Kimberly's mother began heading toward the house.
She wanted to see her daughter.
She wanted to know what had happened.
And she believed the baby might still be there.
The dispatcher immediately tried to stop her.
Do not go to the house.
Police were already there or moving through the area.
The suspect had not been located.
A weapon was involved.
Bringing another family member into the area could create another victim.
But from Kimberly's mother's perspective, remaining away from the scene must have felt nearly impossible.
Her daughter might be seriously hurt.
Her granddaughter might be with the man responsible.
She wanted answers immediately.
Was Kimberly alive?
Was she conscious?
Where was the baby?
What exactly had Steven said?
What had he done?
Emergency dispatchers often become the temporary bridge between families and events they cannot control.
They may know pieces of the truth but not enough to give complete reassurance.
That was the situation here.
Then another important fact surfaced during the conversation.
Steven had apparently taken the baby somewhere else.
He had dropped the one-year-old girl off with someone nearby.
Suddenly, police had a possible location for the child.
Officers responded.
And eventually they confirmed the one piece of news everyone desperately needed.
The baby was safe.
She had not been physically harmed.
For Kimberly, this was enormous.
For her mother, it was enormous.
For police, it dramatically simplified the search.
The little girl was no longer believed to be traveling with an armed suspect.
Officers did not have to confront Steven while worrying that his daughter might be physically in his arms, in the back seat of a vehicle, or inside whatever location he entered.
The child was safe with family or someone trusted nearby.
One major danger had been removed.
But Steven remained missing.
Police could now reconstruct at least part of what he had done after leaving the house.
He had taken the baby.
He had dropped her somewhere safe.
He had contacted Kimberly's mother.
Those actions suggested that he was not simply running blindly through the neighborhood.
He was making decisions.
He knew enough to move the child away from the immediate situation.
He knew enough to contact a member of Kimberly's family.
But police still did not know what he planned to do next.
Would he run?
Would he hide?
Would he return home?
Would he come looking for Kimberly?
Would he harm himself?
Would he surrender?
Then Steven answered that question himself.
He called police.
The man officers were searching for was suddenly on the phone with emergency dispatch.
Steven sounded confused and overwhelmed.
He said something had happened between him and his girlfriend.
He believed he had done something bad.
He said he was coming to the police station.
Those words were significant for several reasons.
First, Steven was identifying himself.
Second, he was acknowledging that a serious event had occurred.
Third, he was telling police where he intended to go.
That gave officers a controlled location where they could prepare for his arrival.
Steven reportedly said that he felt like he was losing his mind.
He also acknowledged that he knew he had done wrong.
The statement did not amount to a complete explanation.
It did not explain the machete.
It did not explain Kimberly's injuries.
It did not explain what he remembered or did not remember.
But it told police that Steven understood at least one fundamental fact.
Something had happened, and he believed his actions were wrong.
Police headquarters was notified.
A suspect in a serious domestic assault involving a bladed weapon was on his way to the station.
Officers could not assume that surrender meant safety.
People sometimes announce that they are surrendering and still arrive armed.
They may panic at the last second.
They may act unpredictably.
They may have injuries.
They may be intoxicated.
They may be emotionally unstable.
And officers had already been told that a machete had been involved.
So when Steven arrived, police approached carefully.
They wanted to see his hands.
They asked whether he had weapons.
They searched him.
They checked him for injuries.
Steven appeared to have some type of injury to his finger, hand, or thumb.
That would later become another physical detail connected to the violent confrontation.
Steven was taken into custody.
His vehicle was searched.
And there, on the floorboard, police found the machete.
The search was over.
The suspect was in custody.
The baby was safe.
Kimberly was receiving medical care.
The alleged weapon had been recovered.
For the first time since the original 911 call, police could begin shifting from immediate emergency response into investigation.
That does not mean the emergency was emotionally over.
Kimberly was still hurt.
Doctors still had to determine the severity of her wounds.
Her family was still processing what had happened.
But from an investigative standpoint, police now controlled the key pieces.
Victim.
Suspect.
Child.
Weapon.
Scene.
Now they needed motive and sequence.
What happened inside that house?
How could a family disagreement become a machete attack?
Detectives sat down with Steven.
Interrogations often look very different from the dramatic version shown in movies.
There may be long periods of ordinary conversation.
Investigators may spend significant time talking about relationships, jobs, routines, children, drugs, arguments, and emotions before confronting a suspect with the strongest evidence.
They are building context.
They want the suspect talking.
They want details that can later be compared with physical evidence.
And in Steven's case, detectives had many questions.