Chapter 6 - The Digital EvidenceTwenty-four hours after Greg surrendered the cloud drive link, forensic digital analysts from the Charleston Police Department verified the authenticity of the files.
The search history was far worse than we had anticipated.
Not only had Lauren researched household corrosives seventy-two hours prior to the wedding, but she had also accessed the venue's online floor plan map, pinpointing the location of the utility service closets where cleaning supplies were stored.
She hadn't brought the chemical from home; she had deliberately located the venue's industrial tile cleaner upon arriving at the reception, snuck into the unlocked service closet during the cocktail hour, and mixed a capful of sodium hydroxide into a glass of ginger ale and white wine.
Armed with this absolute proof of pre-meditated assault, the District Attorney’s office officially upgraded the charges against Lauren to Attempted Aggravated Mayhem and First-Degree Battery with a Toxic Substance.
Bail was revoked.
A team of state deputies arrived at my mother's home on Thursday morning. The local news crews were waiting on the sidewalk as Lauren was led out in orange jumpsuit restraints, weeping hysterically into her hands as she was loaded into a transport van to be held in county jail until trial.
My mother, Helen, was captured on news camera footage attempting to slap a reporter’s microphone out of his hand, screaming that the media was "destroying an innocent bride."
That evening, my father visited my apartment again. He set a hot box of takeout food on the table and sat quietly beside me.
"Your mother has completely lost her mind, Claire," Dad said softly, his eyes filled with profound sorrow. "She’s mortgaging her house to hire a high-profile criminal defense team from Atlanta for Lauren."
"She’s going to lose the house, Dad," I said gently. "The digital evidence is absolute."
May you like
Dad took a slow, deep breath, looking at the scar tissue along my jaw. "I know. And for the first time in my life, I'm not going to try and stop it. I spent thirty years enabling your mother's favoritism, pretending that Lauren’s cruelty was just 'competitiveness.' I failed you as a father, Claire."
Tears welling in my eyes, I reached out and took my father's trembling hand. "You're here now, Dad. That's what matters."
