Sterling turned pale. He looked at my father with horror.
“My mother testified I have no income,” I continued. “My tax returns are in that folder. I make a comfortable living. I had no financial motive to coerce my grandmother. My parents, however…”
I walked back to my table and picked up a piece of paper I hadn’t submitted yet.
“I petition the court to allow me to cross-examine the plaintiff, Robert Vance, now that his credibility has been impeached.”
Judge Halloway nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Permission granted. Mr. Vance, take the stand.”
My father walked to the witness stand like a man walking to the gallows. He wouldn’t look at me. He looked at his lawyer, but Sterling was busy rifling through his messy briefcase, looking for an exit strategy.
“Mr. Vance,” I said, standing in the middle of the room. I didn’t need notes. “You testified earlier that you wanted to overturn this will to ‘protect the family legacy.’ Is that correct?”
“Yes,” he mumbled. “It’s the principle.”
“Is it also the principle that you are currently two point one million dollars in debt to various casinos in Atlantic City?”
“Objection!” Sterling yelled weakly. “Relevance?”
“It goes to motive, Your Honor,” I said without looking away from my father. “The plaintiffs claim I needed the money. I am establishing that they are the ones in financial desperation.”
“Overruled,” the Judge said. “Answer the question, Mr. Vance.”
My father sweated. “I… I have some debts. Everyone has debts.”
“Do you have a second mortgage on your home that is currently in default?” I asked.
“I… maybe.”
“And did Nana Rose know about this debt?”
“I don’t know.”
“She did,” I said. “Because I told her. After she received a call from a collection agency looking for you.”
I took a step closer. “Nana Rose didn’t leave the money to me because I tricked her, Dad. She left it to me to protect it from you. She knew if you got your hands on the estate, it would be gone in a month at the blackjack tables.”
My father looked at the jury box—which was empty, as this was a bench trial—then at the Judge. He crumpled.
“We needed the money,” he whispered. “We’re going to lose the house.”
“So you decided to frame your daughter for fraud,” I said. “You decided to drag my name through the mud, call me a loser, a drifter, a thief… all to cover your own mistakes.”
