On My Birthday, My Daughter Gave Me a Tablet — Eleven Days Later, the Police Took Her Away…

The Visit

Evelyn arrived on Saturday with a folder full of documents and that same careful smile. She spread papers across my kitchen table while I made tea, playing the role of the forgetful father who needed guidance.

“I’ve been doing some research,” she said. “There are some wonderful retirement communities near here. Full service. They handle everything for you.”

I looked at the brochures. Assisted living facilities, memory care units. Places where they warehouse the elderly until they stop being inconvenient.

“And I talked to a lawyer friend,” she continued, “about setting up a power of attorney. Just in case, so someone can help you manage things if you ever need it.”,

“Power of attorney,” I repeated slowly, as if the concept was foreign to me.

“It’s just paperwork. A precaution.” She slid a document toward me. “You’d still be in control. I’d just be able to help if you needed it.”

I looked at the form, looked at my daughter’s expectant face. This was a woman I’d held as a baby, a woman I’d walked down the aisle, a woman who’d cried in my arms when her mother died. This woman wanted to take my life away, one signature at a time.

“I don’t know, Evelyn. This is a lot to think about.”

“Of course.” She patted my hand. “No pressure. Just think about it. We can talk more next week.”

After she left, I photographed every document she’d brought, sent them to Detective Chen. Then I went to the basement and did something I should have done weeks ago. I started looking through my own files.

The Evidence

The filing cabinet had belonged to Margaret. She’d been the organized one, keeping records of everything: insurance policies, tax returns, property documents., After she passed, I couldn’t bring myself to sort through it all. I just left everything as it was, a shrine to her orderly mind.

Now I went through it systematically, box by box, folder by folder.

I found what I was looking for in the back of the bottom drawer. A manila folder that didn’t match Margaret’s careful labeling system. No label at all, actually, just a plain folder stuffed between old utility bills.

I opened it on the workbench and my blood went cold.

Medical assessment forms, pre-filled with my information but with symptoms I’d never had: memory loss, confusion, difficulty managing daily tasks. The checkboxes were marked in pencil, as if someone was preparing for a doctor’s visit that hadn’t happened yet.

Guardianship petition templates. Ontario government forms for declaring someone incapable of managing their own affairs. My name was already typed into the spaces.

Financial documents. Printouts of my bank accounts, my investment portfolios, the deed to my house. Someone had been thorough. They knew exactly what I was worth.,

And at the bottom of the stack, a handwritten note. I recognized the handwriting immediately. I’d been reading it on birthday cards and Christmas letters for 43 years.

Timeline, the note read. Stage one: establish pattern of confusion (October-December). Stage two: get POA signed (January). Stage three: move to file guardianship (February). Stage four: access accounts, sell house (spring). V says we need to move faster. Dad’s health is good. Window closing.

V. Victor. The man she was dating. The convicted fraudster.

My daughter had written a step-by-step plan to erase me.

I wasn’t in the basement anymore. I was in our backyard 25 years ago. Evelyn was standing beside me at the barbecue, maybe 18 years old, home from her first year at university.

“Dad,” she’d said, watching the burgers sizzle, “I don’t know if I can do this. University is hard. Everyone seems smarter than me.”

I’d put my arm around her shoulders.

“Evelyn, you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. You worked hard to get there. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than you are.”,

She’d leaned into me.

“Thanks, Dad. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.”

The memory shattered. I was back in the basement holding papers that proved my daughter wanted to destroy me.

I gathered everything carefully, photographed each page. Then I called Detective Chen.

“I found their plan,” I said. “Everything. Timeline and all.”

The Confrontation

The next two weeks were the longest of my life. Detective Chen coordinated with her team, gathering additional evidence, monitoring Evelyn’s communications through legal channels, building a case that would hold up in court.

I continued playing my role: the confused old man, the vulnerable senior who needed help.

Evelyn came by twice more. Each time she pushed a little harder, brought more documents, asked more questions about my finances, my health, my plans for the future.

“You seem tired lately, Dad,” she said during her second visit. “More forgetful than usual.”

I hadn’t been forgetful at all, but I nodded sadly.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is time to let someone else handle things.”,

Her eyes lit up.

“I’ve been talking to a lawyer. We could set something up, take the burden off your shoulders. When I was thinking, next week, we could go together, get everything signed and official.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

She hugged me on the way out, longer than usual.

“This is for the best, Dad. You’ll see.”

I watched her drive away and felt nothing but cold.

The Wiretap

That night, I got a message from Detective Chen. They’d intercepted a conversation between Evelyn and Victor. The recording was muffled, but the content was clear.

“He’s going to sign next week,” Evelyn’s voice said. “The power of attorney. Everything good.”

Victor’s voice was smooth, professional.

“Once you have POA, we move to the next phase. Guardianship application. Capacity assessment. By spring, you’ll have full control. And then…”

“And then we liquidate.” The house alone is worth nearly 2 million. His investments, another 800,000. Life insurance when the time comes.

A pause, then Evelyn’s voice, smaller now.,

“He’s my father, Victor. He’s an old man.”

“Sitting on a fortune he’ll never use. Think about it, Evelyn. Your debts cleared. Your business saved. A fresh start. All you have to do is sign some papers.”

“What if he finds out?”

Victor laughed.

“He won’t. He’s old. He barely knows how to use that tablet. By the time he figures anything out, it’ll be too late.”

The recording ended. I sat in my dark living room listening to my daughter conspire to steal my life. My debts cleared. A fresh start.

I hadn’t known Evelyn was in financial trouble. Hadn’t known her business was struggling. She’d never told me. Would I have helped if she’d asked? Of course I would have. I would have given her anything she needed. I was her father. But she hadn’t asked. She decided it was easier to take.