And the most critical clause: if they ever attempted to evict me or transfer the property, their tenancy was instantly revoked, they had to pay a $50,000 penalty to the trust, and they would be prosecuted for fraud.
There was also a video file on a USB drive.
In the video, my mother spoke clearly. She explained that Richard was forcing her to sign documents while she was heavily medicated.
“I am signing under duress, Clara,” she said in the video, her voice trembling. “But the house is already yours. It has been in the trust for years. They cannot touch it.”
I called Mr. Vance, my mother’s old attorney.
“Clara, this is massive,” Mr. Vance said after reviewing the files. “The will they showed you is a forgery. They tried to register the transfer at the county office last week, but the county database has a flag on the title.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
“We let them walk into the trap,” Mr. Vance said.
On Monday morning, Richard and Leo tried to finalize the sale of the house to a private developer.
They had forged my mother’s signature on the final sale agreement.
But the title company called Mr. Vance. And Mr. Vance called the police.
A week after I was evicted, my phone rang.
It was Richard. He was sobbing.
“Clara, please come here fast,” he wept.
“What is wrong, Richard?” I asked. I made my voice sound worried.
“Just come! The police are here. There is a mistake with the deed. They say we forged the signatures. Clara, tell them you gave us the papers!”
I drove to the Seattle house. The rain was pouring.
I walked through the front door.
Richard was sitting on the kitchen chair. His hands were cuffed behind his back.
Leo was sitting on the sofa, looking terrified, with a police officer standing over him.
Mr. Vance was standing by the counter, holding the blue folder.
“Clara!” Richard cried, trying to stand up. “Tell them! Tell them your mother gave us the house. Tell them we didn’t forge anything!”
I walked over to the counter. I picked up the blue folder.
“You took my mother’s files from my room,” I said calmly.
“It was a mistake, Clara!” Richard stammered. “We were just sorting things out.
We’ll let you live in the main bedroom! Just tell the officers it is a family matter!”
I looked at Leo. He was staring at the floor. His smirk was completely gone.
“You told me my mother never loved me,” I said to Leo.
“I was just joking, Clara,” Leo whispered. “Please. We can work this out.”
I turned to the police officer.
“These men forged my mother’s signature on a will and a sale contract,” I said. “And they stole my personal property.”
“Clara, no!” Richard screamed as the officers pulled him up. “We are family!”
“No,” I said. “You’re not.”
They were led out of the house in the rain.
Richard and Leo were charged with grand theft, forgery, and financial fraud. They couldn’t pay the $50,000 penalty to the trust.
They are currently awaiting trial. The developer pulled out, and the house remains mine.
Yesterday, Mr. Vance came over.
We sat in the kitchen. The rain had stopped, and the Seattle sun was reflecting off the wet leaves outside.
I made Earl Grey tea.
I reached into the chipped ceramic sugar bowl. I took out 2 sugar cubes and dropped them into my cup.
The house was quiet. But it didn’t feel lonely anymore.
The sugar bowl is back on the counter. The kitchen is clean.
The front door is still yellow.