Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

Among the materials were draft assessments describing me as disoriented, impulsive, and incapable of managing finances.

Several had creation dates before the alleged appointments they purported to summarize.

One noted that I was likely to deny treatment because of my condition.

It seemed designed to make any objection I raised look like further evidence against me.

When Priya explained that, I went very still.

“He wrote the answer before I got to speak.”

“Yes,” she said.

“But those contradictions are now part of the evidence.”