I laughed.
Then she laughed.
Then both of us started crying.
That was recovery.
Not speeches.
Not inspirational music.
A stupid coffee mug at three in the morning.
The trial never happened.
Three weeks before jury selection, Ryan accepted a plea agreement.
Twenty-one years.
The federal financial charges carried additional penalties.
Restitution.
Asset forfeiture.
The house in Bethany Beach.
The investment account I never knew existed.
Two rental properties purchased through corporations.
A Porsche stored in Virginia under another man’s name.
More than six million dollars in hidden or diverted assets were eventually identified.
The $18.7 million acquisition payment was released to my mother after the ownership dispute was resolved.
With penalties and accumulated distributions, the total recovery approached twenty-three million dollars.
My mother stared at the final figure in the attorney’s office.
Then she said, “I need a new pair of glasses.”
Everyone laughed.
For the first time, the laughter didn’t hurt.
