I explained how I’d established Buckeye Medical Supply in a tiny rented shop, sacrificing Sundays to secure contracts with private healthcare clinics.
Trevor oversaw sales, while Monica managed administration.
I’d trusted them without reservation.
When my mother-in-law, Loretta, became seriously ill, I spent weeks accompanying her through hospital treatment.
During that period, unauthorized financial transfers appeared under my credentials. The funds went to a supplier I’d never dealt with.
Once investigators became involved, Trevor testified that I’d instructed him to make those payments. Monica supplied paperwork apparently supporting his account.
My attorney couldn’t establish that their evidence was false.
The jury convicted me.
Opal heard everything without interrupting.
“Do you have any documents from those years?”
“I kept a few copies. I hid them before I was arrested.”
She slowly stood, returning shortly afterward with a folded note containing a name and telephone number.
“Russell Keane. He’s a forensic financial investigator. He helped me when I had trouble with my ex-husband. He doesn’t work miracles, but he knows how to find lies hidden in numbers.”
