Deborah found her voice.
“That’s that’s an invasion of privacy. You can’t just follow people around and take pictures.”
“Actually,” Marcus interjected, “In Colorado, there’s no reasonable expectation of privacy in public spaces. Photographing someone entering a building from a public sidewalk is entirely legal,”
Carla continued, pulling out more documents.
“I also obtained records of internet searches conducted from your home IP address,”
she spread the printouts on the table.
“How to have someone declared mentally incompetent in Colorado. guardianship laws for elderly parents. How long does it take to become someone’s legal guardian?”
Trenton’s face had gone from pale to green.
“Dad, I can explain.”
“Can you?” I asked. “Because I’d love to hear it.”
“We were just concerned about you living alone up here at your age. We wanted to make sure you were being taken care of.”
“By taking control of my finances, by having me declared incompetent,” I kept my voice level almost conversational. “That’s an interesting definition of taking care of someone.”
Deborah had recovered enough to go on the offensive.
“This is ridiculous. You’ve been spying on us, recording our conversations.”
She turned to Marcus.
“That’s illegal. We’ll sue.”
Marcus didn’t even blink.
“Colorado is a one party consent state, Mrs. Winston. That means any conversation can be legally recorded as long as one participant consents. Your father-in-law consented to record his own conversations in his own home. perfectly legal.”
“Furthermore,” Carla added, “I have records of a phone call you made four months ago to Dr. Richard Mitchell. You told him you were concerned about your father-in-law’s episodes of confusion and ask detailed questions about dementia diagnosis.”
I watched Deborah’s face cycle through emotions, shock, anger, fear, and finally something cold and calculating. She was regrouping, looking for an angle.
“Fine,” she said finally, her voice hard. “So, we were exploring our options. That’s not a crime. We’re family, and we have every right to be concerned about Harold’s well-being.”
“You have a right to be concerned,” Marcus agreed. “You do not have a right to commit fraud. Attempting to have someone declared incompetent when you know they’re mentally sound, especially for financial gain, constitutes attempted exploitation of an atrisisk adult under Colorado law. It’s a felony.”
The word felony hung in the air like smoke. Trenton looked like he might be sick.
Deborah’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch.
“We haven’t done anything,” she said. “We haven’t filed any paperwork. We haven’t made any legal moves. You can’t charge us with attempting something we didn’t actually attempt.”
She had a point, and she knew it. I could see the confidence returning to her eyes.
“You’re right,” I said.
“You haven’t crossed any legal lines yet, which is why I’m giving you a choice. Pack your bags and leave my home by tomorrow morning and will consider this matter closed. Stay, and I will pursue every legal avenue available to me.”
Deborah stood up slowly. She smoothed her blouse, adjusted her hair, and looked at me with something approaching contempt.
“We’re not going anywhere, Harold. This is your son’s home, too. He has a right to be here. We’re family whether you like it or not. And if you try to force us out, we’ll fight you in court.”
and she smiled, a cold, sharp thing.
“We’ll tell them you’re paranoid, delusional, hiring private investigators to spy on your own family. That doesn’t sound like the behavior of a mentally stable person.”
She walked out of the room, head held high. After a moment of hesitation, Trenton followed her, not meeting my eyes.
The next few weeks were a masterclass in psychological warfare.
True to her word, Deborah didn’t leave. Instead, she dug in like a tick, making herself comfortable in my guest room and acting like she owned the place.
“When I consulted Marcus about eviction options,” his answer wasn’t encouraging.
“Colorado law is complicated when it comes to house guests,” he explained over the phone. “They’re not tenants, so standard eviction procedures don’t apply. But because you invited them in initially, you can’t just call the sheriff and have them removed. You’ll need to go through the courts, and that could take weeks, maybe months.”
Months.
The thought of sharing my home with these people for months made my stomach turn. But if I couldn’t remove them quickly, I could certainly make their stay less pleasant.
The first thing I did was cancel the cable television and internet service.
“Budget cuts,” I explained when Deborah stormed into the kitchen, demanding to know why she couldn’t stream her shows. “I’m on a fixed income now. have to prioritize my spending.”
“Fixed income,” she practically spat the words. “You sold your restaurants for almost $4 million.”
“And I plan to make it last,” I said, pouring myself another cup of coffee. “Unlike some people, I know how to manage money.”
The look on her face was almost worth everything else.
Next, I stopped buying groceries for the household. My refrigerator, once stocked with fresh produce and quality meats, now contained only items for my personal consumption, labeled with my name, stored in separate containers.
“You’re both adults,” I said when Trenton hesitantly asked about dinner plans. “1 years old, both of you. I’m sure you can figure out how to feed yourselves.”
Deborah tried to use my kitchen to cook meals from ingredients she bought herself. Unfortunately, she discovered that several key appliances had developed mysterious malfunctions. The oven’s temperature control seemed unreliable, running hot one day, barely warming the next. The garbage disposal made alarming grinding noises. The dishwasher leaked water onto the floor.
Nothing dangerous, of course. I’m not a monster, but certainly inconvenient for someone accustomed to having everything handed to her.
“You should call a repair man,” Deborah snapped one evening after burning her third attempt at dinner.