{"id":1578,"date":"2026-04-28T09:56:50","date_gmt":"2026-04-28T09:56:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/?p=1578"},"modified":"2026-04-28T09:56:52","modified_gmt":"2026-04-28T09:56:52","slug":"part2at-6-am-pounding-shook-my-door-a-deputy-sheriff-stood-on-my-porch-holding-papers-eviction-order","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/?p=1578","title":{"rendered":"(PART2)At 6 AM, pounding shook my door. A deputy sheriff stood on my porch holding papers: \u201cEviction order.\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"

Part 4<\/strong><\/h3>\n

At 8:45 the next morning, Tessa walked back into Department 14 with a single folder and a calm face. Marisol sat beside her on the bench, legal pad ready, eyes scanning the room the way predators scanned fields.<\/p>\n

Diane and Mark were already there with Lawrence Pike. Diane wore a different cardigan, as if wardrobe could reset reality. Mark looked impatient, jaw hard, eyes fixed on the bench like he was waiting for permission to claim what he\u2019d already decided was his.<\/p>\n

Behind them, stiff posture, purse clutched tight, sat the notary.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Carla Mendes.<\/p>\n

She looked nothing like Tessa imagined. Not smug. Not confident. Just tense, like she\u2019d been told to show up and repeat a line, and she was praying no one asked the wrong question.<\/p>\n

The bailiff called the case. Judge Halprin took the bench with the same focused expression as yesterday, only sharper now, less tolerant.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe are here on the defendant\u2019s motion to vacate default,\u201d the judge began, \u201cand the court\u2019s concern regarding a recorded quitclaim deed submitted as an exhibit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin looked directly at Pike. \u201cCounsel, do you have the original deed?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pike stood and held up a manila envelope like it was sacred. \u201cYes, Your Honor.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin turned to Carla. \u201cMs. Mendes, you are a commissioned notary public in this state.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Carla said, voice thin.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you notarized a deed transferring property from Tessa Ward to Mark and Diane Ward on the thirteenth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Carla whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cProduce your notary journal,\u201d Judge Halprin said.<\/p>\n

Carla hesitated, half a beat. Pike jumped in quickly. \u201cYour Honor, the acknowledgment is complete. The deed is recorded. The journal is not necessary.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin looked at him like he\u2019d suggested she ignore gravity. \u201cSit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pike sat.<\/p>\n

\u201cJournal,\u201d Judge Halprin said again.<\/p>\n

Carla\u2019s hands shook as she opened her purse. She pulled out a small black book, worn edges, and held it like it weighed ten pounds. She walked it forward to the clerk, who passed it to the bailiff, who carried it up to the judge.<\/p>\n

The courtroom went quiet in a way that made every swallow sound loud.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin flipped the journal open, ran a finger down entries, then stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. Mendes,\u201d she said evenly, \u201ctell the court what identification you verified for Tessa Ward on the thirteenth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carla blinked fast. \u201cHer driver\u2019s license.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin looked back down. \u201cYour journal entry lists a driver\u2019s license number ending in nine-three-one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa\u2019s stomach tightened. Her license didn\u2019t end in nine-three-one.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin lifted her gaze to Tessa. \u201cMs. Ward, what are the last three digits of your driver\u2019s license number?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSix-one-seven,\u201d Tessa said without hesitation.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin nodded once. Then she turned back to Carla, and the calm in her voice became something else: controlled danger.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo the journal does not match the defendant\u2019s license,\u201d Judge Halprin said. \u201cExplain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carla\u2019s lips parted and closed again. Her eyes flicked toward Diane and Mark, small and quick.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin didn\u2019t miss it.<\/p>\n

Pike stood too fast. \u201cYour Honor, journals can contain clerical errors\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEnough,\u201d Judge Halprin said.<\/p>\n

She read the next line into the record. \u201cThis entry lists the signer as Tessa Ward. The signature is a scribble that does not resemble the signature on the defendant\u2019s filings.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin\u2019s gaze stayed fixed on Carla. \u201cDid you witness Tessa Ward sign this deed in your presence?\u201d<\/p>\n

Carla\u2019s voice strained. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin reached for Tessa\u2019s evidence folder. \u201cMs. Ward,\u201d she said, \u201cyou stated you were at work the entire day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have documentation showing you were physically present?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa stood, walked forward, and handed over the badge access logs, the security certification, and the parking gate record with the timestamped plate scan.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin scanned the first page, then the second. Her eyes narrowed at the noon timestamps, then she looked back at Carla.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt what time did you notarize this deed?\u201d Judge Halprin asked.<\/p>\n

Carla swallowed. \u201cAround noon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin\u2019s voice stayed precise. \u201cThe defendant\u2019s badge log shows internal door access at noon. Her vehicle is recorded inside a controlled garage. She did not leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carla\u2019s face tightened. \u201cMaybe it was later.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin flipped the journal. \u201cYour journal lists the time as 12:15.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room felt like it tilted.<\/p>\n

Mark stared straight ahead, as if refusing to look at evidence could keep it from existing. Diane\u2019s hands were clenched so tightly her fingers looked pale.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin set the journal down slowly and leaned forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. Mendes,\u201d she said, \u201care you familiar with the consequences of notarizing a signature you did not witness?\u201d<\/p>\n

Carla\u2019s eyes filled with panic. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I will ask you one last time,\u201d Judge Halprin said. \u201cDid you witness Tessa Ward sign this deed?\u201d<\/p>\n

Carla\u2019s mouth trembled. Her eyes darted again to Diane, who shook her head just slightly, desperate and furious. Mark didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n

Carla exhaled a shaky breath, and the lie finally collapsed.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

The courtroom didn\u2019t explode. It reset, like truth flipped a switch and everything ran on a different circuit.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin\u2019s voice turned cold and procedural. \u201cThank you. That is all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pike stood again, voice cracking with urgency. \u201cYour Honor, this is beyond the scope\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d Judge Halprin said.<\/p>\n

Pike sat.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin looked at Diane and Mark. \u201cMr. and Mrs. Ward, stand.\u201d<\/p>\n

They stood slowly, like gravity had increased.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis court is vacating the default judgment,\u201d Judge Halprin said. \u201cThe writ of possession is dissolved. The unlawful detainer is dismissed for lack of proper service and lack of standing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s mouth opened, but nothing came out.<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin continued. \u201cThis court is referring the quitclaim deed to the district attorney for investigation of fraudulent conveyance and conspiracy. The notary is referred to the commissioning authority for possible revocation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Diane\u2019s face went white. \u201cYour Honor\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Judge Halprin cut her off. \u201cYou do not get to speak now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judge Halprin turned to Tessa. \u201cMs. Ward, obtain certified copies of today\u2019s order and record them with the county recorder. Pursue a title correction through the proper civil channel. Based on what I have seen, you should also consider an emergency restraining order.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI will,\u201d Tessa said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd if either plaintiff attempts any further action to remove you from that property,\u201d Judge Halprin said, \u201ccontact law enforcement immediately. This court\u2019s orders are not suggestions.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hearing ended the way institutions ended things: with stamps, signatures, and silence.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

In the hallway, Diane and Mark didn\u2019t approach Tessa. Pike leaned close to them, speaking quickly, face tight with a man realizing he\u2019d attached his name to something toxic.<\/p>\n

Carla Mendes walked the other direction, pale, clutching her purse like it could keep her afloat.<\/p>\n

Tessa went downstairs and requested certified copies. The stamp hit paper again and again: certified, certified, certified.<\/p>\n

Then she drove straight to the recorder\u2019s office and recorded the judge\u2019s order against the parcel record, attaching it to the fraud alert already in place.<\/p>\n

The clerk who recognized her from yesterday didn\u2019t smile. She just nodded once when she saw the judge\u2019s signature, like the paperwork had finally caught up to what she suspected.<\/p>\n

On the way out, Tessa\u2019s phone buzzed again.<\/p>\n

Unknown number.<\/p>\n

Forget it.<\/p>\n

Tessa screenshot it anyway, because people like her parents didn\u2019t stop because they grew a conscience.<\/p>\n

They stopped because doors closed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 5<\/strong><\/h3>\n

The weeks after court felt strangely quiet, like the world expected Tessa to throw a victory party, to cry in relief, to collapse into the arms of whoever was nearby.<\/p>\n

Instead she made coffee, paid bills, and kept building her wall of paper.<\/p>\n

Marisol helped her file for a temporary restraining order. The judge who reviewed it didn\u2019t need dramatic storytelling. Tessa had timestamps, case numbers, the false lease, the proof of service signed by the plaintiff, the notary\u2019s admission, the threatening texts. The order was granted with conditions: her parents were to stay a set distance away from her home and cease contact except through attorneys.<\/p>\n

The first time the restraining order papers were served, Tessa imagined her mother\u2019s expression tightening as the system she\u2019d tried to weaponize became a barrier. The thought didn\u2019t feel satisfying. It felt inevitable.<\/p>\n

The district attorney\u2019s office didn\u2019t move fast the way television pretended it did. Real consequences took time. Investigators requested records. They verified identity checks. They pulled Carla Mendes\u2019s commission history and journal entries for other notarizations in the same time frame. They requested the recorder\u2019s intake footage for the day the deed was filed.<\/p>\n

Tessa learned a new kind of patience: the kind built on steady follow-up, not hope.<\/p>\n

She also learned that when you challenge someone who\u2019s lived on control, they often try to regain it with different tools.<\/p>\n

A week after the hearing, an envelope arrived in the mail without a return address. Inside was a single photograph: Tessa as a child, eight years old, holding her grandfather\u2019s hand in front of the very house they\u2019d tried to steal.<\/p>\n

On the back, in Diane\u2019s neat handwriting: You don\u2019t know what you\u2019re doing.<\/p>\n

Tessa stared at it for a long minute, then slid it into the case folder, because everything was evidence now. Sentiment included.<\/p>\n

Another week later, Mark left a voicemail from an unknown number. His voice was calm in the way it got right before he tried to twist a knife.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis could have been handled privately,\u201d he said. \u201cYou didn\u2019t have to embarrass your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa didn\u2019t delete it. She saved it and emailed it to her attorney.<\/p>\n

Yes, attorney.<\/p>\n

Because after court, Marisol looked at her across the kitchen table and said, \u201cYou did great in there, but the next phase is not for solo fighting. Title correction and criminal referrals get messy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa hired someone. Not because she was helpless, but because she was done being the only adult in rooms where her parents played games.<\/p>\n

Her attorney was a woman named Keisha Lowell with sharp eyes and a voice that made nonsense sound expensive. In their first meeting, Keisha spread out Tessa\u2019s documents like cards on a table.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey weren\u2019t just trying to take the house,\u201d Keisha said. \u201cThey were trying to rewrite you as a tenant in your own life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa laughed once, humorless. \u201cThey\u2019ve been doing that since I was twelve.\u201d<\/p>\n

Keisha nodded like she understood exactly what that meant. \u201cThen we\u2019re going to do two things. One: clear your title, permanently. Two: make it costly for them to try anything like this again.\u201d<\/p>\n

The title correction process required filings that sounded dull but carried power: a quiet title action, a request for declaratory relief, a record of the court\u2019s prior order, affidavits confirming Tessa\u2019s identity and presence at work. The system loved redundancies. It loved proof stacked on top of proof until it could no longer pretend confusion.<\/p>\n

During that time, Tessa also changed the physical environment of her home. She replaced the front door lock, installed cameras at the porch and back gate, added motion lights, and gave Deputy Romero\u2019s civil unit number a permanent place in her contacts.<\/p>\n

One afternoon, while she was mounting a camera, Romero\u2019s patrol car pulled up slowly. He got out, looked at the new hardware, and offered a small, careful nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoing okay?\u201d he asked, like a person trying not to cross a line.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m doing,\u201d Tessa said.<\/p>\n

He glanced at the house. \u201cI\u2019m sorry about how that started.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Romero hesitated. \u201cFor what it\u2019s worth\u2026 we see a lot. But it\u2019s rare to see someone show up with proof and stay calm enough to make the court listen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa felt something warm and strange in her chest, like validation she didn\u2019t fully know what to do with. \u201cThank you,\u201d she said anyway.<\/p>\n

When he drove off, the street returned to its quiet, and Tessa realized the quiet was different now. It wasn\u2019t the quiet of being watched. It was the quiet of being protected by paper and cameras and the knowledge that if her parents came near, it wouldn\u2019t be her word against theirs.<\/p>\n

It would be records against lies.<\/p>\n

In late spring, the district attorney\u2019s office called.<\/p>\n

Keisha put it on speaker in Tessa\u2019s living room.<\/p>\n

A woman with a crisp voice introduced herself as an investigator. She confirmed details: the date of the notary act, the time, the license number discrepancy, the admission in court. She asked about the threatening texts.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re building a file,\u201d the investigator said. \u201cIt may take time, but we\u2019re treating it seriously.\u201d<\/p>\n

After the call ended, Tessa sat on the couch and stared at the sunlight on her hardwood floor. It was the same sunlight that had warmed the room when she was seventeen, the day her grandfather showed her how to patch a small crack in the wall.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d told her then, \u201cEverything worth having needs maintenance. Houses, people, boundaries.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the time, she thought he meant paint and patience.<\/p>\n

Now she understood he meant defense.<\/p>\n

That night, she dreamed of her grandfather\u2019s hands, steady and rough, guiding hers over a hammer. In the dream, he didn\u2019t speak. He just looked at her like he\u2019d always looked: like he knew what she could carry, even when she didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 6<\/strong><\/h3>\n

The end of the story didn\u2019t arrive in a single dramatic moment. It arrived the way real endings did: through mail, filings, phone calls, and doors that stayed closed.<\/p>\n

By late summer, the quiet title action was moving through court. Keisha filed motions with attachments so thick they could have been used as doorstops. Diane and Mark responded through a new attorney, someone who tried to argue misunderstanding, family conflict, stress after grief. The words were soft. The documents were not.<\/p>\n

The judge assigned to the civil case wasn\u2019t Judge Halprin, but the courtroom felt familiar: wood benches, muted voices, the hum of people waiting for their lives to be translated into procedure.<\/p>\n

When Diane and Mark entered, they didn\u2019t look at Tessa. Diane\u2019s face held the polished stiffness of someone forced to attend consequences. Mark kept his eyes forward, jaw tight, as if denial could harden into truth.<\/p>\n

Keisha spoke without emotion, which was its own weapon.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour Honor, the prior unlawful detainer was dismissed for lack of service and lack of standing. The quitclaim deed was implicated as fraudulent in open court. The notary has admitted she did not witness the signature. We are asking the court to quiet title in Ms. Ward\u2019s name, order correction of the record, and enjoin the defendants from filing further instruments against this property.\u201d<\/p>\n

The judge listened, flipped through the record, and asked only a few questions. Judges didn\u2019t like being used. They didn\u2019t like being tricked.<\/p>\n

Diane\u2019s attorney tried to paint Tessa as difficult, distant, ungrateful. The old narrative, dressed in legal language.<\/p>\n

The judge\u2019s response was simple.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis court is not in the business of rewarding fraud because the parties share DNA,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The order came two weeks later: title quieted in Tessa\u2019s name, the fraudulent instrument declared void, the recorder directed to correct the chain of title, and an injunction against further filings by Diane and Mark related to the property without court permission.<\/p>\n

The deed that had haunted her record was officially dead.<\/p>\n

Tessa went to the recorder\u2019s office one more time, watched the clerk stamp the correction, and felt something inside her unclench.<\/p>\n

Not joy. Not triumph.<\/p>\n

Space.<\/p>\n

A month after that, the criminal case reached its own turning point. The district attorney didn\u2019t announce a dramatic trial. Instead, Keisha called Tessa on a Wednesday afternoon and said, \u201cThey offered a plea.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa sat on her porch steps, looking at the maple tree out back, leaves shifting in the breeze.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlea to what?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAttempted filing of a false instrument,\u201d Keisha said, careful. \u201cConspiracy charges are complicated with family dynamics. The DA wants a sure conviction more than a show.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd my parents?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother is taking the plea,\u201d Keisha said. \u201cProbation, restitution for your legal costs, and a no-contact extension. Your father\u2019s attorney is still negotiating.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa closed her eyes. For a second she felt the old child-version of herself rise up, the one who wanted an apology so badly it hurt.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t get one.<\/p>\n

She got accountability, written in court language.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo I have to do anything?\u201d Tessa asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cVictim impact statement is optional,\u201d Keisha said. \u201cBut you don\u2019t owe them your voice if you\u2019d rather keep your peace.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa looked at the house behind her, the porch light she\u2019d once turned on to find a deputy at her door. She thought of the morning she\u2019d left through the back fence to avoid walking past her parents. She thought of the notary whispering no in court. She thought of Judge Halprin saying orders are not suggestions.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll write something,\u201d Tessa said. \u201cNot for them. For me.\u201d<\/p>\n

She wrote it that night at her kitchen table.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t call them monsters. She didn\u2019t beg them to understand. She didn\u2019t ask for love.<\/p>\n

She wrote the facts of what it felt like to be evicted from your own home by the people who taught you what home was supposed to mean. She wrote about waking up to authority on her porch. About the way her name looked on the writ like she didn\u2019t belong in her own life. About the sickening clarity of seeing her mother\u2019s printed name on a proof of service, neat as a signature on a birthday card.<\/p>\n

She ended with one sentence:<\/p>\n

I want to live in my home without being punished for not obeying.<\/p>\n

The judge accepted it into the record.<\/p>\n

After the plea, the neighborhood returned to normal in a way that felt almost unnatural. No more parked car across the street. No more footsteps on her porch. The restraining order stayed in place. The injunction stayed in place. The corrected title stayed in place.<\/p>\n

Tessa began doing something she hadn\u2019t done in years: planning past survival.<\/p>\n

She repainted the living room in a warm, clean color her grandfather would have called practical. She fixed the creaky stair. She planted herbs along the back fence. She invited Marisol over for dinner and laughed, genuinely, at a stupid story about office drama that had nothing to do with courts.<\/p>\n

One evening in early winter, she found a small box in the back of a closet. Inside were letters from her grandfather, written in careful handwriting, addressed to her but never sent. The top one was dated a year before he died.<\/p>\n

Tessa,<\/p>\n

If you\u2019re reading this, it means I\u2019m not there to say it out loud. People will try to tell you what you owe them. They will use family like a leash. Don\u2019t confuse blood with kindness. Your job is not to keep the peace. Your job is to keep yourself.<\/p>\n

She sat on the floor with the letter in her lap, tears finally coming in the privacy of a house that was hers again in every way that mattered.<\/p>\n

Outside, snow began to fall in thin, quiet strands, turning the street into a softer version of itself.<\/p>\n

Tessa folded the letter, placed it in her fireproof pouch with the certified orders, and closed the drawer.<\/p>\n

Then she walked to the front door, checked the lock, and turned off the porch light.<\/p>\n

Not because she was afraid of the dark.<\/p>\n

Because she didn\u2019t need it on anymore to watch for someone trying to take her home.<\/p>\n

She was already inside.<\/p>\n

And the door stayed closed…………………………………….<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Click Here to continuous Read\u200b\u200b\u200b\u200b Full Ending Story\ud83d\udc49:\u00a0 (ENDING)At 6 AM, pounding shook my door. A deputy sheriff stood on my porch holding papers: \u201cEviction order.\u201d<\/a><\/h3>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 4 At 8:45 the next morning, Tessa walked back into Department 14 with a single folder and a calm face. Marisol sat beside her on the bench, legal pad … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18],"class_list":["post-1578","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-story","tag-aita","tag-diamond-ring","tag-diamonds","tag-engagement","tag-engagement-ring","tag-fiance","tag-fiancee","tag-lab-grown-diamonds","tag-photo","tag-picture","tag-reddit","tag-relationships","tag-top","tag-wedding"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1578","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1578"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1578\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1582,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1578\/revisions\/1582"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1578"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1578"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1578"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}