Chapter 9 - Rooms with No Roof
At sunrise, Nadia drove me to Harbor House.
We went with the trustee's authorization documents, a licensed inspector, and a local deputy hired to keep the visit orderly.
I had spent a lifetime entering places where one mistake could hurt other people.
Nothing prepared me for the smell inside Dad's dream.
Wet plaster.
Rotting wood.
Cold rain leaking through exposed beams.
A banner outside promised HEALING BEGINS HERE.
Inside, there were no beds.
No working elevator.
No fire alarm system.
A veteran named Marcus Bell waited near the entrance with his wife and seven-year-old daughter.
"We applied for a room last spring," he explained. "Derek said we'd be moving in by Thanksgiving."
His daughter carried a cardboard model of a house.
She'd drawn a yellow window on every side.
"Did you pay anything?" I asked.
"A five-hundred-dollar placement fee."
Nadia closed her eyes.
The trust wasn't allowed to charge such a fee.
I looked at the empty stairwell and felt an anger deeper than the slap.
Derek hadn't merely stolen from our father.
He'd sold hope to people desperate enough to believe him.
The inspector photographed unfinished rooms.
Samuel called with news of a sworn statement from the hospital: Dad had been sedated and unable to consent to documents on November 17.
"We're preparing an emergency injunction," he said. "But there's a problem."
"Tell me."
"Derek's attorney has filed a competing petition. It says you've secretly controlled the trust for years and diverted care funds into your personal Navy account."
I almost laughed.
May you like
"The money went the other direction."
"I know. But the hearing is tomorrow. And he attached what looks like your signature."
