Dear Pattipanda: I am so sorry you have to deal with this. I also don't know what to say, and as ya'll know, that's very unusual, for me. However, having said that, I will share a little experience I've had similar, to what you describe. In hard economic times, desperate people or people with nothing to lose, cause they lost it all, will do desperate things. You have to forgive her. Otherwise it will eat you alive. Send a note to jail, tell her you love and forgive her, but have to "detach in love" for your own sake. She has lots of chums where she is now, probably more than she wants.
I was called upon by a lady, once, dying of cancer. She was being cared for prior to my involvement by her husband who also had cancer, and he died. I helped her through that time, as best I could. Then her, wanted by three counties, meth addicted (the absolute worst thing on the planet, turns people into wild animals, do not turn your back on a meth addict) son, somehow qualified for early release as his mother was "dying of cancer, and he wanted to go be by her side" B.S. showed up. I split. So weeks later, back in Canada, when I split, I really split, ie 3000 miles, I got a phone call fro her. She wanted me back. I said "what about ______ (son)? She assured me he was out of the picture. She explained he was living elsewhere and called before coming, and since he did, I could leave before he arrived and stay away until he left, etc. etc. etc. Well, trusting, naive, me. Off I went. Rescue my friend. I don't think I need say more. I was her "caregiver", there were guns and drugs in the house, she said guns, for her own protection, drugs as she was end stage cancer, powerful drugs. Plus all kinds of saleables. Her money went missing. I hid her medicine. I was accosted by Mr. Charming meth addict who was about to beat me to death, until I handed over her drugs. I did not hand them over, I said Give me three minutes, I went in, grabbed as much of my stuff as I could, put the drugs in the regular place, on her bed, hopped in my truck, grabbed my big Rotty, Grissly Bear of a dog, and split. Fallout: three weeks later I had a visit from an investigator for adult protection. She wanted to know where the drugs and money went. It was sooooo, stressful. Also, the son, would circle the small town we lived in looking for me, he blamed me for everything, and I had to keep moving. I would have done my major split routine, but I had committed to another family, to help them. I should have split, but then, that would look suspicious too, so I hung in. It was a terrible thing to go through, and being a small town, and me somewhat of an outsider, "where there's smoke there's fire" attitude due to boredom in small town life. Patti, it was simply awful. I somehow separated myself, from the incident, like Business vs. Personal, that being business. That's how I got through. How's that for not having much to say?