Chapter 8: What the Board Found
The probate review took eleven days.
Patrick called on a Thursday afternoon while I was at my desk at work.
I stepped into the hallway to take it.
"The amendment has been formally declared voidable," he said.
"The conflict of interest is clear — she had a direct financial interest in the outcome and witnessed the document herself.
The original trust terms are restored.
Emily's position is fully protected."
I leaned against the wall.
"Is it final?"
"Her attorney didn't contest it.
I think they looked at the email chain and made a decision." A pause.
"There's more.
The licensing board at Hargrove completed their preliminary review.
They've suspended new admissions pending a full investigation into the placement process.
Rebecca has stepped down from the board."
"Voluntarily?"
"The letter used the word voluntarily." Patrick's voice was dry.
"I'll let you interpret that."
"What about the emails?"
"The state bar association has opened a professional conduct inquiry.
That process is separate and will take longer.
But it has been opened." He paused.
"Michael — she practiced law in this state for eleven years.
A conduct inquiry of this nature is not a small thing."
I looked through the glass door at my colleagues inside.
Someone was laughing at something on a screen.
Ordinary Tuesday afternoon.
"Will she face charges?" I said.
"The trust amendment was voidable but proving criminal intent requires a higher threshold.
The DA's office has been made aware of the situation.
Whether they pursue it is their decision." Patrick was quiet for a moment.
"What I can tell you is that her professional reputation, her board position, and the amendment are all gone.
And the inquiry is on record permanently."
"That's enough," I said.
"I thought you might say that."
I thanked him and ended the call.
I stood in the hallway for a moment.
Then I went back inside and sat down and finished the report I'd been writing before the phone rang.
It took me another hour.
When I was done I sent it, shut down my computer, and drove to Emily's school.
She came out with her backpack half-open and a painting in her hand — blue and green swirls that she told me was the ocean.
"Is that for me?" I said.
"It's for the kitchen," she said seriously.
"The refrigerator needs something new."
"You're right," I said.
May you like
"It does."
She climbed into her seat and I buckled her in and we drove home through the ordinary afternoon, and she talked about her friend Josie and the class hamster and whether whales could recognize their own names, and I listened to every word.
