“According to the records I can access, she’s legally married to three different men in three different states.” Bigamy. The word hit me like a thunderbolt. Not only was Harlo a predator who targeted vulnerable families, she was also committing felony bigamy on a multi-state level. “Margie, are you absolutely certain about this?” “I triple checked everything. The marriage license between Helen Crawford and David Kim was filed in Multma County, Oregon on March 15th, 2019.”
“No record of divorce. The marriage between Harlo Chen and James Wright was recorded in Denver County, Colorado on September 2nd, 2020. Also, no record of divorce.” “And her marriage to my son?” “December 10th, 2022, right here in our county, which means she was already married to two other men.” When she walked down the aisle with Nolan, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
My son’s marriage was invalid. Everything Harlo had claimed about being his wife, about having legal authority to make decisions, all of it was built on a foundation of lies. “There’s more,” Margie continued. “I found another marriage record. This one going back further. A Helen Crawford married Robert Chin in Maricopa County, Arizona in 2014. He died in 2016.”
“But get this, there’s no record of her changing her name legally after his death. She just started using his last name. So Harlo Chen isn’t even her legal name. Legally, she’s still Helen Crawford. Has been this whole time.”
I thanked Margie and hung up, my mind racing. This was huge, bigger than Rick and I had imagined. This wasn’t just fraud. This was a systematic pattern of bigamy spanning multiple states in nearly a decade. But as I sat there processing this information, I realized something else. Knowledge was power, but timing was everything. If I revealed this too soon, Harlo might disappear again like she had in Portland.
If I waited too long, she might succeed in having me declared incompetent and committed. I needed to think strategically. The first thing I did was call Rick Morrison and fill him in on what Margie had discovered. His reaction was immediate and intense. “Janine, this changes everything. Bigamy is a federal crime when it crosses state lines. We’re not just talking about elder abuse anymore.”
“We’re talking about wire fraud, mail fraud, potentially tax evasion. The FBI is going to be very interested in Helen Crawford.” “But what about the immediate situation? She’s still planning to move me to that nursing home.” “We use this to our advantage. We let her think her plan is working while we build our case.” “How much time do we have?”
“She said the moving truck comes next week, but yesterday she threatened to move up the timeline.” “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to act like you’re resigned to the situation. Don’t fight her anymore. Don’t ask questions. Let her think she’s won. Meanwhile, I’m going to coordinate with the FBI and the district attorney’s office.”
“We’re going to set up surveillance, document everything, and when we move, we’re going to make sure she can’t wiggle out of this.” “What if she tries to move me before then?” “She won’t. Think about it. She needs time to finalize the house sale, transfer assets, cover her tracks. Moving you too quickly would raise red flags with the nursing home, with your son, with anyone who might ask questions later.”
“She’s going to stick to her timeline because it’s the safest approach.” After I hung up with Rick, I sat in my kitchen for a long time, thinking about my next move. I had the truth now, all of it. But the truth alone wasn’t enough. I needed to be smarter than Harlo had been, more careful, more strategic.
That’s when I remembered the safety deposit box. 25 years ago when my husband was diagnosed with his heart condition, we’d set up a safety deposit box at First National Bank. It contained our important documents, some jewelry, and other valuables we wanted to keep secure. After he died, I’d continued to pay the annual fee, but I hadn’t been to the box in years until today.
I drove to the bank, my hands steady on the wheel despite the magnitude of what I was planning. The safety deposit box was exactly as I’d left it, filled with documents and momentos from a lifetime of careful planning. But today, I was adding something new. I pulled out a small digital recorder, the same one I’d been using to document my conversations with Harlo and set it carefully inside the box.
Along with it, I placed copies of all the evidence Rick had gathered, Margie’s marriage record searches, and a detailed letter explaining everything I’d discovered about Helen Crawford’s criminal history. If something happened to me, if Harlo’s plan succeeded and I ended up in Sunset Manor, unable to defend myself, this evidence would still exist. Rick knew about the safety deposit box now, and he had explicit instructions to access it if I became incapacitated, but I wasn’t planning to become incapacitated.
I was planning something much different. As I drove home, I called Nolan’s office. His secretary put me through immediately. “Mom, is everything okay? Harlo said you’ve been having some difficulties lately.” The concern in my son’s voice broke my heart. He had no idea that the woman he’d married was a predator, that their entire relationship was built on lies, that she’d been planning to destroy our family from the moment she walked into our lives.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. I was just calling to see if you’d like to come to dinner on Sunday. It’s been too long since we had a real conversation.” “That sounds great, Mom. I’ll check with Harlo about our schedule.” “Actually,” I said carefully, “I was hoping it could just be the two of us, like when you were growing up.”