Wade worked as a site superintendent for a regional construction company.
I wanted him fired.
Immediately.
I called my brother Owen, who knew one of the company’s owners.
“Tell Patrick Mercer what happened.”
Owen said:
“No.”
“He threw Lucy at hospital stairs.”
“Police know.”
“He caused her fracture.”
“Then police know that too.”
“His company has employees in houses with families.”
“That doesn’t mean he abuses clients.”
“He should not have a job.”
Silence.
Then:
“Daniel, do not turn every system into punishment.”
I nearly hung up.
Instead I called Felicia.
She said the same thing less kindly.
“Do not contact his employer.”
“Why?”
“Because you are in active custody and criminal proceedings, you have incomplete evidence, and retaliatory employment pressure helps nobody.”
“He deserves consequences.”
“Then let institutions with authority impose the ones they actually have.”
I did not call.
That sounds like no mistake.
The mistake came later.
At a family barbecue, Wade’s sister Nicole asked me:
“Is the video real?”
I should have said:
“Talk to your brother’s lawyer.”
Instead I said:
“Yes. I saw him pull Lucy into the door frame.”
Nicole began crying.
Then asked:
“Can I see?”
I had a lawful copy of one clip through family-court discovery marked confidential for proceedings.
I showed her fourteen seconds on my phone.
No forwarding.
Still wrong.
The protective order did not prohibit it.
The court’s confidentiality order did.
Nicole later mentioned the content to her mother.
Her mother called Wade.
Wade’s attorney learned.
At the next hearing, the judge reprimanded me.
No sanctions beyond attorney fees for that motion and stricter handling orders.
Still.
I had taken evidence about Lucy and used it to win a family argument.
Exactly the kind of behavior I claimed to hate.
I paid the fees.
Apologized through counsel.
Never showed another clip.
