rSlash - r/Prorevenge My Family Abandoned Me, So I Completely Destroyed Their Lives

Episode Date: December 8, 2021

r/Prorevenge In today's episode, OP was abandoned by her loser father. Decades later, he finds out that her father is in a nursing home, so she sets in motion a revenge plan that destroys her father's house, bank account, and relationship with his other family -- we're talking complete scorched earth. Buckle up, because this is a long and satisfying tale of truly professional revenge. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to R-Slash, a podcast where I read the best post from across Reddit. Today's subreddit is R-Slash Pro Revenge, where OP completely destroys his toxic family's lives, culminating in a 10-year federal prison sentence. Our next Reddit post is from Eman. This story starts 31 years ago, but the revenge part was pure serendipity and that part began two years ago. The beginning. In 1990, when I was just out of middle school and my sister was still in elementary school, my dad met his third wife at the only gas station in our town. They soon moved in together, and my dad abandoned us in our basement apartment to live on a shanty housebo that didn't run to live with her.

He would show up every other week and give me 40 bucks for groceries. Eventually, someone figured out the situation and called my mom. We went to live with her, which was, believe it or not, worse. My dad and his shanty wife got married in 1991. Not long after, his wife called me and told me my dad's brain tumor had returned. It hadn't, and that he couldn't handle the stress of being around us. That the only people he could bear to be around was her and her son, Shorty, who was also my age. When I called my dad to ask if this was true, he said that it wasn't, and he just couldn't believe that she would say that to begin with. That was one of our last conversations until

two years ago. The middle. There's not much in this part. I worked my way through college, living in my car from time to time. My dad and I were no contact, but I heard from family that he had bought a house and he put his steps on through some vocational classes. When my grandmother died, Shorty and Shanty wife showed up in a truck and took all the furniture and anything else that wasn't tied down or already gone. Eventually, I went no contact with my dad's side of the family. I struggled for years, decades really, but I made it. And I have a great job and a good family now. The best revenge is living well, right?

The pre-end warm-up. Two years ago, in October 2019, I got a call from my dad's brother, Alan. He told me my dad was in a nursing home in another state. Great! And I had to go see him because he needed my help. What? It turns out, Shorty had ghosted him, which I found very amusing. The nursing home, coincidentally, was only about 20 minutes from my house, so I saw an

opportunity and I went. The reunion was underwhelming. I didn't want to make amends, but I did want to hear how he wound up dumped and all alone in another state. And it was a really, really good story. Shanty wife got lung cancer and put my dad in a nursing home before she died in 2017. She suffered, and I was happy to hear it, but I was sad that it wasn't a ask answer. Shorty became my dad's power of attorney when she died and had been visiting my dad, living in my dad's house with his two kids, and taking care of my dad's affair since his mom died.

But now he was missing an action and my dad was worried about him. He asked me to drive the hour and a half to his house to check on everything. That's all he wanted. He never even asked me how I'd hour and a half to his house to check on everything. That's all he wanted. He never even asked me how I'd been. I agreed to go. I think I'd have morbid curiosity. I'd never even been to my dad's house, so I did want to see where he lived with his real family for 30 years.

I wanted to see what my life could have been. It was 50 shades of effing awful. The grass hadn't been cut all summer. You couldn't get to the front door for the overgrowth. There were three pickup trucks in the yard and two were full of trash. The cab, the bid, the back seat, just trash. Mail, clothes, paper, shoes, garbage bags. I couldn't understand it.

My dad's handicapped modified SUV was on four flats and it was also full of garbage. I didn't have a key, so I just walked around. From what windows I could look through, the inside of the house was in shambles and horted to hell. On the front and cardboard doors were dozens of notices from the city that they were going to condemn the place. The cardboard was also horted. Boxes and boxes stacked on each other,

most rotting from the rain. The yard was full of garbage. Broken Christmas ornaments, shoes, rusted tools, old toys, et cetera. There was a letter in the mailbox notifying him that since the house was abandoned, mail wouldn't be delivered anymore. That night, I googled power of attorney

and how to use them. I went back the next day and showed my bid-bound dad the pictures on my phone. He vowed to beat shorties, but then asked me to help him more. I told him I would, but he would have to sign Power of Attorney over to me. All of it, financial and medical. If he didn't, then he could figure this stuff out by himself. He agreed, so I said about finding a lawyer who would drive to another state and do the paperwork in the nursing home. Bless that lawyer for being so good at his job, because all I did was tell him what I

know, and he put together a beautifully bulletproof power of attorney. It was full of stuff that I didn't even know that I would need. He also filed the paperwork to revoke Shorty's power of attorney, and now I was unstoppable. We're from a small rural town. It's the kind of creepy, landlock place that no matter how long you've been gone or how far away you've been, when you go back, you'll always hear someone you know. It's like playing 7 degrees of everybody all the time. It's suffocating, but it can also be helpful. The beginning of the end. I got to work the next morning.

I didn't know how scorched the earth would be when I finished, and I didn't want shorty or anyone else from his prolific in-bred family to find me, so I made sure nothing I did had my name on it. I opened a Google account for my dad and got a Google number. I opened a PO box for him in his town. I put in a mail forwarding notice. I pulled his credit reports. I took the power of attorney to my dad's small town bank, changed the address on his accounts, and got new account numbers. I requested copies of every transaction back to the day Shanty Wife had died about 13 months' worth. I had to go to the main branch two hours from my house to pick the records up. I sat in the lobby all afternoon going through the account. I cornered a service rep and I got a crash course in his debits and deposits.

This is when I figured out the extent of shorty staggering stupidity. My dad got about $5,000 a month in disability and social security every month. Twice a week, Shorty was going into a branch and withdrawing cash, all the cash for 13 months. And every time he did, as the power of attorney, he had to sign a form stating that he was acting on behalf of my dad, and that form was notarized by the bank. I went through every withdrawal and got the bank to confirm that every one of them was made by Shorty. Then I went to the house and got the bank to confirm that every one of them was made by shorty Then I went to the house and called a locksmith. I knew it was bad

But I had no idea what was waiting for me there. The locksmith got the first door open and the stench rolled out like a fog bank We both gagged two locks later. I was so embarrassed by what he had to see and smell I gave him a $60 tip. And, with shiny new keys in hand, I called the cops. I told them I was power of attorney for my dad, I was checking on his house, and there were three vehicles there that didn't belong to him. The cop asked me if I knew who they belonged to.

I said no, I just wanted them to towed. He told me to call a tow company and he would meet them there. They showed up with two records. The tow truck guy got out and asked me for a signature. I only signed my first name. As I was signing the tow truck driver asked, do you know Shorty? Running on pure hatred at this point, I surprised myself. Do you, I asked? He said he did, and he's an asshole. I responded, he might be. Hey, can you do me a favor? If you see him, will you tell him that OP is coming for him? His bravado evaporated.

He knew a crazy person when he saw one. They towed the trucks away. When everyone was gone, I opened the door in the car port to peek in. The sun was going down, and it was dark in the house. I heard something faint, and after some seconds, I realized that it was the roaches and rats doing roach and rat stuff. I could smell it all in my hair. I sat on the carport steps and watched the sun go down.

I was mad, just so effing cosmically livid that 72 hours was all it took to dissolve 3 decades and here I was stinking and listening to the rats and cleaning everyone else's garbage up. It was taking time away from my family, and for what? I had a coming to Jesus' moment with myself. I could either bow out now or double down, and the thing is, I'm tenacious to a fault. I had to be to survive, and this was a bone that I couldn't put down. The thought of Shordy's life being upended, his probably only source of income disappearing literally

overnight, and my dad having to hear secondhand from me that he's broken alone made me absolutely giddy. I desperately wanted them both to lose what they had left, so I decided I was going to triple-dog down. That night, I googled restraining orders. And it was surprisingly easy to get one. I went to the courthouse in my hometown, went to the clerk's office, and told her I had to get a restraining order. I filled out the form on a rickety little table while I was there. I wasn't prepared to see a judge that day, but she took the form and said, OK, I'll see if the judge is still here. Business notifications getting out of hand, buried under an avalanche of customer emails,

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That kind of scared me. She took me to the judges' chambers. And as I was waiting, I looked around and saw the judge had certificates of appreciation hanging up from various veteran's groups. Then I wiped my palms and thought, fish in an effing barrel. The judge asked me about my dad's tint in the Marines, and he asked about the Department of Defense Office logo on my sweater.

I'm a contractor. The judge read the form and granted the temporary order. I would have to go back for a permanent one where Shorty would be able to argue against it. Then I went home and Googled biohazard companies and elder abuse statutes in my state. I hired a biohazard company to shovel all the garbage out of the house for $7,000. I would have paid double. They found my dad's mummified dog under some pizza boxes in the master bedroom. They sent me pictures and salvaged some papers. Shorty was served during this time and a hearing was set.

I got to work collecting evidence and documenting everything. I made pictures and spreadsheets and timelines with cross references because of it. Now they had my full attention. In my spare time, I went to the nursing home and gave my dad 8x10 pictures of his dead dog from every angle. Before court, I went to the police station nearby and told him I wanted to report an elder abuse crime. A white collar detective came out and told me that it was a domestic matter, and that since

shorty had been power of attorney, everything he had done was legal. And this was the day I got to teach a small town detective about the fiduciary responsibilities of a power of attorney. Thanks, Google. I handed him a copy of the statute with the applicable sections highlighted. Then I handed him a thick folder with bank statements, pictures of the Horde House and dead dog, a copy of my dad's credit report that showed that he was tens and tens of thousands of dollars in debt, and a spreadsheet listing every cash withdrawal with a running total of the stolen amounts. The grand total was just over $130,000 in cash.

That's not even including the lost value of the house or the credit cards that Shorty opened and used. I told him he could keep that folder since it wasn't the only copy I had. Then, I told him that I would wait for since it wasn't the only copy I had. Then I told him that I would wait for a case number and I sat down. The cop came back about 30 minutes later, apologized, said I had a case and gave me a case number. Then I went to the courthouse, and now the end part. There were other people at the courthouse and I had to wait my turn.

And while I was waiting, that stupid moron slept himself into the courtroom and he was obviously visibly dirty. Even his shoes were untied and that made me giggle. Then it was our turn and Shorty and I stood up. The same judges before asked me some questions, asked Shorty some questions and then asked me if I had any proof. I had a very thick folder of proof. The judge asked me if I'd gone to the cops. Well, yes, sir, I have. He asked, do you have a case number? As a matter of fact, I do. The judge granted the restraining order permanently and for life, but not before the judge halted proceedings and told surey that he really

needed a lawyer. Someone told me the courthouse would have a copy of my dad's discharge papers, so while I was there I got a copy of those because why not? I also use my power of attorney to take Shanty wife off the deed of the house. That way, if my dad died and went into probade, Shorty had no immediate claim. I also went and got copies of my dad's birth certificate and Shannie Wife's death certificates. Technically, Stepchildren can't request that info, but the clerk who waited on me recognized my dad's name. And she told me that she lost

her virginity to my uncle Allen in the 60s and she went to my grandparents funeral. So, I got all the forms I wanted. As a quick aside, I've gotta stop this story and say that as someone who grew up in a town very similar to the town that OP is describing here, yes, that is exactly how towns like these operate. So I know some people will think, oh, so OP just walked into a place and got official documents that he's not allowed to get.

I call BS. Well, I don't, because things like this absolutely happen in small towns. Shanty wife left my dad $50,000 in life insurance. About $35,000 of that was left, since Shordy was spending my dad's money and not his mom's. So, I opened a new bank account and transferred over every penny. Then I set up reoccurring transfers for the monthly deposits. At any given time, there was no more than a hundred bucks in my dad's old account.

I also found a house flipper that paid me enough for the house to pay off my dad's mortgage. That's the thing about probate, and there's nothing to fight over if there's nothing there. And I made sure that there was effing nothing there. My dad would later die thinking he's still owned a house. Speaking of which, this is about the time that I found my dad's life insurance policies. They were up to date, and Shanty wife was the beneficiary. My power of attorney didn't allow me to change beneficiaries, but it did allow me to assign them, and since Shanty wife was dead, there was technically no beneficiary.

This is where those death certificates came in handy. I assigned my sister in me as beneficiaries. Irrevocable too, which means that the only way to change that is for my dad, me, and my sister to agree to it. I kept my dad in the dark about all of this. The only things he ever really knew about was the restraining order and his dead dog. I found out he had purchased the grave site next to Shaniwife and he wanted to be buried next to her.

That was just never going to f-ing happen. I googled national cemeteries and I found out he qualified to be in once since he was a disabled Vietnam era veteran, so I arranged for that instead. And the cherries on top. My dad died in June of this year, and I was there. He's buried in a national cemetery far away where no one will ever go visit him. The only obituary I ran was on the funeral home's website, and even then only for insurance purposes.

I've wrote it as vague as possible. There was no service, and his earn was purple. The color he hated most. I got a call in August from the prosecutor's office in my hometown. The lady on the phone was married to my first cousin, because of course she is. That's how it effing works in that town.

Shorty was arrested just after midnight on July 1st. He was still in jail, and he'd been arraigned on felony elder abuse charges. He's facing 10 years in federal pound me in the f*** prison. She told me not to expect the trial anytime soon, as it can take up to 3 years for that to happen. I told her that was awesome since the uncertainty would hopefully haunt him, and after all that, he still has prison to look forward to.

Shorty lost his kids, and he also lost his dad. I'm spending his own mother's cancer money. He lost his free house and free trucks. He has no credit, and he'll never be able to get any sort of decent job, and will, hopefully for a long time, not be able to find a decent place to live. And I sleep like an f-ing baby. Opie, whenever I see these really, really long story posts, at the beginning of them, I always

think to myself, hmm, I wonder if reading all this is going to be worth it. And this story, yeah, it was worth it, Opie. You systematically stole every single penny that your father and your, I guess, stepbrother owned legally, completely legally. So you took the house, you took the cars, the money, the weekly deposits, the health insurance, not the health insurance, the life insurance, and then at the end of the story, you throw more than likely shorty in jail. Man OP, that was a masterclass in Pro Revenge. like me.