Last week, Paul unfolded the topic of our fall from the graces of the Clemente clan.  He made a 8 x 11 glossy reference to the preluding event that started our disintegration (below):

"The email was referring to an altercation between Ian and our sister Jill during a past visit to Chicago.  The reaction was based on the victim's side of the story and the admonishment that followed was a product of that. The berating and taunting was of Dad's own design."

What follows this week is as close to a step by step analysis of the events of one of the more embarrassing chapters in our sibling livelihood.
As objectively as I can recall, I will list the events of September 1, 2009 that led up to this comical explosion.  (Disclaimer- Jill's version of the events may differ):

• Jill came out to Chicago to help with my first apartment move
• The discord began as Jill took charge of the packing process and (editorializing here) I believe she thought I was wasting time, coddling Abby and Winnie.
• On August 30th, Paul called to see if she had done anything noteworthy yet, to which I replied that the trip had been very much like normal people.  Only hours later, Jill threatened to leave, and did.  I called Paul back to admit I had spoken too soon.  She returned I believe an hour later and we patched up and went to sleep.
• We eventually moved in on September 1st and when we were done, we went out to actually have fun and experience a bit of Chicago.  Sometime beforehand, she had purchased as a surprise housewarming gift a flatscreen tv (fair to note this).
• At a restaurant (ed.) I believe I suggested, she said she wanted local beer, but then noticed $3 Stella Artois pints (a good deal for an average town, great deal for Chicago).  I unsuccessfully ordered her different beers to sample, which she choked down obligingly at first, but with great disgust/distaste/discord on her face.
• I went to the bathroom and Jill dumped a pint out the window so she wouldn't have to drink it and so I couldn't.  My date told me this, which caused the already taut tension to erupt into a shouting match using indoor voices.  Jill left while my date and I stayed for one more beer and then headed to the adjacent club/bar, featuring $1 well drinks (always a fair shake)--this is a completely different story.
• We eventually returned to our apartment, at our leisure (ed.) mostly to make a point that her temper would not disrupt our night.
• Jill was sitting in the lobby waiting to be taken upstairs.  I believe this time I told her to leave, which she did only to return moments later and demand her "toiletries" [sic].  I refused to let her in and she continued to knock and shout loudly.  Nervous to disrupt the neighbors on our first night, we let her in.  My date was in the bathroom and after further arguing, Jill marched that way to collect her toiletries.
• Cued by the timidly shocked expression on my date's face, I charged at Jill and punched her in the back of the head.  She collapsed on the bathroom floor and began to (ed.) moan that she was hurt.  I kept telling her to leave, my date went to bed, and I called the police to have a noncompliant sister escorted out.  While the operator was asking me if I had been drinking (to which I said yes, but it doesn't change the fact that there's someone here who won't leave), Jill exited of her own accord with a look of abject horror on her face.
• The Police arrived and knocked on the door until they woke me up.  "Police," they said.  "Shhcako poliees?"  I asked.  And they left.

The only other person present at the time and able to give an unbiased (read: equally incriminating) account of the events is no longer on speaking terms with me (that's a completely different story for another day, by request only)