Judge Eleanor Carter, chair of the gala committee and one of those women whose authority did not need volume because it had decades behind it, requested a confidential briefing. Adrien went. So did a forensic accounting partner and the foundation’s external ethics lawyer. They did not invite me at first, which was correct. Institutions trust documents more easily when the injured party is not in the room looking like injury. Later, once the materials had been reviewed and a formal internal hold placed on Vanessa’s award pending urgent assessment, Judge Carter asked to meet me personally.
We met in a conference room overlooking downtown San Diego on a hot afternoon in late May. She was in her sixties, silver bob, immaculate posture, eyes like polished steel. She did not waste time on sympathy.
“Ms. Riley,” she said, once we were seated, “I have reviewed enough of the record to understand that if even half of it is authenticated, your stepmother should not be accepting an ethics-adjacent honor from any institution in the state.”
“That’s my view as well.”
Her mouth flickered, almost smiling.
“What exactly do you want?” she asked.