"I need to report an incident. Someone here has been deliberately abusing emergency medical resources. We need officers to take her in for a formal warning."
I stared at Doreen, my eyes burning red, every fiber of my being screaming to lunge at her and tear her apart.
When my husband saw the paramedics were actually going to have me taken away, he frowned.
"There's no need to blow this out of proportion. She was just having a bit of fun."
The paramedic's expression was granite. "Fun? Medical resources are not her playground. Deliberately abusing public emergency services without a shred of remorse, doing it over and over again, is a criminal offense."
"If a real patient needed emergency care during this time and we couldn't get there because of her, and that patient died, who takes responsibility for that?"
"But—"
My husband opened his mouth to argue, and something inside me snapped.
"Shut up! You're the one who told them my mother and I faked the whole thing. And now you want to play the good guy?"
"Arnold Sanchez, I'm telling you right now: if anything happens to my mother today, I will never forgive you. Not for the rest of my life."