Patricia thought she was dealing with a helpless widow. Tomorrow she’d discover she was facing Dorothy Mitchell, the woman who’d never lost a case in 15 years of practice. The woman who’d voluntarily walked away from law to raise her daughter, only to have that same daughter try to destroy her.
I pulled out a yellow legal pad and began making notes. The familiar process of building a defense came back like riding a bicycle.
Patricia’s case relied entirely on the assumption that I was mentally incompetent. But competency isn’t just about age or confusion. It’s about understanding the nature and consequences of your decisions. And I understood exactly what I was doing.
Morrison had made one crucial error in his petition. He’d painted me as a victim of manipulation, suggesting unknown parties had influenced me to forge Robert’s will. But Robert’s will had been witnessed by three people and notarized. The signatures had already been verified by handwriting experts.
So, where was this alleged forgery?
I smiled, making another note. Morrison was fishing, hoping I’d panic and accept a settlement. He was counting on me being overwhelmed by legal procedures, frightened into giving up.
Tomorrow would change everything.
The morning of our first court appearance, I dressed carefully, not in the designer suits Patricia expected, but in my old navy dress with sensible shoes. Let them think what they wanted.
Patricia and Michael arrived at the courthouse looking confident. Morrison had clearly told them this would be a simple hearing, just a formality before the competency evaluation.
I sat alone at the defendant’s table. No attorney beside me, no briefcase full of documents, just an old woman with a handbag, exactly what they expected to see.
Judge Walsh entered, and I watched Patricia’s face for any recognition. Nothing. Margaret had changed over the years, too. Her red hair was now silver, her freckles faded, but her sharp blue eyes were exactly the same.
“Your Honor,” Morrison began, standing with practiced authority. “This is a straightforward case of financial elder abuse and potential fraud. Mrs. Hamilton, the defendant, has been left a substantial inheritance under questionable circumstances.”
I listened as he painted his picture of me: confused, vulnerable, easily manipulated. According to Morrison, I’d somehow forged my own husband’s will, despite having no legal knowledge or understanding of estate law.
“The plaintiff requests an immediate competency evaluation and temporary conservatorship to protect Mrs. Hamilton’s assets from further mismanagement.”
Judge Walsh looked at me. “Mrs. Hamilton, you’re representing yourself in this matter.”
I stood slowly, playing the part they expected. “Yes, Your Honor. I couldn’t afford an attorney.”
Patricia actually smirked at that.
“Do you understand the nature of these proceedings?”
“I believe so, Your Honor. My daughter thinks I’m not smart enough to manage money.”
Morrison objected. “Your Honor, this oversimplifies serious allegations of mental incompetence and fraud.”
“Sustained. Mrs. Hamilton, do you understand that the court is being asked to determine whether you have the mental capacity to manage your financial affairs?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And do you wish to contest these allegations?”
I looked directly at Patricia for the first time that day. “Yes, Your Honor. I do.”
Judge Walsh made some notes. “Mr. Morrison, I’ve reviewed your petition. You’re alleging that Mrs. Hamilton forged her deceased husband’s will.”
“Not exactly forged, Your Honor, but was manipulated into believing she was entitled to an inheritance that should rightfully go to the children.”
“I see. And you have evidence of this manipulation?”
Morrison hesitated slightly. “We believe the evidence will emerge during the competency evaluation, Your Honor.”