Chapter 1

It was early in March of 2004 when my life-train was about to permanently derail, although I did not know it at the time. A cold end-of-winter day in March when mother phoned from New York to tell me that my father was going to Florida. Normally this was not an unusual occurrence. Dad would often vacation for a few weeks in warmer climate with his family while mom would stay home with her friends and social engagements.

Unlike previous vacations, dad’s health was a major issue due to a stroke he had suffered two years prior severely affecting his ability to drive, or make rational decision. On several occasions, mom received phone calls from the local police that dad was found wandering through town and the police brought him home. Believing he still owned the bakery, dad would stop in and occupy his former office chair, and mom had to go pick him up. On more than one occasion, dad stole the car keys and drive off, not telling anyone where he was going usually ending up at the American Legion bar.

It was understandable that mom would be very concerned about dad’s plans to have someone drive him to the airport in Newburgh, change planes in Atlanta and arrive safely in Fort Lauderdale, but he assured her that he knew what he was doing. I spoke to him, and he sounded fine. He told me that he was going to stay with my cousin Gail, the daughter of my father’s deceased brother Charlie, and not to worry. He was only going for a few weeks until the weather warmed up back home, and he’d be back in New York in time for the New York State Elks convention in May, that I had planned on attending with him.

In the past Gail and mom never got along very well, but since the death of her own mother, they had become a bit more friendly. Mom told me Gail had been calling dad for several weeks, supposedly to see how he was feeling. Their conversations were either in another room, or in a very low voice. Mom had a feeling something wasn’t quite right, but she didn’t want to cause any unnecessary family trouble, although she constantly warned Gail how difficult it was to take care of my father in his mental and physical condition, but Gail kept insisting that "uncle" Ruby would be fine and she could take care of him for a few weeks in Florida.

Mom tried telling her dad wasn’t strong enough to travel alone. He was having problems with his memory, sometimes forgetting to take his medication and worse, forgetting where the bathroom was when he needed to use it, but Gail only argued with her, causing their animosity to escalate. Mom’s warnings were only escalating the friction between her and Gail and upsetting my mother, so she thought it best to limit their conversations.

Dad packed once small suitcase, phoned a friend to drive him to the airport and headed out the door. There was nothing my ninety-five pound, seventy-nine year old mother could do to stop him. We could not have possibly imagined that this one "small step" my dad took that day would alter the course of the lives of my family forever and would plunge all of us into a two year long nightmare ending up costing my parents their entire life savings and nearly their lives.

A few days later, I called Gail’s house to see how things were going, and to talk to my father. Gail told me he was doing fine. He was out with friends for lunch and would call me when he returned. Three days later, I called again and was told that dad was resting, but he’d call me as soon as he was awake. Three is a three hour time difference between California and New York, so I didn’t thing there was anything strange about my not being able to call at a convenient time, but was beginning to become concerned when my daughter Tandy called from Oklahoma and told me that she had been unable to speak to her grandfather. Gail always answered and he was always either sleeping or out with friends.

March 19, 2004, nine days after dad left New York I received an email from Gail (Appendix Page 1). Suddenly, this was no longer a two week vacation. I had no idea who Henry and Sheri Solomon were, or what a Geriatric Care Manager was, or why my father would be looking for an "apartment" in Florida when, as far as I knew, he was planning on returning to Ellenville.

I emailed a reply and tried to phone her, but the phone went directly to her voice mail. I left several messages trying to get in touch with my father and get some clarification as to what was going on, but the phone calls and emails were never responded to. Meanwhile, my mother was alone in New York, unable to eat, losing weight and literally worried sick about where her husband was.

I kept trying to call, but no one would answer until about a week later when, by some miracle, my father answered the phone. I asked him about the email and the apartment and asked him what was going on.

"I’m leaving New York, and never going back." his voice was so cold and distant. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I responded.

"What are you talking about? Did you tell mom?"

"I haven’t talked to your mother. She hasn’t called me since I got here. All she cares about is the money."

Then the phone went dead.

I immediately hit the speed redial button, but no one answered. The next call was to my mother, who was crying so hysterically, she could barely speak.

"The bank just called. Your father tried to cash a check for $50,000.00!"

"You’re kidding!" I replied. "Do you have that much in your checking account?"

"Of course not. He knows that. The amount was crossed out and the correction wasn’t initialed, and I don’t think the handwriting on the date is his. (Appendix Page 2) Your father needs to come home, he doesn’t know what he’s doing."

I should have immediately flown to Florida. I should have left my job, quit law school and been on the next plane to Florida the moment I heard the news, but since I’d already made plans to go to New York in May, I didn’t believe there was any reason to leave early. Mom told me she closed out all of their joint accounts, putting everything in her name only to protect herself from future surprises, and she sounded as if she were handling the situation quite well. We both expected dad would be coming back to Ellenville, but found out that my cousin had other plans.

A few days later my mother faxed a copy of one of my father’s IRA accounts, notifying us that the beneficiaries had been changed from my three daughters, to my four cousins; Beverly Cohen Scotti, Diane Cohen, Roberta Grundt and Gail Lerner. I was furious. I knew my father would never take money from his only grandchildren, especially with Michelle graduating high school. Over the years he had made many investments in their names for their education, even though they never asked or expected financial support, their relationship was tantamount throughout their lives. Both my parents attended all the special occasions in my daughter’s lives, from the day they were born, each of their Bat Mitzvahs, Tandy and Kimberly’s high school graduation and our yearly visits to New York were the highlight of my father’s life. I knew there was no way he would have cut them out of any financial support and definitely would not have given it to his adult nieces. Someone was manipulating him, and I knew exactly who that was. Unfortunately, I had no idea at the time what lengths Gail was willing to go to keep my father from his family, until I received another frantic phone call from my mother.

Mom received a notice that her power of attorney was revoked.. It was signed by my father and witnessed by my cousin and someone by the name of Frank, who was Gail’s boyfriend. (Appendix Page 3). The form was dated April 14, 2004. In just over one month, Gail had managed to find an attorney and gain control over my father’s entire estate. The paper listed a new address for my father. I looked the address up on the Internet and found the location was Newport Place retirement home in Boynton Beach. I immediately phoned the facility, asked to speak to Ruby Cohen and was told by the receptionist that Mr. Cohen was not to receive any phone calls by the request of the person who had his power of attorney. I told the woman I was his daughter and I wanted to speak to my father, but she refused to connect my call.

I called mom and tried to reassure her that I would take care of everything, but at that time it was an empty promise. I had absolutely no idea how what I could do from 3000 miles away with Gail now holding the power of attorney and full access to influence my father to do anything she told him. What was so heartbreaking to our family was that my daughters, who had always been so close to their grandfather, had lost all communication with him and I was helpless to do anything to rectify the situation.

Hoping to find some help, I phoned my cousin Beverly, who lived a few miles from me. She was very cold, saying only that she didn’t want to be involved with what was going on in Florida, wanted to stay out of it since it didn’t have anything to do with her. I wasn’t that surprised. Throughout my life my cousins had always tried to exclude me from their relationship with my father, forming a very strange relationship with him after their own father died over forty years ago. It was a constant tug-of-war between dad’s family and my mother and myself over the years, but I never expected that my own cousins would go to such incredible lengths to take my father away from my mother and me, and worse, his grandchildren. But they never expected the lengths I would go to in order to prevent them from succeeding.

The gauntlet had been thrown, the battle had begun and it was going to be a long and bloody war before it was over. With no siblings, no other family members on my side, my mother in New York, my father in Florida, I was facing my very own Bermuda Triangle. And I was facing it "relatively" alone.