The financial crimes were the easy part, for the prosecutors. Forged signatures are f*rged signatures. A shell company is a shell company. Money that moves in black and white doesn’t cry on the stand or claim it was confused. Garrett is answering for the fr*ud, the f*rgery, the whole careful architecture of theft he was so proud of, and the trail I spent six months building left him almost nothing to argue.
The attempted drugging — putting a sedative in my tea to incapacitate me so he could rob our home — is its own, separate, uglier matter, and I let the people whose job it is handle that one, because I am his victim in it, not his prosecutor. I will only say that it did not help him.
The frozen assets stayed frozen, and then, as these things resolve, came back to where they belonged, which was largely to me. He’d been so busy trying to hide our money that he’d forgotten the most basic fact: you cannot strip a woman of assets that the law, once it’s paying attention, agrees were never only yours to take. He left with two suitcases and a worthless passport. He has considerably less than that now.
