Chapter 5: The Loan He Couldn't Explain
Dana called me at noon.
"I've spoken with the credit union's legal department," she said.
"They are not happy.
The loan officer who processed Scott's application is already under internal review."
"Paul Garrett."
"He's the one who contacted you?"
"Yes."
"He may have saved you a significant legal headache," Dana said.
"The notarized letter Scott submitted — the one your mother signed — it's not just ethically problematic.
It describes a verbal agreement as legally binding for a real property transfer.
In Michigan, that doesn't hold.
Real property transfers require a written instrument.
The letter, even notarized, is not a deed.
It's not a contract.
It's a statement."
"So the loan was approved on a document that couldn't legally do what it claimed."
"Correct.
Which means the credit union has exposure too.
They approved a $190,000 secured loan against a property Scott had no legal claim to, based on documentation their loan officer should have flagged."
"Where is the money now?"
A pause.
"Scott drew it down in two transfers.
The first, $140,000, went out eleven days ago.
The second, $50,000, three days before your closing."
Eleven days ago.
While I was still finalizing paperwork.
While Mom and Scott were at the lake house, using the dock I had rebuilt, sleeping in the beds I had furnished.
"Dana, what does he owe?"
"The full $190,000 plus origination fees and interest.
And Erica — the credit union is now aware the collateral property has been sold.
They are treating this as an unsecured debt in default."
"He spent it."
"Most of it, based on what we can see.
His personal accounts show significant outflows over the past two weeks."
I walked to the window.
The street outside was ordinary — a neighbor walking a dog, a delivery truck pulling away.
"What are his options?" I asked.
"Repay in full.
Negotiate a settlement.
Or face civil action from the credit union and potential referral to the county prosecutor's office for the fraudulent documentation."
"And my exposure?"
"None.
The deed was yours.
The sale was clean.
The title company confirmed clear title at closing.
You are not liable for what Scott represented to the bank."
I exhaled slowly.
"What do I need to do?"
"Right now?
Nothing.
I've requested a formal copy of the loan file.
I want to see every document Scott submitted.
And I want to speak with Paul Garrett directly, with your permission."
"You have it."
"One more thing," Dana said.
"Scott's attorney contacted my office this morning."
I turned from the window.
"He already has an attorney."
"He does.
And his attorney's first move was to suggest that the sale proceeds — your $715,000 — should be held in escrow pending a claim that you were unjustly enriched by improvements Scott allegedly contributed to."
The dog-walker turned the corner.
The street was empty.
"He contributed nothing," I said.
"I know.
Get me every invoice, every receipt, every contractor communication you have.
Every single one."
I already had them.
May you like
Every invoice stacked beside my laptop the night Mom told me I wasn't welcome.
I had never thrown a single one away.
