Grandma’s Nurse Faked Her Dementia To Steal Everything, Not Knowing I Still Visited Her

The Escape with Evidence

I was completely alone. No one believed me.

Weeks later, I overheard Roger on the phone. “Left the extra supply in the garden shed. Grabbing it tomorrow.”

That night, I broke the shed lock with shaking hands and tore through grandmother’s pottery supplies. Hidden under a tarp was a box containing prescription bottles of benzodiazepines, none in grandmother’s name, and a journal in Roger’s handwriting with dates and dosages.

My grandmother wasn’t sick. Roger had been systematically drugging her to fake dementia so he could marry her and steal everything.

I heard footsteps on gravel. Then Roger stood there with Trevor, eyes on the box.

Roger jumped at me and I ran, the box pressed against my chest as I pushed past him through the shed door. Trevor moved to block the back gate, so I turned hard and sprinted around the side of the house.

My feet hit the grass and then the driveway and then the sidewalk. My heartbeat was so loud I could hear it in my ears.

Behind me Roger yelled something, but I didn’t stop or look back. I just ran as fast as I could down the street.

Securing the Proof

Three blocks felt like forever. My lungs burned and my legs hurt, but I kept going.

When I finally reached the bus stop, I fell onto the bench. My whole body shook.

I held the box tight against me and tried to breathe. A few minutes later the bus pulled up.

My hands shook so bad I almost dropped my change getting on. I sat in the back corner and watched out the window to make sure Roger wasn’t following.

The bus took me downtown and I got off at the library. It felt safe there—quiet, nobody knew me.

I found a table in the far corner away from everyone and sat down. My hands still shook as I opened the box again.

Roger’s journal sat on top with his handwriting all over the pages. Under that were the pill bottles; none of them had grandmother’s name on them.

I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures. Every page of the journal, every bottle, every label, the dates he wrote down, and the amounts—all of it.

I took picture after picture until I had photographed everything twice just to be sure. Then I opened my email and sent all the photos to myself.

Then I sent them again to my school email. Then I created a new email account right there and sent them a third time.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. What if Roger found a way to delete them somehow?

What if he got into my accounts? I opened a cloud storage thing I’d never used before and uploaded every single photo.

Then I did it again on a different service. Backup after backup after backup.

I had to make sure this evidence couldn’t disappear.

Threats from the Dark

Finally, I checked my phone. 17 missed calls from Roger and six text messages.

The first one said to come home right now. The second one said I was in serious trouble.

The third one used words that scared me. The fourth one said he was calling the police.

The fifth one said I stole his private property. The sixth one said he knew where all my friends lived.

I blocked his number with shaking fingers. The library felt safe, but I knew I couldn’t stay forever.

Someone Finally Believes

I sat there until the lights started turning off. A librarian walked by and said they were closing in ten minutes.

I packed up the box and walked outside into the dark. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.

Roger was at the house; I couldn’t go back there. Then I remembered Lucille, grandmother’s sister.

She lived across town. She hadn’t believed me before when I called her, as she thought I was just upset about grandmother being sick.

But maybe if I showed her the actual proof, maybe if she could see Roger’s journal and the pills with her own eyes, maybe she would believe me this time. I got on another bus heading toward her neighborhood.

Then I had to transfer to a second bus. It took almost an hour to get there.

By the time I rang her doorbell, it was 8:00 at night. I still had my backpack with the box inside.

Lucille opened the door and her face looked annoyed at first, like, why was I showing up so late? But then she actually looked at me—really looked.

My face must have shown everything because her expression changed completely. She pulled the door open wider and told me to come inside.

The Evidence on the Table

Her dining room had a big wooden table. I put my backpack down and pulled out the box.

My voice cracked when I started talking. I spread Roger’s journal out on the table, then the pill bottles.

I tried to explain what each page meant. The dates matched up with when grandmother started acting confused.

The amounts got bigger over time. The pills weren’t in her name; they were in names I’d never heard of.

Lucille put on her reading glasses and picked up the journal. She didn’t say anything; she just read page after page.

Then she picked up the bottles and looked at the labels. She went back to the journal and checked the dates again.

Her face got paler and paler. She set the journal down carefully and looked at me.

Her voice came out quiet and serious. She said she was calling her lawyer friend right now, tonight.

The Lawyer and the Plan

She picked up her phone and walked into the kitchen. I heard her talking fast and urgent.

She came back a few minutes later and said Clifford was coming over immediately. Clifford Reed showed up in less than an hour.

He was older with gray hair and a nice suit even though it was nighttime. Lucille said he’d been grandmother’s lawyer for 20 years.

He knew her. He knew she’d been healthy and sharp.

He sat down at the table and looked at everything I’d laid out. Then he pulled out his phone and started taking pictures of every page and every bottle.

He asked me questions about when I found the box, what Roger had said during other times, and how grandmother acted when I visited her. I answered everything as best I could.

My voice kept shaking, but I made myself keep talking. This was too important.

Clifford took notes on his phone while I talked. He photographed the journal from different angles.

He lined up all the pill bottles and took a picture of them together, then individual pictures of each label. He worked slowly and carefully, like he was building a case—like he believed me.

When he finished taking pictures, he looked at Lucille and then at me. His face was serious but not mean.

He explained that what Roger did was illegal—really illegal. The guardianship papers and power of attorney were based on fake medical evidence.

That meant they could be challenged in court. But we had to move fast.

Roger would try to destroy evidence or move grandmother somewhere we couldn’t find her once he realized I had proof.