Desperate men do desperate things. A week later, I received a legal notice. My own sons were suing me for “undue influence,” claiming that I had manipulated a “mentally diminished” Robert into creating the secret trusts.
They weren’t just attacking the will; they were attacking Robert’s sanity to get to the cash.
The court date was set for a rainy Tuesday. Mark and Lucas sat across the aisle, flanked by high-priced lawyers they couldn’t afford, looking at me with a mixture of guilt and greed. Their lead attorney stood up, ready to paint a picture of a confused old man hiding money in a rusted Ford.
“Your Honor,” the lawyer began, “we believe Mr. Hale was not of sound mind when he structured these ‘conditional’ assets—”
“Stop,” I said, standing up. I didn’t need my lawyer to speak for me. I walked to the evidence table and handed a second flash drive to the clerk. “Robert knew they would do this. He even predicted the date.”
