The final revision replaced ‘equal shares’ with ‘sole and unrestricted ownership to Diane Jameson and Simon Jameson.’”
Mr.
Pritchard turned toward Simon.
“You told me this was found in a safe.”
Simon said nothing.
I continued.
“The notary stamp belongs to Evelyn Price.
Mrs.
Price died eleven months before the date shown on this document.”
A whisper moved through the courtroom.
Judge Avery leaned forward.
“And the signature?”
“It was copied from a vehicle title my father signed in 2018.
Microscopic examination shows toner beneath the pen marks.
The signature was scanned, printed, and traced.”
Diane shot to her feet.
“This is ridiculous!”
The bailiff moved forward.
“Sit down,” Judge Avery ordered.
She sat.
For the first time in my life, my mother looked small.
But the forged will was only the beginning.
I opened the second section of my folder.
“During the nine months after my father’s death, the defendants transferred $1.86 million from estate-controlled accounts into three shell companies.”
A chart appeared on the courtroom monitor.
Jameson Property Solutions.
Northline Family Consulting.
DJS Legacy Holdings.
The companies had no employees and no offices.
They paid Simon’s credit cards, Diane’s country club fees, a luxury SUV, a condo deposit, and more than two hundred thousand dollars to an online sports betting platform.
Simon’s attorney slowly sat down.
“The defendants labeled these transfers as administrative expenses,” I said.
“But no services were provided.
The invoices were generated from the same printer used to create the amended will.”
Judge Avery turned to Mr.
Pritchard.
“Were you aware of these transfers?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Were you aware the will was created after the decedent’s death?”
“No, Your Honor.”
Mr.
Pritchard looked at my family with open disgust.
The judge called a ten-minute recess.
The moment he left the bench, Diane rushed toward me.
“You ungrateful little snake,” she whispered.
“After everything I did for you.”
The bailiff stepped between us.
“You mean after everything you took from me,” I said.
Simon shoved back his chair.
“You think this makes you powerful?”
“No.
Evidence does.”
His face twisted.
“You were supposed to sign the settlement.”
That sentence changed everything.
