It was two police officers. “Are you the one who cared for Doña Marlene?”
“Yes… is something wrong?” The officer continued, serious: “We need you to come with us.” My stomach sank.
When I arrived at her house, I found the whole family gathered—and furious. Then the daughter pointed in my direction and showed me a video on her cell phone.
It was Dona Marlene, recorded a few days before she died: “If you’re watching this, it’s because I’m already gone. I want to make it clear that everything I own—the house, the car, my savings, everything—belongs to the only person who truly cared for me: my caregiver. She was like a daughter to me when my own daughters stopped being my daughters.”
I started to tremble. The family erupted: “THIS IS A FORGERY!” “SHE MANIPULATED MY MOTHER!” “ARREST THIS WOMAN!”
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