My little brother stole thousands from our dad. should we still help him?
My little brother is 14. Over the past three months, he secretly transferred nearly $5,000 from my dad’s account to himself.
He used the money to buy video games, a new e-bike, a replacement phone after the first one got taken away, and even sent hundreds to his friends. He did it all through Apple Pay and Cash App—he knew my dad’s passcode, just like the rest of us.
My younger sister told me yesterday. She said my mom found out and just broke down crying at the kitchen table. She didn’t even make breakfast, which she always does. My sister said it felt like something out of a movie—one of those terrible dramas where the sweet little kid turns into someone you can’t recognize.
And honestly, I don’t know when it started either.
Back in 7th grade, my cousin stayed with us for a while. She took my brother out to the arcade, got ice cream with him, came back and said, “Your brother’s really sweet. Polite, too.”
And he was. He was this scrawny little kid with big plastic glasses, quiet and always tagging along. I didn’t even like kids, but I thought he was cute. Then he started getting into trouble—small stuff at first. Fighting. Sneaking his phone into school. I remember once in 2nd grade he messed up real bad. I took him into his room and gave him this whole lecture. He cried, kept his head down, looked like a kicked puppy. Then halfway through, he started falling asleep. I actually felt proud, like I had reached him.
But maybe all along, he was just pretending to be that good kid.
Our house is chaotic. There’s yelling every day—sometimes screaming. Half the time it’s about him. His grades, his spending, his moods. My sister used to scream just to get attention. My brother didn’t need to. He was the golden boy. Got what he wanted. All eyes on him.
So he learned to go quiet.
Silence became his armor. While my dad raged, my mom nagged, and we girls shouted ourselves hoarse, he stayed still. Zoned out. Zoned in. Silent.
I used to joke that he and the dog were the most emotionally stable members of the house. But now I wonder what that silence was hiding.
We found out he had a girlfriend recently. In their texts, he asked her, “Can I be your little brother? I love it when you call me that.” My sister and I laughed until we couldn’t breathe. But later, I kept thinking… why is he still looking for that feeling of being cared for, when he already has two big sisters? Maybe I don’t even call him “little brother” anymore. I just say his full name, sharply. Always the authority. Always lecturing him about screen time, money, discipline. My sister doesn’t talk to him at all unless they’re fighting.
I want to blame my parents. You spoiled him. You coddled him. You made him like this.
But they’re exhausted. They’ve worked so hard, tried to hold this family together. My sister told me she’s been doing odd jobs on the weekends just to save up for a new phone, because she doesn’t want to ask for anything. She said even if she saved enough, she’d still feel guilty spending that much. It would feel like too much for our family. But my brother? He said, “I didn’t think it’d hurt anyone.” He shrugged. Said he’d just get a job and pay it back. As if it were that simple.
He always gets forgiven. Always gets a second chance. Someone always swoops in to clean up the mess.
My sister says she understood what rent and bills were back in middle school. She’d sneak peeks at my mom’s bank app to see how much debt we had left. Same house. Same parents. But our minds are on completely different planets.
Last night, my dad beat the hell out of him. My mom was screaming, trying to pull him off. My sister said my brother didn’t even cry. Not one tear. Just stood there like a rock. I don’t know what’s going on inside him. He handed over an old broken phone, gave up the key to the e-bike—but said the bike itself was “lost.” We don’t even know if that’s true.
Now he says he wants to start tutoring again. Wants to catch up in school. He’s always been a soccer kid—wants to get into high school through sports. My parents are thinking about paying for coaching again. It’s $200 a day.
He says he’s serious this time. But we’ve heard that before.
I don’t know what to do. Should we support him? Or let him face what he’s done?
