The most beautiful roses have their cruelest thorn

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Mia Madden, Tuesday, March 5th, 2019, 7:14 PM. Location: Home. 10 days before the murder...

"Yeah, so at the meeting today, they all got into trouble and had their phones taken away," I explained.

"Yeah. What else would happen?" Asked my mother, sarcastically. We were all at home, in the living room, with a quiet atmosphere.

"Except Armando. I noticed he was on his phone during lunch." I added.

"Really? Didn't his mother take away the phone?" My dad asked.

"Yeah, I saw that too. I guess she gave it back." I replied. My father looked shocked. Yes, that did happen. What had happened was I saw the boys all on their phones and texting. They were all quiet, so I assumed they were texting each other and were asking what had happened. It didn't seem right.

"So, what does that mean?" I asked my mother.

"I guess she doesn't care." She emphasized.

"If she had cared, she would've taken his phone away. Did the other boy have his phone for the rest of the day?" She asked me.

"...no..." I replied.

"Ok then!" She concluded.

"But, she looked so angry," I rebutted.

"In her head, she probably was thinking 'why am I here?' 'I could be at work right now, or 'I shouldn't be here for this nonsense." She explained. She was right. His phone would've been taken away. That was probably exactly what she was thinking. So, she isn't as innocent as we thought she was.

"So, that means the tears when everybody's house was called, it was all fake?" I deduced.

"Yep. She is just like the son." She added along in her confident, stand-up voice.

...

"And she was saying the boy did put his hands on Mia or something like that." My dad trailed off, with his voice becoming hard to understand.

"Oh, yeah, Armando was bothering her. So, you know..." My mother understood. But, not in the way it was meant to. I was sitting there with all the knowledge... and they were there with their understanding. I guess ignorance is bliss.

"I think this has been going on since 7th grade, right?" My mom asked me. I nodded.

...

"It looks like that Daniel was shaking in his boots!" My dad emphasized. We chuckled.

"Yeah, he had a lot of tears," I added.

"Of course he would. He's in big trouble, right?"

"Yeah, but Armando only cried one tear," I replied.

"Hm... crocodile tears. Tears that don't exist... fake tears." She briefly stated. My dad looked sympathetic, while my mother looked somewhat nonchalant.

"Oh, and the lady that was there. What's her name?" My father asked me.

"Ms. Smith?"

"Yeah. That morning when I went to she... I had told her about the message, and she was like 'uh-uh, nuh-uh. He didn't do that.' And she said it with attitude, you know." My dad explained.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah." My dad told the truth.

"Does that mean she didn't believe what happened?" I asked.

"I guess- because why would you be so defensive?" My mom made a good point.

"Well, Daniel's mom is a teacher, you know," I responded.

"That doesn't say anything. If anything, she is supposed to do the right and thing and keep her opinions to herself." Once again, her deductions make sense.

8.20.21