it was a lie

Earlier today (Saturday), Mother called Hometown Police Department to verify if Sister had indeed filed a police report relating to the alleged mugging and raping mentioned in my previous post.
At 11 AM my phone rang. It was Mother calling to inform me that no report was filed.
Mother asked me an obvious question: Why would Sister claim such a horrendous act had occurred? Did she fabricate the incident to deflect attention from the previous thefts of Mother's cash and jewelry?
"I don't know, Mom. I just don't know," I replied.
I'm at a loss for words. I no longer recognize Sister; I suppose I've failed to recognize her for some time now. Occasionally flashes of the sibling I once knew materialize, but these instances are rare.
Mother, Father, Stepfather, and I thought her demons died with the birth of her son, Austin, seven months ago -- we were wrong.
At the height of her drug and legal problems (how long has it been? Two years? Three?), which are documented in this blog, I stated that her ending will not be a pleasant one. The dark jaws of an early death or prison await. In light of recent events, this haunting premonition has replanted itself deep within the confines of my being.
Sister is no longer the sibling I once loved. She is a poor, lost stranger whom I still love; however, loving the unrecognizable is a difficult and heart-wrenching exercise.

And on my stereo Thom Yorke sings, "No alarms and no surprises, please."

mc