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Identity Crisis - Pt 3

A Meeting and an Interview

By Andrew C McDonaldPublished 6 months ago Updated 6 months ago 9 min read

This is part 3 of an ongoing tale of heartbreak. Here are the links to -art 1 and 2


Identity Crisis

Chap 3

“Would you like a cup of coffee or some water?” Detective Perkins said to the couple. The two anxious parents sat in an interview room at the precinct station on one side of a wooden table. Across from them was a mirror which they correctly assumed was two way.

“No thanks. Look, Detective, can you tell us if we’re in some type of legal trouble? Or if our son is? By the way, where is Quentin?” Clark Marcellus looked up at the detective. “This looks more like an interrogation room than anything else.” Reaching out, he patted his wife’s hand. Alicia was fidgeting in her chair, looking around the small room apprehensively.

“Your son will be here shortly. Look, there’s a situation that we need to get to the bottom of that you two need to be aware of.” Pulling open a drawer on the far side of the desk from his possible suspects, the detective removed a digital recorder. “Do you mind if we record this interview? We may need to clarify points later from it.”

“Go ahead,” Clark Marcellus said.

“Thank you.” Setting the recorder down on the table he started it. “This is Detective 1st grade Randall Perkins of the Deland Police Department. It is Monday, August 7th, 2023. I am interviewing Clark Marcellus and his wife Alicia Marcellus. Current time is,” glancing at his watch, “12:05 pm.” Looking at Clark, the detective opened the folder with the documentation for Quentin Marcellus’ adoption. “Mr. Marcellus, you stated your son Quentin was adopted fifteen years ago, correct?”

“Yes. He was a blessing. He still is,” Clark said. “Is there some problem with the adoption?”

“I’m afraid so Mr. Marcellus. You see, it seems that the agency,” pulling out a document he glanced at it, “Child Haven Adoption Agency, Indianapolis, Indiana, may have…, how do I say this?... used less than legal methods in some of their transactions.”

“Less than legal? What the hell does that mean?” Clark was getting upset. He clenched his hands tight, digging his fingernails into his palms. “Do we need a lawyer?” Alicia gasped, holding a hand to her chest as her pulse sky rocketed.

“I don’t really think so Mr. Marcellus. We aren’t, at this time, planning on charging you with any major crime. However, you are free to call a lawyer if it would make you more comfortable. But, again, you are not under arrest.”

“Major crime? Does that mean we may be charged with something minor? And what exactly is the crime involved here?”

Setting the manila folder with the adoption papers on the desk, Detective Perkins pulled the photo of Anthony Trilby from his clipboard and held it out. “Mrs. Marcellus, you identified this photo earlier at your house as being a photo of your adopted son, Quentin, correct?”

Glancing at the photo of her son, Alicia nodded.

Smiling, the detective said, “Can you please answer out loud for the recorder?”

Flustered, Alicia turned red. “I’m sorry. Yes, I did.”

“No problem. Thank you.” Setting the photo on the table in front of the woman, he slid it over to her. “Would you please take a closer look at the boy in this picture ma’am.”

Alicia pulled the photo over. Her eyes were a bit blurry with unshed worry tears. Blinking, she focused on the photo of her son. She jumped slightly in her seat, almost dropping the photo. “Wh… What? This isn’t Quentin.” The boy in the photograph looked almost identical to her son, but there was a small scar under his mouth, the hair was longer, and the eyes, while the right color, just didn’t seem the same. She looked up at the detective. “Who is this?” she said, her voice quavering.

Clark took the photo from his wife’s lax hand. Holding it up, he perused it. Sure enough, the boy was obviously Quentin’s twin, but it was not Quentin. Dropping the photo on the desk, his mind whirling, he leaned back in his chair.

Randy Perkins pulled out a plastic chair on the other side of the desk and sat down. “You’re right. That isn’t Quentin. The young man in that picture is Anthony Trilby. He’s sixteen years old. His twin brother was kidnapped fifteen years ago in Indianapolis, Indiana. No firm leads were ever found. Until now.”

“Kidnapped? We didn’t know… How? What?” Clark leaned forward, putting his forehead in his hands. Wiping his face, he looked at the seemingly sympathetic man across from him. “You’re saying that the adoption agency kidnapped a baby and then adopted him out? To us?”

“Yes sir. That seems to be the case.”

“Holy crap! I can’t believe this.”

Alicia grasped her husband’s hand. Tears trickled down her face. The detective pulled a tissue from a box on a counter behind him and passed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “So, what happens now? Quentin is our son. He’s our life.”

“I understand that.” Randall reached over and patted the woman’s hand comfortingly. “Look, we’ve looked over these papers you supplied us. The adoption all appears normal on the surface. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Is it your testimony, both of you, that you had no knowledge of your adopted son, Quentin Marcellus, having been kidnapped in July 2008?”

“None,” Clark said as Alicia said, “No. I mean yes. We didn’t know,” she said with a wail. “What are we going to do? Where is Quentin?” The woman was openly crying now, her sobs causing her to gasp.

“Quentin is on his way here from school. Along with his biological parents and his twin brother.”


The male officer, his name tag read Barnum, stepped up and opened the door labelled Principal’s Office. Anthony gripped his brother’s upper arm and squeezed before walking into the office.

Quentin looked around, his eyes pleading. This has to be a dream. It has to be. This can’t really be happening.

“Jason?” the officer behind him, a young Hispanic woman, said. He didn’t respond. “Quentin? Are you all right?”

Quentin blinked furiously. He looked at the open door in front of him where his mirror image stood looking back at him. “I’m okay,” he said, despite feeling anything but okay. Shaking, he stepped forward into the office. He heard two simultaneous gasps from his right. Turning, he saw a man and a woman standing there. The woman was fair skinned with long auburn hair that fell in waves several inches below her shoulders. Despite some crow’s lines around her hazel eyes, she looked to be about forty years old. She was wearing a lavender blouse and slacks with heels. The woman, his mother?, had one hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears. The darker tanned man next to her was about the same height as Quentin and Anthony. He looked to be in his mid-forties, wearing a button-down red shirt and black dress pants over black shoes. He had brown eyes and brown hair with some slight grey coming in on the sides. He looked tense, like he was holding himself back.

“Jason. This is Mom and Dad. Lorraine and Marcus Trilby.”

Staring at her long-lost son, Lorraine broke into sobs. “Jason? Oh my God, Jason!” She stepped forward, flinging her arms around her son, crying openly. Pulling back, her hands on his shoulders, she looked up. Eagerly, she searched his face. “It’s really you. I always knew we’d find you.”

Quentin looked over the woman’s head at his biological father. Marcus Trilby had taken a few steps forward so he stood behind his wife. He, too, was searching Quentin’s face. Drinking in the sight of his other son. The son he had prayed daily to find ever since that horrible day fifteen years back. Marcus, too, had unshed tears brimming in his eyes. Looking at Jason standing there, looking completely lost, he nodded. “Son. It’s true.” Almost unbidden, Quentin raised his arms and encircled his mother’s upper body. She pulled him tight against her. His father reached out and gently touched his cheek, as if to verify that the boy was actually real.

Anthony was smiling through his own tears as he looked at his lost brother holding their mother. A small part of him was jealous, but he pushed that down. He clapped his brother on the left shoulder.

Theresa Williams, Principal of Franklin High School, Deland, Florida, rose from behind her desk. She was blinking away mist from her own eyes. “Well, this is quite something.”

The four, along with the two officers, looked at her. She smiled. “Officers, I think it would be okay if you waited outside.”

The two officers nodded. Stepping back into the corridor, they closed the door.

Disengaging from … his mother… Quentin stepped back and looked at Principal Williams.

Quentin, I mean Jason, are you all right?” Theresa asked.

“I…, I don’t know.” Jason Trilby looked at the three strangers standing there. The strangers who were actually his mother, father and brother. He didn’t know what to feel.

“Maybe you should sit down. All of you.”

Jason practically fell into the indicated chair. He looked beseechingly at Principal Williams. “Where are my parents? I guess I mean my adopted parents.”

“I think you had best discuss that with the police officers Jason. I’m fairly certain that they're probably at the station right now discussing your adoption.”

Lorraine Trilby sank to her knees in front of her son. “Jason, please believe me. We have always loved you. All of us.” She gestured at her husband and her other son. “We never stopped looking.”

Jason Trilby looked at his new family. “Okay. But…, I know it sounds wrong, but…, I love my other parents. And they love me.” He met his mother’s pleading eyes. “I don’t think they kidnapped me… I can’t.”

Marcus looked at his newly found son. The teen looked miserable and confused. Lost. The boy was obviously floundering. “Jason, you could be right. It seems more likely that they were duped by a crooked adoption scheme. You don’t know how relieved and thankful we are to know that you were raised by a loving set of parents.”

Jason looked up at the man standing there. This was overwhelming. The whole thing was almost too much. “Thank you. I…, I don’t really know what to think.”

“I know son. But, we do. We’re grateful that we found you. We thank God you’re okay. And… son, we love you. We always have.”

The door to the office cracked open. Theresa Williams glanced that direction and nodded. “Well, I’m afraid you four need to go with the officers down to the police station.” As Jason and Lorraine stood, the principal looked at the family. Jason and his twin favored their father the most. It was the hair, the height, and the eyes mostly. She shook her head. She could hardly imagine what Quentin…, Jason, was going through at that moment. Stepping over to the young man she reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Quentin, Jason I mean, I know this is …, difficult. But look around you. That is definitely your twin brother. You look a lot like your father. You have your mother’s nose and lips. Look, as for your adoptive parents, I pray, and I do believe, that you’re right. They obviously love you and have raised a fine young man. But, these people love you too. They are your family. So, you need to go down to the station where this can be figured out. Okay?”

Jason sniffed and absently wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “Okay.” Tears tracked down his face, dripping onto the carpet. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Jason. And, if you need me, you know where to find me.”

“What about Dan and my other friends?”

“Daniel Rigby? That’s your friend, right?”

“Yeah. Dan. He’s my best friend.” Turning to his new family he swallowed. “Will I have to leave here? Leave my friends?”

“I think that will be figured out a little bit later son,” his father said. “For now, let’s go down to the station and get this figured out.”

Young AdultMysteryfamily

About the Creator

Andrew C McDonald

Andrew McDonald is a 911 dispatcher of 30 yrs with a B.S. in Math (1985). He served as an Army officer 1985 to 1992, honorably exiting a captain.

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarran6 months ago

    Omgggg, I feel so sorry for Clark and Alicia. Jason going with Marcus and Lorraine would break their heart. I wonder who Jason would choose though. It's soooo sad!

  • Test6 months ago

    This was a great story !!

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