“DADDY!”
Her scream came from the backyard.
I ran outside.
Three dogs were slamming against the kennel gate while my daughter screamed from behind an overturned panel, her clothes torn and smeared with red paint.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!”
BANG!
I slammed a metal trash can against the ground and rushed toward her.
“Baby! Look at me!”
She was trembling and barely responding.
Then my father-in-law walked outside.
“I forgot she was in there.”
I slowly turned toward him.
“You WHAT?”
My wife came running.
“CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
He immediately backed away.
“Someone else must’ve opened the kennel!”
I stared at him.
“SHE COULDN’T HAVE LOCKED HERSELF INSIDE!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Then who was it?!”
He pointed toward the kennel worker.
“ASK HIM!”
That was when I noticed the security camera above our garage.
“Fine.”
My father-in-law froze.
I pulled out my phone.
“Let’s see who put her there.”
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
“What did you just say?”
His face changed.
“There’s no reason to check the camera.”
Now I knew something was wrong.
I opened the footage.
And there he was.
My father-in-law.
Leading my daughter across the yard.
Opening the kennel.
Then deliberately closing the gate behind her.
CLICK.
I looked up at him.
“You didn’t forget.”
He suddenly lunged for my phone.
“GIVE ME THAT!”
I jerked away.
CRASH!
He slammed into the patio table.
Then he started pointing desperately toward the kennel worker.
“IT WAS HIS FAULT!”
But it was already too late.
The ambulance had arrived.
Police lights were flashing across our yard.
And I was still holding the one thing he couldn’t explain away—
the video showing exactly who put my daughter inside.
