The trial of Robert Prescott, also known as Richard Harmon, was the biggest case Rhode Island had seen in decades.
Reporters filled the courthouse steps every morning. It was on the national news. Dead Man Comes Back to Kill Brother. The tabloids loved it.
I sat in the second row every single day. In uniform. I’d been granted extended leave.
The evidence was overwhelming. The blue ledger. The financial records Margaret had spent seven months tracing. The forged trust documents. The pharmacy records under Dr. Reeves’s name.
Dr. Reeves testified for two days. His hands shook the entire time.
Arthur testified about the basement in Woonsocket. About how Robert had sat on a folding chair across from him and asked, over and over, who else knew.
And then my mother took the stand.
She’d agreed to testify in exchange for a reduced sentence on the fraud charges. I didn’t know what she would say. I hadn’t spoken to her since the prison visit.
She sat in the witness chair in a plain gray dress. No pearls. She looked at the jury. Then she looked at me.
“He came to me fifteen years ago,” she said. Her voice was steady for the first time in months. “At a charity gala. He said his name was Richard Harmon. He said he’d been watching our company. He said Gregory was weak. That he didn’t appreciate what he had. That I deserved more.”
She swallowed.
“He told me how to do it. The vendors. The shell companies. Who to talk to. He introduced Christopher to me. He made it seem so easy.”
The prosecutor asked her if she’d known Richard Harmon was really her husband’s brother.
“No,” my mother said. “I never knew. I never knew Gregory even had a brother. Gregory never once spoke his name. I think he thought Robert was dead, and it hurt too much.”
The prosecutor asked her if she’d known Robert intended to kill her husband.
My mother looked straight at me.
“I didn’t know he was going to kill him,” she said. “I swear to God I didn’t know. I was a thief. I was a selfish, terrible wife. But I didn’t know.”
Then she started to cry.
“I’m sorry, Alyssa,” she said, right there on the witness stand. “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
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