Page 2 of Smooth Talk

Ms. Patricia Pounds, SEC bulldog, shoves a business card in my face as people in FBI jackets storm through the entrance. Her partner, a salt-n-pepper gentleman with a badge, eyes me warily while handing me a warrant. Which I pretend to read for the next few minutes, because my brain isn’t functioning properly, and my vision is spotty. With the way blood is pounding in my ears, I can only manage to hear every tenth word or so coming out of Patty’s mouth. She started throwing around words like fraud, embezzlement and Ponzi scheme. Oh, holy duck water!

I stopped cussing when Harper was a baby. It was really my only option since I didn’t want a toddler with a sailor’s vocabulary. I can get real creative with it. And even though now feels like it could be the most opportune time to allow an f-bomb to drop, I found that it’s a slippery slope. One curse word begets another and another. Until you realize, every other word is of the four-letter variety. So, I’ll thank you to not judge me.

No wonder Reed hadn’t contested the divorce. I have a separate savings account, and a college fund for Harper, but everything else is jointly owned. To be split right down the middle, according to our lawyers. He’d given me half of everything except custody of our daughter. He’d insisted I be awarded full custody (signing away his parental rights) and would only agree to sign on the dotted line if we both legally changed our names to Monroe no later than twelve months after the divorce was finalized. I thought both requests were peculiar, but now they make total sense. That selfish jack wagon had at least thought about trying to protect us, in probably the only way he thought he could. But in the end, it was too little, too late.

I realize Ms. Patty Pounds is still talking through my haze of disbelief. She’s looking at me rather expectantly. I can only assume she’s asked a question. A question I haven’t heard, nor, probably, have an answer to. How could Reed do this to us?

“I’m sorry. I’m having trouble keeping up. I’m just so shocked.” She just looks at me, clearly annoyed, I guess she’s either not used to repeating herself or she’s just a raging bizzle robot that can’t possibly comprehend human emotion.

“Shocked or not Mrs. Langford, we need to take you in for questioning.” SNP (Salt-N-Pepper) says.

“I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything wrong.” I’m still not getting it.

“That remains to be seen. It’s highly unlikely that you had no idea what your husband was up to. Most people don’t act without the consent of their partner.” Patty is really laying it on thick.

“Ex-husband. My divorce was final two hours ago, and Jay Sands is Reed’s business partner, not me.” My head is spinning. God, please don’t let me faint.

“Well, Mr. Sands and your husband,” she pauses when I give her the stink eye. “Your ex-husband,” she corrects, “have both fled the country. It seems neither you nor Mrs. Sands has any knowledge of their business ventures or their whereabouts. Which we find suspect. Surely you can see this from our point of view. It’s unusual for a husband to confiscate 75 million in investor funds, leave the country and their significant other to have no knowledge.” She pauses for effect, her eyebrows raised.

I gasp, “75 million dollars?”

“Each. And that’s just the money we know about.” Her phone rings, and she turns away to answer, speaking quietly with the person on the other end. Leaving me to my thoughts again. What was Reed thinking? I know who he was thinking of. Himself. As usual. But, how could he do this? It’s so unlike him. Well, unlike the man I used to know. He’s a liar, sure, but a thief? And on this scale? I can’t believe when he took my money to start his business that this was his end game. And what about Harper? Had she not even come into it? Maybe Jay had screwed up and this was the only way he thought he could get out.

Whoa. I need to stop making excuses for that man. After this final betrayal, I am done. Any sympathy I had for Reed is gone. I’m not here to help him, to defend him; I’m here to protect our daughter, and every move I make from this step forward would be to do just that.

“Mrs. Langford, you’ll need to come with us. We’ve been investigating SandFord Investments for some time; your husband and Mr. Sands must’ve caught wind that we were closing in on them. They fled the country and somehow made millions of investor funds disappear; their guilt is implied, but we’ll need your help. We need to determine if that guilt spreads to any family, friends or associates. If you know of anyone else that could be involved, we’ll need names,’ SNP says. ‘We’ve confiscated all technology at his office downtown and taken several employees into custody. It seems it came as a surprise to most of them what their bosses were up to.”

Patty comes back with her phone in hand. “I’ve just been informed that the press has been notified. We’ll need to act quickly to avoid a scene.”

“What about Harper?” I ask; when she looks at me blankly, I clarify. “My daughter. She’s at a friend’s house, but I’ll need to make arrangements for her to stay longer.” She nods at me. “I also have movers coming in a few hours, how long will this take?”

“I don’t think you understand Mrs. Langford. You no longer have access to anything in this house, the house itself, your cars, bank accounts—anything you shared with your husband. Your assets have been frozen. Your full cooperation in our investigation is appreciated, and you’ll be expected to remain in town until it has been concluded. If you are found non-complicit, there will more than likely be a trial to see which assets and or money you’ll be able to keep, as is done in cases like these.”

This day just keeps getting better and better. I send a quick SOS text to Sara letting her know the gist of what’s going on and ask her to keep Harper inside and away from the tv until I know more about what exactly is going on. Then I put in a call to my attorney who’s meeting me at the FBI building downtown. Could this day get any worse?

I just had to ask. Yes. Yes, as it turns out, it could. Apparently, we didn’t act quickly enough because as soon as we walk through the front door I’m assaulted with flashes, as multiple microphones are shoved in my face.

“Mrs. Langford can you tell us anything about the fraud allegations being leveled at your husband?” “How long has this Ponzi scheme been going on?” “Were you complicit in your husband’s actions?” “How does it feel to be compared to Ruth Madoff?”

The questions are rapid-fired, and I have no time to react, let alone respond. I’m numb. The only thought running through my mind right now is ‘Thank God, Harp isn’t here.’ Then it happens. I feel the slimy wetness on my cheek and look to my left. There’s a crowd of familiar faces. Angry, but familiar. Apparently, when your ex-husband steals money from your friends and neighbors their only recourse is to scream and spit at you in the most public forum they can find. “How could you do this to us?” “You stole our retirement.” “You stole our children’s education.” “What kind of person does that?” “What kind of mother are you?”

I didn’t know then that the nightmares would plague me for years to come. That day and the subsequent days after were full of questions I had no answers to. Accusations. Public disgrace and humiliation. Surprise media ambushes. It took months to clear my name. I decided, against my attorney’s advice to let things play out in court, to give back all the money earned from the sale of the house, furniture, artwork, sailboat and cars. I hadn’t earned it. It was stolen from the people who had. I didn’t want Reed’s dirty money. And through litigation, the money would go to attorneys instead of who it truly belonged to. Returning the funds to the families he’d stolen from with every cent from our joint accounts only seemed right, but it was merely a drop in the bucket. A tiny percentage of their investment.

Reed and Jay were officially on the lam. Probably living the good life on a sunny beach somewhere in a country with no extradition. While I’m headed south, under a cloud of shame. I’m a big believer in karma. I’m just going to let it go and move on. Sure, Reed lied, he’d stolen, betrayed us, abandoned us, but I wasn’t going to let Harper see me succumb to my dark thoughts. I wasn’t going to waste any more energy on Reed Langford and the mess he’d made.

He made his choice. Now it was time for me to make mine. I would move home. Build my firm. Lean on my family and friends. On our tight knit community. Start a new life for me and my daughter where she would never doubt how much her mother loves her. She’ll never have to worry about me abandoning her or letting her down, because it simply won’t ever happen. I’ll make darn sure of it.

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