Rebecca sat beside me.
My binder was tabbed.
Timeline.
Texts.
Voicemails.
Security footage.
Police reports.
Temporary order.
Violation report.
Vandalism.
Group chat.
Social media posts.
My family sat across the room.
Mom looked smaller than usual.
Dad looked angry.
Chase looked exhausted.
He had shaved.
Khloe was not there.
I later learned she had left him shortly after the arrest and moved in with a coworker.
That was probably the smartest decision anybody connected to Chase had made all month.
The judge was Elena Vance.
Mid-fifties.
Silver-streaked dark hair.
Calm voice.
No theatrical gavel pounding.
Real court was less dramatic than television.
Which made it more serious.
She had already reviewed the submitted exhibits.
My family’s attorney opened by describing the situation as:
“A regrettable family misunderstanding magnified by emotional communication failures.”
Rebecca wrote something on her legal pad.
I glanced.
UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE CENTURY.
I almost smiled.
The defense attorney continued.
He said Chase had believed he possessed family permission.
My parents had acted out of concern.
Everyone wanted counseling.
The temporary order, he argued, was unnecessary now that emotions had cooled.
Judge Vance looked at him.
“Counsel.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Your client Chase received an explicit written message before arrival stating he did not have permission.”
“Yes.”
“He then arrived with a moving truck.”
“Yes.”
“Was ordered to leave.”
“Yes.”
“Attempted the door.”
“There is context.”
“I watched the recording.”
The attorney stopped.
Judge Vance continued.
“Then he returned after a police trespass warning.”
“He accompanied his parents to an attempted mediation.”
“Uninvited.”
“Yes.”
“Then after a temporary stay-away order was issued, he appeared immediately outside the petitioner’s residence and livestreamed from within the prohibited distance.”
The attorney adjusted his papers.
“That is the allegation.”
“There is body-camera documentation of his arrest.”
“Yes.”
Judge Vance looked toward my mother.
Then to the group-chat exhibits.
“Who wrote, ‘We need evidence Jake is unstable before court’?”
Mom raised one hand slightly.
“I did.”
“And ‘I know he used to keep a spare key in a fake rock’?”
Mom.
“And ‘We only need photos’?”
Mom again.
She began crying.
This time the tears looked real.
“Your Honor, I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“My son cutting off his whole family.”
Judge Vance waited.
Mom continued.
“He wouldn’t talk to us.”
“He wouldn't let us help him.”
The judge looked at her.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“He repeatedly told you he did not want help.”
Mom’s face crumpled.
“But I’m his mother.”
Judge Vance’s voice remained calm.
“I understand.”
“That does not grant you authority over his residence.”
Mom stared at the table.