Chapter 4 - MY MOTHER’S LAWYER Millicent’s attorney was not a criminal mastermind.
Her name was Diane Mercer.
Fifty-one.
Family-law specialist.
Good reputation.
When Naomi called her, Diane sounded furious.
Not at us.
At her client.
The emergency petition Diane filed contained statements Millicent swore were true.
Diane had not seen:
The forged school letter.
The withdrawal form.
The packed bedroom.
Keira’s video.
The toy-breaking.
“I was told Gideon had agreed Silas would stay with Millicent beginning Friday.”
Naomi asked:
“Evidence?”
“Text messages and Ms. Fairmont’s sworn statement.”
“Did you verify with Gideon?”
“I represented the adverse party. I do not contact represented or potentially represented opposing parties informally.”
Correct.
“Did you advise Millicent to remove Silas’s belongings?”
“No.”
“Apply to Hawthorne Academy?”
“No.”
“Use Gideon’s signature?”
“Absolutely not.”
Good.
Millicent had a lawyer.
That did not mean the lawyer planned this.
Diane withdrew the emergency request for immediate guardianship pending clarification but preserved Millicent’s right to seek grandparent visitation and any other lawful relief.
Again.
Procedure.
No instant confession.
Then Diane produced her client-intake notes under appropriate process later.
Not immediately privileged material dumped to us.
Once Millicent put certain advice at issue and changed counsel, some records became discoverable through court rulings.
The timeline mattered.
Her first consultation:
Fourteen months earlier.
Long before the playground.
Long before I knew anything was wrong.
Question Millicent asked:
When can a grandparent be recognized as a child’s primary caregiver if a surviving parent depends heavily on them?
Diane’s answer:
Facts vary. Providing childcare does not itself displace a fit parent.
Second question:
Does school pickup count?
As evidence of caregiving, yes. Not custody.
Third:
What if the parent intends to move the child away?
Potential grandparent visitation issues depending on state law and existing relationship.
There.
Move.
What move?
Naomi looked at me.
“Were you planning one?”
“No.”
“Job?”
“No.”
“Relationship?”
“No.”
Then I remembered.
Sixteen months earlier Fairmont Structural Systems considered acquiring a plant in Colorado.
I traveled there three times.
Millicent asked whether I would relocate.
I said:
“Maybe someday.”
That was it.
The acquisition died.
I stayed.
But Millicent apparently built a future around that one sentence.
Then her notes changed.
Eight months earlier:
Millicent reports child increasingly distressed returning to father.
False.
Six months:
Grandmother provides majority routine care.
Exaggerated.
Four months:
Father emotionally unavailable.
Opinion.
Two months:
Child asks to remain with grandmother.
Silas denied that.
Diane repeatedly wrote:
Need independent corroboration.
Need school/medical records.
Do not coach child.
Do not change residence without agreement/order.
My mother had been told.
Repeatedly.
She did the opposite.
The bigger question:
Why start fourteen months ago?
Fear of relocation explained some.
Not all.
Then Naomi’s investigator found a second attorney.
Not family law.
Trusts and estates.
Millicent met him thirteen months earlier.
Name:
Paul Renner.
Firm:
Renner & Cole Private Wealth.
Topic on billing entry:
Fairmont Descendant Protector — minor-beneficiary governance.
I stared at Naomi.
“What is that?”
“You tell me.”
I knew the Fairmont family had trusts.
My father, Malcolm Fairmont, built Fairmont Structural Systems before I expanded it.
He died six years ago.
He left company interests in trusts.
I had spent most of my adult life avoiding family-office meetings because my mother loved them and I hated them.
Rebecca handled household finances.
I handled the company.
Millicent handled “family legacy.”
I had assumed Silas’s inheritance was ordinary.
Education trust.
Investment account.
Nothing requiring his grandmother to pack his bedroom.
Naomi asked:
“Who administers Silas’s trust?”
“Commonwealth Fiduciary.”
“Trustee?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother?”
“No.”
“Your role?”
I hesitated.
“Parent representative, maybe.”
“Maybe?”
I could run a structural engineering company.
I could not answer what power I held in my own son’s trust.
Naomi looked unimpressed.
Good.
We called Commonwealth.
The trust officer refused substantive discussion until identity verification.
Correct.
Then she said one sentence.
“Mr. Fairmont, we have been attempting to schedule your annual protector review for seven months.”
My stomach tightened.
“What review?”
“The review concerning Silas’s descendant branch and the proposed North Valley asset disposition.”
I had never heard of North Valley.
Naomi looked at me.
“Who has been receiving the notices?”
The officer checked.
“Fairmont Family Administration.”
My mother’s office.
Of course.
Then:
“Our file shows you deferred participation to Millicent Fairmont last year.”
“No.”
Silence.
“I never did that.”
The trust officer stopped.
“Mr. Fairmont, I think we need counsel on this call.”
May you like
Something much larger than custody had just opened.
And my mother had been standing between me and it for at least a year.
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