Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
When and how did Charlotte get this final cassette out of Lloyd’s broken camera? How long did she know about its contents and Lloyd’s handwritten will? But most importantly of all, why the fuck did she even carry out Lloyd’s final wishes at all, when she could have easily destroyed all this stuff, once she found it, and nobody, including me, would ever have known?
I grab my phone with a trembling hand and place a call to the only attorney I know—the guy who also happens to be the smartest person I know. My big brother, Max. He’s a patent and business lawyer, so he doesn’t handle wills and stuff in his practice, but he’s got to know a whole lot more about this sort of thing than me.
“Yo,” Max says in greeting.
“I need some help. Some advice.” I ramble the whole story, and Max sounds as shocked as I feel. I told him about my feelings for Charlotte during my visit at Max’s house, but nothing I told him then could have prepared Max or anyone else, including me, for what I’ve found in my mailbox today.
After hearing me out, Max says, “Okay, let’s take things one at a time. First of all, you can’t transfer real property to someone without their consent. That’s settled law in every state. The recipient needs to sign the transfer paperwork and accept the property. Period. So, as nice a gesture as it was for Charlotte to fill out that form and try to transfer the place to you, Charlotte still owns her place. There’s no doubt about that.”
I sigh with relief. “Thank God.”
“If you tried to enforce the transfer deed in court, you’d lose.”
“Max, you know I’d never do that. I’m not trying to figure out how to enforce any of this. I’m trying to understand why Charlotte gave this shit to me, rather than burning it all the second she found it.”
“The handwritten will. Did the dead guy sign and date it?”
“No. He didn’t date it, and he only signed his first name at the bottom. There’s no doubt he wrote it, though, thanks to the video he left. It’s definitely not a fake.”
“I’ve got no doubt he wrote it, but that’s not the legal standard for it to be enforceable. Without a full signature and date, it’s not a legally enforceable will. Period. Does it state his wishes? Seems like it. But under the law, wishes don’t make something enforceable.”
“Even if it’s in his handwriting? I didn’t realize it at first, but it’s the same writing as on a bunch of his other video cassettes.”
“Doesn’t matter. A simple google search would have told you all of this, Auggie. Any will, whether handwritten or typed, isn’t legally enforceable unless it’s fully signed and dated. You didn’t bother to google before calling me?”
“No. I panicked.”
Max chuckles. “I’m sure Charlotte googled. There’s nothing ambiguous about the law on this stuff. It’s black and white.”
A chill races down my back. My brother is right: there’s no way Charlotte didn’t google the fuck out of all this stuff before stuffing it into my mailbox. She had to know she didn’t need to do this for me, not in a legal sense. So, why’d she do it?
After telling my brother to hang on for a minute, I google the requirements of a handwritten will, just for good measure, and, yup, there it is. Everything Max said. Next, I google the requirements of a video will, and the result is the same: they’re not enforceable. I tell Max what I’ve found, and he says he’s found the same thing.
“It makes sense video wills aren’t valid,” Max says. “There’d be too many issues with deepfakes and manipulation. Also, questions about timing of the video in relation to any written wills. I’m sure Charlotte knows the video will isn’t enforceable, either, assuming she’s got access to the internet.”
That last part was Max’s way of chastising me again for calling him before running a simple internet search. “To summarize,” I say, “any way we slice it, Charlotte is under zero legal obligation to give me Lloyd’s condo, and it’s unfathomable to think she didn’t realize that.”
“Correct. And the transfer of deed didn’t do a damned thing. You should probably call her right away to let her know she’s still the owner of the property, so she knows she’s still on the hook for property taxes.” I can practically hear Max’s wicked smirk across the phone line. “And while you’ve got her on the phone, maybe you should also tell her anything else you might be thinking about. Obsessively. You know, anything you might be wishing you’d said to her, in person, when you had the chance.”
I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning.
I have to go to her.
Right now.
And tell her I love her.