Last night at the therapy session, Dr. R told me to sit down with-husband and difficult child, and spread all the panties out on the table, and sit there with-difficult child staring at them all until he gives in and tells us where this batch came from. He said it would take us a while ... several 1/2 hrs sessions, several nights in a row. It only took one. We told him that he was grounded off of electronics, although he could watch wrestling if he told us where the panties came from. We also said it would hasten easy child's return home if he told us, since she moved out because she was freaked out about the panty issue, among other things. We started picking up the panties and making comments like, "This one looks like a mom's ... larger ... these look like a teenager girl's ... they have brighter colors and they're smaller ... What about H's house? Or D's house? Then we'd be silent for a while. Then we'd start up again. difficult child played with-the hair over his forehead. He tugged at it. As the clock ticked, he started pulling his hair so hard, I thought he'd tear it out by the roots. Then he started chewing on his knuckles. ... harder, until I thought he'd draw blood. I asked him another question, now I can't recall what it was ... and husband asked something ... I promised I wouldn't yell at him, no matter what he said. But I'd probably cry. difficult child said, "Wait a minute." He bit his knuckle even harder. The tips of his ears turned bright red. ... and he told us the name of someone completely different. All of a sudden, all the pcs fell into place. Why he suddenly stopped playing with-a certain friend. Why he got mad at me if I even said the friend's name. I suggested that maybe we could take his friend to a movie. And we would never tell the friend about his sister's stuff. And we could throw it away. difficult child didn't want to have anything to do with-that friend. Never wanted to see him, never wanted to go over there again. Clearly, there was some shame involved. It was just no fun any more. So we had difficult child bag everything and throw it in the trash. (I'm going to remove it and dispose of it elsewhere just in case he's tempted to retrieve it, however unlikely.) I feel like a 20,000 lb wt has been lifted off my shoulders. I don't know if difficult child just hated sitting there with-us staring at him and the panties. Or if he wanted to watch wrestling on TV so much, he had to tell us. Or if he felt guilty. Or a combination of all three. I have no idea how his mind works. All I know is that I am relieved.