My parents sued me for the four point seven million dollars my grandmother left me, and to prove I was unstable their own attorney subpoenaed my service record and put it in front of the judge himself. He had read two pages of a hundred and forty. That is how my family found out what I do for a living.

That is what ended the undue influence claim.

Not my rank. Not the judge's face. An email in which the beneficiary told the testator to go and find somebody else, sent fourteen months before the will was signed, printed out by an old woman and put in a folder.

Judge Ferro read that email out loud. All eleven lines of it.

There is one sentence in it that did the actual work, and it is not a clever sentence. I wrote it in about nine seconds on a Thursday morning between two appointments.

If I draft this, then whatever you decide will look like something I decided, and I am not going to do that to you.

Slaught's only available answer to that was that I had written it precisely in order to be able to produce it later.

Judge Ferro asked him whether he was suggesting that a person had planned a fourteen-month evidential strategy in January of the previous year.