Things in My House Started Moving Around — I Installed a Security Camera and Was Shocked When I Saw the Footage

At 62, I’d lived alone since my husband died 15 years ago. Our son, Trevor, left for another country 20 years back. I’d settled into solitude—until strange things began a month ago.

Furniture moved overnight. A dining chair appeared against the living room wall. A long-untouched family portrait sat on the kitchen counter. I blamed forgetfulness, then age. But it worsened.

I started photographing rooms before bed. Mornings showed chaos—items shifted feet away, even into other rooms. No mistake; something was wrong.

Paranoia stole my sleep. Nights stayed silent. Desperate, I installed security cameras: living room, kitchen, hallway, bedroom.

First days: nothing. Then, on the fifth, a black-clad, masked figure glided through footage. Silent, cautious, they rearranged my life—furniture, photos, vases—mainly when I shopped or slept early. Chills hit hard.

I called police, showed the officer. He promised patrols, urged locked doors. But fear ruled. We planned a trap: I’d pretend to leave, watch live from a café across the street.

Hours of tense waiting. Then the door opened. The intruder rummaged drawers, flipped albums, entered my bedroom. He held my late husband’s sweater to his chest, then dropped it.

Police stormed in as he fled. Tackled in the backyard. Mask off—Trevor.

“Why?” I whispered.

He sneered: “You cut me off. I needed money. Planned to drive you mad, become your guardian, take everything.”

He confessed. I paid his debts to end it, dropped charges, got a restraining order. “You’re no longer my son.”

Emptier than ever, I hung up.