{"id":132597,"date":"2026-10-27T23:58:07","date_gmt":"2026-10-27T23:58:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/?p=132597"},"modified":"2026-10-27T23:58:07","modified_gmt":"2026-10-27T23:58:07","slug":"my-mother-had-been-dead-for-four-years-when-social-security-revealed-that-91536-had-been-deposited-into-my-brothers-account-then-a-federal-investigator-showed-me-the-second-signatur-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/?p=132597","title":{"rendered":"My Mother Had Been Dead for Four Years When Social Security Revealed That $91,536 Had Been Deposited Into My Brother\u2019s Account\u2014Then a Federal Investigator Showed Me the Second Signature on the Forged Medical Form"},"content":{"rendered":"
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The letter arrived on a rainy Tuesday morning, four years after we buried our mother. I almost threw it away with the grocery advertisements until I noticed the words \u201cSocial Security Administration\u201d printed across the envelope.<\/p>\n

I opened it standing beside the kitchen counter, expecting an ordinary notice about her final benefits or an administrative matter that had somehow taken years to resolve.<\/p>\n

Instead, I read a sentence that made my hands go cold.<\/p>\n

According to the letter, my mother\u2019s monthly benefit of $1,907 had continued to be deposited into an active bank account for forty-eight months after her death.<\/p>\n

The total was $91,536.<\/p>\n

I read the amount again, then checked the recipient information.<\/p>\n

The account belonged to my older brother, Daniel.<\/p>\n

For several minutes, I couldn’t move. My mother had died after a long illness, and I had spent her final months visiting her, arranging appointments, helping with her medication, and sitting beside her bed when she could no longer carry on a conversation. Daniel had barely appeared during those final two years. He always had an excuse: work, travel, financial problems, or some other obligation that apparently mattered more than seeing his own mother.<\/p>\n

Yet somehow, he had been receiving her benefits every month.<\/p>\n

The letter explained that the agency had received paperwork indicating that our mother was still alive but medically incapable of managing her affairs. A physician’s statement had reportedly supported that claim.<\/p>\n

The document appeared to bear a signature from a doctor who had treated her.<\/p>\n

But my mother had been cremated four years earlier.<\/p>\n

I called the number printed on the letter and spoke to a representative who explained that the matter required investigation. She would not disclose confidential account details beyond what was contained in the notice, but she advised me to submit proof of my mother’s death and report any suspected fraud.<\/p>\n

That afternoon, I sent copies of her death certificate and the letter to the agency.<\/p>\n

Then I called Daniel.<\/p>\n

He didn’t answer.<\/p>\n

I tried again that evening, but his voicemail picked up. I left a message asking him to call me immediately.<\/p>\n

He finally returned my call the following morning.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he asked, sounding irritated.<\/p>\n

\u201cI received a letter about Mom’s Social Security benefits.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a brief silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey’ve been going into your account for four years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another pause followed, longer this time.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I gripped the phone. \u201cWhat do you mean, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean I know about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach twisted.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaniel, Mom has been dead for four years. Why have you been collecting her benefits?\u201d<\/p>\n

He sighed as though I were inconveniencing him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI took care of her before she died. I was entitled to something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou weren’t even there during the last two years!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI had my reasons.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn’t visit her on her birthday. You didn’t come when she was hospitalized. You didn’t even answer when I called you the night the doctors said she might not make it through the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said I had my reasons.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice had grown sharp, and I could hear a television playing in the background.<\/p>\n

I remembered our mother asking about him during her final weeks. She had never accused him of abandoning her. Even when she was disappointed, she defended him, insisting that he was busy and would come when he could.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, she would ask me to call him because she wanted to hear his voice.<\/p>\n

I had always done it.<\/p>\n

Now I wondered whether he had known about her death and still chosen to let her benefits continue.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you submit a medical form claiming she was alive?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Daniel laughed bitterly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou always have to make everything sound criminal. I was the one who dealt with the paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you forge a doctor’s signature?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t start threatening me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m asking you a question.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I’m telling you that I earned that money. I was the one who took care of her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he hung up.<\/p>\n

I stood in my kitchen staring at the phone.<\/p>\n

I had expected anger, denial, or perhaps an explanation that would make the whole situation less horrifying. I hadn’t expected him to admit that he knew about the payments while behaving as though the money belonged to him.<\/p>\n

I filed a formal fraud report with the Social Security Administration’s Office of the Inspector General. I provided the letter, our mother’s death certificate, and a written account of my conversation with Daniel. I included only what I knew firsthand and made it clear that the agency would need to establish what had happened.<\/p>\n

For several weeks, I heard nothing.<\/p>\n

I tried to continue with my life, but the matter followed me everywhere. When I paid my bills, I thought about the money. When I visited our mother’s grave, I thought about the paperwork that had supposedly kept her alive in a government database long after we had said goodbye.<\/p>\n

The worst part wasn’t the amount.<\/p>\n

It was the realization that someone had used the memory of my mother to justify taking money in her name.<\/p>\n

Then Thanksgiving arrived.<\/p>\n

Daniel came to my house wearing a navy sweater and carrying a bottle of wine. He greeted everyone warmly, complimented the smell of the turkey, and sat at the dining table as if nothing had happened.<\/p>\n

He even asked whether I had made our mother’s old apple pie recipe.<\/p>\n

I looked at him across the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou remember that recipe?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d he said, reaching for the potatoes. \u201cMom made it every Thanksgiving.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt something tighten in my chest.<\/p>\n

He remembered the pie. He remembered the food, the holidays, and the traditions. Yet he had missed the years when she needed someone to sit beside her, hold her hand, and tell her that she wasn’t alone.<\/p>\n

I waited until the others had moved into the living room before confronting him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you really think I would let this go?\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel set down his glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou’ve been receiving Mom’s benefits for four years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I’ve already told you why.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you’ve given me an excuse. That’s different.\u201d<\/p>\n

He leaned back in his chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what? I did more for that family than anyone wants to admit. I had my own problems, and I made decisions. Mom isn’t coming back. Nobody was harmed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody was harmed?\u201d I repeated. \u201cThe government paid money based on records that may have been false. And you used her identity after she died.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep your voice down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you forge the medical statement?\u201d<\/p>\n

His expression hardened.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should be grateful I didn’t ask you for anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou haven’t asked me for anything because you’ve been taking money in Mom’s name.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time, he looked genuinely uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

He stood up, pushed his chair beneath the table, and walked toward the living room.<\/p>\n

I didn’t follow him.<\/p>\n

The next morning, he left without saying goodbye.<\/p>\n

I thought that would be the end of our confrontation. Instead, three days later, a man from the federal government called to arrange an interview.<\/p>\n

He identified himself as an investigator assigned to the case. He asked me to bring any correspondence I had received and said he wanted to clarify several details about the medical documentation.<\/p>\n

When he arrived, he carried a dark folder and a small notebook. He was professional and calm, but the seriousness in his expression made my stomach tighten.<\/p>\n

We sat at the kitchen table where Daniel had eaten Thanksgiving dinner.<\/p>\n

The investigator reviewed the documents I had provided, then asked about our mother’s final months. I explained her medical condition, the date of her death, and the fact that I had handled most of her appointments.<\/p>\n

He listened carefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid your brother have access to her medical records?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot that I know of. He could have requested information while she was alive, but I handled most of her care.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he have a close relationship with her physician?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I don’t remember him ever speaking to her doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n

The investigator made a note.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid anyone else in your family assist with the paperwork?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot with her medical care. I handled the forms, appointments, and arrangements after she died.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked down at the folder.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere is something else we need to discuss.\u201d<\/p>\n

My hands went cold.<\/p>\n

He explained that the medical statement submitted to support the continued payments appeared to contain more than one signature. The primary signature was under review, along with the circumstances in which the form had been prepared and submitted.<\/p>\n

Then he turned the folder toward me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour brother wasn’t the only person whose name appears on the forged paperwork,\u201d he said. \u201cSomeone else co-signed the medical form. Someone who was present at your mother’s funeral.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at the page.<\/p>\n

Below the medical certification was a second signature, accompanied by a statement confirming that the information was accurate to the signer’s knowledge.<\/p>\n

I knew the handwriting.<\/p>\n

I had seen it on birthday cards, holiday envelopes, and notes left on my doorstep. I recognized the way the capital letters leaned slightly to the right and how the final letters of the surname stretched into a long, narrow line.<\/p>\n

My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n

The name belonged to Aunt Patricia, our mother’s younger sister.<\/p>\n

She had stood beside me at the funeral. She had held my arm while we watched the casket being lowered and whispered that our mother was finally at peace. She had helped me sort through the house afterward, bringing containers for the kitchen and insisting that I keep our mother’s favorite photographs.<\/p>\n

For years, I had thought of Patricia as the person who understood my grief best.<\/p>\n

Now her signature sat in front of me on a document connected to payments made after our mother had died.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you certain?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe’re examining the original records and the circumstances surrounding the submission,\u201d the investigator replied. \u201cI can’t tell you that this signature proves criminal involvement by itself. We need to establish who signed the document, what they knew, and whether the information was knowingly false.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would my aunt do this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is one of the questions we’re trying to answer.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked again at the signature.<\/p>\n

I remembered Patricia telling me that Daniel had been overwhelmed after our mother’s death. She had said he was grieving in his own way and that I should stop expecting him to express sadness as I did.<\/p>\n

She had defended him when I complained about his absence. She had told me not to create a family conflict over money and had once suggested that I should stop asking whether he had helped with the funeral expenses.<\/p>\n

At the time, I thought she was trying to keep the family together.<\/p>\n

Now those conversations seemed different.<\/p>\n

The investigator asked whether I had ever discussed Social Security paperwork with Patricia.<\/p>\n

I said no.<\/p>\n

He explained that he couldn’t share every detail of the investigation, but he wanted me to understand that the agency was examining the roles of everyone whose name appeared in the documentation. He advised me not to confront anyone in a way that might interfere with the investigation and asked me to preserve all relevant messages and records.<\/p>\n

After he left, I remained at the table for nearly an hour.<\/p>\n

I called Patricia that evening.<\/p>\n

I wanted to ask her directly, but I remembered the investigator’s warning. Instead, I asked whether she had received any recent correspondence concerning our mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would I?\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m trying to sort out some old family paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother has been gone for four years. What is there left to sort out?\u201d<\/p>\n

I paused.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you ever sign a medical form for Daniel after Mom died?\u201d<\/p>\n

The silence was immediate.<\/p>\n

Then Patricia said, \u201cWhere did you hear that?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was not an answer.<\/p>\n

My heart began pounding.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you sign one?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don’t know what you’re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour name is on a document submitted to Social Security.\u201d<\/p>\n

She inhaled sharply.<\/p>\n

\u201cListen to me. You need to be very careful about accusing people. You don’t understand everything that happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen explain it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can’t discuss this over the phone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.\u201d<\/p>\n

She ended the call.<\/p>\n

I sat motionless, listening to the dial tone.<\/p>\n

Her response did not prove that she had knowingly participated in fraud. There could have been details I didn’t understand, documents she had signed for another purpose, or circumstances the investigator had yet to uncover.<\/p>\n

But her words had changed something.<\/p>\n

For the first time, I wondered whether the secret was bigger than Daniel’s greed.<\/p>\n

The investigator contacted me again several weeks later. He said the inquiry had uncovered evidence that the medical form had been submitted as part of a process intended to keep the benefits flowing. The agency was working to establish how the form had been prepared, who had signed it, and who had received or controlled the payments.<\/p>\n

He could not discuss every finding, but he confirmed that Patricia had been interviewed.<\/p>\n

I asked whether she had admitted signing the document.<\/p>\n

He explained that he couldn’t share the details of her interview, but he advised me to preserve any further contact from family members and avoid making assumptions about what the evidence established.<\/p>\n

That night, I found myself remembering the funeral.<\/p>\n

Patricia had arrived early and helped me greet relatives. She had stood beside me when the minister spoke about our mother’s kindness. After the service, she had accompanied me to the cemetery and cried into a tissue while I placed a white rose near the grave.<\/p>\n

At the time, I had been grateful that she was there.<\/p>\n

Now I wondered whether she had been carrying a secret even as she comforted me.<\/p>\n

The thought made me feel physically ill.<\/p>\n

A few days later, Patricia appeared at my front door.<\/p>\n

She looked exhausted. Her eyes were swollen, and she held her purse tightly against her chest.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we talk?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

I let her inside but didn’t offer coffee or tea. We sat in the living room, surrounded by photographs of our family. One showed my mother and Patricia as young women, laughing on a beach. Another showed Daniel and me as children, standing on either side of our mother in front of our old house.<\/p>\n

Patricia looked at the photographs for a long time.<\/p>\n

\u201cI never wanted you to find out this way,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

I felt a chill move through me.<\/p>\n

\u201cFind out what?\u201d<\/p>\n

She clasped her hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaniel came to me after your mother died. He said he was struggling financially and that he had spent a lot of time caring for her before you took over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat isn’t true.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew he hadn’t visited her.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew he wasn’t there as much as he should have been. He told me there were things you didn’t know about, things he had done for her privately.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you believed him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to believe him. He was my nephew, and he was grieving. He told me the payments were part of an arrangement your mother had approved before she died.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut she was dead. How could the arrangement justify claiming she was alive?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patricia began to cry.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe told me she had authorized him to handle everything. He said the form was just to keep the account active while he sorted out the paperwork. He showed me a document and said the doctor knew about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you read what you signed?\u201d<\/p>\n

She pressed her hands against her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cI signed a statement confirming that I believed the information was accurate. I should have asked more questions. I should have checked. I didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n

I waited for her to explain why.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said if the benefits stopped immediately, there would be problems with bills and expenses he had covered for her. He made it sound as though the money was owed to him. He said the family would eventually sort it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he tell you the money was going into his personal account?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded faintly.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you receive any of it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said quickly. \u201cI never received a dollar. I swear to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wanted to believe her. I also wanted to shake her and ask how she could have signed something so serious without verifying what she was supporting.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou stood beside me at Mom’s funeral,\u201d I whispered. \u201cYou watched me say goodbye to her. Then you helped someone submit paperwork that made it appear she was still alive.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patricia’s face crumpled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou let me believe you were helping me grieve while you were helping Daniel keep this secret.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was ashamed. At first, I thought he was telling the truth. Then I became afraid that if I admitted I had signed the document, I would destroy the family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn’t protect the family. You protected the lie.\u201d<\/p>\n

She lowered her head.<\/p>\n

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n

Then Patricia reached into her purse and took out a folded sheet of paper.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wrote down everything I remember,\u201d she said. \u201cThe date Daniel came to me, what he told me, and the documents he showed me. I’ve given a copy to the investigator. I wanted you to know that I’m cooperating now.\u201d<\/p>\n

I accepted the paper but didn’t unfold it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you telling me this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you deserve the truth. And because I can’t keep pretending that what happened was just a misunderstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her admission did not make the hurt disappear. It didn’t erase the signature or restore the trust I had placed in her. But it was the first time anyone in the family had acknowledged the seriousness of what had happened without trying to blame me for asking questions.<\/p>\n

I told Patricia that I needed time and that I would not discuss the investigation beyond what the authorities allowed.<\/p>\n

She nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before she left, she stopped at the front door.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother would never have wanted this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cShe wouldn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n

After Patricia left, I called the investigator and told him about our conversation. He instructed me to preserve the written account and forward it through the appropriate channel. I did exactly that.<\/p>\n

The investigation continued for several months. Authorities reviewed the benefit records, bank transactions, medical documentation, and statements from the people involved. They worked to determine what Daniel had done, whether Patricia had knowingly participated, and whether any other person had helped prepare or submit the paperwork.<\/p>\n

I learned to be patient with the process. A suspicious signature was not the same as a proven crime, and an admission of poor judgment was not necessarily proof of every allegation. The investigators had to establish what had happened with evidence, not simply with my anger or heartbreak.<\/p>\n

Eventually, Daniel contacted me.<\/p>\n

His first message was a demand that I withdraw my report.<\/p>\n

His second accused Patricia of betraying him.<\/p>\n

His third said that if I had any love left for our mother, I would stop making the situation worse.<\/p>\n

I read all three messages without responding.<\/p>\n

Then I saved them and sent copies to the investigator.<\/p>\n

I no longer felt responsible for protecting Daniel from the consequences of his decisions.<\/p>\n

Months later, I received confirmation that the agency had taken further action concerning the payments and was pursuing the matter through the appropriate legal channels. I was not given every detail, and I did not pretend to know the final outcome before the process was complete.<\/p>\n

What I did know was that the payments had not been legitimate simply because Daniel believed he deserved them. Whatever care he might have provided before our mother’s death, it did not give him the right to misrepresent her status or collect benefits in her name after she died.<\/p>\n

The amount\u2014$91,536\u2014was staggering.<\/p>\n

But the damage to our family could not be calculated on a bank statement.<\/p>\n

Daniel and I stopped speaking except when necessary. Patricia and I exchanged a few messages, but I told her that rebuilding our relationship would require more than an apology. I needed time to understand whether I could trust her again.<\/p>\n

She did not argue.<\/p>\n

I began visiting our mother’s grave on my own. I brought flowers and sometimes talked aloud about the things I wished I could tell her. I told her about the investigation, about the way the family had fractured, and about the strange relief I felt when I finally stopped trying to pretend that everything was fine.<\/p>\n

One afternoon, I brought a small bouquet of white roses and sat on the bench nearby.<\/p>\n

I thought about the final months of her life. She had never been wealthy, but she had always been careful with money. She saved grocery coupons, reused gift bags, and kept envelopes of receipts in a drawer because she wanted to understand where every dollar went.<\/p>\n

She had taught me that honesty mattered more than appearances.<\/p>\n

I wondered what she would have said if she had known that her own son might use her name to collect money after she died\u2014and that her sister might have signed a document without asking enough questions.<\/p>\n

I could not know her exact response.<\/p>\n

But I knew what she had taught me through the way she lived.<\/p>\n

A family is not protected by hiding its wrongdoing. It is protected when its members are willing to tell the truth, even when the truth is painful.<\/p>\n

I had once believed that loyalty meant keeping family matters private. I thought that reporting Daniel would make me disloyal, that refusing to defend Patricia would make me unforgiving.<\/p>\n

Now I understood that loyalty without honesty can become another way of enabling harm.<\/p>\n

My mother had been gone for four years when the letter arrived. I could not change the fact that the money had continued to flow, and I could not erase the choices my relatives had made.<\/p>\n

But I could refuse to participate in the deception.<\/p>\n

I could cooperate with the investigation, preserve the evidence, and allow the authorities to determine responsibility.<\/p>\n

And I could remember my mother as the person she had actually been\u2014not as a name on a form, not as an account number, and certainly not as an excuse for someone else to claim money that did not belong to them.<\/p>\n

The most painful revelation was not that Daniel had allegedly taken $91,536.<\/p>\n

It was that he had relied on the silence of people who loved him, and that one of those people had stood beside me at our mother’s funeral while carrying a secret she was afraid to reveal.<\/p>\n

I still don’t know whether I will ever fully trust my aunt again. I don’t know what my relationship with my brother will look like years from now.<\/p>\n

But I know this: grief should never be used as a cover for dishonesty, and family loyalty should never require someone to close their eyes to wrongdoing.<\/p>\n

My mother deserved to be remembered with dignity.<\/p>\n

The truth was the least I could give her.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The letter arrived on a rainy Tuesday morning, four years after we buried our mother. I almost threw it away with the grocery advertisements until I noticed the words \u201cSocial … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":132593,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-132597","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-best-best-story"],"brizy_media":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/132597","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=132597"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/132597\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":132598,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/132597\/revisions\/132598"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/132593"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=132597"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=132597"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=132597"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}