He poured orange juice into my glass with the careful attention of someone much older. I’ve been thinking about our next steps. I sat down, marveling at how normal this felt despite everything that had happened.
Mason eating cereal while discussing financial fraud like other kids might talk about their weekend plans. What kind of next steps? Mason pulled out a manila folder and opened it beside his breakfast. I spent the rest of last night digging deeper into Vanessa’s background.
What I found is going to help us, but it’s also pretty disturbing. He handed me a printed document that looked like a police report. Vanessa Torres has been running financial scams for years.
This is from when she worked at Premier Investment Services in Toledo before moving here. I scanned the report, my coffee growing cold as I read. Embezzlement, unauthorized access to client accounts, falsified investment statements.
She was arrested. Charged, but the case was dropped when she agreed to pay restitution and resign. Mason turned to another page.
Then she moved here to Springfield and got hired at Meridian Financial. They never checked her background properly. How did you find this? Court records are public information.
You just have to know where to look. Mason’s tone was matter of fact, but I could see the intensity in his eyes. But here’s the really interesting part.
Vanessa has been stealing from her current clients too. He pulled out more documents, bank statements, investment portfolios, transfer records. Mason, where did you get these? Vanessa uses the same password strategy as dad.
Once I figured out her pattern, I could access her work accounts. He paused, seemingly reading my expression. I know it sounds bad, but grandma, she’s been stealing from elderly people, people your age who trusted her with their retirement savings.
My hands shook as I looked through the evidence. Mrs. Frances Miller, 82 years old, missing $30,000 from her pension account. Mr. Richard Hayes, 74, life savings reduced by half, page after page of victims.
This is horrible. It gets worse. Mason clicked something on his laptop, which he’d brought to the breakfast table.
Dad knew about all of this. He’s been helping her cover her tracks in exchange for help with our money. The screen showed email conversations between Craig and Vanessa, my son discussing how to hide stolen funds, how to create false digital trails, how to make elderly victims think their missing money was due to market losses.
Your father helped her steal from other families? He set up fake investment accounts to make the thefts look legitimate. He created false documents to show fake losses. He even helped her identify which clients had the most money and the least family oversight.
Mason’s young voice carried a disgust that broke my heart. Dad didn’t just betray us, grandma. He’s been betraying innocent people for months.
I pushed my breakfast away, my appetite completely gone. My son hadn’t just stolen from his own family. He’d become a predator targeting vulnerable elderly people.
How many victims? I’ve identified 17 so far. Total losses of over $400,000. Mason closed the laptop and looked at me seriously.
But I think I can help them get their money back. How? The same way I’m going to help us get ours back. I documented everything.
Every transaction, every forged document, every fake account. I have proof of where all the money went and how they moved it around. Mason stood up and walked to our kitchen window, looking out at the morning sunshine like a general surveying a battlefield.
Yesterday I focused on stopping them from doing more damage. Today I start the recovery process. Recovery process? I’m going to contact each victim and provide them with evidence of what happened to their money.
Then I’m going to help them file complaints with the proper authorities. He turned back to me. And I’m going to make sure Dad and Vanessa face consequences for every single person they hurt.
The determination in his voice was both inspiring and terrifying. My grandson was taking on the responsibility of seeking justice for multiple families, and he was doing it with the calm confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Mason, this is so much responsibility for someone your age.
Age doesn’t matter when you have the skills and the evidence. He sat back down and reopened his laptop. Besides, someone has to do it.
These people trusted Vanessa with their life savings. They trusted Dad to protect their investments. They deserve to know the truth.
He pulled up what looked like a spreadsheet with names, amounts, and dates. Mrs. Miller doesn’t even know her money is missing yet. Vanessa has been sending her fake statements showing gains while actually draining her account.
Mr. Hayes thinks he lost money in a bad investment, but really Vanessa just transferred it to her personal account. How will you contact them? Very carefully. I can’t just call them and say their financial advisor is a criminal.
I need to approach this properly, with evidence they can understand and verify independently. Mason clicked to another document. I’m going to send anonymous packages to each victim.
Complete documentation of what happened to their money, instructions for how to report the crimes, and contact information for legal aid services that can help them. Anonymous packages? I can’t reveal who I am without compromising the investigation, but I can make sure each person gets the information they need to protect themselves and recover their losses. I watched my grandson organize evidence against financial predators with the same methodical care he used to organize his school supplies.
What about us? Our money? That’s more complicated because Dad had legal access to our accounts initially, but the fraudulent loans using our identities, that’s clearly criminal. Mason pulled up another folder on his screen. I’ve already filed the paperwork to dispute those loans.
The investigation should take a few weeks, but we should be able to get that debt removed from our names. And our actual savings? Mason’s expression grew more serious. That’s going to take longer, but I think I can trace where the money went and prove it was transferred for illegal purposes.
If Vanessa goes to prison for the other thefts, we might be able to recover some of our losses through restitution. If she goes to prison? Oh, she’s definitely going to prison. Mason’s voice carried absolute certainty.
I have enough evidence to convict her ten times over. The question is whether Dad will cooperate with authorities or go down with her. Mason closed his laptop and looked at me with those serious brown eyes.
Grandma, I need you to understand something. This is going to get harder before it gets easier. When the police start investigating, when lawyers get involved, when this becomes public, people are going to ask questions about how a 13-year-old obtained all this evidence.
What will you tell them? The truth. That Dad and Vanessa were careless with their digital security, and I was smart enough to document their crimes before they could cover their tracks. He paused.
But I need you to be prepared for people to be impressed and scared by what I can do. Are you scared? Mason considered this question with the thoughtfulness that reminded me so much of Linda. No.
I’m angry. And anger is more useful than fear when you’re fighting for your family. He stood up and gathered his school backpack.
I should get to class. I have a chemistry test today, and I still need to maintain my grades while I’m taking down financial criminals. The casual way he transitioned from discussing federal crimes to worrying about his chemistry test would have been funny if it weren’t so surreal.
Mason? He paused at the kitchen door. I’m proud of you, and I’m sorry you had to grow up so fast. I didn’t grow up fast, Grandma.
I just discovered I was already grown up. He smiled, and for a moment he looked like the child I’d raised. Don’t worry, we’re going to be okay, and so are all the people Dad and Vanessa hurt.
After he left for school, I sat in my quiet kitchen surrounded by evidence of crimes I never could have imagined. My grandson was fighting a war I didn’t fully understand, using weapons I couldn’t even identify. But for the first time since Craig walked out our door, I felt something besides fear and betrayal.
I felt hope. Three days later, I was sorting through bills at the kitchen table when the phone rang. The caller ID showed Craig’s number, and my heart jumped despite everything he’d done to us.
Hello? Mom? Craig’s voice was strained, desperate, in a way I’d never heard before. We need to talk. Now you want to talk? Something’s wrong.
Everything’s falling apart, and I think someone’s targeting me and my girlfriend Vanessa. I glanced toward the stairs where Mason was supposedly doing homework. The soft clicking of computer keys drifted down from his room.
Just like every evening since Craig left, what kind of targeting? My bank accounts are frozen. The police showed up at my motel, asking questions about identity theft. Vanessa got fired from her job, and now she’s being investigated by the State Banking Commission.
Craig’s words tumbled out in a rush. Mom, someone knows everything. They have records of things that should be private.
Maybe your private things weren’t as private as you thought. This isn’t a joke. Whoever’s doing this, they have access to emails, bank records, even phone calls between me and Vanessa.
They sent her boss a complete file documenting every transaction she’s ever made illegally. I felt a chill of pride mixed with concern. Mason had been busy.
Craig, maybe this is just consequences catching up with you. No, this is coordinated. This is someone with serious computer skills who wants to destroy us.
His voice cracked. Mom, I think they might come after you and Mason next. You need to be careful.
The irony was almost laughable. Craig warning me to protect myself and Mason from the very person who was actually protecting us. Where are you staying? A motel outside town.