Chapter 4 - The Device Policy Glen Forgot
Northstar Design Collective had boring policies.
That saved me.
When I founded the company at twenty-four, I hated corporate bureaucracy.
By thirty-one, after managing forty-two employees, client data, commercial leases, vendor contracts, and insurance, I loved boring policies.
ND-17 had been issued to Glen nine months earlier.
Company-owned.
Business-use device with limited personal use permitted.
Employees signed consent that Northstar could preserve, review, and remotely manage company data stored on device when necessary for security, legal compliance, litigation, or suspected misconduct.
Five months earlier Glen reported it lost at Dallas Fort Worth airport.
Our IT manager Marcus Lee disabled cellular service and marked device lost.
He did not remotely wipe because the phone went offline before wipe command reached it.
A replacement was issued.
The old phone apparently lived offline or on networks that did not allow device management until Clara brought it into my home, where it automatically connected to saved Wi-Fi credentials.
That was why notifications exploded.
At 8:10 the next morning, Glen’s lawyer emailed Northstar.
Demand:
Do not access purely personal marital communications.
Our counsel answered:
Company will preserve device and conduct scoped review consistent with company policy, business interests, and applicable law. Personal material unrelated to company will not be disseminated.
Good.
I recused myself from direct forensic review.
That was important.
I was CEO.
Also injured spouse.
Those roles had to separate.
Northstar’s two minority shareholders, Denise and investor Mark Ellison, appointed an independent committee for any investigation involving Glen.
An outside digital-forensics firm imaged the device.
I did not receive everything.
I received what company counsel determined related to business, then later relevant personal evidence only through my divorce attorney and proper discovery.
The first business finding arrived two days later.
Messages between Glen and Clara concerning a Northstar vendor.
Crescent House Events.
Clara’s company.
I knew we used them.
They arranged launch events, client dinners, and employee retreats.
What I did not know:
Glen had approved seventeen invoices to Crescent House over eighteen months using delegated authority.
Most were under twenty-five thousand dollars.
Our policy required CFO review above twenty-five.
The invoices clustered at:
$23,800.
$24,450.
$24,900.
$19,700.
Split invoices.
Maybe legitimate.
Maybe designed around controls.
Corporate counsel called.
“Natalie, we’re opening vendor review.”
“How much total?”
“Gross payments to Crescent House over two years approximately five hundred twelve thousand.”
I stared.
“That seems high.”
“It is high relative to comparable spend.”
“Does Clara do real work?”
“Yes. We need separate legitimate from unsupported.”
“Glen approved?”
“Most.”
“Did I?”
“Three larger events had your budget approval, but vendor selection came through operations.”
I felt sick.
This was no longer only affair.
Then counsel said:
“One message from recovered device is especially relevant.”
“Read it.”
She hesitated.
“It mixes personal and business.”
“Is it legally okay for me to hear?”
“Yes. Because it concerns invoice purpose.”
“Then read.”
Glen:
Need May invoice split or Nat will ask.
Clara:
Use launch dinner and vendor deposit.
Glen:
How much do you need?
Clara:
18 for the lease and 6 for doctor/bills.
Glen:
Do 24.4.
I went cold.
“What lease?”
“Unknown.”
“Doctor?”
“Unknown.”
We both knew possibilities.
But we did not speculate.
I asked:
“Anything directly saying they stole?”
“No. That language alone is not sufficient.”
Good.
Evidence.
Not emotion.
Still, five months after “losing” a company phone, my husband’s secret messages with my stepmother were discussing how to structure invoices so I would not ask questions.
May you like
The phone in Clara’s beach bag had stopped being merely evidence of adultery.
It might be evidence of fraud.
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