Part 3 — Whose Account Got The Money
The bank investigator called me back on Tuesday, as promised. She said the money had landed in an account opened in 2022 in the name of Curtis Brandt, my late husbands cousin, whom I had last seen at the funeral reception.
I remembered him. A talkative man in a good jacket, who had given me his business card and said, If you ever need to protect your assets, call me. I had put the card in my purse and forgotten it.
The investigator laid it out gently. The warranty company on my statement did not exist. The phone number was disconnected because it had been a throwaway line, and the account was Curtis personal one, used to collect similar payments from at least nine other seniors.
I asked her the question I was afraid of. Did Tyler take part? She said the investigators had reviewed his phone, his emails and his own bank records, and the answer was plain: Tyler had never received a penny.
He had been taken in. Curtis told him it was a prepaid home warranty plan for an elderly relative, a bargain at six hundred eighty four dollars a month. Tyler believed him, set it up as autopay and never read a statement, exactly as I had never read mine.
Tyler failed to check the fine print, but Curtis was the one who counted on nobody ever checking.
Tyler came to my kitchen on Wednesday. He sat across from me and said, Grandma, I am so sorry. I handed him a cup of coffee and a highlighter and asked him to help me go through the rest of my accounts.
He cooperated fully with the fraud unit. He gave a recorded statement, turned over every message with Curtis and helped the investigators identify the other nine victims. The district attorney filed charges of elder fraud and theft.
Curtis was arrested at his office in Scottsdale. The account was frozen, and the court ordered restitution. Nine households, mine included, received their money back over the following months, and the bank added interest and a written apology.
I sat down with Tyler and his mother. We agreed that I would keep my own checkbook, that Tyler would help me set up alerts on my phone, and that no one would ever sign a paper at a restaurant again.
Tyler spent his summer volunteering at a senior center, teaching people to read their own statements. He called it his penance, and I called it a start.