I told him I’m not dead yet. He laughed, but his eyes didn’t.”
“December 2nd. My head felt foggy today.
Amanda brought papers. Insurance forms. She said… I signed them because I trust my daughter.
Later, I looked—power of attorney. Why would I sign that? I’m so ashamed.”
“December 20th.
Money is missing from our accounts. I called Amanda. She said it’s for investments I approved.
I don’t remember approving anything. Am I losing my mind?”
“January 8th. I’m not losing my mind.
Eight withdrawals. Every one within 3 days of Amanda’s visits. They’re stealing from me.
My own daughter. I can’t tell Barbara—it would destroy her. But I’m recording our conversations.
If something happens, Barbara will need proof.”
My voice shook.
Michael turned to the last page. “February 14th.”
“February 14th. Barbara, if you’re reading this, I’m gone.
I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stop them while I was alive. I was ashamed. Ashamed I’d been fooled by my own daughter.
But I documented everything. The recordings are in the safe. Use them.
Stop them. You are the strongest person I know. I love you, Barbara.
Always, Thomas.”
Tears ran down my face.
Amanda pressed her hands to her face, sobbing.
“When did you read this?” Michael asked.
“December 10th, 3 weeks after Thomas died. I cried for hours. Then I got angry.
Thomas’s shame wouldn’t be meaningless.”
“He mentions recordings.”
“Yes. Four recordings in the same safe.”
Michael turned to the judge. “Your honor, I’d like to present those recordings now.”
Connor stood.
“Objection. We haven’t reviewed audio evidence.”
“Mr. Hayes,” Michael said, “the recordings were disclosed January 3rd as exhibits 9 through 12, 3 weeks ago.”
Judge Brooks’s expression hardened.
“Did you receive the files?”
“Yes, but we prioritized—”
“Did you listen to them?”
Pause. “No, your honor.”
“That was your mistake. Properly disclosed.
Overruled.”
Connor sat heavily. Amanda looked at him, panicked.
Michael connected the recorder to the speakers. “Your honor, I’ve compiled the key sections into three minutes.”
Judge Brooks nodded.
“Proceed.”
Michael looked at me. “Are you prepared?”
I gripped the stand. “Yes.”
The speakers activated.
I closed my eyes, and Thomas spoke.
Thomas’s voice filled the courtroom—clear. Determined.
Recording one. Amanda, insistent.
“Dad, we need 20,000. You have plenty. Mom won’t even notice.”
Thomas: “That’s our retirement.”
“Please, Dad.
I’m begging you.”
Recording two. Ryan, smooth. “Thomas, you forgot our conversation last week.
You forgot you agreed to the power of attorney. Your memory is getting worse. This protects Barbara, too.”
Thomas, afraid.
“I don’t remember agreeing.”
“That’s exactly why we need to do this now—before you can’t make decisions at all.”
Recording three. Amanda, urgent. “Dad, sign here.
We talked about this yesterday.”
Thomas, confused. “When did we—yesterday?”
“Dad. Ryan’s waiting.
Just sign.”
Sound of pen on paper. Thomas’s shaky breath.
Then recording four. Ninety seconds.
That destroyed everything.
Thomas: “I need to rest now.”
Door closing. Silence.
They thought he was asleep.
Amanda: “How much longer?”
Ryan: “Does it matter? Once he’s gone, we move fast.
File incompetence. Get guardianship. Three months.”
Amanda: “What if she fights?”
Ryan, cold.
“She won’t. She’s 67 and grieving. I’ve done this before.
Old widows never fight back. They’re too broken.”
Pause.
Amanda: “What about the investors?”
“If someone connects—”
Ryan: “They won’t. And if they do, we’ll have liquidated and moved on.”
Silence.
Thomas’s voice, heartbroken.
“Barbara, please stop them.”
The courtroom was silent.
Then Amanda exploded. “No, she edited that.”
Judge Brooks’s gavel cracked. “Sit down.”
“She’s lying.
Bailiff—”
I stood shaking.
“Sarah Coleman warned you in 2010. You called her crazy and blocked her.”
Amanda went white.
“Miss Peterson, one more word and you’re in contempt.”
Amanda collapsed into her seat.
Connor stood slowly. “Mr.
Hayes, any response?”
“No, your honor. The defense has no questions.”
He sat, hands shaking.
When Michael called Sarah Coleman, Connor didn’t object.
“Miss Coleman, how do you know Ryan Peterson?”
“I was married to him 2004 to 2008.”
“Tell us about your mother, Linda Hoffman.”
“She died November 2007, age 71, estate worth 180,000. Ryan handled paperwork.
By the time she died, most was gone.”
“Did you warn anyone?”
“Yes. 2010. I emailed Amanda before she married Ryan.
Told her what he’d done.”
The email appeared on screen.
“She blocked me, called me a bitter ex-wife, said she’d get a restraining order.”
Sarah looked at Amanda. “I tried to save you. You chose not to listen.”
During recess, Connor spoke to Amanda in the hallway.
“You lied about everything.
Please. I’m filing withdrawal tomorrow morning. Until then, I stay, but I’m protecting my license, not you.”
He walked away.
Ryan appeared.
“You just destroyed us.”
Judge Brooks returned. “Court adjourns. Ruling tomorrow, 9:00 a.m.
Mr. Hayes, will you have filed by then?”
“Yes, your honor.”
Amanda looked at me, desperate. I looked away.
The courtroom felt different the next morning.
Connor Hayes was gone. In his place sat Amanda and Ryan alone at the defense table. Amanda’s eyes were red and swollen.
Ryan stared straight ahead, expressionless.
Judge Brooks entered. We all stood.
“Before we proceed with my ruling,” the judge said, settling into her chair, “I’ve reviewed Mr. Hayes’s emergency motion to withdraw as counsel filed at 6:45 this morning.
The motion cites material misrepresentation by his client and ethical concerns regarding continued representation. The motion is granted.”
She looked at Amanda. “Miss Peterson, you have the right to retain new counsel.
However, given the overwhelming evidence presented yesterday and the seriousness of the allegations, I’m prepared to issue my ruling today. Do you wish to request a continuance to secure representation?”
Amanda looked at Ryan. He shook his head once—sharp and cold.
“No, your honor,” Amanda said quietly.
“Very well.”
Judge Brooks opened a file.
Her expression was grave.
“I’ve presided over probate cases for 15 years. I’ve seen family disputes, contested wills, allegations of undue influence, but I have never seen a case quite like this.”
She looked at me.
“Mrs. Barbara Henderson, this court finds you to be fully competent in all respects.
Your testimony was clear, detailed, and supported by extensive documentation. Your professional background as a fraud prevention expert and your 38 instances of expert witness testimony establish beyond question that you possess the knowledge and capability to manage your own affairs.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Furthermore,” the judge continued, “the petition filed by your daughter relied on a psychological evaluation from 1974, 50 years ago, and deliberately mischaracterized your behavior during a deposition where you were quite reasonably cautious in your responses to opposing counsel.”
She turned to Amanda.
“Miss Peterson, your petition claimed your mother needed protection from herself. The evidence shows the opposite.
Your mother needed protection from you.”
Judge Brooks’s tone hardened.
“The evidence presented to this court demonstrates systematic financial exploitation of a dying man. Eight withdrawals totaling $62,400, each occurring within days of your visits. A forged power of attorney using the stamp of a deceased notary.
And audio recordings that capture, in your own words and those of your husband, a calculated plan to exploit both your father and your mother.”
Amanda’s shoulders shook.
“Mr. Thomas Henderson was of sound mind. His journal entries are lucid, detailed, and heartbreaking.
He knew what you were doing. He documented it, and he left evidence specifically to protect his wife from the very exploitation you attempted.”
The judge paused.
“The recordings are particularly damning. Mr.
Peterson’s statement, ‘I’ve done this before. Old widows never fight back.’ Combined with testimony from his ex-wife about a nearly identical pattern of exploitation, establishes that this was not an isolated incident. This was predatory behavior.”
Judge Brooks looked down at her notes.
