My Son Drugged Me And Committed Me To A Nursing Home To Steal My $850k House. He Told Everyone I Had Dementia, But I Am An Aerospace Engineer And I Remember Everything. How Do I Take Him Down?
The Property Records
That night, I started making notes of everything I could remember. The dizzy spell and Marcus insisting I see Dr. Patterson, not my regular doctor. I realize now, the appointment, a prescription, then my memory got fuzzy.
Had I taken medication that made me drowsy? I couldn’t remember coming to the nursing home at all. Helen came back with more than paper.
She brought her laptop.
“Before you ask, yes, I know how to use this thing.”
“My grandkids taught me.”
She said.
I looked up my house address on the county property records website. My hands shook as I typed.
“Owner: Marcus Patterson.” “Sale date: two weeks ago.” “Sale price: six hundred fifteen thousand dollars.”
The record showed. My house had been sold for $615,000. The market value was closer to $850,000.
Marcus had sold it below value for a quick sale. He forged my signature.
“Are you sure, Helen?”
“I didn’t sell my house.”
“I’ve been unconscious or heavily medicated.”
“This is fraud.”
I said.
She looked at me carefully.
“Richard, are you sure you’re thinking clearly?”
She asked.
“I have to ask.”
“I’m sure.”
“Test me.”
“Ask me anything.”
I replied.
She did math problems, current events, family history, and neighbors’ names. I answered everything correctly.
“Then we need to get you out of here into a lawyer,”
She said.
“Tomorrow morning I’m calling my grandson.”
“He’s a patient advocate at County Hospital.”
Helen added.
The Fraudulent Diagnosis
But the next morning, before Helen could arrive, Marcus came with someone I’d never met. She was a woman in her mid-30s, attractive, professional-looking with perfect makeup and designer clothes.
“Dad, this is Vanessa, my fiancé.”
“I wanted you two to finally meet.”
Marcus said.
Fiancé. Marcus had been dating someone for six months he’d said, but he’d never brought her around. Now I understood why.
Vanessa smiled warmly.
“Mr. Patterson, Marcus has told me so much about you.”
“I’m so sorry about your condition.”
She said.
“My condition?”
I asked.
“The dementia,”
She said, glancing at Marcus.
“It must be so frightening.”
Vanessa added.
“I don’t have dementia.”
I said.
“Dad, please.”
Marcus’s voice had an edge I’d never heard before.
“Don’t make this harder.”
“Doctor Patterson documented everything.”
“The confusion, the memory loss, the paranoid delusions.”
He said.
“What paranoid delusions?”
I asked.
“You called me 15 times one night convinced there were people breaking into your house.”
“You called the police on your neighbor for spying on you.”
“You left the stove on three times.”
Marcus claimed.
“That’s not true.”
“None of that is true.”
I replied.
Vanessa put her hand on Marcus’s arm.
“Honey, the doctor said this would happen.”
“Patients with early-stage dementia often don’t recognize their symptoms.”
She said.
I looked at my son, really looked at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Marcus, did you sell my house?”
I asked.
“I did what I had to do.”
“Your care here costs $8,000 a month.”
“The house was sitting empty.”
“It made financial sense.”
Marcus answered.
“You had no right.”
“That house is, was, mine.”
I said.
“Dad, you signed power of attorney over to me, remember?”
“Right before the episode.”
Marcus replied.
I hadn’t. I knew I hadn’t, but my memory of those days was still foggy.
“I want to see the document.”
I demanded.
“It’s with my lawyer, Dad.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
