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NPO publishes blog articles to inform and to stimulate conversation about issues of importance to NPO's mission.  All blog articles express the opinions of the authors as individuals and do not necessarily reflect the views of National Parents Organization, its Board of Directors, or its executives.  

In a recent post on www.glennsacks.com, "Michelle" writes:
[False domestic violence accusations aren't] only a boyfriend/girlfriend [or husband/wife] thing. My then-17 year old daughter was out of control.  Sneaking out her bedroom window not once, but twice in the same night, with two different guys, more than once.  Our neighbor finally told us what was going on; her bedroom is upstairs so I had no idea she could do this undetected. She had no sense of responsibility whatsoever, did no chores, and her language was as vulgar as it gets. When I tried to discipline her, she would threaten to call the police and "make an injury" on herself to blame on me.  And one day, she made good on that promise. I came home from shopping one Sunday to find three police cruisers in my driveway and my daughter standing amongst them with a big red welt-like mark on her neck.  She'd told them I'd tried to strangle her. I later found out she'd taken her purse strap to make the "injury."  Incidentally, the reason she did this was because I removed a large bottle of rum from her bedroom and poured it out.  I remember her saying, "Your ass is going to jail, just watch." I was in such shock that I could say little except, "This can't be happening" and trying in vain to explain the situation to the cops.  Then one said, "turn around" and I did and was promptly handcuffed and taken to jail. I have NEVER laid a finger on any of our children, nor has my husband.  He wasn't at home at the time, and I cannot tell you how it felt to be in the back of a squad car going downtown for doing absolutely nothing wrong (save for raising a spoiled child.) It was her word against mine, and for some reason, I lost.  I received a simple assault charge and was given a year's probation.  When I returned home that night, she had this awful "told you so" smirk that made me wish I was back in the jail, for that's what my home had become since she began her rule. I haven't the words to describe how this made me feel.  All the way to the station, the cops driving me wondered aloud how I "could've done that to that sweet girl."  It was the stuff of nightmares.

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