The next morning I met Sarah Jenkins who was a tall woman with silver glasses and a very powerful voice. “I am sorry for what happened but we are going to figure out what to do about it,” she said firmly.
We went through all twenty five folders for three hours while her assistants took detailed notes. By noon she had a strategy and laid out three different pathways for me to choose from.
The first pathway was a civil suit to recover the money which would take about two years. The second pathway included a criminal referral which could lead to prison time for my parents.
The third pathway was a private settlement where they would sign over all their assets to make me whole. “What about my brother?” I asked because I needed to know how he fit into this legal mess.
Sarah explained that Trevor had received $1.4 million and he could be required to return every penny of it. “I want to talk to him first because I want to look him in the eye,” I told her.
She agreed but suggested that I do it in a controlled environment with documentation so he could not lie. My grandfather called Trevor and told him to meet us at the hotel at four o’clock that afternoon.
Trevor arrived wearing expensive sneakers and a bright smile because he probably thought he was getting more money. “What is going on?” he asked as he hugged our grandfather and looked at me.
We went up to the suite and I sat across from him while my heart hammered against my ribs. “I want you to tell me about your trust fund,” I said while I opened the folder in front of me.
He laughed and said our mother’s father had left it for him before he died many years ago. I told him that our other grandfather had died with nothing and there was never any fund for him.
“You are wrong because I have seen the statements in my name,” Trevor said with a defensive tone. I slid the folder across the table and told him to look at the transfer records from my account.
He went still as he read the words that showed the money had come from my trust fund. “Every dollar in your account belongs to your sister,” my grandfather said while Trevor put his face in his hands.
Trevor started to cry and kept saying that he did not know the truth about the money. I asked him if he ever wondered why a poor man had been so generous or why he never saw the original papers.
“Mom got upset when I asked and said I was being ungrateful for the gift,” he whispered through his tears. I told him that I had hired a lawyer and he had a choice to either cooperate or end up in court with our parents.
“I will cooperate and give everything back because I want to make it right,” Trevor promised. I stood up and almost touched his shoulder but I decided to keep my distance for a little while longer.
The confrontation with my parents happened three days later in a large conference room at the law firm. My mother looked like she had aged ten years and my father was staring at the floor with hunched shoulders.
Sarah Jenkins told their lawyer that this was not a negotiation and they only had one chance to settle. “Marlo, please let me say something to you,” my mother whispered with a trembling voice.
