The cops were called tonight by the oldest grandson. An unfortunate escalation. Around 3 pm, I’m studying for class this evening when I receive a message from the grandson threatening to call the police on Grandma. His girlfriend had left her bag with her medication and IDs in it in the house and Grandma had locked the door. She needed the medication before evening.
It was a beautiful day today, maybe the last nice day before the snow. Grandma had wanted to get the pool winterized, the yard cleaned of dog poo, other winterizing chores done. The grandson instead decided he wanted to go craft at his mom’s place. Grandma got angry and slammed the door shut on him, closing him outside.
He immediately yelled that he’s calling the cops on her, setting off a snowball of horrific events. Grandma messages me that the cops are coming and she chooses not to open the door. That she chooses the end they give her. Suicide by cop, the implication.
I immediately call her to try and calm her down. There are eight people at her door, she says, the grandson having called some reinforcements. She’s not opening the door to that. On the phone, she’s hysterical, ranting about the kids and their lack of respect. Ranting about the cops coming.
I message our mutual friend to express what is happening, that Grandma is at her breaking point, and she says she will call the police to tell them to approach with care. Grandma hangs up on me and goes on a live. The grandson starts sending me extensive messages about his girlfriend calling, her mom calling, her dad calling, all of them on her front porch.
My class starts while she’s still on the phone and I miss the introduction. I needed that introduction because the professor is telling us about the upcoming assignment. I join the online session about 15 minutes late. About an hour into class, my phone rings. A private number. I mute and turn off my video feed and answer.
It’s the cops. They ask me a zillion questions about Grandma and her current state of mind, trying to say she’s suicidal, but I refuse to outright say so. I say I am concerned about their response, and hope it doesn’t become escalated. The cop gets their information and we hang up. I go back to the online session. I’ve missed a full discussion.
The phone rings again, the cops again. They want me to message her and coax her to the window. So I do. I tell them to let me call her and I’ll get her to come to the door. She goes on a video call with me and shows me the two females cops standing on the doorstep.
I ask her to please get the girlfriend’s bag with the medication in it, and she does and hands it out the door to the cops. She is cooperative, but unwilling to let them in her house. The cops ask questions, which she answers aggressively, but truthfully. She is rightfully agitated at their presence here, given her history with the police. They ask her if she is willing to talk to a mental health worker from the CMHA. She agrees.
The woman arrives at the door and asks if she can come in with the cops standing in the hallway so they can have more privacy. Grandma refuses. She doesn’t want the cops in her house, understandably. So they decide to have the conversation, the mental health worker on the porch, Grandma through the screen door.
Grandma hands her phone with me on it to the worker, and she begins to ask me questions about the situation and my relationship to it. I tell them I’m a family friend and I check in with Grandma every day on the phone. I explain the situation with the kids and Grandma’s agitation with the police escalation.
She hands me back to Grandma, and they have a conversation about getting some help for the family. Counseling. Grandma agrees. The worker says she’ll look into getting some help for Grandma around the house through disability. Grandma starts to calm down. She is happy for the help. Finally.
The cops and the worker leave and Grandma and I continue to talk on the phone until she calms down.
“He should have just gone to (my daughter’s) house. Fucking idiot.”
Have you ever watched a family conflict escalate so quickly that you were afraid of what might happen next?
If this story made you think about how families reach a breaking point—and how difficult it can be to accept help—please restack and share it.
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