Chapter 7 - A Witness on Paper
"That's impossible," Mara said. "I was at the hospital. You didn't wake up until evening."
"Good," Sonia replied. "Get us the surgical record."
We did not have to invent an alibi. The hospital had one. Admission logs, anesthesia notes, and the operating-room record placed me on a surgical table when the notary claimed I sat in a downtown conference room.
Sonia called the notary, Clara Voss, with my permission to put the conversation on speaker.
"I notarized what was presented to me," Clara said.
"Did Mr. Ward personally appear before you?" Sonia asked.
A pause.
"My seal is on it."
"That's not my question."
"I have clients. Call my attorney."
The line went dead.
Detective Brooks took copies of the records and said she would pursue the original notary journal. Sonia prepared sworn statements and an emergency filing. No one promised that a forged paper would dissolve simply because we were right.
At noon, Celeste appeared on a local news segment outside the trust office. She wore a soft blue blouse and held a photograph of us from our wedding.
"Daniel is struggling," she told the reporter. "I love him. I just want to protect him from people exploiting his condition."
Mara shut the laptop.
"She's talking about me."
"She's talking about anyone who can stop her," I said.
The courthouse messenger arrived that afternoon with Celeste's petition to suspend me as trustee until a capacity hearing. An attached medical letter claimed I was confused, paranoid, and incapable of handling money.
It listed my medication accurately. It described old injuries accurately. It quoted things I'd said in private.
At the bottom was the signature of Dr. Keene, the specialist who had treated me for two years.
"He would never write this," Mara said.
May you like
I hoped she was right.
But I had learned what hope was worth without proof.
