Second, that I altered it.
Third, that the amended will submitted today is authentic.”
I paused.
“All three claims are false.”
I began with a certified letter from Dad’s neurologist, Dr.
Helen Marlow.
It confirmed that on the day Dad signed the codicil, he had full testamentary capacity.
Dr.
Marlow had also recorded a video evaluation.
The courtroom monitor flickered.
Dad appeared on the screen wearing the blue cardigan I had bought him.
He looked thin, but his eyes were clear.
Dr.
Marlow asked his name, the date, the value of his assets, and the purpose of the codicil.
Dad answered every question.
Then he looked into the camera.
“I love both my children,” he said.
“But Simon is in serious financial trouble, and Diane has repeatedly taken money from our joint accounts to rescue him.
Rebecca is the only person who has asked what I want instead of what she can have.”
My mother made a small choking sound.
Dad continued.
“I am placing the investment accounts under Rebecca’s management because she understands the law, keeps accurate records, and cannot be bullied.
If anyone claims she forced me to do this, they are lying.”
The video ended.
Silence filled the courtroom.
I wanted to look at my mother.
Instead, I looked at the evidence.
Next, I called Dad’s estate attorney, Samuel Ortega.
Mr.
Ortega entered carrying a locked document case.
He testified that Dad had come to his office alone, discussed every provision, and deposited the original codicil with him three days after signing it.
Then he opened the case.
Inside was the original document—sealed, dated, witnessed, and notarized.
Mr.
Pritchard asked for a recess.
Judge Avery denied it.
Mr.
Ortega testified that I had not attended the meeting, had not drafted the codicil, and had not pressured Dad.
He also testified that Dad had warned him Diane and Simon might attempt to replace the document.
Simon’s knee started bouncing beneath the table.
My mother twisted her wedding ring.
When Mr.
Ortega stepped down, I placed the amended will in a clear evidence sleeve.
“The defendants claim this document was signed on March 14 in my father’s home office,” I said.
Mr.
Pritchard stood.
“Your Honor, she cannot authenticate our document.”
“I am not authenticating it,” I replied.
“I am demonstrating that it is fraudulent.”
The gallery went still.
I displayed the document metadata.
“The file was created on June 2, seventy-nine days after my father died.”
Simon’s face turned white.
“The file was created on a laptop registered to Simon Jameson.
It was revised fourteen times.
