The program was voluntary.
Nobody was treated like a child because of their age.
Nobody had to surrender independence to receive support.
And everyone was reminded of something I'd learned the hard way.
A person can be intelligent, experienced, and careful—and still be deceived by someone who has spent months earning their trust.
Mrs. Wilson eventually agreed to speak at one of the workshops.
I was nervous for her.
She'd suffered enough.
I didn't want her to feel exposed.
But she insisted.
“If telling my story helps one person recognize what happened to me, I want to do it.”
On the day of the event, she stood before a small group of residents.
Her hands trembled slightly around the microphone.
Then she began.
“My name is Margaret Wilson. I'm eighty-one years old. And last year, I fell in love with a young man who told me everything I wanted to hear.”
