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At 2:27 a.m., My Dad Called: “Your Sister-in-Law Beat Me with a Baseball Bat—But She Told Police I Attacked Her Because I’m Mentally Ill”

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said. “Not after tonight.”

I ended the call and stood in that hospital corridor for a second, forcing my breathing to slow the way I’d trained myself to do a hundred times in the field. Panic was a liability. I needed to think like an agent, not like a daughter, because the daughter in me wanted to drive straight to Eric’s house and put her fist through continue reading …

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