CHAPTER 2
When I hung up the phone, my mother was still shivering, wrapped in a towel.
“Are the police coming?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
The fear on her face intensified.
“Serkan will be furious if he finds out.”
My mother was seventy-eight years old. Yet, she feared her own son’s anger like a small child awaiting punishment.
I held her hands.
“No one will be able to touch you in this house anymore.”
Before leaving the bathroom, I transferred the photos to a secure file. I noted down what my mother had said, the dates, and the names of the medications used. I asked where they kept her broken phone. I found out which cupboard Serkan kept his bank documents in.
Then I put her coat back on her shoulders.
When we went upstairs, Serkan was sitting on the sofa in the living room watching television. Melis was rummaging through my mother’s bag.
When she saw me, she immediately zipped it up.
“The bath took a long time,” she said.
“My mother needs some rest.”
Serkan laughed sarcastically.
“She’s been like an angel to you. If you only knew what we go through every day.”
My mother lowered her head.
Melis brought a glass of water from the kitchen. Next to the glass were two white pills.
“She should take her medicine tonight,” she said.
I took the pills.
“Are these the medications the doctor prescribed?”
The smile on Melis’s face froze for a brief moment.
“Of course.”
“Can I see the prescription?”
Serkan turned off the television.
“Since when do you question us?”
“I want to know what medications my mother is taking.”
Melis tried to take the pills from my hand.
“You’re not a doctor.”
“Neither are you.”
The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. Serkan stood up.
“Elif, don’t bring your profession into this house. Here, you’re my sister.”
“My mother is here too, your mother. But you don’t treat her like that.”
Serkan took a step towards me. My mother immediately grabbed my arm.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
Seeing my mother’s fear, Serkan winced.
“What did you tell her again?”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Serkan stood motionless for a few seconds. Then he turned to the window and looked outside. At the end of the street were two police cars, a medical team, and prosecutors.
The color drained from his face.
“What did you do?”
“Just my job.”
When the door opened, uniformed police officers entered the house. The commissioner leading the team handed Serkan the search and protection warrants.
“There is an emergency protection order for Nermin Karaca, who is in the house. Furthermore, a search will be conducted on suspicion of elderly mistreatment, unlawful detention, threats, document forgery, and aggravated fraud.”
Melis screamed.
“This woman is senile! She doesn’t know what she’s saying!”
My mother’s body trembled again. I stood in front of her.
“The medical team will examine my mother. Her statement will be taken with a specialist present.”
Serkan angrily advanced towards me.
“You’ve disgraced the family!”
The commissioner stepped in front of him.
“Step back.”
Serkan raised his voice.
“She’s my mother! I’ve ruined my life for her for years!”
My mother lifted her head for the first time.
“You didn’t ruin her life, you ruined mine.”
Everyone fell silent.
Her voice was weak as she said this sentence. But it was stronger than all the shouting Serkan had uttered.
The paramedics took my mother to the ambulance. I went with them. While the police searched the house, they found bank cards, blank signed papers, and forged power of attorney documents in my mother’s name in a locked drawer in the bedroom.
Two thick ropes were found under my mother’s bed.
The fibers on the ropes matched the wounds on her wrists.
The pills I saw in the bathroom weren’t my mother’s. They were strong tranquilizers Melis had obtained through an acquaintance. This explained why my mother couldn’t walk on some days and why she slurred her words when she spoke.
They were regularly giving her medication to make her appear genuinely ill.
The initial examination at the hospital revealed that one of her ribs had been broken previously, she had an unhealed fracture in her shoulder, and numerous bruises on her body from different periods.
The doctor quietly told me:
“These aren’t one-off incidents. These are signs of long-standing, systematic violence.”
I already knew this.
But hearing it from a doctor only fueled my anger.
Serkan and Melis were taken into custody that night. In their initial statements, they denied everything. They said my mother showed signs of dementia, that she frequently injured herself, and that she had voluntarily transferred her accounts to Serkan.
Melis even said, crying:
“We gave up our lives to take care of her.”
But the bank records told a different story.
My mother’s summer house in Mudanya had been sold to Serkan’s friend for far less than its actual value. Two weeks after the sale, the same house was transferred to someone else for three times the price. The difference in money was transferred to Serkan’s account through different companies.
A total of more than nine million Turkish Lira had been withdrawn from two investment accounts. With this money, Serkan bought a luxury car, Melis bought expensive jewelry, and she became a partner in a hotel project in Antalya.
We also had the security camera footage from the entrance of the house reviewed.
The camera footage showed my mother unable to leave the house alone for months. In contrast, Serkan and Melis claimed they constantly took her out and provided for all her needs.
Worse still, they’d forgotten about an old baby monitor in the hallway. The device’s memory card contained footage of Melis dragging my mother by the arm, Serkan yelling at her, and my mother calling for help from the bedroom.
Serkan told my mother:
“If you don’t sign, I’ll have you committed to a mental hospital.”
Melis, with her back to the camera, said:
“Your daughter has already forgotten you. You have no one else but us.”
When my mother watched the footage, she buried her face in her hands.
“I thought you didn’t really believe me,” she said.
“You said you called me twice. I didn’t receive any calls.”
When Serkan’s phone records were examined, it was revealed he had redirected my mother’s calls to his own device. He had also deleted the messages he sent me.
While I thought I was neglecting my mother, they had deliberately closed all avenues between us.
A week later, my mother came to my house in Ankara. For the first few nights, she locked her bedroom door. She carried her coat with her when she went into the bathroom, and looked at the food on the table with suspicion.
One night, when I went to get some water from the kitchen, I found her standing in front of the refrigerator. She had a small piece of bread in her hand.
