Chapter 9 - The Loan Application
No loan ever closed.
That distinction saved everybody from a much larger disaster.
But there had been an application.
A private lender called Buckeye Capital Partners.
Borrower:
Frank and Diane Miller.
Collateral:
The Westerville property.
Proposed amount:
$190,000.
Purpose:
“Consolidation and family property rehabilitation.”
The application packet claimed:
Frank and Diane were beneficial owners.
Rebecca Morgan held “nominee title.”
A family memorandum supported claim.
There it was.
The forged document was not only for Nicole.
It had been used to support financing inquiry.
Buckeye’s title department checked county records.
Saw I was sole owner.
Requested a signed consent, deed of trust, and acknowledgment from me.
That was what Dad wanted after Christmas.
Not a transfer deed yet.
A document allowing lien.
If I signed without reading, lender could potentially proceed with my property pledged.
Sarah almost exploded when she saw.
“Did they forge your signature on lender consent?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes. Because then we are dealing with attempted overreach, not completed encumbrance.”
Buckeye had frozen application after my attorney contacted.
No lien.
No loan.
No damage to title.
But why did they need $190,000?
Dad’s finances.
We subpoenaed? Through litigation discovery and voluntary lender docs.
Credit cards.
Medical bills.
Nicole’s promised option deposit already spent.
And something else:
Dad had guaranteed part of Nicole’s failed boutique loan.
$118,000.
Nicole’s business had collapsed quietly eight months earlier.
He had guaranteed.
The lender was pursuing him.
Dad tried to rescue Nicole using my house.
Again.
Nicole knew part.
Not whole.
Mom knew.
Eric knew nothing.
When I confronted Dad in deposition, Sarah asked:
“Why did you represent yourself as beneficial owner after signing an agreement disclaiming such ownership?”
Dad said:
“Because morally it was my house.”
“Did Buckeye Capital ask about legal title?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them Rebecca owned it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them Rebecca had agreed to secure your loan?”
“I believed she would.”
“Had she?”
“No.”
There.
No fraud completed because lender did its job.
But Dad was trying to convert expectation into obligation.
Sarah asked:
“Was the December 27 memorandum genuine?”
Dad stared.
“My daughter Nicole created it based on what Diane and I told her.”
“That did not answer.”
“No.”
“Did Rebecca sign it?”
“No.”
My breath stopped.
Finally.
“Did you know her signature had been copied?”
“Yes.”
Mom’s attorney objected.
Too late.
Truth existed.
Dad continued:
“I told myself it represented what Rebecca had agreed to verbally years earlier.”
“Did she?”
“She said she would always make sure we had home.”
“That is not promise to transfer ownership.”
“I understand now.”
He understood because discovery made denial expensive.
Still.
The admission destroyed their equitable ownership case.
Their attorney began discussing settlement.
But Mom refused.
May you like
She had not yet testified.
And Diane Miller had spent sixty two years learning that if she spoke long enough, reality eventually became rude for contradicting her.
