Granddad Forbids Anyone from Touching His Old Mattress, Girl Finds Stash There after His Death – Story of the Day

Under her late grandfather’s mattress, Brooke discovers a stash that defies all of her preconceived notions about her parents’ deaths. But this well-kept secret has far-reaching effects for the town as a whole, not just on her.

 

With her nose wrinkled, Brooke stood in her grandfather’s bedroom doorway, memories filling her mind. Her giggle virtually reverberated through the hallways as she recalled all the moments she’d spent with him. Her breath came in unevenly.

She remarked, “I can’t believe he’s truly gone,” as she ran her fingers over the dresser made of aged oak.

 

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The room was packed with antique books and the faint scent of Granddad’s favorite pipe smoke and unique Aqua Velva aftershave.

After a few moment, Brooke’s eyes locked on a framed photo of her parents that was propped up on the nightstand. She was truly alone in this world because they had died in an odd car accident years before.

As she began the laborious task of sorting through Granddad’s belongings, her mind wandered to the fact that he had never allowed anybody to touch his bed.

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Granddad used to advise Brooke, “Don’t you ever touch that mattress, young lady,” whenever she would leap and bounce on the mattress when she was younger. “It has more secrets in it than you can imagine.”

Brooke found herself drawn to the bed as she stood in front of it now. She thought that whatever was underneath the mattress would remain hidden as she lifted a corner of it.

Quite frankly, she had no idea what she would find, much less anything that would turn her life upside down. Beneath the mattress was a small leather-bound book, yellowed newspaper clippings, and a stack of photos.

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Brooke sighed and asked, “Oh, Granddad, what were you hiding?”

She gathered up the items and sorted through the paperwork. As she read, her eyebrows went up in shock. For some reason, Granddad had scrupulously documented the investigation into her parents’ “accident.”

He had been a police officer for decades, yet he was still preoccupied with the job and believed the police were corrupt. He had insisted that something was wrong.

Brooke didn’t trust him at first, but after seeing the evidence, she felt compelled to investigate.Her entire focus was immediately attracted to researching this subject.

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“Mr. Johnson was seen leaving the Starlight Lounge, visibly intoxicated,” she read aloud. “Officer Parker waved him through a checkpoint.”

Her hands trembled as Brooke pieced together the reality her grandfather had discovered: that the affluent town resident who plowed into her parents while driving drunk had been hushed up by the police.

Hot, irate tears filled her face, but she refused to give in to the unfairness and annoyance. Knowing this now, she knew she had to do something.

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“I’ll finish what you started, Granddad,” Brooke vowed. “They’re going to have to pay for this,”

***

The next day, Brooke stormed into the offices of the local newspaper, her grandfather’s proof safely tucked away in her purse.

She didn’t care that the crowded newsroom hardly acknowledged her when she arrived.

Brooke rushed into an editor’s office, saying, “I’ve got a story you need to hear.”

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The gruff man behind the desk sat back in his chair, glanced up from his book, and regarded Brooke suspiciously. Hello, lady of the young age. I have to admit, there are a lot of people in here claiming to have the next big scoop. Frank is my name. What sets yours apart?

After inhaling deeply, Brooke settled into the chair across from the editor and began organizing the data. As she spoke, Frank’s expression changed from one of doubt to curiosity.

 

After a few minutes, he leaned forward and put his hands together, clearly intrigued with the story being told in front of him.

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He said, “Ms. Taylor, this is explosive stuff,” when she was finished. “Are you really sure you want to make this public? Negative consequences are possible.

Brooke had a fiery determination in her eyes. “Sir, I’ve been wondering for years why the cosmos took my parents away. Since their death, this unanswered question has loomed over every birthday, celebration, life milestone, and occasion. Now that I know it was foul play and not just luck, I can’t hold it against them.My thoughts are no longer limited to my family. It affects every person in our community who has been told to accept injustice as a given since that is how things are.

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Frank studied her for a moment, then slowly nodded. Alright, Ms. Taylor. We’ll relate the story. However, there’s something I want you to understand. This will not be an easy task. There will be attacks, attempts to discredit you, and maybe even threats directed towards you. For it, are you prepared?

In response, Brooke said, “My grandfather worked thirty years in law enforcement.” “He helped me understand that, even if doing the right thing isn’t always easy, it’s always necessary. I’m ready for everything that comes up.

Frank’s countenance somewhat eased. It looks like your grandfather was a good man. Alright, let’s get to work. We are in for a great deal of work if we hope to fully understand this story.

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The story hit the front page the following week, and Brooke’s phone was deluged with angry and encouraging messages.

 

She also shared a link to the piece on social media, inspiring others to pursue justice.

“My parents deserved better,” she wrote in a widely circulated post. “We all deserve better for those who have pledged to protect us.”

As public pressure increased, the police agency grudgingly decided to restart the case.

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Brooke watched in terrible detail as Officer Parker, the officer leading the initial inquiry, writhed under interrogation during a special news conference.

He finally stated, “We had no choice.” “Mr. Johnson is connected to the neighborhood. We were told to stop doing that.

The Johnson family did control several local companies, had a wide network of contacts, and had funded several local politicians’ campaigns.

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Following the unexpected revelation that shocked the neighborhood, the public staged protests outside the police station demanding responsibility and transparency.

Protesters also congregated at the municipal lands that Mr. Johnson and his family hold. The Johnson family quickly hired public relations experts and legal lawyers in an attempt to malign Brooke.

But given the current climate, people were more inclined to accept the young woman who had lost everything. As pressure mounted on the Johnson family and local authorities, the community’s support for Brooke grew stronger.

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Brooke was walking down the street one day when all of a sudden he was surrounded by reporters.

“Ms. Taylor, there are others who believe you are doing this merely for financial gain or notoriety. How do you feel about that? A reporter made a query.

Even though Brooke’s eyes were beaming with emotion, she took a moment to take a big breath before responding. My parents passed away when I was eight years old. You know what would be similar to that? I’m not interested in this for the fame or the money. My grandfather recognized that something was off, and I have been carrying a hole in my heart where my parents should be for a long time, which is why I am doing this. How was I supposed to keep quiet?

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She continued despite a slight lurch in her voice.

Folks, it’s not all about me. It’s about all the families who have lost a member because people in positions of power believed that protecting the wealthy and powerful was more important than their own safety. Making sure no other child has to grow up thinking their parents’ lives were pointless is the aim. So, no, I don’t care about wealth or celebrity.I care about fairness, to put it simply.

As the investigation progressed, more details emerged. The town became even more enraged when it was revealed that Mr. Johnson had a history of drunk driving incidents that were overlooked, intensifying the scandal.

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As additional families came forward with comparable stories of injustice, the depth of the town’s corruption became apparent.

 

Months later, a trial was set, and it became a media circus. Daily crowds of media and protesters crowded the courthouse steps.

In a cold courtroom, Brooke stood stoically by as Mr. Johnson was eventually brought to justice.

The prosecution presented a compelling case, bolstered by the evidence her grandfather had accumulated. In her evidence, Brooke described the pain and suffering her small family endured, along with the financial and psychological costs associated with their passing.

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The judge did, however, allow Brooke to share her innermost thoughts. “My grandfather never gave up looking for the truth,” she said.His sense that something wasn’t quite right persisted in him. I’m come to finish the job he started.

 

As the trial was drawing to an end, the Johnson family got in touch with the D.A.’s office in the hopes of coming to an agreement. The prosecution consulted with Brooke, but she declined any offer of money.

 

She reasoned, “The Johnsons always figured things out with money.” “Not right now!”

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On the last day, Mr. Johnson stood and looked at Brooke as the case developed. He apologized in silence. “Even though I know it doesn’t change anything, I sincerely apologize.”

All Brooke could do was nod.

Following the conclusion of the case, the jury debated for several days. When they filed into the courtroom, there was silence.

“How do you find the defendant?” the judge asked.

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“You’re correct, Your Honor,” retorted the jury foreman.

There was a collective gasp in the room. Brooke closed her eyes and felt a wave of relief.Dad, we made it!

After the trial, there were notable changes in the neighborhood. Several dishonest police officers were fired and new processes were implemented to ensure better accountability.

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