"That bad?"
She sighed.
"Everybody wants accountability until it costs money."
I nodded.
"That's usually how it works."
She looked toward the stack of reports on her kitchen table.
Then smiled faintly.
"But at least the numbers are real this time."
The criminal financial investigation also advanced.
Investigators had gathered enough evidence for prosecutors to bring allegations concerning certain transactions and incidents to court.
The proceedings involved more than Patricia.
The contractor's owner and other individuals faced scrutiny based on their respective roles and the evidence supporting each allegation.
No one was automatically responsible for another person's actions merely because they were related or worked together.
The authorities had to establish what each person knew and did.
In Patricia's case, the evidence included communications about emergency remediation, financial relationships, disputed approvals, and the recorded events at my pool.
Certain messages suggested she had encouraged the creation of conditions that would justify cleanup work.
Others concerned pressure on homeowners to pay rapidly.
And the financial trail showed payments moving among the contractor and businesses connected to people in her circle.
Patricia continued disputing parts of the allegations.
Her attorneys challenged the interpretation of communications and argued that legitimate services had been mixed with misunderstood administrative practices.
The court process took time.
There were hearings.
Motions.
Document reviews.
Negotiations.
And moments when I wondered whether the entire case would drag on for years.
But the evidence did not disappear merely because the process was slow.
Several involved parties eventually entered negotiated resolutions or agreements addressing their own conduct.
Some admitted improper billing practices.
Others agreed to restitution and cooperation obligations.
Patricia's wider case proceeded through its own legal process, where responsibility for specific acts was determined rather than assumed.
I attended only the proceedings relevant to my role as a witness or affected homeowner.
I didn't need to be present at every hearing.
My life still existed outside Patricia Holloway.
And I was determined not to allow her actions to define every year that followed.
The most emotional moment came during a hearing where several affected homeowners were permitted to describe the consequences of the misconduct established in the proceedings.
Eleanor asked me to accompany her.
We arrived early.
She wore a simple navy-blue dress and carried a small leather handbag that had belonged to her mother.
Her hands trembled as we entered the courthouse.
I looked toward her.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
"Just nervous."
"You've spoken at board meetings with a hundred angry homeowners."
She smiled weakly.
"That was different."
I nodded.
"Fair."
We sat beside one another until her turn came.
When Eleanor stood, I saw the same woman who had once whispered warnings in a parking lot.
But there was something different in her posture now.
She was still frightened.
She simply wasn't allowing fear to make every decision.
She approached the designated place to speak.
Then took out a folded paper.
For several seconds, she stared at it.
Finally, she looked up.
"My husband and I bought our house thirty-one years ago."
Her voice shook.
She paused.
Then continued.
"We were both teachers. We saved for years. We wanted a place where our children could grow up safely."