The notary line named Judy’s daughter as the witness. I knew her. She lived four blocks away and had never been inside our house without me. I called the county recorder’s office and asked for the filing. The clerk read me the date, the legal description, and then paused. There was a second document filed the same day. It transferred a small interest in our property to someone whose name I didn’t recognize. I asked who had submitted both documents. The clerk said they had been delivered together in a folder by a woman who identified herself as my husband’s sister.
I confronted my husband that night. He didn’t ask how I found out. He just sat at the table and said Judy was afraid she’d lose her house because she couldn’t keep up with the taxes, and he had promised her a place to live. I reminded him that her daughter lived four blocks away. He said, “She doesn’t want her mother in her house.” Then I asked why our house was on the quitclaim deed. He finally admitted he’d been planning to sell our house, pay off Judy’s taxes, and use the remaining money to buy a smaller place for us. He had already spoken to a realtor. The second document, he said, was supposed to make the transaction “easier.”
The next morning I went to the recorder’s office myself. The clerk told me something my husband hadn’t expected me to discover. The deed wasn’t valid because my signature had been notarized by someone who wasn’t present when I signed it. I had never met that notary. I asked for a copy of the notarization record, and there it was — my name, a date, and a signature claiming I had appeared in person. I looked at the clerk and said, “I wasn’t there.” She closed the folder and told me quietly, “Then you need to speak to an attorney before your husband tries to file anything else.”
