I called an old friend of mine in the police force, Detective Jim Morrison. He verified that Harry owed about eighteen thousand dollars in gambling debts. This is what it all amounted to. It was more than just Harry being rude, he was actively trying to ruin me. If I had stayed quiet, he would have stolen the roof right over my head.
So, I returned to the motel, created the Evidence folder on my laptop, and walked straight to the courthouse. I filled out my official eviction forms and reported him for loan fraud. Jim also told me that Harry was talking to some lawyer about laws of adverse possession in order to steal my property just by staying in it long enough.
On Thursday, I got a restraining order against Harry. Also, I contacted all debt collection agencies that were bugging me at this address, and told them that Harry was not the owner of the house and was not related financially to me at all.
Without my financial support, Harry’s whole world fell apart. He quit his job, and on Saturday, he was at his lowest point. He was outside of the bank, telling people in the crowd that I had abandoned my daughter.
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I approached him. “Hey, Harry. How are the gambling debts?”
The crowd fell silent. Harry’s face blushed. “You miserable old…”
“I can document every dollar I spent supporting you for five years,” I said calmly. “Can you document where your paychecks went?” He had no answer and slunk away.
Harry made one final, desperate attempt by making people believe that Tiffany was pregnant and faced some medical emergencies so that he could guilt me into giving him some cash. I personally called the doctor’s office; no record of any pregnancy.
It didn’t take very long before money was finished, and as usual, Harry packed his truck while Tiffany was away working and left the town. Those kinds of people leave when their well dries up.
I called up Tiffany and told her to meet me at the diner. She was tired and broken and crying all about the debt. She told me Harry maxed out her credit card at the casino.
I let her finish, then told her she had exactly one shot at a relationship with me: total honesty. She had to tell everyone at the church she was leaving Harry.
“What will they think?” she whispered.
“They will think that you have a dad who sacrificed his pension plan for you and that you took it for granted,” I replied.
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Regarding the house, I told the truth too. “I gave it away. The house is owned by the Montana Veterans Housing Initiative now. There are three veteran families coming to live there. My will has been updated too; the house won’t return to you. I have to know that we are connected without the idea of inheritance between us.”
This time, her crying was sincere. “I am sorry, Dad.”
“Sorry is just the start,” I told her. “It’s not the end.”
The next Sunday, Tiffany kept her promise. She went to the pulpit of the church and revealed all. Then, people were shaking hands with me, at last, knowing the whole truth. She divorced from her husband, and got herself into counseling.
I got myself a little cabin, and Tiffany and I meet once a week for coffee. She never asks for money, but I still help her.
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Love and Peace
