Chapter 5: Fame and Fake Tears

A few days later, my friend brought recording equipment and went to find my brother.

She texted me a picture from her Prius, trunk full of camera gear and a GoPro strapped to her chest like she was about to hike the Appalachian Trail. She’d always wanted to host a true-crime podcast; now she was finally getting her moment.

On camera, my brother looked wary: "Are you filming a show?"

He glanced at the camera, then at Maddie, then back again. I could tell he was trying to play it cool, but his foot tapped nervously under the table—a family tell.

My friend introduced herself: "Yep, little brother. We saw your post online and tracked you down based on the info you left. We want to learn more about you so we can help you find your real father."

She had her best reporter voice on, not quite Oprah but close enough. She pointed at the GoPro like it was the world’s smallest badge.

She pointed to the GoPro on her chest: "This, you get it?"

She tapped it for effect, making sure he knew she was legit—or at least, as legit as a local influencer could be. The scene felt straight out of a Netflix docuseries.

My brother caught on immediately: "I know, you’re filming my good life. You mean after the show airs, I can be TikTok famous?"

I almost snorted coffee through my nose when I saw that part. Typical Tyler—always angling for his fifteen minutes. If only real life paid in followers.

She shot him a thumbs-up, barely hiding her smirk.

Actually, their whole conversation and footage was being streamed live to me.

I sat in my apartment, laptop open, bowl of popcorn at the ready. The chat window pinged with new viewers every few seconds. It was like watching reality TV, except I already knew all the players.

Friend: "Introduce yourself, then state your request. If you have more info about your dad, it’ll be easier to find him."

Maddie prompted him, doing her best impression of a news anchor. Tyler straightened up, clearly taking himself very seriously.

My brother immediately sat up straight: "Hey everyone, my name is Tyler Grant. A few days ago I posted a search-for-family post online. I want to find the dad I’ve never met. When I was little, he left. I know he must have had his own struggles as a man."

He paused for dramatic effect, probably imagining the whole internet hanging on his every word. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t look away.

"Now that I’m older, I just wanna meet the guy, grab a beer, and ask what the hell happened."

The sincerity in his voice almost got me, until I remembered the wild stories he’d been posting. Still, I could see the chat lighting up with sympathy emojis.

"A photo of my dad? Sorry, my real... my mom never showed me, she doesn’t care about me..."

His voice cracked—on cue, like he’d practiced it in the mirror. Maddie gave him a tissue, ever the professional, but I could see the smirk she tried to hide.

Sitting at my laptop, watching his fake tears, I felt sick.

There was something unsettling about seeing it all play out in real time—my brother, the internet, the whole twisted circus. I wondered if any of these people would ever know the truth, or if it even mattered anymore.

His crying was so fake—just like my mom’s.

I remembered the way Mom would feign tears to get out of a speeding ticket, or win an argument with Dad. Maybe Tyler had picked up more than I realized. The thought made me shiver.