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She Sent My Son a $300 Gift… With a GPS Tracker Inside | Daily Telly Talks
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0:00
The day had begun as a quiet,
0:02
predictable rhythm of life.
0:04
My name is Rebecca Anderson and I am a
0:07
pharmacist at Regent Hospital in St.
0:09
Paul. My life is a carefully constructed
0:12
balance of professional responsibility
0:14
and maternal devotion.
0:16
The mornings are a peaceful prelude to
0:18
the day's chaos beginning at 6:55 a.m. 5
0:22
minutes before my alarm. My 9-year-old
0:24
son, Lucas, and I live in a charming
0:27
white two-story house. A safe haven
0:29
where the only sounds are the hum of the
0:31
refrigerator and the gentle murmur of a
0:33
city waking up. Lucas, time to wake up,
0:37
I'd call. A ritual that always brought
0:39
his cheerful, "Yes, Mom." Tumbling down
0:42
the stairs. Our kitchen, with its view
0:44
of the backyard swing set and sandbox,
0:46
is the heart of our home. It's a place
0:49
of comfort and routine where the smell
0:51
of pancakes cooking fills the air and
0:52
Lucas in his favorite Lego t-shirt
0:55
excitedly talks about baseball practice.
0:58
I'm going to practice hard so I can hit
0:59
a home run when I play with dad. He
1:02
declared that morning his boundless
1:04
energy a stark contrast to the quiet of
1:06
our kitchen. My son sees his father, my
1:09
ex-husband, twice a month. Our amicable
1:11
divorce 2 years ago was a testament to
1:13
our commitment to co-parenting. We put
1:15
our son's well-being first, maintaining
1:17
a cordial relationship even after the
1:19
betrayal. His father's regular child
1:21
support payments and my pharmacist's
1:23
salary of $85,000 a year allowed us to
1:26
maintain our life in this house, a place
1:28
Lucas loves. I often post photos of our
1:31
happy life on Instagram and Facebook, a
1:33
small window into a world of church
1:35
gatherings, PTA meetings, and baseball
1:37
games.
1:38
Little did I know that this window,
1:40
meant to share joy, had been a portal
1:42
for a predator. My mother-in-law,
1:45
Patricia, is another constant in our
1:47
lives. A former elementary school
1:49
teacher, she video calls me during my
1:51
lunch breaks from her new senior living
1:52
facility. Her unwavering kindness, a
1:55
source of strength. She knits sweaters
1:57
for Lucas, always sending them with a
1:59
handwritten card signed with her pet
2:01
name for him, my precious little star.
2:04
My days are a blur of fulfilling work at
2:06
the hospital, where I help patients
2:08
understand their medications and the
2:09
quiet joy of being a mother.
2:12
After work, I would pick up Lucas from
2:14
baseball practice. We'd cook dinner
2:16
together, and I'd listen to his animated
2:18
stories about school. Our weekends are a
2:21
kaleidoscope of baseball, shopping at
2:23
Rosedale Center, and serene walks at Ko
2:26
Regional Park. It was a perfect life, a
2:29
life I had built from the ashes of a
2:31
failed marriage. A life that, on this
2:34
ordinary autumn evening, began to
2:36
unravel.
2:37
As I drove home, the September sun cast
2:40
a golden glow on the fiery red leaves of
2:42
the trees. The streets were filled with
2:45
the happy voices of children, a
2:47
comforting sound I had grown to love.
2:50
But as I pulled into my driveway, I saw
2:52
Lucas standing in the yard, his small
2:54
frame dwarfed by a large package he was
2:56
cradling in his arms. He was still in
2:59
his baseball uniform, his cap tilted,
3:01
his hair damp with sweat. "And mom,
3:03
look. Grandma sent this," he said, his
3:07
voice brimming with excitement. I got
3:09
off my bike and walked towards him. The
3:11
package was wrapped in brown paper, a
3:14
familiar sight. But as I got closer, a
3:16
strange feeling of unease washed over
3:18
me. The corners of the paper were folded
3:21
too sharply, too perfectly. Patricia's
3:23
wrapping style was always softer, more
3:26
gentle. "Lucas, was this on the
3:29
doorstep?" I asked, a tremor in my voice
3:32
I hoped he wouldn't notice. Yeah, it was
3:35
already there when I got back from
3:36
practice, he said, pointing to the
3:38
address label. It was Patricia's old
3:41
address, the one she had moved from 3
3:43
months ago. The handwriting, while a
3:45
close imitation of hers, was slightly
3:48
off. The letter ear was angular, not the
3:50
soft rounded ear Patricia always wrote.
3:53
A cold dread began to seep into my
3:55
veins. "Did you open it already?" I
3:59
asked, my voice barely a whisper. Well,
4:02
I was just so curious, he said, pulling
4:04
out a Lego Star Wars set from the box.
4:06
It was a $300 set, the very one he had
4:09
been talking about all week, the one I
4:11
had mentally earmarked as a potential
4:12
Christmas present. My anxiety was now a
4:15
sharp, stabbing pain in my chest.
4:17
Patricia would never send something this
4:19
expensive without consulting me. Inside
4:22
the box, on highquality cream colored
4:24
paper, was a card. My precious little
4:27
star, it read a phrase Patricia used
4:30
only for Lucas. But this wasn't a hand
4:32
knitted sweater. It was an expensive toy
4:34
from an old address. A card with a
4:36
familiar but slightly altered
4:38
handwriting. I knew with a chilling
4:40
certainty that this package was not from
4:42
Patricia.
4:44
I dialed her number, my fingers
4:46
trembling.
4:48
"Hello, Patricia?" I asked, my voice
4:50
strained. "Rebecca, we just received a
4:53
Lego set from you." I started, but she
4:56
cut me off. What? I haven't sent
4:58
anything.
5:00
My premonition was right. The confusion
5:03
in her voice was all the confirmation I
5:05
needed. The chill that had been creeping
5:07
up my spine now encased my entire body.
5:10
It's not from me. That's impossible. I
5:13
turned to Lucas, my voice gentle but
5:16
firm. Lucas, don't touch that Lego set
5:19
for now, okay? Just wait until mom
5:21
checks it out. He looked at me, his eyes
5:24
clouded with disappointment and
5:25
confusion, but he nodded.
5:28
As I dialed the police number, I
5:31
carefully placed the package on the
5:32
kitchen table. A sterile crime scene in
5:35
the heart of our home. The warm glow of
5:37
the street lights outside did nothing to
5:39
chase away the growing shadow of fear
5:41
that had fallen over our peaceful home.
5:43
At the St. Paul Police Department, the
5:45
fluorescent lights of the evidence
5:46
analysis room cast a cold, impersonal
5:49
glow on the package.
5:51
Lucas's hand was clutched tightly in
5:53
mine as we watched Lieutenant Johnson, a
5:55
man whose face held the wisdom and
5:57
weariness of years of investigative
5:59
experience, carefully examined the box.
6:02
"Mrs. Anderson, this package was left on
6:04
your doorstep, correct." "Did anyone
6:07
notice anything suspicious?" he asked.
6:09
"Yes, my son says it was already there
6:12
when he came back from baseball
6:13
practice," I replied. None of the
6:16
neighbors saw anything. The lieutenant's
6:18
eyes scanned the bottom of the Lego box.
6:21
Suddenly, his expression changed. "Get
6:24
me a UV light," he ordered. The
6:27
forensics officer complied, and in the
6:30
eerie blue white glow of the light,
6:32
faint traces of adhesive appeared. Just
6:35
as I suspected, it's a GPS tracker.
6:39
My blood ran cold. A small discshaped
6:43
device skillfully hidden in the bottom
6:45
of a Lego brick was revealed.
6:47
It looked like a button battery, but its
6:50
purpose was far more sinister. The
6:52
lieutenant explained that it was a
6:54
commercially available tracker that
6:55
transmitted location information via
6:57
cellular network.
6:59
The installation is a bit sloppy,
7:01
though, he noted. It doesn't seem like
7:04
professional work. The adhesive is
7:06
amateur-ish, leaving traces.
7:09
The words sent a fresh wave of fear
7:11
through me. This wasn't a professional
7:14
criminal.
7:16
This was someone amateur, someone with a
7:18
personal motive, someone who had been
7:21
tracking my son's whereabouts, his
7:23
school, his baseball practice, his
7:25
friend's houses. The thought of it made
7:27
me feel physically ill. We moved to the
7:30
monitor room where security camera
7:31
footage from our neighborhood was being
7:33
analyzed. The camera showed a woman, her
7:36
face obscured by sunglasses and a mask,
7:39
a black dress, and a luxury brand bag,
7:42
Chanel perhaps, in her hands. Her walk
7:45
was unnatural, as if she wasn't used to
7:47
making deliveries. Her steps were
7:49
hesitant, unsettled.
7:51
"Mrs. Anderson," the lieutenant said,
7:53
his voice grave. "I apologize, but may
7:56
we check with your ex-husband's
7:58
workplace. A query was sent, and the
8:00
30inut wait for the results was an
8:02
eternity." My mind raced, trying to
8:05
connect the dots. The affair, the
8:07
anonymous tip, the photographic
8:09
evidence. Was there a link? Lieutenant
8:12
Johnson returned with a photograph. his
8:14
expression even more serious. "Do you
8:16
know this woman?" he asked. "The face in
8:18
the photo was a ghost from my past,
8:21
Catherine Miller. I had met her once at
8:23
my ex-husband's company year-end party
8:25
just before our divorce. I remembered
8:27
her as a colleagueu's wife, a brief,
8:29
pleasant introduction before the world
8:31
fell apart." "Yes," I said, my voice
8:34
barely audible. "I met her once.
8:38
Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle
8:40
clicked into place. Katherine Miller, my
8:43
ex-husband's mistress, the woman who had
8:45
anonymously tipped me off about the
8:46
affair. She was now separated from her
8:49
husband in the middle of a divorce. She
8:52
was living with a new girlfriend, a new
8:55
young girlfriend.
8:57
My ex-husband had moved on, and
8:59
Catherine, now alone, had a new target,
9:03
me and my son. The lieutenant explained
9:06
that Catherine had been trying to
9:07
monitor our lives. For what purpose?
9:10
revenge, harassment, or something far
9:13
more sinister. My maternal instincts,
9:16
the fierce protective love I held for my
9:18
son, now hardened into a cold resolve. I
9:21
had to protect him. The confrontation
9:23
and a new beginning. The next morning, I
9:26
sat across from Katherine Miller in the
9:27
police station interrogation room. She
9:30
was no longer the poised, intimidating
9:31
woman I had met 2 years ago. Her makeup
9:34
was smeared, her black dress wrinkled,
9:36
her Chanel bag seized as evidence. She
9:39
was a woman who had lost everything, and
9:41
her desperation had driven her to the
9:42
edge of a cliff. "Why did you involve my
9:46
son?" I asked, my voice steady. "I had a
9:49
right to be happy, too," she cried, her
9:51
voice thin and shaking. "But he
9:53
immediately went for someone younger. I
9:56
was just a disposable thing to him,
9:57
wasn't I?" She confessed to the affair,
10:00
the hope she had felt for a new life,
10:02
and the devastating blow of my
10:04
ex-husband moving on with a 23-year-old
10:06
woman.
10:07
She had been watching my social media
10:09
posts, our happy photos, our church
10:11
events, our baseball games.
10:14
The image of our perfect family, the one
10:16
she had once wanted, had become a source
10:19
of torment. I wanted children, too, she
10:21
sobbed, her voice full of anguish. 7
10:24
years of fertility treatments, all
10:26
failed. IVF, artificial insemination.
10:29
Yet, he's trying to start a new family
10:31
with a young girl. I couldn't stand it.
10:34
If only your son wasn't there, he would
10:36
suffer, too.
10:37
My heart pounded in my chest. The air in
10:40
the room felt like a freezer. I planted
10:42
the GPS to learn your movement patterns.
10:45
Someday, if I got the chance, I was
10:47
planning to kidnap him. But at the very
10:50
end, I couldn't. The police moved
10:52
quickly. Catherine was arrested, charged
10:55
with anti-stalking violations and
10:56
attempted kidnapping. Photos of our
10:59
daily lives were found on her computer,
11:01
a disturbing collection of our moments
11:02
of joy. A restraining order was issued.
11:05
Catherine's parents, a quiet couple from
11:06
Minneapolis, came to take her home. A
11:09
quiet apology in their hands. They
11:10
planned to move her to Grand Rapids,
11:12
Michigan for psychiatric treatment, a
11:14
fresh start for a woman who had lost her
11:16
way. A month later, a letter arrived
11:18
from Catherine. It was from the
11:20
psychiatric ward of St. Paul General
11:22
Hospital. I am truly sorry for doing
11:24
something unforgivable, she wrote. I had
11:27
completely lost myself, but that's no
11:29
excuse. Attempting to put your innocent
11:32
son in danger is a sin I can never fully
11:34
atone for. The incident became a wake-up
11:36
call. We installed a state-of-the-art
11:39
security camera system. Our social media
11:42
accounts were made private. We explained
11:44
the situation to our church community
11:46
and Lucas's baseball coach, asking for
11:48
their help in keeping a watchful eye. I
11:50
also called my ex-husband and we agreed
11:52
that for Lucas's safety, he wouldn't be
11:55
seeing his father's new girlfriend for a
11:56
while. But the most reassuring change
11:58
came from Patricia.
12:01
Rebecca, don't worry," she said, her
12:04
voice warm with love. "I'm moving closer
12:06
now, for Lucas's sake, and for yours,
12:09
too. Besides, it'll be more convenient
12:12
for knitting sweaters if I'm nearby,
12:14
right?" Tears welled up in my eyes at
12:17
her unwavering kindness. The bond we
12:19
shared, a bond stronger than any crisis,
12:22
gave us the strength to move forward.
12:24
The criminal case was resolved, but as a
12:27
mother, I had learned a profound lesson.
12:29
Protecting a child means always being
12:31
prepared for the unexpected, for the
12:33
shadows that can fall on the doorstep of
12:35
a seemingly perfect life. But more
12:38
importantly, it means protecting my
12:40
son's smile, ensuring that the excessive
12:43
anxiety and caution of my new world
12:45
wouldn't hinder his innocent growth.
12:48
I made a promise to myself, watching
12:50
Lucas play baseball outside, his
12:52
laughter echoing in the afternoon air.
12:55
We would move forward stronger, wiser,
12:58
and more cautious, but never afraid.