Chapter 6 - The Doctor Who Refused to Help Them
The physician named in Julian’s draft was Dr. Malcolm Greene.
He was not my doctor.
He was Evelyn’s.
A family practitioner in northern Kentucky who had treated her for hypertension and arthritis for years.
Detective Kim interviewed him.
His attorney attended.
Dr. Greene admitted Evelyn had asked him a series of increasingly strange questions over several appointments.
Could severe pregnancy stress impair judgment?
Could burns cause delirium?
Could a husband make medical decisions if a wife were temporarily incapacitated?
Could a doctor write an opinion based on records rather than examining a patient?
He told her no.
Repeatedly.
Then, three weeks before the attack, Evelyn emailed his office a draft letter.
He refused to sign.
His nurse preserved the correspondence.
Evelyn wrote:
We are worried Elena is making reckless financial choices under hormonal stress and outside influence. Julian may need temporary authority if something happens during delivery.
If something happens.
Those words appeared before the boiling soup.
Dr. Greene testified later that nothing in Evelyn’s descriptions justified a finding of incapacity.
In fact, he told her:
Being stubborn about property is not a medical diagnosis.
That line eventually became one of Sarah’s favorites.
But investigators found something worse on Julian’s laptop.
After Dr. Greene refused, Julian contacted a private “capacity consultant” who prepared generic guardianship evaluations for attorneys.
The consultant told him no legitimate evaluator would declare me incapacitated without examining me.
Julian’s response:
What if she’s unconscious after an accident?
Date:
Nine days before the kitchen.
My hands went numb when Detective Kim showed me.
The plan was taking shape now.
Not perfectly.
Not legally guaranteed.
But intentionally.
Create medical catastrophe.
Control access.
Build a narrative.
File quickly.
Use Julian’s status as devoted spouse.
Then gain enough temporary authority to control what I could not defend myself.
But one part still made no sense.
If they wanted me unconscious or incapacitated, why choose a method as unpredictable as boiling liquid?
The answer came from the house’s insurance file.
Julian had recently increased our personal-liability coverage.
And added a substantial accidental-death rider on a life policy he held on me.
That was when I believed, for the first time, that maybe they had prepared for both outcomes.
If I lived incapacitated:
control.
If I died:
insurance.
Except there was one thing Julian had missed about my father’s estate.
One clause.
May you like
Sarah had not told him.
And neither had I.
