It was a Tuesday. I was in the middle of a high-level intelligence briefing. The room was dark, lit only by monitors. My phone, on silent, began to buzz violently against the table.
Chief Ramos paused the briefing. “Ma’am?”
I looked at the screen. Norfolk PD. Norfolk PD. David. Norfolk PD.
A text from David popped up: He called the cops. They are at the house. Come home now.
I answered the next call. “Commander Flores.”
“Ma’am, this is Officer McCann, Norfolk PD. We are at your residence. We have a report of… domestic grand larceny. The reporting party, Mr. Flores, claims you stole $8,400.”
I stood up so fast my chair crashed backward. “I’m on my way.”
I drove like a maniac, blurring past the grey expanse of the base, my mind racing. Grand larceny. A criminal accusation could strip my security clearance. It could end my career. He was trying to put me in handcuffs.
When I skidded to a stop in front of my house, the scene was a suburban nightmare. Flashing red and blue lights bathed the lawn. Neighbors were peeking through blinds. And there, standing on my grass, was my father. He was gesturing wildly to two officers, playing the role of the distraught, distinguished headmaster dealing with a delinquent child.
David stood on the porch, arms crossed, a stone wall of containment.
I jumped out of the car, still in my full combat uniform—camo fatigues, boots, rank insignia on my chest.
My father saw me. And for a split second, he smirked. It was tiny, triumphant. I got you. He expected me to scream. He expected the daughter.
Instead, he got the Commander.
The panic evaporated. A cold, arctic calm settled over me. I marched onto the lawn.
“Ma’am, you’re Nola Flores?” Officer McCann asked, looking tired.
“I am, Officer.”
“Your father claims you wire-transferred funds without authorization. We’re looking at a felony.”
“Officer, is your body camera on?” I asked calmly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” I pulled out my phone. “Officer, what my father told you is a lie. This is a retaliatory measure for a family dispute. He demanded money via text. I refused.”
I opened my banking app and held it up to the camera. “Show me the theft, Officer.”
McCann squinted at the screen. He saw the date. He saw the recipient. And he saw the amount.
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