“She never told us any of this.”
I turned toward him.
“Dad, I told you when I passed the bar.”
He opened his mouth.
“I told you when I received my commission. I invited you to the ceremony.”
My mother stared at me.
“I told you about my first assignment. I tried explaining what I did at Thanksgiving, when Nana asked about my work.”
Dad’s face reddened.
“That was years ago.”
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“It was.”
Judge Morrison directed us back to the formal proceedings.
I returned to the lectern.
“The point of these records is not that my career entitled me to an inheritance. It doesn’t. My grandmother had the right to make her own decision regardless of my profession. The point is that the
petitioners’ description of me is inaccurate.”
I paused.
“And their case relies heavily on asking this court to accept their descriptions without examining the underlying facts.”
