“Once the title transfer goes through, we’ll deal with that.”
Then Dad looked directly toward the doorbell camera.
“Does this thing record sound?”
The video jolted as Lucas reached up.
The screen went black.
No one spoke when it ended.
The responder asked Jessica to preserve the file and send a copy through an evidence link.
She did it immediately.
Dad had finally gone quiet on my phone.
“Are you still there?” I asked.
He ended the call.
A supervisor arrived minutes later, followed by another unit.
They separated us and took statements.
The forged document went into an evidence sleeve.
The responder photographed my original title, registration, identification, and purchase records.
Lucas tried to reshape the story three times.
First, he said he believed I had given permission.
Then he said Dad had assured him the transfer was legal.
Finally, he claimed he had never looked closely at the form and had not heard the conversation captured on the doorbell camera.
The supervisor listened without arguing.
When Lucas finished, the supervisor asked, “Why did you delete the recording?”
Lucas had no answer.
His friend was interviewed next.
He admitted Lucas had called him that afternoon to show off his new SUV.
According to the friend, Lucas said, “My sister didn’t have a choice.
Dad finally put his foot down.”
That statement destroyed what remained of Lucas’s claim that he believed I had volunteered the vehicle.
The officers confirmed his license was still suspended.
They also learned he had driven across town twice that day, including once with Jessica in the passenger seat.
Jessica heard that and turned on him.
“You told me your license had been reinstated.”
“I was going to fix it next week.”
“You drove me to my doctor in a stolen car without a license.”
“It wasn’t stolen.”
The supervisor held up the evidence sleeve.
“You should stop saying that until you speak with counsel.”
