The babysitter said she “cleaned up” the missing inhaler… But the nanny cam revealed she was using it as a weapon against a 9-year-old.
“Mom, I can’t find my inhaler anywhere!” Emma called from upstairs, her voice already tight with panic.
Sarah checked her watch. Soccer practice started in twenty minutes, and Emma’s asthma always flared up during exercise.
“Did you check your backpack, sweetie?”
“Yes! It’s not there!”
Sarah turned to Madison, their regular babysitter. “Have you seen Emma’s inhaler? The blue one?”
Madison shrugged, not looking up from her phone. “I cleaned up earlier. Probably got put away somewhere safe.”
“Where exactly?” Sarah’s nursing instincts kicked in. She knew how quickly Emma’s breathing could deteriorate.
“I don’t remember every little thing I touched,” Madison snapped. “Maybe she should be more responsible with her stuff.”
Emma appeared at the top of the stairs, wheezing slightly. “Mom, I really can’t breathe good.”
Sarah’s heart clenched. “Madison, I need you to think. Where did you put it?”
“It’s probably just allergies anyway. Kids these days are so dramatic about everything.”
That comment stopped Sarah cold. “Dramatic? Emma has severe asthma. This isn’t optional.”
Madison rolled her eyes. “She survived the whole afternoon without it, didn’t she?”
“What do you mean ‘survived’? When did you last see her inhaler?”
“Look, maybe if she learned to keep track of her things better—”
“Answer the question, Madison.”
The babysitter’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then back at Sarah with obvious irritation. “Fine. I put it somewhere she couldn’t lose it again.”
Sarah felt ice in her veins. “You hid my daughter’s medication?”
“I secured it. There’s a difference.”
Emma’s wheezing got worse. Sarah rushed upstairs, grabbing the emergency inhaler from her bedroom drawer.
“Here, baby. Slow breaths.” She helped Emma use it, watching her daughter’s face slowly return to normal color.
When they came back downstairs, Madison was gathering her things.
“Where are you going?” Sarah demanded.
“You’re clearly upset about nothing. I’ll come back when you’re more reasonable.”
“Stop. Right there.” Sarah’s voice carried the authority she used in the ER. “Empty your purse.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Empty it. Now.”
Madison clutched her bag tighter. “You can’t just—”
“I can and I will. Empty the purse, Madison.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”
Sarah stepped between Madison and the door. “The only way you’re leaving is if I find that inhaler somewhere else in the next sixty seconds.”
Madison’s face flushed. “You’re being completely unreasonable.”
“Fifty seconds.”
“Fine!” Madison yanked open her purse and dumped the contents on the coffee table.
Among the makeup, gum, and receipts sat Emma’s blue inhaler.
Sarah picked it up, her hands shaking with rage. “You locked my daughter’s life-saving medication in your purse.”
“I was teaching her responsibility—”
“You were endangering a child’s life.”
Madison’s defiance cracked. “She was being bratty earlier, and I thought—”
“You thought you’d withhold her medication as punishment?”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“Get out. Now.”
Madison grabbed her things. “You’re overreacting. Nothing actually happened.”
“Something did happen. You committed medical endangerment of a minor.”
The babysitter paused at the door. “You can’t prove anything.”
Sarah smiled coldly. “Actually, I can. We have nanny cams in every room.”
Madison’s face went white.
“I’m a registered nurse, Madison. I know exactly what charges to file.” Sarah opened the door. “The police will want to review that footage.”
“Wait, Sarah, please—”
“No. You used my daughter’s medical condition as a control mechanism. That’s criminal.”
Madison stumbled out, and Sarah locked the door behind her.
Later that evening, after reviewing the nanny cam footage with the police, Sarah watched the detective take notes.
“The footage shows her explicitly telling your daughter that she’d ‘get her inhaler back when she learned to behave,'” Officer Martinez said. “That’s textbook medical endangerment.”
Sarah nodded. “I’ve already filed a report with the state childcare licensing board.”
“Good. She won’t be watching anyone else’s kids.”
Emma looked up from her homework. “Mom? Will I get in trouble for not finding my inhaler?”
Sarah hugged her daughter tight. “No, baby. You did nothing wrong. Some adults make very bad choices, but that’s never your fault.”
The next week, Sarah received a call from the district attorney’s office. Madison had been charged with child endangerment and lost her childcare license permanently.
Emma never had to worry about finding her inhaler again.
