My sister, handcuffed. I heard four different stories. “She came in the house yelling and screaming, ‘Get out! GET OUT!’” “She hit me first. She picked up something and hit her over the head. Her eye swelled to the size of an egg.” “The children were crying; the neighbors were peeking out their windows.” “There were twelve police officers outside. When the sergeant saw her eye, he said, ‘Book her.’” Yet there was really only one story. And that is that my mother neglected us and it has never been dealt with.