None showed private bedrooms or bathrooms, but they covered the common areas Patricia had believed belonged entirely to her.
Mr.
Arriaga selected the previous week.
At first, the clips seemed ordinary.
Sophia carrying schoolbooks.
Diego rolling his car along the baseboard.
Patricia walking through rooms while speaking on her phone.
Then he increased the playback speed.
Patterns appeared.
Sophia would relax when Patricia left, then stiffen before Patricia returned, sometimes seconds before she was visible.
Diego hid snacks behind a cushion.
Both children moved away whenever Patricia approached too quickly.
In one clip, Patricia stood over Diego while he cleaned juice from the floor with a napkin.
In another, she took Sophia’s dessert and dropped it into the trash after the child spoke at dinner without permission.
There were no dramatic blows captured in those earlier recordings.
There did not need to be.
Fear had shaped every movement the children made.
Mr.
Arriaga watched without speaking.
Patricia did not remain silent.
“This proves nothing.
Parents set rules.
Children need consequences.”
He opened another clip.
It showed me entering the breakfast room after Patricia left.
Diego was under the table.
Sophia was standing beside the trash can, staring at the dessert inside it.
I had not known a camera could see us from that angle.
On the recording, I knelt beside Diego and waited until he came out.
Then I divided my own meal between the two children.
Patricia pointed at the screen.
“There! She undermined me.”
Mr.
Arriaga paused the image on Diego’s face.
“He was hungry.”
“He had misbehaved.”
“He was five.”
Patricia’s control slipped.
“You are making me the villain because you feel guilty for never being here.”
The accusation struck its target.
I saw it in the way Mr.
Arriaga’s jaw tightened.
He did not deny it.
“You are right about one thing,” he said.
“I was not here enough.”
Patricia’s expression brightened slightly, mistaking honesty for surrender.
Then he continued.
“That failure belongs to me.
What you did with my absence belongs to you.”
She went pale again.
Mr.
Arriaga turned toward me.
“Mariana, did you document any incidents?”
I hesitated.
Patricia laughed.
“Of course she did.
