Here's what happened

A few weeks ago I was in the holiday giving spirit. I had just finished planning my personal charitable donations, everyone's gift was either ordered, bought, or at least selected and budgeted. I had a little left over thanks to Amazon. Not much, but a little. I remembered my nearly ex's daughter, who is fighting an addiction. Not always successfully, but still fighting it. It's rough. I've been there. And I knew she is always having trouble paying her phone bill. She had asked me for help before, so I still had her information somewhere. I decided as an unexpected gift I would pay her Dec. bill.
Couldn't find the info. Then I remembered, it was stored in the nearly ex's old phone, which had been left here.
I got it from the box o'crap I plan on making sure he gets the second the gavel falls on the divorce. I charged it, enough to turn on anyway, and began scrolling through the old texts, looking for her sign in & password, when I saw the text from his mother, a.k.a., lying evil manipulative control freak bitch mil from hell's asshole.
It was dated last year, but it chills me to the core.
"Call the cops and tell them she is threatening you with a knife..."
I'm a felon. Yes, I did what I was accused of doing, and would again every day, forever, because I did it in defense of a child. I believe protecting the vulnerable is a cornerstone of the social contract most of us abide by in order to occupy the same planet. No, I won't get into details.
But I've never threatened anyone in my life. I don't believe in threats. People who threaten rarely act, and are cowards who get off on inciting fear, which truly terrorism, in my not so humble opinion. I believe in doing, and shutting the hell up about it, and paying whatever price you must for your actions.
I don't threaten.
But it's the kind of thing cops love to get people like me on. "You are a violent felon? Well, let's take any hint of violence and use it to lock you up for life!"
And being female? Yeah. A guy with a violent felony in his past, most people say, "Oh, he was young and wild. I bet he was drunk or some woman done him wrong..."
A woman with my past? "That crazy bitch is gonna snap again some day!"
Or, as a fairly new friend put it, "I was afraid to tell you what happened. I mean, you are a murderer."
Ouch. No, I'm not. I exterminated a scourge on decent people, particularly children.
But now, I'm afraid. Every unexpected knock on the door, every unfamiliar phone number, every snap of a twig, I think, "This is it. And I did nothing this time but my freedom is going to be snatched away from me, this time for life."
I don't sleep well. I don't know how long before I will again. All it would take to collapse my life is him to remember that text, and say the wrong thing to the wrong Good Old Boy, misogynist cop who hasn't gotten laid in a while and... I just have to hold on until the divorce is final. That's what I tell myself a thousand times a day.
Just. Hold. On.
Then the boys and I sell the house and VROOOOOMMMMM down the road, never have to even be in the same state as the rat bastard ever again.
Just. Hold. On.