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Adult daughter stole entire life savings
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<blockquote data-quote="jeanne in CA" data-source="post: 627898" data-attributes="member: 18036"><p>"DammitJanet", it is truly a small world. I am sure we know some of the same people in CDSS. Public service has its challenges but I actually enjoyed most of my time there. Your cable story sounds like one of the many messes I had on a daily basis. The only difference was that our daughter would produce a bank statementment showing that our cable bill was paid except that the statement itself was fraudulent. I can't believe you had to pay yours twice! </p><p> </p><p>I have come to believe that our daughter is a predator of the worst kind. I hate even saying that but how else could I interpret her actions? She is a consummate liar, always adding details and nuances and repeating the same information several times without changing stories. I know now that lies repeated over and over were more likely to seem true. I certainly didn’t doubt them. I had always heard the phrase, “Trust but verify.” I felt safe. I trusted her and the fabricated letters, emails, and statements I had from all those banks verified what she told me. It never would have occurred to me that all those things were fakes, because she always oozed such sincerity. </p><p>Her crimes were not crimes of passion. They were not the result of spur-of-the-moment thinking. Her actions took deliberation, premeditation, and planning. At the same time, I was emotionally disabled, depressed, grief-stricken due to the death of my mother and supremely anxious due to my seemingly inexplicable financial woes, which she continually countered with “those idiots in accounting have it wrong, of course it was paid, here is the confirmation number they gave me when I called for you. “ Despite her fabrications, some of the truth leaked through as the gaps between her increasing thefts and her versions of the truth widened. Negative events she couldn’t always control---angry creditors, repeated phone calls for bills not paid---continued to occupy my attention and chew up my mental capacity. I knew I had paid these bills, because I had written the checks. She would produce a “statement” from the “bank” to verify her assertions, knowing all the while that she had stolen the money and that the creditors were telling the truth. The more problems I had, the more help I needed. She not only used all of that to her advantage every day, she deliberately created it. A mother who was in a constant fog of anguish and bewilderment was far easier to fool.</p><p>The police asked me how I finally found out what she was doing. IIronically, n the end, her greed overcame her cunning and she overplayed her hand. She stole my new debit card and withdrew $400 from ATMs located in the only two places she and I had been that day. She was the only other person who had access to my purse and my card that day. That debit card was associated with my Social Security pension and I had just received it three weeks prior. At that point, I had no idea that she had drained my checking account of everything but $42.</p><p>That $400 was the tipping point that catapulted me into action, because she had clearly stolen it. I was nearly hysterical and prayed so hard that there would be a simple explanation for the missing $400. And, instead of giving me a simple explanation or at least being contrite when I confronted her, she became verbally abusive and insisted I was demented. She screamed and yelled in an angry, bullying tirade, insisting that she was the injured party and I was the ungrateful wretch that was ruining her life with my ongoing neediness and now my accusations. </p><p>It was an ugly, abusive response to my confrontation and one I could not begin to understand. Who talks to their mother like that? What on earth was going on? I had never doubted that she loved me. Why else would she try so hard to help me? Why would she always want to be with me? Why did she ask my opinion on things? Trust me with her child? Make me beautiful handmade cards for every occasion? Call or text nearly every day asking me to come and spend time with her? Yet, on that day, I felt like everything I thought I knew about her started to crumble and fall away, leaving nothing but this shell of a young woman who physically resembled my daughter but who possessed none of the beauty, the kindness, the sincerity, and simple decency I thought was so much a part of who she was. It was unbearably ugly to watch and horrifically painful. </p><p>Each day this past year, as I made one ugly discovery after another, I was hurt over and over until finally the pain was so bad I simply had to stop reacting, stop responding emotionally. I implemented a sort of mental moratorium. I was determined that I would simply deal with the facts and not <em>think</em> about them. I knew if I didn’t, I could not do what I had to do and I had no other options. This was a fight for my sanity, for my husband’s and my financial, emotional, and mental well being, and Andrea’s very soul. A mother does not bring a child into the world, watch her turn out like this, and blithely forgive and forget. I believe that a parent has a responsibility to hold that child accountable for her actions, to stop her wrongdoing, no matter how painful that course of action might be. It is simply a moral imperative. </p><p> </p><p>"Recoveringenabler"- you suggest writing my story might help others. I am not sure how, but I appreciate the sentiment. If that were the case, I would certainly consider that at some point down the road because then it might be worth it. As for the cathartic aspect, between what I have written for the police and for my consultations with the forensic psychiatrist, I just about have that covered. lol</p><p> </p><p>"Cedar"-thank you for your kind words once again. </p><p> </p><p>I appreciate all of your support and encouragement.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jeanne in CA, post: 627898, member: 18036"] "DammitJanet", it is truly a small world. I am sure we know some of the same people in CDSS. Public service has its challenges but I actually enjoyed most of my time there. Your cable story sounds like one of the many messes I had on a daily basis. The only difference was that our daughter would produce a bank statementment showing that our cable bill was paid except that the statement itself was fraudulent. I can't believe you had to pay yours twice! I have come to believe that our daughter is a predator of the worst kind. I hate even saying that but how else could I interpret her actions? She is a consummate liar, always adding details and nuances and repeating the same information several times without changing stories. I know now that lies repeated over and over were more likely to seem true. I certainly didn’t doubt them. I had always heard the phrase, “Trust but verify.” I felt safe. I trusted her and the fabricated letters, emails, and statements I had from all those banks verified what she told me. It never would have occurred to me that all those things were fakes, because she always oozed such sincerity. Her crimes were not crimes of passion. They were not the result of spur-of-the-moment thinking. Her actions took deliberation, premeditation, and planning. At the same time, I was emotionally disabled, depressed, grief-stricken due to the death of my mother and supremely anxious due to my seemingly inexplicable financial woes, which she continually countered with “those idiots in accounting have it wrong, of course it was paid, here is the confirmation number they gave me when I called for you. “ Despite her fabrications, some of the truth leaked through as the gaps between her increasing thefts and her versions of the truth widened. Negative events she couldn’t always control---angry creditors, repeated phone calls for bills not paid---continued to occupy my attention and chew up my mental capacity. I knew I had paid these bills, because I had written the checks. She would produce a “statement” from the “bank” to verify her assertions, knowing all the while that she had stolen the money and that the creditors were telling the truth. The more problems I had, the more help I needed. She not only used all of that to her advantage every day, she deliberately created it. A mother who was in a constant fog of anguish and bewilderment was far easier to fool. The police asked me how I finally found out what she was doing. IIronically, n the end, her greed overcame her cunning and she overplayed her hand. She stole my new debit card and withdrew $400 from ATMs located in the only two places she and I had been that day. She was the only other person who had access to my purse and my card that day. That debit card was associated with my Social Security pension and I had just received it three weeks prior. At that point, I had no idea that she had drained my checking account of everything but $42. That $400 was the tipping point that catapulted me into action, because she had clearly stolen it. I was nearly hysterical and prayed so hard that there would be a simple explanation for the missing $400. And, instead of giving me a simple explanation or at least being contrite when I confronted her, she became verbally abusive and insisted I was demented. She screamed and yelled in an angry, bullying tirade, insisting that she was the injured party and I was the ungrateful wretch that was ruining her life with my ongoing neediness and now my accusations. It was an ugly, abusive response to my confrontation and one I could not begin to understand. Who talks to their mother like that? What on earth was going on? I had never doubted that she loved me. Why else would she try so hard to help me? Why would she always want to be with me? Why did she ask my opinion on things? Trust me with her child? Make me beautiful handmade cards for every occasion? Call or text nearly every day asking me to come and spend time with her? Yet, on that day, I felt like everything I thought I knew about her started to crumble and fall away, leaving nothing but this shell of a young woman who physically resembled my daughter but who possessed none of the beauty, the kindness, the sincerity, and simple decency I thought was so much a part of who she was. It was unbearably ugly to watch and horrifically painful. Each day this past year, as I made one ugly discovery after another, I was hurt over and over until finally the pain was so bad I simply had to stop reacting, stop responding emotionally. I implemented a sort of mental moratorium. I was determined that I would simply deal with the facts and not [I]think[/I] about them. I knew if I didn’t, I could not do what I had to do and I had no other options. This was a fight for my sanity, for my husband’s and my financial, emotional, and mental well being, and Andrea’s very soul. A mother does not bring a child into the world, watch her turn out like this, and blithely forgive and forget. I believe that a parent has a responsibility to hold that child accountable for her actions, to stop her wrongdoing, no matter how painful that course of action might be. It is simply a moral imperative. "Recoveringenabler"- you suggest writing my story might help others. I am not sure how, but I appreciate the sentiment. If that were the case, I would certainly consider that at some point down the road because then it might be worth it. As for the cathartic aspect, between what I have written for the police and for my consultations with the forensic psychiatrist, I just about have that covered. lol "Cedar"-thank you for your kind words once again. I appreciate all of your support and encouragement. [/QUOTE]
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