My Son-in-law Is Waiting For Me To Die To Inherit My $600k Home. He Doesn’t Know I Overheard His Entire Plan. Am I The Jerk For Setting A Trap To Get Him Arrested?
He had a key, of course; he lived there. But watching him enter my house knowing what he planned to do made my skin crawl.
I texted Helen.
“He’s inside.”
Her response:
“Officer Mendes is three minutes out. Stay in your car. Do not go inside.”
The Confrontation
Those three minutes felt like hours. I kept imagining what Tyler was doing. He’d go straight to my bedroom, straight to the safe.
He’d try the combination lock again, maybe try to pry it open. A police cruiser turned onto my street, lights off, moving slowly.
It parked in front of my house.
“Now,” Helen texted. “Drive up now.”
I pulled into my driveway behind Tyler’s truck, blocking him in. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely unbuckle my seat belt.
Officer Mendes was already at my front door. Helen’s car appeared from the opposite direction; she must have been waiting around the corner.
We met at the door, the three of us. Officer Mendes knocked firmly.
“Portland Police. Open the door, please.”
No response. She knocked again.
“Mr. Grayson, this is the Portland Police. Open the door.”
I used my key. The door swung open. The house was quiet.
Officer Mendes entered first, hand on her weapon, calling out.
“Police! Make yourself known!”
“I’m in here.”
Tyler’s voice came from my bedroom, trying to sound casual, but I could hear the panic.
“Just organizing some stuff for Barbara.”
We walked down the hallway—Helen, Officer Mendes, and me. My bedroom door was open.
Tyler was kneeling in front of my closet, my safe visible behind him. In his hands was a small crowbar.
He looked up and saw us. His face went through a series of expressions: surprise, confusion, calculation, and finally anger masquerading as innocence.
“Barbara, I thought you went to the store. I was just, uh, I noticed your closet door wasn’t closing right. Thought I’d fix the hinge.”
He held up the crowbar as if this explained everything. Officer Mendes stepped forward.
“Mr. Grayson, I need you to put down the tool and step away from the safe.”
“What? This is crazy. I live here. I was just helping.”
“You were breaking into a safe,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “With a crowbar.”
“I wasn’t breaking in! I was checking if it was secure after that conversation we had about security! I thought…”
“You thought you’d use a crowbar to test how secure it is?”
Helen’s voice was cold and professional.
“That’s interesting. Officer Mendes, I believe this constitutes attempted theft.”
Tyler stood up, the crowbar still in his hand.
“This is insane. Barbara, tell them. Tell them I’m your son-in-law. I’m allowed to be here.”
“You’re allowed to be in the guest room,” I said quietly. “You’re not allowed to be in my bedroom with a crowbar trying to open my safe.”
“I wasn’t trying to open it!”
“Then why is the crowbar positioned against the lock plate?”
Officer Mendes pointed. There were fresh scratches on the metal around the combination dial.
“These marks are new.”
Tyler’s composure cracked.
“You set me up! You planned this whole thing!”
“I protected myself,” I corrected. “From someone who admitted on recording that he was using me and my daughter to access my assets.”
His face went white.
“You recorded me?”
“Oregon is a one-party consent state,” Helen said pleasantly. “Mrs. Hayes was well within her rights to record conversations in her own home. Conversations in which you discussed plans to exploit her financially, manipulate her daughter, and wait for her death to inherit her property.”
“Property that I should mention is protected by a will that leaves everything to Rachel personally, with a clause that specifically excludes spouses from inheritance.”
I’d added that clause two weeks ago at Helen’s suggestion. Tyler looked at me with pure hatred now; the mask completely dropped.
“You vindictive old bitch! I’ve been taking care of you and this is how you repay me?”
“Taking care of me?” My voice rose. “You haven’t paid a single bill in five months! You’ve eaten my food, used my utilities, taken over my home, and manipulated my daughter. The only person you’ve been taking care of is yourself.”
“Rachel’s going to choose me,” he snarled. “Not you.”
“Rachel’s going to choose the truth,” Helen interjected. “Which is why we’ve compiled all of the recordings, all of the evidence of your financial abuse and exploitation, into a comprehensive file which Rachel will see today.”
Officer Mendes cleared her throat.
“Mr. Grayson, I need you to come with me to answer some questions about what you were doing with that crowbar. Mrs. Hayes, you’ll need to come down to the station to file a formal report.”
“Am I being arrested?” Tyler demanded.
“Not at this time, but Mrs. Hayes is within her rights to request a restraining order, and I’m obligated to investigate any attempt to access someone’s personal property without permission, even in a shared residence.”
The Truth Revealed
As Officer Mendes escorted Tyler out, still protesting, Helen handed me an envelope.
“Eviction notice,” she said. “Legally served. He has 30 days to vacate the premises, though given what just happened, I’d recommend you file for an emergency removal based on attempted theft. We can have him out by the end of the week.”
I sank onto my bed, suddenly exhausted.
“What about Rachel?”
“I’ve already called her. She’s leaving work now, meeting us at the police station. Barbara, you did the right thing. Your daughter needs to see who she married before it’s too late.”
The police station was stark and fluorescent, and smelled like burnt coffee and bureaucracy.
I sat in a small conference room with Helen, giving my statement to Officer Mendes, when Rachel burst in. She looked wild, her scrubs wrinkled, her hair escaping from its ponytail.
“Mom! What’s going on? They told me Tyler was here. Something about a crowbar?”
I stood up, wanting to hug her, but she stepped back, her eyes confused and accusing.
“Rachel,” I started, but my voice broke.
Helen stood up smoothly.
