“You wanted proof of my mother being held against her will? There she is. And sorry, sir, you don’t have a no-trespassing sign posted outside. In fact, according to this,” she said, thrusting a thick file at his chest, “this home is owned by Senator Glenn Scotter, who died twenty years ago and bequeathed this home to the government for out-of-town dignitaries, which in my book, makes it government property and therefore public property. We’ll do it right here, guys, once you get video of that man who wants to push my mother and her friend inside.”

The agent Stella was pointing to, towards whom the photographers had swerved their lenses, had stopped at the edge of courtyard. Lynn met the guard’s eyes for a moment. It was clear they were trained to secure prisoners and even kill, but not in how to respond to a swarm of reporters.

“Perhaps while this fine government employee reaches out to his agency’s lawyer, we’ll have this quick news conference,” Stella said. “Start streaming, folks, because here we go.”

As the multicolored mic flags were thrust before her, Stella put her hands on her hips. “My thanks to the news organizations who responded to my announcement. Quick introduction: I am Stella Roseworth, the daughter of Lynn Roseworth and my late father, Senator Tom Roseworth. As I indicated, this brief statement will concern the unfair seizure of my mother and our dear family friend by the government. Should you doubt it, let me ask her myself. Mom, are you being held here against your will?”

The reporters strained their mics in Lynn’s direction, for she still stood a good yard or so away.

Lynn raised her voice. “Yes I am.”

Even from this distance, she could see the eyes of the reporters widen.

Stella nodded. “So let me reiterate: My mother was taken into custody by the government against her will. It is unclear which agency has done this. I would not summon you all here today without proof. And so, seeing this, you will understand why I am taking my mother out of here.”

Stella outstretched her hand. “Mom, Roxy, come on.”

Lynn couldn’t hear what the agent hissed to Stella, but she saw her daughter flinch.

“My mother is under government protection? Protection from what?” Stella said. “We’re all here, sir. And we’d like to hear it.”

“Which agency do you work for?” a reporter called out.

“Why is Lynn Roseworth being held here?” another yelled.

Lynn grabbed Roxy’s arm and led her across the grass. As the agent rushed towards them, the photographers did as well. Trained to capture footage of riots and shootings, they saw no challenge in getting video of two seventy-nine-year-old women crossing a yard.

Stella was even quicker, bolting from the agent. He reached out for her, but running six miles a day made her difficult to catch.