Ashley Flowers

From the very start, the timeline Brandon gave seems shaky to Joseph.

Initially, the story that Brandon told made it seem like he just took this quick little cat nap, like 30 minutes or so.

But that doesn't make sense to Joseph.

The doctor told him JoJo was like that because of prolonged lack of oxygen.

Now, conveniently, Brandon's story morphs over time.

That 30-minute nap changes to, I don't know how long it was, to eventually saying that he was sleeping nearly the entire afternoon while he was supposed to be supervising JoJo.

And then there is this whole weird thing with CPR.

At first, Brandon's story was that he pulled JoJo from the chest, performed CPR, and called 911.

But Joseph finds out that when Brandon called 911 at 4.58 p.m.,

the dispatcher had to tell him to put JoJo on the floor and begin compressions.

But when she is spoken to, she says from what she could tell over the phone or whatever, it didn't seem like he was actually doing it.

And when EMS arrived by 5-11, they documented that he is not doing CPR compressions.

First responders find JoJo not breathing, without a pulse, while Brandon is just screaming, God no, and crying, rocking, hitting the wall.

Which could just be panic, though.

Sure, but how about this?

As far as we know, nowhere in Brandon's story does he offer up an explanation for why JoJo is wet.

And I'm not just talking like sweaty from being stuck inside a constricted space for a long time.

Wet from his nose all the way down to his hips.

And police also document a wet towel in the bathroom and the bed is wet.

I mean, how wet are we talking here?