Chapter 5: What Rosa Knew
Rosa Menendez lived in a narrow house on the west side with a wind chime on the porch and a hand-painted sign by the door that read FAMILY ONLY — PLEASE CALL FIRST.
Charlotte had called.
Rosa had said come anyway.
I waited in the car while Charlotte went to the door.
That had been Charlotte's decision.
"She doesn't know you," Charlotte had said on the drive over.
"She knows me.
Let me go first."
I watched through the windshield as the door opened and a small woman in her sixties pulled Charlotte into a hug before she'd finished saying hello.
They were inside for twenty minutes.
When Charlotte came back to the car, she had a manila folder in her hands.
"Rosa kept copies of everything," she said, getting in.
"Every email.
Every payment receipt.
Every time she asked Pruitt for a placement review and he said no.
And then —" She opened the folder and held up a single printed page.
"Three weeks after she paid him eight hundred dollars in cash, her father moved to the priority tier."
I took the page carefully.
The receipt was handwritten.
Pruitt's signature was at the bottom.
"He signed it," I said.
"He told her it was for a voluntary enrichment program.
But there's no such program listed anywhere on Maplewood's documentation.
I checked this morning."
I looked at the signature again.
It was confident.
The signature of a man who had done this many times and never expected to be held accountable.
"How many families does Rosa know of?" I asked.
"At least six.
Probably more.
She's been talking to people quietly for months, but she didn't know how to take it further.
She filed the state complaint and they sent her a form letter." Charlotte's voice was even, but her hands were tight around the folder.
"Her father d*ed in that facility four months ago.
She said she thinks about whether better care would have changed things.
She thinks about it every day."
I set the receipt back in the folder.
"We need to talk to a lawyer," I said.
"I don't have money for a lawyer."
"I do."
She turned to look at me.
"Marcus, this isn't your fight."
"Danny is in that building right now," I said.
"And there are other people in there whose families have been paying a man to move them up a list that shouldn't exist.
That makes it everyone's fight."
She held my gaze for a moment.
Then she looked back at the folder.
"Rosa said there's one more person we should talk to.
A former staff member.
A nurse who left Maplewood eight months ago.
Rosa thinks she left because of Pruitt, but she's never been willing to talk."
"Does Rosa have her contact information?"
Charlotte held up a Post-it note.
A name and a phone number in blue ink.
Diane Kowalski.
"Rosa said to tell her that Mr.
Alvarez sent us," Charlotte said.
"She said Diane would know what that means."
I started the car.
"Call her," I said.
Charlotte dialed.
It rang four times.
Then a woman's voice, careful and quiet.
"Hello?"
"Is this Diane Kowalski?" Charlotte said.
"My name is Charlotte.
Rosa Menendez gave me your number.
She said to tell you that Mr.
Alvarez sent us."
A long pause.
"How is Rosa?" Diane said finally.
"She's okay.
She's trying to do something about Maplewood."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
May you like
"I've been waiting for someone to call," Diane said.
"I just didn't think it would take this long."
