My son thinks I’m senile and is suing to take control of my $3 million estate. Little does he know, I’ve been secretly recording his plans to dump me in a cheap nursing home. Today, we go to court, and I have a surprise that will destroy his life.
The Criminal Case and the Civil Suit
Helen spent a week in the hospital recovering physically. She improved; the IV fluids brought her kidney function back to normal, and the nutrition helped her regain some strength.
But mentally, something had changed. She didn’t remember most of what had happened in the basement.
The Parkinson’s combined with the trauma had created gaps in her memory. She’d ask where Bradley was.
“Why doesn’t Bradley visit anymore? Is he busy with work?” she would ask.
How do you explain to a woman who sometimes forgets what day it is that her son locked her in a basement and left her to die? You don’t.
You just hold her hand.
“Bradley’s busy right now. Maybe he’ll visit later,” you say.
The criminal case moved fast by legal standards. Bradley and Megan were extradited back to Arizona.
Their bail hearing was a formality: flight risk, evidence of premeditation, and potential for additional charges from the IRS investigation. Bail denied.
They sat in Maricopa County Jail for 4 months waiting for trial. I hired a civil attorney named David Thornton who specialized in elder abuse cases and financial recovery.
He looked at my evidence and didn’t mince words.
“Harold, your son committed multiple felonies against you and your wife. You have grounds for a massive civil judgment,” David said.
“But here’s the reality: his company is insolvent. The IRS has frozen all his assets pending their investigation. His house is mortgaged to the hilt. Even if we win—and we will win—there may be nothing to collect.”
“And the money he took from us?”
“Gone. The 203,000 from your accounts went straight to covering the deficit in his employees’ pension fund. He was stealing from Peter to pay Paul, and when the IRS started asking questions, he needed a Peter he wouldn’t have to pay back.”
My son had stolen my wife’s medical care fund to cover up his theft from his own employees. I filed the civil suit anyway.
I also filed a complaint with the Arizona State Board of Accountancy. Bradley had a CPA license that he’d used to give his fraudulent financial statements credibility.
Within 6 weeks, his license was suspended pending the outcome of the criminal case.
Calculation and Conviction
The preliminary hearing was in January. Helen wasn’t well enough to testify, so I was the primary witness.
I walked the court through everything: finding Helen, the documents, and the texts. Bradley’s attorney tried to paint him as desperate and overwhelmed, not thinking clearly because of business stress.
He argued that Bradley had never intended for Helen to be harmed, that he’d planned to check on her regularly, and that things just spiraled out of control. The prosecutor, a woman named Jennifer Martinez, destroyed that defense with two exhibits.
First, the “If H doesn’t survive” section of Bradley’s spreadsheet. Second, the text messages.
“This wasn’t desperation,” she told the judge.
“This was calculation. He planned for his mother’s death. He prepared a cover story. This was attempted murder dressed up as elder abuse.”
The judge agreed; the case was bound over for trial. But before the trial, something happened that I didn’t expect.
Megan’s attorney approached the prosecution with a deal. Megan would plead guilty to reduced charges and testify against Bradley.
She’d tell the jury that it was all Bradley’s idea, that she’d gone along with it out of fear, and that she’d wanted to stop but Bradley threatened her. The prosecutor called me to discuss it.
“If we take this deal, Bradley goes down hard,” she explained.
“Her testimony combined with the documentary evidence makes the case airtight. We’re talking 20 years minimum. And Megan? 6 years, eligible for parole in four.”
I thought about Helen still asking why Bradley doesn’t call. I thought about 9 days in a dark basement with nothing but a dripping sink.
“Take the deal,” I said.
Megan pleaded guilty in February. Her sentencing was brief.
She cried and said she was sorry. The judge gave her seven years, not six.
He said the evidence suggested she was more than just a participant.
Bradley’s trial started in April and lasted 2 weeks. The prosecution presented everything: the forged POA documents, the bank transfers, the HELOC fraud, the spreadsheet with its chilling contingency plan, the texts, and the scratches on the basement door.
They brought in Helen’s neurologist, who explained how the trauma and stress had accelerated her Parkinson’s symptoms. She’d lost 6 months of cognitive function, maybe more, because of what Bradley had done.
Megan testified. She laid out the entire scheme: how Bradley had approached her with the plan 2 weeks before my brother’s heart attack, how he’d told her it was the only way to save their family, how she’d objected at first but eventually agreed, and how she’d been the one to bring Helen water for the first 3 days, then stopped when Bradley said it was taking too long and Helen needed to be weaker when I returned so she couldn’t tell me what happened.
Bradley’s defense fell apart. He took the stand and tried to claim that Megan was lying, that she’d been the mastermind, and that he was just trying to protect his family.
But the prosecutor had his laptop, his spreadsheet, and his timeline with his handwriting in the margins.
“This is your document, Mr. Jennings, in your handwriting. ‘If H doesn’t survive.’ You wrote those words.”
Bradley had no answer. The jury deliberated for less than 3 hours.
Guilty on all counts: elder abuse, financial exploitation, unlawful imprisonment, fraud, forgery, and a charge I hadn’t expected but the prosecutor had added late in the process: attempted murder. The evidence of premeditation, the contingency plan for Helen’s death, and the deliberate reduction of water to weaken her—the prosecutor argued, and the jury agreed, that Bradley had taken substantial steps toward causing his mother’s death.
