One of the good things about my mother was her generosity in helping others. It was also her downfall. It fell under the category of lending money to people. One such person was an acquaintance of her therapist. Right there, a big red X.
But it happened, we were aware and objected, but, as usual, my mother refused to see our concerns. She met with the therapist and the acquaintance (whom I'll refer to from here on out as AH for asshole), heard their ideas, and wrote AH a check as an investor for his company.
She did have the foresight to draw up a legal document.
Payments began. A few months later, my mother wrote another check, and then another--three checks totaling enough money to pay for a year's worth of tuition for my out of state daughter's college.
For several years, AH paid with interest. Sometimes regularly. Most times not so much. My mother would have to put in a call to his office, remind him of her goodwill, and he'd send his payment.
Then the recession hit, my mother was forced to pinch pennies, and she began counting on that monthly check. Eventually, AH stopped taking her calls. By that point, my mother was wheelchair-bound, and so I was sent to his office to confront him.
While I pretend I'm fierce and full of vim and vigor, I'm not. I'm more meek than pomp, and I abhor confrontation. It takes a lot for me to go toe to toe with someone, and rarely do so unless it involves sticking up for my kids.
But my mother always managed to make me do things I was uncomfortable doing, and thus after a phone call with much arguing, I stopped off at his office on my way back from a trip to Disney World.
The office was in one of those buildings where a visitor must stop at a receptionist's desk before proceeding forth. The woman there made a call to the man's office, and when he heard my relationship with his investor, he came downstairs to greet me.
AH was all smiles and compliments regarding my mother, and since I was riled up, I cut him off at the knees with a talk I'd rehearsed on my drive home from Orlando. I was a badass. My favorite line was, "Please don't make me bring her down here to confront you in her wheelchair. You don't want the wrath of (my mother's name). Believe me."
AH immediately called my mother. It didn't help the situation much. The payments weren't made, but by then, my mother was trying to fight to stay healthy and alive, and AH was not a priority.
When she died, of course, that debt went into the estate. My brother, my aunt, and I went to discuss the debt after the funeral. We could not even get past the receptionist who insisted he was not in the office. Other than waiting around for him to exit after hours, we gave up. We left messages, etc. but never heard from the man.
My lawyer suggested hiring a PI. I hired myself. I used to be a PI back in my childhood, so I went to work and discovered my mother was one of several people AH owed money to, including the IRS.
My lawyer sent the man a letter asking for payment. He responded by mail, wishing us luck in squeezing juice from a turnip. The company was dissolved and owed thousands and thousands of dollars to the government.
In any legal form, the government gets its money first, and if there are leftovers after that, then people like my mother receive their payment. We wrote it off as a bad debt to the estate which didn't do us any good and which doesn't absolve the man. He still owes us the money.
Last week I received a junk envelope made out to my husband's name with a JR at the end that had me rolling my eyes. My husband is not a junior.
It was one of those invitations where a company offers to pay for a delicious meal at a high-end restaurant in exchange for your time in listening to a spiel. Florida does this often, usually with Medicare and/or retirement homes.
The company was an investment group offering to help me invest in my retirement. In fact, the owner of the company had written an Amazon bestseller on the topic, and attendees would all receive a free copy.
The name of the company caught my eye as the last name was the same as AH's. I turned over the invitation and read all about the financial representative and his expertise. The blurb came complete with a picture. You guessed it...AH.
The man who scammed my mother is now working at a financial company where he is handling people's retirement money!
Immediately, my brother and husband signed me up and offered suggestions on how to handle things, what to say, etc.
- Ask him to sign the book and tell him to make it out to my mother.
- Stand up and tell him I'd like to invest the amount of money he still owes me.
- Or tell him how I'd like to be able to retire, but because I don't have the money he owes me, I can't do so.
My suggestion was to contact our local news team who investigates scams. Daughter number 1 said we needed the Leverage team.
If you haven't watched that show, do so. It is precisely the group we need, but unfortunately, I don't know how to go about finding such a team. While I have visions of forming one, I'm not the badass I portray in my head. It was one of the things my mother disliked about me, and I guarantee she is scowling from her perch on my china cabinet.
I have a couple of weeks before the dinner. So far, my husband has not RSVP, although he claims he is going to the presentation.
If anyone has any suggestions, please email me. Better yet, if you want to take the role of Timothy Hutton, I'll pay for your ticket and lodging to FL. Let's form our own Leverage team! I'm a good wingman.
