Chapter 4 - THE MONEY I DIDN’T KNOW I HAD GIVEN HIM
Thirty-eight thousand four hundred dollars.
That was how much money had moved from my accounts toward Eric or his business in eleven months.
Not all of it was theft.
That distinction mattered.
I had willingly loaned him $10,000 the previous fall after one of his commercial clients delayed payment.
I had paid $3,200 toward the truck transmission because he was helping me after surgery.
I remembered both.
The rest?
I didn’t.
A bank fraud specialist walked Lisa and me through the transfers.
Several went directly to Whitfield Outdoor Services LLC.
Others went to Eric’s personal checking.
A few paid credit cards I did not recognize.
“Did you authorize these?”
“Not that I remember.”
I hated how weak that sounded.
The specialist did not tell me whether my memory was reliable.
She asked for records.
That was a relief.
Facts before conclusions.
One transfer stood out.
$12,750.
Memo: HOUSE PROJECT.
“What project?” Lisa asked.
I knew of none.
The bank representative pulled the authorization trail.
It had been made using my online credentials from my home internet connection.
Eric knew the password.
I had given it to him after surgery.
That truth hurt.
He had not broken into a vault.
I had opened the door because he was my son.
Marisol helped me begin changing account access and redirecting mail to Lisa temporarily.
I also removed Eric from my medical portal.
That revealed another problem.
He had been messaging my primary-care office for four months.
I read the messages from the hospital bed.
Mom refuses meals unless forced.
Mom becomes aggressive when corrected.
Mom wandered into backyard after midnight.
Mom seems suspicious of family helping her.
Mom accuses me of taking money.
The final one was sent three days before I found myself in the dog cage.
Need formal capacity assessment soon. Situation becoming unsafe.
I looked at Lisa.
“He wrote all of this.”
She kept scrolling.
The doctor had replied cautiously, saying reports from family could be useful but a capacity assessment required direct evaluation and that reversible medical causes of confusion should be considered.
Eric responded:
Understood. I can bring her Tuesday.
Lisa leaned back.
“He scheduled it.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling you why.”
“He said it was routine follow-up after my hip surgery.”
We requested the appointment be postponed until I could speak privately with the physician.
That decision carried a cost.
Eric immediately began calling relatives.
My cousin.
Frank’s sister.
Two former coworkers.
He told them Lisa had “swooped in” and was manipulating me.
By evening, three people had called asking if I was sure I understood my finances.
That was the first time I saw how much work Eric had done before locking me in a cage.
The cage was crude.
The story around it was sophisticated.
That night, Lisa and I went through my old estate-planning folder.
The power of attorney was exactly as I remembered.
It became effective only if two specified clinicians documented that I lacked capacity to manage financial matters.
Eric was the named agent.
Lisa stared at the page.
“Why him?”
I hated the answer.
“Because when I signed it, I thought you were emotional and Eric was practical.”
May you like
Lisa looked away.
My choice had helped build the weapon he was trying to use.
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