Six months earlier, she changed where paper statements were delivered.
Five months earlier, she attempted to add herself as an authorized user.
The request had been rejected because Mom had never appeared in person.
Four months earlier, Abigail scheduled Mom’s first “cognitive consultation.”
The appointment had been canceled.
Not by Mom.
By Abigail.
Three months earlier, nearly every security camera inside the house went offline between 1:00 and 3:00 a.m. on multiple nights.
Two months earlier, Mom’s cell phone service was suspended.
Abigail had told me in an email that Mom dropped the phone in the bathtub.
She lied.
The account showed that the device was still active for twenty-three days after the supposed accident.
Then I found something worse.
A scanned form attached to an email draft.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.
$80,000.
From Mom’s investment account.
Destination: an account I didn’t recognize.
The transfer had not gone through.
A note from the brokerage stated:
