I know exactly what they look like. I know exactly how they operate.”
A pause.
“And I know exactly what my daughter and her husband have done to my family.”
The courtroom was silent. Connor looked down at his notes, face flushed.
Judge Brooks leaned back.
“Mrs. Henderson, during your deposition, you appeared hesitant, unsure. Can you explain why?”
“Because I was being watched by two people who wanted me declared incompetent, your honor.
They were looking for any sign of weakness. So I gave them what they expected—a grieving widow struggling to remember details.”
“But you weren’t actually confused.”
“No, your honor. I was strategic.
Mr. Hayes asked vague questions. I gave vague answers.
He assumed I meant something I didn’t say. That’s not my fault.”
Judge Brooks turned to Connor. “Mr.
Hayes, did you ask Mrs. Henderson if she was an expert witness?”
“No, your honor.”
“Did you ask about her specific professional qualifications?”
“I asked about her employment.”
“Yes or no?”
A long pause. “No.”
The judge removed her glasses.
“Then Mrs. Henderson had no obligation to volunteer information you didn’t request. Answering carefully under oath while being questioned by opposing counsel is not incompetence, Mr.
Hayes. It’s intelligence.”
She looked at me with something close to approval.
Michael returned to his position. “Mrs.
Henderson, are you ready to walk the court through what you discovered when you reviewed your late husband’s financial records?”
“Yes.”
Michael approached with a folder. “Your honor, we’d like to present evidence of systematic financial exploitation of Thomas Henderson in the months before his death.”
Connor shot to his feet. “Objection.”
But Judge Brooks was already nodding.
“Overruled. Proceed.”
Michael placed bank statements on the screen. Connor’s face went pale.
“Thomas’s savings account.
Community Trust Bank. Mrs. Henderson, can you walk us through what you found?”
I took a breath.
“Eight withdrawals over 12 months. November 2023 through October 2024. Total of $62,400.”
The numbers appeared on the screen, highlighted in yellow.
November 15th, 2023, $8,400.
December 18th, 2023, $7,200.
January 22nd, 2024, $9,100.
March 5th, 2024, $6,800.
May 10th, 2024, $8,200.
July 3rd, 2024, $7,500.
August 19th, 2024, $6,700.
October 3rd, 2024, $8,500.
“These withdrawals were authorized.
How?” Michael asked.
“Each one was made in person at a branch location. The withdrawal slips show Thomas’s signature and Amanda Peterson listed as the recipient.”
Michael pulled up another document. “And you kept a record of visitors to your home.”
“Yes.
Thomas and I maintained a household log. It was a habit from my banking career—documenting who came to the house, when, and why.”
The visitor log appeared on screen.
November 12th, 2023. Amanda visited weekend.
December 16th, 2023.
Amanda visited Sunday.
January 20th, 2024. Amanda visited Saturday.
March 2nd, 2024. Amanda visited weekend.
May 8th, 2024.
Amanda visited.
July 1st, 2024. Amanda visited holiday weekend.
August 17th, 2024. Amanda visited.
October 1st, 2024.
Amanda visited.
Michael placed the two documents side by side. “What pattern did you notice?”
“Every withdrawal happened within 3 days of Amanda’s visit.”
The courtroom was silent.
Connor stood. “Your honor, correlation isn’t causation.”
Judge Brooks raised a hand.
“Mr. Hayes, that’s not coincidence. That’s a pattern.”
Michael continued.
“Mrs. Henderson, did Thomas authorize these withdrawals?”
“Not knowingly. In his journal, which we’ll present shortly, he wrote that he didn’t remember approving them.
He suspected they were happening, but by the time he realized the scope, he was too ashamed to confront Amanda directly.”
“So how did Amanda gain access to Thomas’s accounts?”
Michael pulled up another document. “Your honor, I’d like to present a power of attorney document dated October 3rd, 2024. It grants Amanda Peterson full authority over Thomas Henderson’s financial affairs.”
The document appeared on screen.
Thomas’s signature at the bottom. A notary stamp in the corner.
“This document was notarized by Gerald Patterson,” Michael said. “Mrs.
Henderson, did you investigate Mr. Patterson?”
“Yes. Gerald Patterson was a notary public in Travis County.
His commission number is listed on the stamp.”
“Was Mr. Patterson retired in August 2019?”
“Yes. His notary commission expired at that time.”
“This document is dated October 3rd, 2024—5 years after his retirement.”
Murmurs rippled through the courtroom.
Connor shot to his feet.
“Objection. We haven’t had time to verify—”
Michael cut him off. “Your honor, I have Mr.
Patterson’s notary records from the Texas Secretary of State. Commission number 129847356 expired August 15th, 2019. I also have his death certificate.
Mr. Patterson passed away in February 2023.”
The judge leaned forward. “Someone used a stamp from a deceased retired notary to forge a power of attorney.”
“Yes, your honor.
This is felony forgery under Texas Penal Code section 32.21.”
Amanda’s face went white. Ryan stared straight ahead. Connor sat down slowly, all fight gone.
Judge Brooks removed her glasses.
“Mr. Hayes, your client presented this power of attorney as evidence of Thomas Henderson’s wishes. You’re telling me it’s a forgery.”
Connor said nothing.
Michael continued.
“Your honor, the notary records are clear. This document is fraudulent. Combined with the withdrawal pattern and Thomas’s own journal, which documents his confusion and fear, this establishes systematic financial exploitation.”
The judge turned to the court reporter.
“Note, for the record, the district attorney’s office will be notified of potential felony forgery and elder financial exploitation.”
Michael paused, letting the weight of the evidence settle. “Your honor, the $62,000 stolen from Thomas Henderson represents direct exploitation of a dying man by his own daughter. But this case is about more than money.
It’s about a predatory pattern.”
Connor stood. “Objection. Relevance.
This case is about the Henderson estate which was targeted.”
Michael interrupted. “Because Ryan Peterson has been operating a systematic fraud scheme for years. We’re not asking this court to rule on those broader crimes.
We’re asking this court to recognize that Thomas Henderson was not a random victim. He was deliberately selected by a career predator who married into this family for access.”
Judge Brooks leaned forward. “Mr.
Reynolds, are you suggesting there are additional victims beyond Mr. Henderson?”
“Yes, your honor. We’ve uncovered evidence of a larger pattern of fraud, but that’s a matter for federal authorities.
Today, we’re here to prove that Barbara Henderson is competent, that Thomas Henderson was of sound mind, and that they were both systematically exploited by people they trusted.”
The judge nodded slowly. “Noted. The broader fraud allegations are beyond this court’s scope, but the pattern is relevant to motive and credibility.
Proceed carefully, Mr. Reynolds.”
“Thank you, your honor.”
Michael turned back to me. “Mrs.
Henderson, Thomas mentions recordings in his final journal entry. Did you find those recordings?”
“Yes. Four audio files in the same safe where I found his journal, your honor.”
Michael said, “Before we present the audio evidence, I’d like Mrs.
Henderson to read from Thomas’s journal. It provides crucial context for what we’re about to hear.”
Judge Brooks looked at Connor. “Any objection?”
Connor sat silent, defeated.
“Proceed.”
Michael approached the bench with a leatherbound journal.
“Thomas’s journal. Your honor, I’d like to present Thomas Henderson’s personal journal recovered from a locked safe in his home office.”
Connor stood. “Objection.
We haven’t had time—”
Judge Brooks cut him off. “Mr. Hayes, was this listed in evidence disclosure?”
“Yes, your honor.
January 3rd, 3 weeks ago.”
“Overruled. Proceed.”
Michael opened to the first entry. “Mrs.
Henderson, please read September 15th.”
I steadied my breath.
“September 15th. Amanda called today. First time in 13 years.
She wants to reconnect. Barbara is cautious. I want to believe Amanda has changed.
But when she asked about our savings, there was something in her voice—something calculating.”
“October 3rd. Amanda brought Ryan today. He’s charming, but he kept looking at things—the paintings, the furniture—like he was appraising them.
Barbara said, ‘Something’s wrong.’ I didn’t want to believe her.”
“November 10th.
