Chapter 5: What the Lawyer Found
The office was on the fourth floor of a building downtown, clean and quiet, with none of the heaviness I had expected.
The attorney's name was Patricia Osei.
She was somewhere in her fifties, with reading glasses pushed up on her head and a directness I appreciated immediately.
She shook my hand first.
"Mrs.
Calloway.
Your granddaughters have told me a great deal about you."
"I hope some of it was good," I said.
"All of it was," she said, and she meant it.
We sat.
Patricia opened a folder on her desk and set three copies of a document in front of us.
"I've had two weeks to review everything the girls brought me," she said.
"The photograph, the investigator's report, and the beneficiary change document.
Let me tell you what I found."
She folded her hands.
"The beneficiary change on your son's life insurance policy was filed eleven months after his d*ath.
That is not unusual on its own.
What is unusual is the notarization.
The notary stamp on this document belongs to a firm that was under investigation for fraudulent filings at the time this document was processed.
The notary in question lost her license eight months later."
I looked at Jennifer.
She was watching Patricia without blinking.
"What does that mean?" Lizzie asked.
"It means the document may not be legally valid," Patricia said.
"It means the beneficiary change may never have been properly executed.
And it means the original beneficiaries — which, according to your father's original policy, were his two daughters — may still have a legal claim."
The room was very still.
"How much?" I asked.
Patricia looked at me steadily.
"The policy was for four hundred thousand dollars.
With twenty years of accrued interest on the misdirected funds, the figure we would be pursuing is closer to five hundred and eighty thousand."
Lizzie made a sound that was not quite a word.
"The insurance company settled the claim at the time with Gerald Marsh as the named beneficiary," Patricia continued.
"Gerald Marsh is now deceased — he d*ed four years ago.
His estate passed to a trust.
That trust is still active.
We would be filing against the trust and potentially against the insurance company for processing a fraudulently notarized document."
"And Kayla?" Jennifer said.
Patricia's expression didn't change.
"Kayla signed the document.
If the notarization is found to be fraudulent, the question becomes whether she knew.
Given the relationship between her and the notary's firm — and we do have evidence of a prior connection — the answer is almost certainly yes."
"What happens to her if that's proven?" I asked.
"Civil liability at minimum," Patricia said.
"Potentially criminal referral, depending on what the insurance company's own investigation turns up.
That is not my decision.
But I want you to understand — if we file this, it will not be quiet.
Kayla will be named.
Her husband will find out.
Her current life will be examined."
Jennifer looked at me.
"Grandma.
It's your call too.
This affects you."
I thought about twenty years.
Two jobs.
Every Christmas morning I had made special because there was no one else to make it special.
Every time one of the girls had been sick in the night and I had sat up with them because that was what you did when you loved someone.
Daniel had taken out that policy for his daughters.
He had told me so.
He had sat at my kitchen table — that same table — and said, "Mom, if anything ever happens to me, the girls will be taken care of."
He had believed that.
He had d*ed believing it.
"File it," I said.
Patricia nodded once and made a note.
"There is one more thing," she said.
She pulled a second document from the folder.
"Three days ago, I received a call from an attorney representing a man named Richard Holt."
I looked up.
"Kayla's husband."
"Yes.
He had apparently become aware that his wife's past was being looked into.
His attorney called to inquire whether a settlement conversation might be possible before any filing occurred." She set the document down.
"Richard Holt is not Gerald Marsh.
He appears to be a legitimate businessman who married a woman without knowing her full history.
His attorney's call suggests he is now learning it."
"What did you tell them?" Lizzie asked.
"I told them I would relay the inquiry to my clients," Patricia said.
"And that my clients would respond in their own time."
She looked at the three of us.
"So.
What would you like me to tell them?"
Jennifer looked at Lizzie.
Lizzie looked at me.
"Tell them," I said, "that we'll be in touch after the filing."
Patricia allowed herself a small smile.
May you like
"I'll let them know."
Outside the window, the city moved on in its ordinary way, entirely unaware that something that had been wrong for twenty years had just begun, quietly and precisely, to be made right.
