Calling the police
It was Sunday, April 5th when I began to get concerned about where our mother’s guns were. I knew that she had two handguns. I asked my sister if she could ask our mother if she knew where they were. She agreed to call.
A few minutes later, she called me back, very upset, saying that our brother had been really mean and hung up on her. She was afraid our mom would be harmed.
He sounded mean. He asked, “Mom is it true that you don’t want ______ here?” in that mean voice. Then she heard nothing. Then he said, “WE’RE going to have a discussion!” yelling in that drunken sounding tone she had heard so often. Then he hung up. I asked her if she wanted me to call the police, and she said she did. I asked her to try to call back there to see if anyone would answer. In the mean time, I would call the police.
The police agreed to conduct a welfare check. They were supposed to call me back, but they never did.
She did get right back in touch with our mom, but I had already called the police.
