“We arrested her this morning,” Leo said without preamble. “Federal charges. Wire fraud. Embezzlement. Falsifying tax documents. Bail set at two hundred fifty thousand.”
I absorbed that.
A quarter million.
Patty did not have that kind of cash.
Not legitimate cash, anyway.
“How did she take it?”
“Like a woman who thought money could buy her out of anything.”
Leo’s tone was dry.
“Her lawyers are already calling it a witch hunt. Claims you have a personal vendetta. Says the evidence was obtained illegally.”
“I didn’t break into their house.”
“I know. The prosecutor knows. But expect them to fight dirty. Patty hired Timothy Carter.”
I closed my eyes.
Carter charged five hundred dollars an hour minimum and had a reputation for turning juries against prosecutors instead of defendants.
“That will cost her forty thousand just for pretrial work.”
“Desperate people make expensive decisions,” Leo said.
A pause followed.
“Charlie, there’s something else.”
I already hated the sound of it.
“What?”
“Tim posted bail.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
“How?”
“Sold her jewelry. Took a loan against his 401(k). He’s standing by her publicly. Calling it a witch hunt. Says you’ve always been controlling and couldn’t handle their success.”
I looked out my window at the snow, watched it cover everything in white, making the world look clean when it was not.
“He really believes her.”
“Or he has invested too much to admit he was wrong,” Leo said. “Eight years of marriage. Two kids. A house he helped pay for with money he thought was legitimate. Tough to walk away from that.”
After we hung up, I sat in my study for a long time.
The room held my career in pieces. Plaques from the NYPD. A letter from the mayor thanking me for my service. Photographs from cases won and criminals convicted.
Twenty-eight years of believing in justice.
But justice for my own son felt like failure.
The trial came eight months later.
Federal courthouse. Judge Morrison presiding.
I sat with Leo and watched justice unfold from the witness side of the room.
The prosecutor’s opening was devastating in its simplicity.
“Patricia Davis stole three hundred eighty-seven thousand dollars from wounded veterans through systematic fraud.”
The trial lasted six days.
FBI accountants traced every dollar through offshore accounts.
A hundred eighty-four thousand dollars had gone to online gambling sites.
A whistleblower accountant testified about processing fraudulent invoices.
“I chose comfort over conscience until I couldn’t sleep at night,” she said. “When I confronted Patricia, she fired me and threatened to destroy my career.”
Then came the veterans.
Thomas Martinez rolled into court in his wheelchair.
“I applied for a specialized chair,” he said. “Three thousand two hundred dollars. Denied twice while Patricia Davis bought luxury cars with foundation money.”
Sandra Brooks arrived with her service dog.