Page 10
Story: Guilty as Sin
Reese approached her, waiting for the woman to glance up before saying, “Reese Decody to see Mr. Rivers.”
“Please make yourself comfortable.” The woman gave her an emotionless smile, one that warmed considerably when it landed on Hayes. “I’ll let Mr. Rivers know you’re here. Can I get the two of you something to drink? I have coffee, water, and tea, although I may be able to scrape up a diet soda.”
When they both declined, she rose and walked swiftly across an enormous aged Oriental rug to one of the closed office doors that encircled the space like spokes. After a brief knock, she disappeared.
“You have to appreciate the efforts taken to maintain the integrity of the building.” Hayes sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs. The jacket he wore was unnecessary. It was in the sixties and sunny, underscoring San Diego’s best selling point. She assumed he’d selected it to conceal his now-empty holster.
“And the cash.” Class and elegance whispered in the glittering chandeliers and gilt-edged mirrors. Tasteful landscapes with heavily carved oak frames hung on the walls. The only hint of this century was the computer on the assistant’s desk.
The woman appeared again. “Mr. Rivers will see you now.”
True to his word, Hayes didn’t budge when Reese stood. She shouldered her bag, and surreptitiously wiped her damp palms on the front of her navy slacks. Her brother had been locked away since she was seven. His absence from her life had always been a relief.
But she was about to meet one of his gatekeepers.
5
Gerald Rivers looked up with a smile when Reese entered. He could have been in his sixties or seventies. A wreath of gray hair encircled his bald dome, and wire-rim readers perched on his nose. The eyes behind them were kind. He was exactly what she would picture for an attorney in a venerable law firm, at once projecting experience and trustworthiness. His suit coat hung on the back of a chair at a conference table lined with towers of manila folders while he sat behind a raised-panel partner’s desk at least a century old.
“Miss Decody.” He pushed back a wide oak chair and rounded the desk, one hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to hear about your aunt. Such a senseless tragedy. I had just seen her earlier that day.”
She blinked away the sudden burn in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Please.” He waved her in the direction of the table. “Sit down. I’ll clear off more space. My clutter drives Ainsley mad.”
She assumed he was referring to the woman outside his office. Reese sank into a chair, and Rivers rounded the table, catching the corner with his hip. The stacks of folders teetered then did a slow avalanche. His efforts to stop their descent wereunsuccessful. Dropping to his knees, he frantically scrambled to reorganize them. When she would have risen to assist, he stopped her. “Let me get it. I know I have Ben’s file here. I got it out this morning, in preparation for your arrival. Give me just…”
He continued to rummage through the files and she waited, casting a gaze around the space. Behind the desk was a trio of oversized windows adorned with transoms of leaded glass, showing an uninspired view of the neighboring building. Next to the chair holding the man’s suit coat sat a paper shredder and an overflowing trash can, the contents of which occasionally drifted to the floor like half-hearted confetti.
“There.” The older man straightened, responding quickly when a folder threatened to slide from one of his new stacks. He slid into the chair he’d vacated and shuffled through the files, plucking up a few, each several inches thick. “Here we are. Your brother practically has a file cabinet dedicated to him.” His smile was harried. “Did you bring the copies of your aunt’s death certificate, and your Letter of Appointment of Executor?”
Reese took the sheets from her bag and slid them across the table to him. He perused them, nodding slowly. “Well, that seems to be in order. At least it gives me permission to speak to you, in light of your aunt’s untimely death. We can cover generalities only, I’m afraid. You’ll receive full accounting and reports after your petition for Ben’s conservatorship goes through.” He steepled his fingers, studying her over the top of them. “You said on the phone you were pursuing that avenue.”
Something inside her twisted at the thought. But family ties came with obligations. Julia had probably experienced a similar reluctance, but she’d stepped up and taken responsibility. Reese could do no less. “Yes.”
“You would have been a child when your parents first came to me, seeking to draw up a trust for your brother. It was after your grandfather died. Your parents sought our firm’s adviceon setting up a special needs revocable trust with some of the inherited assets. Revocable means it left them with control of the funds, and responsibility for the tax implications that came with it. Upon their death, guardianship of you shifted to your aunt, and the trust became irrevocable. Your aunt was named conservator for Ben in the will, which was approved by the court. I maintained administration of the trust, and Julia received reports and input on expenditures. Her travels kept her away a great deal of the time, and our personal interactions were sporadic over the years.”
The news was unsurprising.Sporadicdescribed Julia’s involvement with Reese, as well. Being saddled with a grief-stricken teen couldn’t have been easy with a demanding career. After their first six months together, her aunt had gradually returned to her usual travel schedule, leaving Reese to manage on her own in the apartment. It’d often been lonely, but Reese coped well enough until she left for college.
Experiencing that had made it easier for her to decide that she could manage Ben’s conservatorship. As far as she knew, Julia had never visited her brother. Her duties included only reading reports and approving trust expenditures.
Any facts Rivers divulged could probably also be found in the contents of her safe or from the documents she’d removed from the stuffed file cabinet in the back of her aunt’s coat closet. But Reese had barely made a dent in them. She’d placed her aunt’s Post-it notes from the files on one wall of Julia’s bedroom and added to them as she went through the piles of papers.
“What role does a conservator play when a person like you controls the trust?” Trent Camry, Julia’s attorney, explained that issue in great detail. But it was a stepping stone to some of the questions Reese didn’t have answers to.
“We have parallel roles that intersect when it comes to the trust beneficiary. My firm hires someone to manage the assets. Your aunt should have copies of the quarterly financial reports.”
She knew there were copies among the documents at Julia’s place. But she’d set them aside for the time being. “Ben’s care must be expensive. With rising costs, isn’t it in danger of running out at some point?”
“One of my responsibilities is making sure expenditures from the trust don’t endanger your brother’s eligibility for public assistance benefits, specifically Social Security Disability Insurance and Medicaid. They help pay for his care. The trust is also for his personal needs that aren’t covered.”
“Like fees accrued for administration of the trust.”
The words seemed to give him pause. But he nodded. “Yes. Trustee is a paid position, as is financial advisor. Conservators also can take a salary, although your aunt didn’t.”
Reese wasn’t surprised. She’d qualified for some social security benefits until she was eighteen, and Julia had placed the full monthly amount in savings for her. Of course, her grandfather had split his estate between his two daughters. And her aunt’s job had paid well.
Rivers rolled his shoulders, then glanced aside to make sure the motion hadn’t disturbed the stacks on the table. “My most important duty is to ensure that every expense presented for payment goes for your brother’s personal care. Governmental benefits pay for most, but not all medications and therapies that the doctors deem necessary. The trust also covers his personal wants and needs, such as haircuts, dental care, clothing, ongoing education, etc.”
“Please make yourself comfortable.” The woman gave her an emotionless smile, one that warmed considerably when it landed on Hayes. “I’ll let Mr. Rivers know you’re here. Can I get the two of you something to drink? I have coffee, water, and tea, although I may be able to scrape up a diet soda.”
When they both declined, she rose and walked swiftly across an enormous aged Oriental rug to one of the closed office doors that encircled the space like spokes. After a brief knock, she disappeared.
“You have to appreciate the efforts taken to maintain the integrity of the building.” Hayes sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs. The jacket he wore was unnecessary. It was in the sixties and sunny, underscoring San Diego’s best selling point. She assumed he’d selected it to conceal his now-empty holster.
“And the cash.” Class and elegance whispered in the glittering chandeliers and gilt-edged mirrors. Tasteful landscapes with heavily carved oak frames hung on the walls. The only hint of this century was the computer on the assistant’s desk.
The woman appeared again. “Mr. Rivers will see you now.”
True to his word, Hayes didn’t budge when Reese stood. She shouldered her bag, and surreptitiously wiped her damp palms on the front of her navy slacks. Her brother had been locked away since she was seven. His absence from her life had always been a relief.
But she was about to meet one of his gatekeepers.
5
Gerald Rivers looked up with a smile when Reese entered. He could have been in his sixties or seventies. A wreath of gray hair encircled his bald dome, and wire-rim readers perched on his nose. The eyes behind them were kind. He was exactly what she would picture for an attorney in a venerable law firm, at once projecting experience and trustworthiness. His suit coat hung on the back of a chair at a conference table lined with towers of manila folders while he sat behind a raised-panel partner’s desk at least a century old.
“Miss Decody.” He pushed back a wide oak chair and rounded the desk, one hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to hear about your aunt. Such a senseless tragedy. I had just seen her earlier that day.”
She blinked away the sudden burn in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Please.” He waved her in the direction of the table. “Sit down. I’ll clear off more space. My clutter drives Ainsley mad.”
She assumed he was referring to the woman outside his office. Reese sank into a chair, and Rivers rounded the table, catching the corner with his hip. The stacks of folders teetered then did a slow avalanche. His efforts to stop their descent wereunsuccessful. Dropping to his knees, he frantically scrambled to reorganize them. When she would have risen to assist, he stopped her. “Let me get it. I know I have Ben’s file here. I got it out this morning, in preparation for your arrival. Give me just…”
He continued to rummage through the files and she waited, casting a gaze around the space. Behind the desk was a trio of oversized windows adorned with transoms of leaded glass, showing an uninspired view of the neighboring building. Next to the chair holding the man’s suit coat sat a paper shredder and an overflowing trash can, the contents of which occasionally drifted to the floor like half-hearted confetti.
“There.” The older man straightened, responding quickly when a folder threatened to slide from one of his new stacks. He slid into the chair he’d vacated and shuffled through the files, plucking up a few, each several inches thick. “Here we are. Your brother practically has a file cabinet dedicated to him.” His smile was harried. “Did you bring the copies of your aunt’s death certificate, and your Letter of Appointment of Executor?”
Reese took the sheets from her bag and slid them across the table to him. He perused them, nodding slowly. “Well, that seems to be in order. At least it gives me permission to speak to you, in light of your aunt’s untimely death. We can cover generalities only, I’m afraid. You’ll receive full accounting and reports after your petition for Ben’s conservatorship goes through.” He steepled his fingers, studying her over the top of them. “You said on the phone you were pursuing that avenue.”
Something inside her twisted at the thought. But family ties came with obligations. Julia had probably experienced a similar reluctance, but she’d stepped up and taken responsibility. Reese could do no less. “Yes.”
“You would have been a child when your parents first came to me, seeking to draw up a trust for your brother. It was after your grandfather died. Your parents sought our firm’s adviceon setting up a special needs revocable trust with some of the inherited assets. Revocable means it left them with control of the funds, and responsibility for the tax implications that came with it. Upon their death, guardianship of you shifted to your aunt, and the trust became irrevocable. Your aunt was named conservator for Ben in the will, which was approved by the court. I maintained administration of the trust, and Julia received reports and input on expenditures. Her travels kept her away a great deal of the time, and our personal interactions were sporadic over the years.”
The news was unsurprising.Sporadicdescribed Julia’s involvement with Reese, as well. Being saddled with a grief-stricken teen couldn’t have been easy with a demanding career. After their first six months together, her aunt had gradually returned to her usual travel schedule, leaving Reese to manage on her own in the apartment. It’d often been lonely, but Reese coped well enough until she left for college.
Experiencing that had made it easier for her to decide that she could manage Ben’s conservatorship. As far as she knew, Julia had never visited her brother. Her duties included only reading reports and approving trust expenditures.
Any facts Rivers divulged could probably also be found in the contents of her safe or from the documents she’d removed from the stuffed file cabinet in the back of her aunt’s coat closet. But Reese had barely made a dent in them. She’d placed her aunt’s Post-it notes from the files on one wall of Julia’s bedroom and added to them as she went through the piles of papers.
“What role does a conservator play when a person like you controls the trust?” Trent Camry, Julia’s attorney, explained that issue in great detail. But it was a stepping stone to some of the questions Reese didn’t have answers to.
“We have parallel roles that intersect when it comes to the trust beneficiary. My firm hires someone to manage the assets. Your aunt should have copies of the quarterly financial reports.”
She knew there were copies among the documents at Julia’s place. But she’d set them aside for the time being. “Ben’s care must be expensive. With rising costs, isn’t it in danger of running out at some point?”
“One of my responsibilities is making sure expenditures from the trust don’t endanger your brother’s eligibility for public assistance benefits, specifically Social Security Disability Insurance and Medicaid. They help pay for his care. The trust is also for his personal needs that aren’t covered.”
“Like fees accrued for administration of the trust.”
The words seemed to give him pause. But he nodded. “Yes. Trustee is a paid position, as is financial advisor. Conservators also can take a salary, although your aunt didn’t.”
Reese wasn’t surprised. She’d qualified for some social security benefits until she was eighteen, and Julia had placed the full monthly amount in savings for her. Of course, her grandfather had split his estate between his two daughters. And her aunt’s job had paid well.
Rivers rolled his shoulders, then glanced aside to make sure the motion hadn’t disturbed the stacks on the table. “My most important duty is to ensure that every expense presented for payment goes for your brother’s personal care. Governmental benefits pay for most, but not all medications and therapies that the doctors deem necessary. The trust also covers his personal wants and needs, such as haircuts, dental care, clothing, ongoing education, etc.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92