I Gave My Neighbor CPR After She Drowned in Her Pool and Now She’s Suing Me for Se/xual Assault…

I gave my neighbor CPR after she drowned in her pool and now she’s suing me for sexual assault. The process server handed me the lawsuit at 6:15 on a Thursday evening while I was grilling chicken in my backyard. “Are you Colin Brennan?” he asked. And when I nodded, he pushed a thick manila envelope into my hands. “You’ve been served.

” I stood there holding the envelope, confused, while my dinner burned on the grill behind me. I opened it to find legal documents claiming I’d sexually assaulted my neighbor, Vanessa Hartley, during a medical emergency 3 weeks ago. The claim demanded $3.2- $2 million in damages for assault, battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and violation of her bodily autonomy.

I read the first page twice, my hands starting to shake, unable to process what I was seeing. 3 weeks ago, I’d pulled Vanessa from her pool after finding her floating face down, unconscious. I’d performed CPR for 8 minutes until paramedics arrived. She’d been clinically dead when I started compressions. The EMTS told me I’d saved her life.

Now, she was claiming I’d sexually assaulted her while doing it. The lawsuit stated I’d inappropriately touched her breasts and chest area without consent and took advantage of her unconscious state to commit acts of sexual violence under the guise of medical assistance. I felt my stomach turn as I read the accusations. I’d place my hands on her sternum to perform chest compressions exactly as I’d been trained in my CPR certification class.

Standard medical procedure, life-saving intervention, and somehow that had become sexual assault in her mind or in the mind of whatever lawyer had convinced her to file this. I called my wife immediately. Rebecca answered on the second ring and I could hear our kids arguing in the background about whose turn it was to set the table.

Becca, something happened. I just got served with a lawsuit. Her voice shifted instantly from distracted to focused. What kind of lawsuit? I told her about the sexual assault claim, about Vanessa, about the CPR. There was a long silence on the other end. When she finally spoke, her voice was tight with controlled anger. That’s insane.

You saved her life. I was there that day. I saw you pull her out of the pool. You were trying to help her. I told her I knew that, but apparently Vanessa saw it differently now. Rebecca said she was coming home immediately. She worked as a nurse at County General and her shift didn’t end for another 2 hours, but she’d find coverage.

I needed her and she was coming. I hung up and looked at the lawsuit again, reading through the detailed accusations. They claimed I’d lingered during chest compressions, that my hand placement was suspiciously low near the breast tissue, that I’d failed to properly drape her body or protect her modesty, that I’d continued CPR longer than necessary.

Every single accusation was a distortion of what actually happened. I’d been fighting to restart her heart. There was no lingering, no inappropriate touching, no violation, just desperate, frantic attempts to keep blood flowing to her brain until help arrived. I’d known Vanessa for 4 years, ever since she and her husband Gregory bought the house next door.

We weren’t close friends, but we were friendly neighbors. We’d wave when getting mail, chat occasionally about lawn care or local restaurants, invite each other to summer barbecues. Gregory traveled constantly for work in commercial real estate. Vanessa worked from home doing graphic design. They seemed like a normal couple in their late 30s with no kids and enough money to maintain a nice house with a pool.

That afternoon, 3 weeks ago, I’d been in my garage organizing tools when I heard a splash and then nothing. No laughter, no continued swimming sounds, just silence. Something felt wrong. I’d walked around the side of my house and looked over the fence into Vanessa’s backyard. She was floating face down in the deep end of her pool, completely motionless.

Her arms were spread out and her dark hair was fanned around her head in the water. I didn’t think. I just jumped the fence, ran to the pool, and dove in fully clothed. The water was cold and clear. I grabbed Vanessa around the torso and pulled her to the shallow end, dragging her up the steps and onto the concrete deck. She wasn’t breathing.

Her lips were blue, and her skin had a grayish tint. I rolled her onto her back, tilted her head to open her airway, checked for breathing again, and started chest compressions when I confirmed she had no pulse. I’d taken a CPR class two years earlier when I became a youth soccer coach. The instructor had drilled into us the importance of hard, fast compressions at the center of the chest, 2 in deep, 100 compressions per minute.

Don’t stop until help arrives or the person starts breathing. I placed the heel of my hand on Vanessa’s sternum, exactly where I’d been taught, and started pushing. Her chest compressed under my hands with each thrust. I counted out loud to keep rhythm. After 30 compressions, I gave two rescue breaths, pinching her nose and sealing my mouth over hers to force air into her lungs.

Then back to compressions. My arms burned. Sweat dripped into my eyes. I kept going. Rebecca had heard me shout and came running from our house. She called 911 while I continued CPR. The operator told her to keep me going that paramedics were 7 minutes out. Those 7 minutes felt like hours. I performed four complete cycles of compressions and breaths before Vanessa suddenly coughed and water sprayed from her mouth.

She started breathing on her own, shallow and ragged, but breathing. I rolled her onto her side in the recovery position, and she vomited pool water onto the concrete. The paramedics arrived 3 minutes later and took over, loading Vanessa onto a stretcher and rushing her to the hospital. Rebecca and I stood in Vanessa’s backyard, soaking wet and shaking with adrenaline, watching the ambulance drive away.

Gregory had been in Dallas on business. Rebecca called him from the contact information Vanessa had given us months earlier for emergencies. He’d caught the next flight home and arrived at the hospital that evening. 2 days later after Vanessa was released, Gregory came to our house with a bottle of expensive wine and tears in his eyes.

He’d thanked me profusely, said the doctors told him Vanessa would have died without immediate CPR, that I’d given her brain just enough oxygen to prevent permanent damage. He’d hugged me, called me a hero, said he’d never be able to repay what I’d done. That had been 3 weeks ago. Now I was holding a lawsuit claiming I’d sexually assaulted his wife.

Rebecca arrived home 20 minutes after my call. She read through the lawsuit at our kitchen table while I paced. Our kids, Emma and Lucas, were upstairs doing homework, oblivious to the crisis unfolding. Rebecca’s face grew darker with each page. This is obscene, she finally said. Every accusation here is a complete misrepresentation of CPR procedure.

You did everything correctly. I watched you. I’m a nurse. I would have stopped you if you were doing something wrong. She looked up at me. We need a lawyer immediately. This is going to get ugly. I told her I’d already looked up attorneys online. I had three names of lawyers who specialize in defending against false accusations.

Rebecca nodded. call them first thing tomorrow. Tonight, we document everything we remember about that day. We spent the next 2 hours writing down every detail we could recall. The time I’d heard the splash, approximately 3:45 in the afternoon, the position of Vanessa’s body in the pool, how long I’d performed CPR before she started breathing, roughly 8 minutes based on Rebecca’s call time stamp to 911, the arrival time of the paramedics, the names of the EMTs if we could remember them.

Rebecca pulled up the 911 call recording through an online portal, and we listened to it together. Her voice on the recording was calm and professional, giving our address, explaining that our neighbor had drowned and was receiving CPR, answering the operator’s questions about Vanessa’s condition. The operator had specifically instructed me to continue chest compressions.

Do not stop compressions until paramedics arrive, the voice on the recording said clearly. We saved the audio file. It was evidence that I’d been following emergency dispatcher instructions. After the kids went to bed, Rebecca and I talked about what this meant. A sexual assault accusation could destroy everything. My job as a software engineer at a consulting firm that worked with schools and youth organizations.

My coaching position with the soccer league. My reputation in our neighborhood and our kids’ schools. Even if I won the case, even if it was dismissed as frivolous, the accusation alone would follow me forever. Background checks would show I’d been sued for sexual assault. People would wonder. Some would believe it regardless of the truth.

Rebecca held my hand across the kitchen table. We fight this with everything we have. You saved her life and she’s trying to destroy yours. I don’t understand what’s happening in Vanessa’s head, but we’re not letting this stand. I told her I didn’t understand either. Vanessa had seemed grateful when she was released from the hospital.

She’d waved at me from her driveway a few days after coming home. There had been no indication that she felt violated or assaulted, no awkward conversations, no angry confrontations, nothing to suggest what was coming. Rebecca suggested maybe it wasn’t really Vanessa’s idea. Gregory’s a successful businessman, right? Maybe he sees a lawsuit as a payday.

sue the neighbor, claim trauma, settle for a few hundred thousand from your homeowner’s insurance. I considered that possibility. It made a cynical kind of sense. People filed bogus lawsuits all the time hoping for settlements. But this accusation was so extreme, so damaging they had to know it would destroy relationships, create permanent animosity.

Gregory had seemed genuinely grateful, unless that had all been an act. The next morning, I called the first attorney on my list, a woman named Diana Shepard, who’d spent 15 years defending medical professionals against malpractice claims. Her practice had expanded to include good Samaritan cases, where people who’d helped during emergencies faced legal retaliation.

Her secretary scheduled me for that afternoon. I took a sick day from work and drove to her downtown office. Diana was in her early 50s, with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and sharp, analytical eyes. She listened to my entire story without interrupting, taking occasional notes. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

This is one of the most clear-cut good Samaritan cases I’ve ever seen. California has strong protections for people who provide emergency medical assistance. You can’t be held liable for harm caused during good faith efforts to help someone in a life-threatening situation. She pulled up the relevant statute on her computer and showed me section 1,799.

102 of the Health and Safety Code. You’re protected as long as you acted in good faith without expectation of payment and the person was in imminent peril. I felt a wave of relief. So, the case gets dismissed, Diana held up a hand. It should get dismissed quickly, yes, but we still have to go through the process.

File a response, potentially go through discovery, attend hearings. The accusation itself is public record. That’s the real damage here. She pulled out a legal pad. Tell me everything you know about Vanessa Hartley. Is there any history between you two? Any arguments? Any conflicts? Anything she could twist into a motive for assault.

I shook my head. We barely knew each other beyond being neighbors. I’ve never been alone with her before that day. Never had any kind of inappropriate interaction. Diana made notes. What about her husband? Any conflicts there? I told her about Gregory thanking me. The bottle of wine, the emotional gratitude. Diana’s expression turned thoughtful.

So, he was grateful immediately after. But now, 3 weeks later, they’re filing suit. Something changed. Either they consulted with a lawyer who saw dollar signs or something else happened in their relationship. She tapped her pen against the pad. I’m going to hire a private investigator to look into Hartley’s financial situation and personal background.

Often these cases are motivated by money problems or other stressors that make people desperate. She explained her fees. $450 per hour with an initial retainer of $15,000. I felt my stomach drop. That was money we didn’t really have, but I had no choice. Diana saw my expression and her voice softened.

I know it’s expensive, but you need proper representation. This accusation is too serious to handle any other way. I agreed to the retainer and signed her representation agreement. She said she’d file a response to the lawsuit within the week and start gathering evidence for a motion to dismiss based on good Samaritan protection.

I drove home feeling slightly better. At least I had an advocate, but the financial burden was already crushing and the case hadn’t even really started. That evening, I checked my email and found a message from my boss at the consulting firm. Colin, I need to speak with you first thing Monday morning about a sensitive matter.

Please come to my office at 8:00 a.m. My heart sank. Someone had already told them about the lawsuit. I spent the weekend in a haze of anxiety, barely able to focus on anything. Rebecca tried to keep things normal for the kids, but they sensed something was wrong. Lucas asked me Sunday night why I seemed sad. I told him I was just tired from work.

Monday morning, I arrived at the office early and went straight to my boss, Gerald’s corner office. He closed the door and gestured for me to sit. Colin, I received a call Friday afternoon from a client who’d run a routine background check on our team members. Your name came up flagged because of a recent lawsuit filing.

Sexual assault allegations. My mouth went dry. Gerald, I can explain. He held up his hand. I’m sure there’s a story here and I’m willing to listen, but you need to understand the position this puts the company in. We work with schools and youth programs. The sexual assault accusation against one of our senior engineers creates liability issues we can’t ignore. I explained everything.

The drowning, the CPR, the Good Samaritan protection, the baseless lawsuit. Gerald listened carefully, his expression neutral. When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment. I believe you, Colin. I’ve worked with you for 8 years, and you’ve never given me reason to doubt your character, but belief isn’t the issue here.

Perception is, he pulled out a folder from his desk. I’m putting you on administrative leave pending resolution of the lawsuit. Full pay, full benefits, but you can’t work on client projects or represent the company until this is cleared up. I’m sorry, my hands are tied. I wanted to argue, but I understood his position. The company had to protect itself.

I cleaned out my desk that morning while colleagues whispered and stared. Word had clearly spread. By lunchtime, I was home, unemployed, and everything but technical status. Rebecca was furious when I told her, “This is exactly what they wanted. File the lawsuit, destroy your reputation, force you into a corner where you’ll settle just to make it go away.

” She was probably right, but I wasn’t going to settle. I was going to fight this until the truth came out. Diana called Wednesday afternoon with preliminary findings from her investigator. The Hartleys are in serious financial trouble. Gregory’s real estate company has been struggling since the market downturn. He’s personally liable for over $800,000 in business debts.

They’ve mortgaged their house twice and they’re 3 months behind on payments. The bank sent a foreclosure notice last month. My mind reeled. So, this is about money. They’re hoping I’ll settle or that my insurance will pay them. Diana’s voice was careful. That’s the logical conclusion. But there’s something else.

Vanessa filed for a restraining order against Gregory 2 weeks ago. Claimed he’d been verbally abusive and threatening. She withdrew it after 3 days, but it was filed. I asked what that meant. Diana said she wasn’t sure yet, but it suggested serious marital problems. People under extreme stress do desperate things. Maybe Gregory pressured Vanessa to file the lawsuit. Maybe he’s controlling her.

Or maybe she genuinely believes something inappropriate happened and he’s encouraging that belief. She said she was going to subpoena Vanessa’s medical records from the hospital and interview the paramedics who’ responded that day. We need their testimony that you performed CPR correctly and potentially saved her life.

That’s our strongest defense. Over the next 2 weeks, Diana built our case methodically. She obtained statements from both paramedics who’d been on scene. They confirmed I’d been performing proper CPR technique when they arrived and that Vanessa had been in cardiac arrest. Without my intervention, she would have died. Diana got the 911 recording officially entered into evidence.

She hired a CPR instructor to review my actions and provide expert testimony that everything I’d done was medically appropriate and necessary. She filed a motion to dismiss based on good Samaritan immunity and included a comprehensive brief arguing that I was protected by law from any liability. But Vanessa’s attorney, a personal injury lawyer named Russell Kemp, filed an opposition claiming good Samaritan laws didn’t apply in cases of sexual assault.

His argument was that I’d used the medical emergency as cover to commit assault. Therefore, I wasn’t acting in good faith. It was a twisted logic that made me sick to read. The hearing on our motion to dismiss was scheduled for 6 weeks out. In the meantime, discovery began. Kemp demanded depositions from both Rebecca and me. He wanted medical records, employment records, any communication I’d ever had with Vanessa.

Diana fought the more invasive requests, but some were granted. My deposition was scheduled first. Diana prepared me extensively. Kemp is going to try to rattle you, make you seem defensive, or hide something. Stay calm. Answer only what’s asked. Don’t volunteer information. The deposition took place in Kemp’s conference room downtown.

He was a man in his 60s with an aggressive demeanor and a strategy that became immediately clear. He wanted to make me look like a predator. Mr. Brennan, how often did you watch Vanessa Hartley swim in her pool? I stared at him. I didn’t watch her. I was her neighbor. Sometimes I’d see her in her backyard when I was in mine.

That’s what happens when you live next door to someone. Kemp made a note. But you were aware she swam regularly. You knew her schedule. I told him I didn’t know her schedule. I’d seen her in her pool occasionally over the years, the same way I’d see her getting her mail or watering plants. Kemp leaned forward.

Did you find Vanessa attractive? Diana objected immediately. Relevance? Kemp smiled. It goes to motive. If Mr. Brennan had sexual interest in my client, that would explain why he used the CPR situation to assault her. I felt my face flush with anger, but kept my voice level. I never had any sexual interest in Vanessa. I barely knew her.

I’m happily married. Kemp continued this line of questioning for 20 minutes, trying to establish I’d been obsessed with Vanessa, watching her, looking for opportunities to be alone with her. Every question was designed to make normal neighbor interactions seem sinister. When he asked about the actual CPR, his questions became even more aggressive.

Why did you place your hand so low on her chest? I explained thatproper CPR technique requires hand placement on the lower half of the sternum, exactly where I’d been taught. Kemp pulled out an anatomy diagram. But the lower sternum is very close to breast tissue, isn’t it? Diana objected again, but Kemp pushed forward. Did you feel Vanessa’s breasts while performing compressions? I took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

Chest compressions require significant force. My hands were on her sternum. I was focused on trying to restart her heart, not on anything sexual. Kemp made notes. But you didn’t use any kind of barrier or cloth between your hands and her body. I told him there was no time to find a cloth. She was dying. Every second mattered.

Kemp suggested I could have waited for paramedics rather than touching her at all. Diana cut in sharply. Are you seriously suggesting he should have let her drown to avoid this accusation? Kemp shrugged. I’m suggesting there were options besides placing his hands directly on my client’s chest. The deposition lasted 4 hours.

By the end, I was exhausted and demoralized. Kemp had made saving someone’s life sound like assault. Diana told me afterward that it had actually gone well. He’s got nothing. Every question he asked just highlighted that you did everything right, but yes, he’s going to spin it in the worst possible light. That’s his job.

Rebecca’s deposition the following week was similar. Kemp tried to suggest she’d covered for me, that as my wife, she’d lie to protect me. Rebecca shut him down coldly, using her medical background to explain exactly why every action I’d taken was appropriate and necessary. “I’m a trauma nurse,” she told Kemp. “I’ve performed CPR dozens of times.

My husband did everything by the book. Your client would be dead without him. Two weeks before the hearing on our motion to dismiss, Diana’s investigator uncovered something significant. Gregory Hartley had been researching personal injury attorneys 3 days after Vanessa’s accident before she’d even been released from the hospital.

His internet search history obtained through a subpoena showed queries for good Samaritan lawsuit, sue neighbor for medical treatment and CPR assault claims. Diana showed me the evidence in her office. Gregory was planning this lawsuit from the beginning. He saw an opportunity to make money and pushed Vanessa to file. I felt a mix of vindication and disgust.

Can we prove he coerced her? Diana shook her head. Proving coercion is nearly impossible unless Vanessa admits it, which she won’t do while they’re married and financially dependent on each other. But this evidence shows clear financial motive and premeditation. It helps our case significantly. She filed a supplemental brief with the new evidence attached, arguing that the lawsuit was a calculated fraud rather than a legitimate claim of assault.

Kemp filed an angry response, calling our investigation harassment and claiming Gregory’s internet searches were innocent research about his wife’s medical care. The hearing arrived on a cold morning in October. Diana and I sat at the defense table while Vanessa and Gregory sat with Camp across the aisle. I’d seen Vanessa from a distance a few times since being served, but this was the first time we’d been in the same room.

She looked thin and tired, wearing a conservative dress and no makeup. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Judge William Foster presided, a stern man in his late 60s with a reputation for impatience with frivolous lawsuits. Diana had told me this was a good draw. Foster didn’t tolerate time wasters. Diana presented our argument first.

She walked through the Good Samaritan statute, the evidence that I’d acted appropriately, the testimony from paramedics and medical experts, and the new evidence of Gregory’s premeditation. Your honor, this lawsuit is an abuse of the legal system. Mr. Brennan saved Mrs. Hartley’s life. Every action he took was medically necessary and properly performed.

The accusation of sexual assault is not only false, but offensive to anyone who’s ever risked themselves to help another person in an emergency. Kemp countered by arguing that good Samaritan protection had limits. My client did not consent to Mr. Brennan’s touching. She was unconscious and unable to consent. The law requires that emergency assistance be rendered with respect for the victim’s dignity and bodily autonomy. Mr.

Brennan failed that standard by placing his hands directly on my client’s bare skin without any barrier or attempt to preserve her modesty. Judge Foster interrupted. Counselor, are you seriously arguing that CPR requires consent? Kemp shifted. I’m arguing that the manner in which CPR is performed matters. There are protocols for protecting a victim’s privacy and dignity even during emergency care.

Judge Foster looked skeptical. What protocols? What specifically should Mr. Brennan have done differently? Kemp fumbled through his notes. He could have used a cloth barrier. He could have had his wife perform the CPR since a same gender rescuer is preferable. He could have waited for professional paramedics. The judge’s expression hardened.

So, your position is that Mr. Brennan should have let your client die to avoid touching her chest during CPR? Kemp tried to backtrack. No, your honor, I’m saying. Judge Foster cut him off. I’ve heard enough. This is exactly the kind of lawsuit that makes people afraid to help others in emergencies. Mr.

Brennan acted heroically and appropriately. He’s protected by good Samaritan immunity, and this case is dismissed with prejudice. He banged his gavvel. Furthermore, I’m sanctioning the plaintiff’s attorney for filing a frivolous claim. Mr. Kemp, you’ll pay Mr. Brennan’s legal fees. This lawsuit never should have been filed.

The courtroom went silent. Diana squeezed my arm, smiling. Kemp looked stunned. Vanessa put her face in her hands. Gregory’s expression was unreadable. As we stood to leave, Gregory grabbed Vanessa’s arm and pulled her toward the exit. She stumbled slightly, and I saw fear flash across her face. Something was very wrong there.

Outside the courthouse, Diana explained what happened next. The dismissal with prejudice means they can’t refile. The sanctions order means Kemp has to pay us approximately $43,000 in legal fees. You’re completely vindicated. I should have felt relieved, but I kept thinking about Vanessa’s face. The fear in her eyes when Gregory grabbed her.

Diana noticed my expression. What is it? I told her what I’d seen. She frowned. The restraining order she filed and withdrew, the financial pressure. It’s possible Gregory orchestrated this entire thing, and Vanessa went along because she was scared or coerced. She pulled out her phone. I’m going to pass along my concerns to a colleague who handles domestic violence cases.

If Vanessa needs help, she should know it’s available. That evening, Rebecca and I celebrated the dismissal with the kids. We didn’t tell them the details, just that the legal problem was resolved. Lucas asked if I was going back to work. I told him I hoped so. The next morning, I called Gerald and explained the outcome. He was relieved and apologetic.

Colin, I never doubted you. I’m glad it’s resolved. Come back Monday. Your projects are waiting. Life slowly returned to normal. I went back to work, back to coaching soccer, back to being a regular neighbor again, but I couldn’t shake the image of Vanessa’s face in that courtroom. 3 weeks after the dismissal, Diana called me.

Vanessa filed for divorce from Gregory. She also filed assault charges against him with the police. Apparently, he’d been physically abusing her for months and threatening worse if she didn’t go along with the lawsuit against you. My stomach turned. She was a victim the whole time. Diana’s voice was gentle.

It looks that way. She gave a statement to police saying Gregory forced her to file the lawsuit, told her what to say, threatened her if she didn’t cooperate. He’d convinced her that you’d done something inappropriate during the CPR, playing on her foggy memories and her fear of him. She paused. Vanessa wants to meet with you.

She wants to apologize in person. You’re under no obligation to agree, but I told her I’d ask. I thought about it for a long time. Part of me was angry at Vanessa for putting me through hell, but another part understood she’d been trapped, manipulated by someone she’d trusted. I told Diana I’d meet with Vanessa.

We arranged to meet at a coffee shop the following Saturday. Vanessa arrived looking fragile but determined. She sat across from me and immediately started crying. I’m so sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry for what I put you through. Gregory convinced me you’d taken advantage of me, that you’d touched me inappropriately. I couldn’t remember anything clearly from that day and I was scared and he kept pushing and I just believed him.

I listened as she explained how Gregory had become increasingly controlling and abusive as their financial problems worsened. how he’d seen the drowning and my rescue as an opportunity to make money through a lawsuit. How he’d researched the legal angles and coached her on what to say. How he’d threatened to hurt her if she didn’t go along with it.

“I know I destroyed your life temporarily,” Vanessa said, her voice breaking. “I know saying sorry doesn’t fix what happened, but I need you to know that I’m grateful you saved me. You gave me my life back, and I repaid you by trying to ruin yours. I sat with my anger and my empathy, both valid, both true.” Finally, I said, “I forgive you, Vanessa.

Not because what happened was okay, but because I understand you were a victim, too. Gregory manipulated both of us. She nodded, wiping her eyes. He’s being charged with domestic violence and coercion. The DA is also looking into fraud charges related to the lawsuit. My attorney thinks he’ll take a plea deal. We talked for another hour.

Vanessa told me she was moving out of state to livewith her sister while the divorce proceeded. Starting over somewhere, Gregory couldn’t find her. She’d closed her design business and was planning to work as a teacher, something she’d always wanted to do. As we said goodbye in the parking lot, Vanessa hesitated. You really did save my life that day.

The doctor said another minute without oxygen and I would have had brain damage. I hope someday you can remember that part instead of everything that came after. 6 months later, Gregory pleaded guilty to domestic violence and was sentenced to 18 months in jail. The fraud charges were dropped as part of the plea agreement.

Vanessa’s divorce was finalized and she moved to Oregon. Russell Kemp was censured by the state bar for filing the frivolous lawsuit and eventually paid the sanctions. My life returned fully to normal, though I’d be lying if I said the experience didn’t change me. I still help people when I can.

But there’s a weariness now, an awareness that good deeds can be twisted into weapons. Rebecca and I talk about it sometimes about how close we came to losing everything because I pulled someone from a pool. But mostly we focus on moving forward, on raising our kids to be helpers despite the risks. Because the alternative, a world where people stand by and let others drown to protect themselves, is too dark to accept.

I see Vanessa’s empty house next door every day. A new family moved in last month. Young couple with a baby. They seem nice. I wave when I see them. I don’t mention the lawsuit or what happened.