PAGE 4 — THE DOCTOR’S QUESTION
At the hospital, nurses rushed Emily and Noah away from me.
A doctor came toward me.
“Are you the father?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Stevens.”
“What happened to them?”
“We’re still evaluating them.”
“But are they going to be okay?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
That silence terrified me.
“We’re concerned about severe dehydration and exhaustion.”
I stared at him.
“Dehydration?”
He nodded.
“Your wife appears severely dehydrated and physically depleted.”
“And my son?”
“The baby is also dehydrated.”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
The doctor looked directly at me.
“When was the last time your wife received proper medical care?”
“She left the hospital four days ago.”
“Has she been eating?”
“I thought so.”
“Has she been drinking?”
“I thought so.”
He studied me.
“Who has been caring for them?”
“My mother and sister.”
He paused.
“Where are they?”
“At my house.”
His expression hardened.
“I strongly recommend you have someone contact the police.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because what I’m seeing isn’t consistent with ordinary exhaustion.”
My heart began pounding.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying your wife and infant appear to have been neglected.”
The word hit me like a punch.
Neglected.
I walked toward the waiting room and called my mother.
She answered.
“Ethan?”
“Mom.”
“What did the doctor say?”
I froze.
“How did you know I was talking to the doctor?”
Silence.
Then she said:
“I mean… how are they?”
I lowered my voice.
“What happened?”
“We told you everything was fine.”
“No.”
“Ethan—”
“No!”
People in the waiting room turned toward me.
“You didn’t tell me anything.”
My mother began crying.
“We were overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed?”
“We didn’t know what to do.”
“You had two adults in that house!”
Ashley came onto the phone.
“Ethan, please.”
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“You promised me.”
“We made mistakes.”
I stared through the hospital window.
“I trusted you with my wife and my son.”
“We’re sorry.”
I hung up.
Minutes later, two police officers arrived.
One was a woman named Officer Ramirez.
She sat across from me.
“We need to understand what happened.”
I told her everything.
The trip.
The calls.
The excuses.
The text from Emily.
The bedroom.
The condition I found them in.
Officer Ramirez listened carefully.
Then she asked:
“Did your mother have access to your wife’s medical instructions?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know Emily needed regular food and fluids?”
“Yes.”
“Did your sister know?”
“Yes.”
The officer exchanged a glance with her partner.
Then she asked the question I wasn’t prepared for.
“Mr. Miller, did your mother ever ask you for money before you left?”
I frowned.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“She asked me for five hundred dollars.”
“For what?”
“She said she had some bills.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“Yes.”
Officer Ramirez wrote something down.
Then she asked:
“Did she ask for more?”
I stared at her.
“She asked me for another thousand two days later.”
“Did you send it?”
“Yes.”
The officer slowly closed her notebook.
“Mr. Miller, I think you need to hear something before you speak to your family again.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“We have reason to believe the money you sent your mother may be connected to why your wife and son were left without proper care.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
The officer looked at me.
“Because your mother wasn’t using that money for groceries.”
