“Oh my God,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Bonnie… this is real.
This is her will. With her signature and everything.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and before I knew it, she was crying. I hadn’t seen her cry like that since the night Grandma died.
It broke something in me, but at the same time, it gave me strength.
“There’s more,” I said softly, laying out the rest of the documents.
The next day, we drove into town and made an appointment with a local attorney named Mr. Leary. He was in his early 40s, clean-cut, and had that no-nonsense energy you pray for in a lawyer.
After a brief consultation, he agreed to take our case on contingency.
“I don’t usually say this in the first meeting,” he told us, flipping through the documents, “but this isn’t just a civil case. If what you’re telling me is true — and from these documents, it sure looks that way — then we’re looking at fraud. Maybe even conspiracy and forgery.”
Mom looked stunned.
“Karen’s lawyer was in on it?”
Mr. Leary nodded. “If the original will was replaced with a fake, and that fake was used to claim the estate, then yes.
And the paper trail here… It’s strong.”
“What do we do next?” I asked.
Continue reading…
