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 Emergency Hearing
The emergency hearing was in Judge Catherine Morrison’s courtroom. Marcus and Vanessa sat on one side with their lawyer, a slick young man in an expensive suit. Brennan and I sat on the other.
Doctor Wells was on a video call, ready to testify. Marcus’s lawyer went first. He presented Doctor Patterson’s evaluation.
He cited severe cognitive decline, episodes of paranoia, unsafe living conditions, and a fall that resulted in confusion. He presented the power of attorney document supposedly signed by me two months ago. Then he presented Marcus’s testimony.
My son got on the stand.
“I’d been declining for months, forgetting things, getting lost driving to the grocery store, leaving the stove on.”
“He’d been worried.”
He said.
He said Dr. Patterson confirmed his fears and the power of attorney was necessary to protect me. He was a good liar, believable, and concerned. Any judge would have sympathized.
Then Brennan cross-examined him.
“Mr. Patterson, when exactly did your father sign the power of attorney?”
The lawyer asked.
“Two months ago.”
“September 15th.”
Marcus answered.
“And where were you?”
Brennan asked.
“At my apartment.”
“Your father came to your apartment to sign this document?”
Marcus said.
“Yes.”
He answered.
“Was anyone else there?”
Brennan asked.
“Vanessa.”
He said.
She shook her head slightly. Then Brennan called Dr. Wells. She testified about my evaluation and my cognitive scores.
She mentioned the presence of benzodiazepines in my system that I’d never been prescribed. She testified that there was no medical basis for a dementia diagnosis.
“In your professional opinion, Dr. Wells, does Mr. Richard Patterson require full-time care in a nursing facility?”
Brennan asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“He’s cognitively sound, physically healthy, and fully capable of independent living.”
The doctor answered.
“Then why was he committed?”
Brennan asked.
“Based on the evidence, I believe he was drugged and committed fraudulently.”
Dr. Wells testified.
The judge turned to Marcus’s lawyer.
“Do you have any rebuttal?”
She asked.
He called Dr. Patterson. The man was nervous, sweating under oath. He admitted he’d only seen me once for 15 minutes.
He’d based his diagnosis on Marcus’s reports of my behavior. No, he hadn’t done cognitive testing. No, he hadn’t done a full medical workup.
Yes, he’d signed the commitment papers based on family testimony.
“Dr. Patterson,”
Brennan asked.
“How much did Marcus Patterson pay you for that evaluation?”
He asked.
“I don’t, that’s not—”
The doctor stuttered.
“You received $5,000 in cash from Marcus Patterson on September 18th, correct?”
Brennan stated.
“I, yes, but that was a consultation fee for a 15-minute appointment.”
The doctor said.
Nothing. Judge Morrison removed her glasses.
“I’ve heard enough.”
She said.
“The power of attorney is invalid.”
“The commitment was fraudulent.”
“The sale of the house—”
She stated.
She looked at Marcus’s lawyer.
“I’m referring this to the district attorney’s office for criminal investigation.”
“In the meantime, I’m issuing a restraining order.”
She declared.
“Marcus Patterson and Vanessa Palmer are prohibited from contacting Richard Patterson or accessing any of his assets.”
She continued.
“Mr. Patterson, you’ll need to pursue recovery of your house through civil litigation.”
“But I’m also ordering a freeze on the assets of Palmer Properties Management pending investigation.”
The judge said.
Marcus stood up.
“Your Honor, I’m his son.”
“I was trying to help.”
He said.
“You were trying to steal from him.”
“Sit down.”
The judge replied.
The Aftermath and Investigation
Outside the courtroom, Vanessa grabbed Marcus’s arm.
“This is your fault.”
“You said he wouldn’t fight back.”
“You said he was confused.”
“You said it would be easy.”
“You said once we had the house he couldn’t do anything.”
She said.
They saw me watching. Vanessa’s expression went cold.
“You’ll never get that house back.”
“I’ll drag this through court for years.”
“By the time you die, you’ll have spent more on legal fees than the house is worth.”
She threatened.
“Maybe,”
I said.
“But you’ll spend the same amount defending yourself against criminal charges.”
I replied.
