I had been at the police station since early morning. Surely someone would believe me. I had told my story to one supervisor after another, hitting a brick wall every time. But I was not giving up. My life was in danger and every obstacle made me more determined than ever. I finally asked to speak with the Chief of Police, an older gentleman who carried his authority without being overbearing. He reminded me a lot of Lieutenant Stottlemeyer from the Monk TV show.

Sitting now before the Chief himself, I took a deep breath. So many obstacles had been placed before me today, but I pressed on, ready to tell my story once again.

"Miss Reynolds," he said as he stood to shake my hand and to offer me a seat. "How can I assist you today?"

"I will start at the beginning, sir. It all began about three weeks ago. That Tuesday, when I came home from my job at the salon, I found several personal items had been moved from their usual places."

"Forgive my interruption," he said, "What kind of personal items?"

"Many of my hair care items and a few of my makeup products as well."

"Thank you. Please proceed."

"At first I thought that I had merely misplaced the items in question, but the same incident occurred a few days later. I thoroughly checked all the windows, doors, and locks in my house, but everything seemed in order.

"I then rigged a camera in my bathroom to record while I was gone. Nothing happened for the next three days. On the fourth day, I came home to find that the camera had been turned off. A review of the recording showed that about three hours after I turned it on, someone had carefully turned it off while avoiding being seen. I have shown this video to several of your officers.

"At that point, I called the police. However, even their careful observations shed no light on the situation, and they hinted that I had turned the camera off myself and was deliberately staging these events to obtain attention.

"Knowing I would receive no further help, I changed the locks. It seemed for a time that the invasions stopped. However, last night I was awakened by the sound of someone in my bathroom. I laid in my bed as still as I could. I was terrified. As he left, he stopped by my bed and watched me for what seemed like hours. I couldn't see his face because he had turned the bathroom light off."

I had told my story for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Due to the original police report and the lack of witnesses, I was turned away. I will not return to my home, but I will fight until someone believes me. I am still fighting to shed light on the truth. Where are you in your fight?