…her boyfriend, Tyler. He had a suspended license.”
The officer, Sergeant Cole, explained the accident report. Six weeks ago, my car had sideswiped a parked delivery van at night and driven off. A witness wrote down my license plate. The van’s camera caught my daughter, Megan, in the driver’s seat and Tyler beside her.
But at the scene of a later traffic stop that same night, Tyler had been driving. He’d shown the officer my license, which Megan had taken from my purse. He’d claimed to be my “nephew” driving with my permission. Then Megan had gone to the DMV with my identification and a forged form to “voluntarily surrender” my license, so no one would ever expect me to be behind the wheel.
“If anyone looked into the accident,” Sergeant Cole said, “they’d find a seventy-three-year-old woman with a surrendered license and a family saying she was confused. Nobody would believe you.”
That’s why Megan had been telling my neighbors I was forgetful. That’s why she’d hidden my keys and cancelled my insurance renewal.
I called Megan from the back of the police car, where I was sitting while the sergeant made notes. She started crying the moment she heard my voice. She said Tyler had been drunk that night. She said he’d threatened to leave her if she let him go to jail.
Megan turned herself in the next morning. Tyler was arrested for driving under the influence and leaving the scene. Megan was charged with filing false documents.
My license was restored the following week. The DMV clerk apologized. I drove myself home.
Megan and I are working on things. She’s in counseling. She broke up with Tyler. Last Sunday, she asked if she could ride with me to church. I let her. She didn’t say a word about my driving.
