Chapter 4 - The Internal Audit of the Soul
Detective Lin sat at my dining room table, the very table where the dog bowl had made its ceramic shriek just weeks before. She was young, sharp, and had the analytical eyes of someone who could see through a lie before it was even fully formed.
For two hours, we went through the paperwork. I didn't present her with emotional grievances; I presented her with numbers.
"This is remarkably thorough, Mr. Bennett," Detective Lin said, turning a page of the credit card statements. "Most victims of elder financial abuse don't have this level of documentation. Usually, by the time we’re called, the accounts are completely drained and the paper trail is cold."
"I spent forty years auditing publicly traded companies, Detective. A missing decimal point is an insult to my intelligence. A missing twenty thousand dollars is a declaration of war."
She offered a small, rare smile. "Well, your 'war' has solid legal ground. The attempted identity theft from the Bluebird Inn IP address matches the motel where Brian Bennett and Melissa Vance are currently registered. But there’s something else you need to see."
She pulled a document from her own folder and slid it toward me. It was a certified copy of a vehicle title transfer.
"Three days ago, your son attempted to sell the 2022 sedan he drives. The problem is, the vehicle's title list you as the primary owner, with him as a secondary operator. He forged your signature on the bill of sale to a private buyer in the next county."
I looked at the forged signature. It was a clumsy attempt—a shaky, looping 'W' that looked nothing like my precise, calculated script. My hands didn't shake when I signed things. They never had.
"The buyer's bank flagged the signature during the loan processing," Lin continued. "They contacted us. Mr. Bennett, if you press charges for grand theft auto and forgery, your son will face significant prison time. Given his lack of prior record, he might get probation, but Melissa Vance has a prior conviction for check fraud under a different name in another state. If she’s tied to this, she’s going away."
I looked out the window. The afternoon sun was hitting the cracked porch step that Marcus had beautifully repaired. Helen’s words echoed in my mind again: Don’t let them make you ugly too.
Was it ugly to demand justice? Or was it ugly to let a cancer continue to eat away at what was left of my family?
"Detective," I said slowly, "if I press these charges, what is the immediate procedure?"
"We issue an arrest warrant. We pick them up at the motel. They go to central booking."
"And if I offer them an alternative?"
Detective Lin leaned back, her eyes narrowing. "Mr. Bennett, this is a criminal matter now, not a family dispute. The state can choose to prosecute the forgery regardless of your cooperation, though your testimony makes it a closed case. What kind of alternative are you thinking of?"
"An audit," I said simply. "A full, face-to-face settlement of the accounts. I want them to see exactly what they've stolen, and I want them to return the one thing they took that money can't buy."
May you like
She stared at me for a long moment, assessing my resolve. "You’re taking a risk. People cornered by financial desperation can become volatile."
"I am seventy years old, Detective. I have survived corporate takeovers, the death of my wife, and a birthday dinner where my son treated me like a stray animal. I am not afraid of Brian."
