On Friday morning, I was calmly having breakfast when the doorbell rang. The cameras showed me a very well-dressed young woman with a folder in her hands and a professional smile.
I didn’t recognize her, but something about her posture told me it was not a social visit.
“Good morning, Mrs. Renati Richter,” she said as I opened the door. “I am a social investigator from the Office of Senior Services.”
“We have received a report that you may be in an atrisisk situation and we need to conduct a wellness check.”
My blood ran cold. Max and Lena had escalated the situation. It was no longer just threats from private lawyers. Now they had involved the government.
“Can I see your ID?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“Of course.” She showed me an official ID that looked genuine. “I am social worker Mrs. Schmidt. Can I come in and talk to you?”
I let her in, knowing that a refusal would have been worse for my case.
Mrs. Schmidt sat down in my living room and took a form out of her folder.
“Mrs. Richter, we have received reports that you have shown significant changes in your financial behavior, that you have cut off communication with your family, and that you have shown signs of paranoia by installing unnecessary security systems.”
“We were also told that you have refused medical and legal help from your loved ones.”
Every word had been carefully chosen to make me sound like a mentally disturbed old woman. I recognized Lena’s handwriting in the wording. She had always been skilled at manipulating words to get what she wanted.
“Miss Schmidt,” I said with all the dignity I could muster, “I would like to call my lawyer before answering any questions.”
“Ma’am, this is not a legal interrogation. It’s a wellness check. If you have nothing to hide, it should not be a problem to speak with me.”
The phrase “If you have nothing to hide” infuriated me. It was the same logic abusers used to justify their invasions.
If you’re innocent, you shouldn’t complain about your privacy being violated. “Miss, I’m calling my lawyer.”
“You can wait here or come back another day, but I will not answer any questions without legal representation present.”
I called Mr. Weber, and he was there within 20 minutes. When he came in and saw the social worker, his expression hardened.
“Miss Schmidt,” he said after checking her ID, “I hope you have a court order to be here because my client is under my legal representation and any unauthorized investigation constitutes harassment.”
“Sir,” Mrs. Schmidt replied with less confidence than before, “we have reports from concerned family members about the lady’s well-being. It’s our duty to investigate.”
“What family?” Mr. Weber asked dryly. “The same family that tried to get her to sign a power of attorney without representation.”
“The same family that broke into her house without permission and checked her private documents.”
“The same family that excluded her from important events while living off her money.”
Mr. Weber took a folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table.
“Here I have complete documentation of my client’s financial and emotional abuse. $33,400 that were withdrawn from her accounts in three years.”
“Systematic social exclusion and emotional blackmail. If someone needs to be investigated here, it is not my client.”
Mrs. Schmidt reviewed the documents with growing discomfort. It was obvious that the information she had been given did not match the reality she had in front of her.
“Mrs. RTOR,” she said finally, “can you explain to me why you so abruptly stopped financial support for your son?”
“Because I finally discovered they were using me,” I replied simply. “Because I realized that to them I wasn’t a mother, but a bank account.”
“Because I was tired of financing the lives of people who saw me as an obstacle.”
“But don’t you feel it’s your responsibility to help your family?”
The question outraged me. “Miss Schmidt, my responsibility as a mother was to raise my son until he was 18, to educate him, and to give him the tools to be an independent adult.”
“My son is 35 years old, married, and perfectly capable of supporting himself.”
“Financing his adult life is not my responsibility. It is my choice, and I have chosen not to do so anymore.”
Mr. Weber interjected. “Miss Schmidt, would you consider it normal for a 35-year-old adult to be unable to pay his own rent without the help of his 71-year-old mother?”
Mrs. Schmidt did not answer right away. I could see she was re-evaluating the entire situation.
“Mrs. Richter,” she asked after a moment, “do you manage your own finances completely?”
“I can show you my bank statements, my investments, my tax payments. Everything is current and in order.”
“Do you live independently?”
“As you can see, I keep my house clean. I take care of myself physically. I drive my own car.”
“I have healthy social relationships with my neighbors.”
“Do you take any medication?”
“Just vitamins and occasionally aspirin. I don’t have any medical conditions that require medication.”
Mr. Weber added, “My client has just undergone extensive medical exams as part of our legal process. She is in perfect mental and physical condition.”
Mrs. Schmidt closed her folder. “Mrs. Richtor, based on this conversation and the documentation I have reviewed, I see no indication that you are at risk or in need of intervention. I will close this case.”
After she left, Mr. Weber and I remained silent for a few minutes.
“Renat,” he said finally, “this is going to continue to escalate. Max and Lena are spending money they don’t have to hire professionals to try to have you declared incompetent.”
“Does that mean they are desperate?”
“It means that exactly.”
“What else can they do?”
“They can file a lawsuit for incompetence. It’s expensive and hard to win. But if they find a sympathetic judge and a psychiatrist willing to testify in their favor, they could get a guardian assigned.”