When I got remarried it saved me, that I didn’t tell my husband or his children the winery was mi…

The Paper Trail of a Crime

That night, I called Linda.

“I think something’s wrong. I need you to run a property check on my estate. Make sure everything’s still in my name and all the filings are correct.”

“Kathy, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling.”

She called me back three days later, and her voice was tight.

“Kathy, someone’s been filing documents with the county. Transfer deeds, partnership agreements—papers that would give Richard and his children ownership stakes in Morrison Estate Winery.”

My blood went cold.

“What? How is that possible? I never signed anything like that.”

“The signatures look like yours, but Kathy, these are forgeries. Obvious forgeries once you compare them to your actual signature. Whoever did this wasn’t even good at it.”

“Can they do that? Can they just file fake documents?”

“They can file them. Whether they hold up in court is another matter. But Kathy, this is serious. This is fraud. This is a crime.”

I felt sick. I sat down on the porch steps, the phone pressed to my ear, looking out at the vines I’d planted with my own hands 30 years ago.

“What do I do?”

“We need to file a police report. We need to get an injunction. And Kathy, you need to confront Richard.”

The Family of Grifters

But I didn’t confront Richard, not yet. I did something else first.

I called an old friend of mine, a private investigator named Tom Reeves. I’d worked with him back in my real estate days when I needed background checks on property deals.

“Tom, I need you to look into someone for me. Richard Barnes. Everything—financial history, criminal record—and especially, I need you to find out about his first wife. How she died and what happened to her estate.”

It took Tom two weeks. When he came back, he had a file three inches thick.

Richard’s first wife, Margaret, had died four years ago. Before she died, she’d transferred her entire estate—a $4 million home in Pacific Heights and all her investment accounts—into Richard’s name.

The transfer had happened six months before her death. She’d had early-onset Alzheimer’s.

This is where it got really dark. Margaret’s sister had tried to contest the transfer, claiming Richard had taken advantage of Margaret’s diminished mental capacity.

Richard had documents, power of attorney, and transfer papers, all signed by Margaret. The sister claimed they were forgeries or had been signed when Margaret didn’t understand what she was signing.

The case had been settled out of court. The sister got a small payout, and Richard kept everything.

There was more. Derek had been sued by a former business partner for financial fraud.

Patricia had lost her real estate license in Oregon over ethical violations. Mitchell had been fired from two consulting firms for undisclosed reasons.

Tom looked at me across the table at the coffee shop.

“Kathy, this is a family of grifters. They’ve done this before, and they’re doing it again with you.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“What do I do?”

“You get out. You divorce him. You press charges for the forgery. You protect yourself.”

Planning the Reckoning

But here’s the thing: I’d spent 30 years building Morrison Estate. These people thought they could just walk in and take it, forge some papers, and steal what I’d spent three decades creating.

No, I wasn’t just going to protect myself. I was going to make sure they could never do this to anyone else again.

I went back to Linda.

“I want to build a case. A real case, not just for divorce. For fraud, for attempted theft, for forgery. I want criminal charges, all of them.”

Linda looked at me carefully.

“Kathy, that’s going to be ugly. That’s going to be public. Your winery’s reputation—”

“My winery’s reputation is based on the quality of my wine and the integrity of my name. These people tried to steal from me. I want everyone to know it.”

We built the case methodically. Linda brought in a forensic accountant who went through every financial record, every filing, and every document.

We found more forged signatures. We found email chains between Derek and Patricia discussing how to maximize the value extraction from the estate.

We found text messages from Richard to his children strategizing about how to handle me. We also found something else.

Richard had done this not just to his first wife, but to his second wife before Margaret, a woman named Helen. She had died in a fall at her vacation home.

She’d also transferred her property to Richard shortly before her death. Her adult children had tried to contest it but had been blocked by the same attorneys Richard used for Margaret’s case.

Two dead wives. Two estates transferred right before they died.

And now, a third wife—me—whom they were trying to get property from. I wasn’t dying, I wasn’t sick, and I was healthy and sharp at 64 years old.

But if I’d been just a little more trusting or a little less careful, who knows what might have happened. Linda filed all the documents with the District Attorney.

We had enough for criminal fraud charges against Derek and Patricia. For Richard, we were building a case for elder abuse, fraud, and conspiracy.

The Anniversary Dinner

Before any of that went public, I wanted my confrontation. I planned it carefully.

I told Richard I wanted to have a family dinner with all of his children, Emily, and a few friends to celebrate our three-year anniversary. He was thrilled.

He thought I’d finally come around to being a “real family.” The dinner was set for a Saturday evening at the estate.

I had Carlos set up tables on the patio overlooking the vines. I hired a caterer and made sure my best wines were poured.

Richard, Derek, Patricia, and Mitchell arrived dressed in their best, all smiles. Emily arrived with her boyfriend, giving me a questioning look.

I’d briefed her earlier, and she was barely holding it together. Then my other guests arrived.

There was Linda Chen, my attorney, and Tom Reeves, my private investigator. Detective Sarah Martinez from the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office arrived, along with two more people Richard wasn’t expecting.

They were Margaret’s sister, Joan, and Helen’s daughter, Catherine. Richard’s face went white when he saw them walk onto the patio.

“What is this?”

he asked.

“This is a family dinner,”

I said calmly.

“And these people, they’re family too. Joan is your late wife Margaret’s sister. Catherine is your late wife Helen’s daughter. I thought it was time we all got to know each other.”

Derek stood up.

“This is ridiculous. We’re leaving.”

“Sit down, Derek,”

Detective Martinez said.

“You’re not going anywhere.”