But I could see uncertainty creeping into her eyes.
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed 911. As the phone rang, I watched Lennox’s face change from defiance to panic.
She grabbed Terren’s arm.
“Tell your mother to hang up that phone right now,” she hissed.
But I was already talking to the dispatcher, giving my address, explaining that I needed an officer to help remove trespassers from my property who had become violent.
When I hung up, Lennox was staring at me in disbelief.
“You actually called the police on your own son?”
“No,” I said calmly. “I called the police on the woman who just assaulted me in front of witnesses.”
For the first time since I’d known her, Lennox Mitchell looked genuinely afraid.
The police arrived within 10 minutes, though it felt like an eternity. Officer Martinez was a young woman, maybe in her early 30s with kind eyes and a professional demeanor that immediately put me at ease. Officer Thompson, her partner, was older, probably close to my age, with gray temples and the weary look of someone who’d seen too much family drama over the years.
By the time they arrived, Lennox had managed to compose herself somewhat. She’d stopped crying and fixed her hair, but I could see the panic still lurking in her eyes. Terrence stood beside his luggage, looking like a lost child.
“Ma’am,” Officer Martinez said, approaching me first. “We received a call about an assault.”
“Yes,” I said, pointing to my still stinging cheek. “This woman slapped me.”
Officer Thompson looked at Lennox.
“Is this true, ma’am?”
“She was being unreasonable,” Lennox said, as if that justified physical violence. “We just needed a place to stay temporarily, and she threw us out like we were strangers.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to hit anyone,” Officer Martinez said firmly.
“Ma’am,” she turned back to me. “Do you want to press charges?”
I looked at my son, standing there with his head down, saying nothing in my defense. This man I had raised, sacrificed for, loved unconditionally, and he couldn’t even condemn his wife for hitting his mother.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I want to press charges.”
Lennox’s face went white.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Assault is a serious charge, ma’am.” Officer Thompson said, “We have multiple witnesses who saw you strike Mrs. Mitchell.”
Indeed, my neighbors were still standing in their yards watching the drama unfold. Mrs. Patterson nodded vigorously when Officer Martinez looked in her direction.
“I saw the whole thing.” Mrs. Patterson called out. “She hit Bessie right across the face, unprovoked.”
“This is ridiculous,” Lennox protested. “She’s my mother-in-law. This is a family dispute.”
“Family or not,” Officer Martinez said, “assault is assault. You’ll need to come with us.”
As they led Lennox toward the patrol car, she turned back to Terrence.
“Don’t just stand there. Do something.”
But Terrence seemed frozen, watching his wife being arrested on his mother’s front lawn.
He looked at me with something that might have been accusation.
“Mom, did you really have to?”
“Yes,” I said before he could finish. “I really had to. Your wife assaulted me in front of the entire neighborhood and you stood there and did nothing. She’s my wife and I’m your mother, but apparently that doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
Officer Thompson approached with a clipboard.
“Mrs. Mitchell, we’ll need you to come down to the station to give a formal statement. Can you do that this afternoon?”
“Of course.”
As the police car pulled away with Lennox in the back seat, Terrence loaded his luggage back into his SUV. He moved slowly like a man in shock.
“Where will you go?” I asked despite everything.
He shrugged.
