After getting off the phone with her mother's doctor, Roseanne was intent on getting through the dozens of pages of notes from her meeting with the victim. Ms. Lee had said a lot, but most of it wasn't adding up. Something was just off.
The ex-husband's defense, that it was really her who was stalking him, was starting to look very possible. Cross-checking the statement he gave police with receipts from the coffee shop where he was arrested, it was impossible to dispute that he'd made a purchase ten minutes before Ms. Lee even parked her car.
If it was true once, could it be true all the other times?
Roseanne eyed the list of other occasions Ms. Lee had seen him. To prove her case, she'd have to show that Minho Lee willfully, maliciously, and repeatedly followed his ex-wife to harass her and cause her emotional or psychological distress. Not an easy feat when it looked like she was the one following him.
Roseanne considered Ms. Lee's motive for framing her ex-husband. She denied any ill-will against him and insisted on wanting to live her life free from his control, but she also hadn't changed her name despite being divorced. She said she wanted to have the same name as her kids. The children. Could that be her motive for framing him? If he was found guilty of multiple violations of the restraining order, that could result in a felony conviction and considerably greater penalties.
Her train of thought was derailed by the buzzing in her pocket. Her personal phone. She ignored it and turned up the music in her headphones.
"Hey," Lalisa said as she entered the office, pulling off her heels and slipping into flip-flops she'd left by the door.
"Hey," Roseanne replied as she removed her earbuds. "How'd it go?"
As Lalisa ranted about how the judge wouldn't let one of the public defenders take a bathroom break even though she was very obviously pregnant, Roseanne's phone buzzed incessantly.
"Do you need to get that?" she asked, eyeing her pocket as she typed her password into her computer.
Roseanne clenched her teeth. "I suppose so," she replied, trying to conceal the embarrassment washing over her. "Be right back."
The moment Roseanne picked up the call as she stepped into the hallway, she wished it was anyone's responsibility but hers to answer.
"Mom, stop screaming. I can't understand you," she whispered as someone crossed her in the hallway.
Dashing toward the conference room she prayed was empty, Roseanne plugged one ear to better hear what was happening on the other end of the line. It was useless. All she could make out was her mother's high-pitched yelling and another voice in the background.
Closing the conference room door behind her, Roseanne tried again. "Mom, calm down. Please tell me what the hell is going on," she demanded.
"She's trying to kill me!"
Roseanne rolled her eyes. "Who?"
"Mihee," she replied. "She tried to drop me on purpose by not locking the lift correctly! She hates me! I fired her, but now I'm here alone! What if something happens to me?" she cried, breaking into full-blown hysterics.
Roseanne pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to remain calm. Mihee was one of the sweetest home health aides they'd found and had the patience of a saint when it came to her mother's theatrics, even when they were pointed and cruel.
"I have to be in court this afternoon," she explained as calmly as she could. "I'll call the agency and see if they can send someone for a couple of hours until I get home."
