The signature image at the bottom had not been written onto the document.
It had been pasted into it.
The image came from a scanned birthday card I had mailed Dad three years earlier.
My father had kept that card in the top drawer of his desk.
After he died, the drawer was locked.
When I asked for the key, Diane told me the contents were private.
The report showed that someone had scanned the card two days after the funeral.
The judge read in silence.
Diane’s bracelet clicked against the table because her hand had begun to shake.
“This is a technical interpretation,” she said.
“Rebecca works with computers.
She could have created all of this.”
“The report was prepared by the court-appointed examiner,” I said.
My mother looked at me as if I had betrayed her by answering calmly.
Simon leaned close to her and whispered, “You said the timestamp wouldn’t matter.”
The courtroom went silent.
His face changed the instant he realized how clearly he had spoken.
Diane turned on him.
“Be quiet.”
The judge’s voice became very measured.
“Mr.
Jameson, what timestamp did your mother tell you would not matter?”
Simon’s forehead shone beneath the fluorescent lights.
“I meant the bank timestamp.”
“Why would it not matter?”
“Because it was only a copy.”
Diane grabbed his sleeve.
“Stop talking.”
The bailiff stepped closer to their table.
The judge made a note and looked at me.
“Is there more?”
I thought of all the nights I had sat alone in my apartment, eating instant noodles while my mother called me greedy for asking about Dad’s accounts.
I thought of Simon’s new watch, his new suit, and the car he had bought three weeks after telling me the estate was nearly insolvent.
“There is more,” I said.
The next section of the folder contained bank records.
Dad’s trust required a complete accounting within thirty days of his death.
Diane, as temporary trustee, had never provided one.
She sent me a one-page summary listing funeral expenses, taxes, and vague “family obligations.” According to her summary, very little remained.
The actual statements showed transfers totaling more than three hundred thousand dollars.
Some went into an account controlled by Simon.
Some paid balances on cards held in Diane’s name.
A larger transfer had been used as collateral for a loan connected to the house.
Each transaction had been labeled as an estate expense.
None had supporting invoices.
Simon pointed at the records.
“Dad wanted me to manage the investments.”
“Where is that instruction?” the judge asked.
“He told me.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“Was anyone else present?”
“Mom.”
The judge looked at Diane.
She nodded too quickly.
“He trusted Simon with financial decisions.”
I removed the original trust agreement from the folder.
