Stepmother Beats Poor Waitress For Feeding Stray Dog — The Mafia Boss Saw Her Scars & Takes Action

Chapter 12

It took Rosalind Hearn three weeks to build the case.

And when she was finished, she didn’t file it with the police. She filed it with the Illinois Department of Family Services, with copies sent to the Cook County State’s Attorney’s Office and the fraud investigation unit at Mercy Medical Center.

The file contained:

Copies of Delphine Whitfield’s bank statements showing $71,800 in cash deposits over six years.
A sworn affidavit from Elodie Whitfield detailing the payments she’d made and the threats she’d received.
Testimony from Odette Bramwell confirming that Elodie had worked at the Copper Kettle for four years and had never missed a visit with her daughter.
Testimony from Tobias Sandoval confirming that he’d seen Elodie leave the diner on multiple occasions with envelopes of cash.
Hospital records proving that the debt had been forgiven seven years earlier.
A forensic accounting report showing that Delphine Whitfield had no other source of income during that period.

And at the bottom of the file was one more document.

A petition for emergency reunification, filed on behalf of Elodie Whitfield, requesting that her daughter be returned to her care immediately.

The hearing was scheduled for a Thursday morning in Room 302 of the Cook County Juvenile Court.

Cassian sat in the back row.

Delphine Whitfield sat on the opposite side of the aisle, flanked by an attorney who looked like he’d been pulled out of bed an hour earlier.

Elodie sat at the front, beside Rosalind Hearn. Her hands were folded in her lap. She didn’t look at Delphine once.

The judge was a woman in her late fifties with gray hair and reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She read the file in silence for nearly ten minutes.

Then she looked up.

She asked Delphine Whitfield to stand.

And she asked her, very simply, whether the allegations in the file were true.

Delphine’s attorney began to speak, but the judge raised one hand.

“I’m asking Mrs. Whitfield,” she said.