Mildred Dolan's carefully crafted will disappoints one heir profoundly. When estates lawyer, Brittany McFarlane, agrees to help Joanna Wynne contest it, she expects an easy win. Instead, she uncovers deception at every turn - a client with hidden motives and a deceased woman who was never who she claimed to be.
Floundering in a web of lies and tormented by Joanna's threats and her own demons, Brittany's personal life begins to unravel. Then a mysterious package is delivered. What it contains challenges everything Brittany believed about who she is and about the legal and justice system she serves.
WARNING: This poignant story of trauma and injustice, intertwined with an unflinching critique of our legal system, might challenge you to review everything you believed about law and justice.
Mildred Dolan's carefully crafted will disappoints one heir profoundly. When estates lawyer, Brittany McFarlane, agrees to help Joanna Wynne contest it, she expects an easy win. Instead, she uncovers deception at every turn - a client with hidden motives and a deceased woman who was never who she claimed to be.
Floundering in a web of lies and tormented by Joanna's threats and her own demons, Brittany's personal life begins to unravel. Then a mysterious package is delivered. What it contains challenges everything Brittany believed about who she is and about the legal and justice system she serves.
WARNING: This poignant story of trauma and injustice, intertwined with an unflinching critique of our legal system, might challenge you to review everything you believed about law and justice.
MONDAY, JULY 13, 2015
âJune 26, 2015 was a momentous death day.â
The sign on my door read âBrittany McFarlane, LLB (Hons).â Joanna Wynne glanced at it, then hobbled into my office in ritzy boots, flicking at dyed copper hair and making that odd announcement. No hint of a traditional greeting, and she continued without removing her large-lensed sunglasses or even drawing breath.
âThirty-eight revellers at a beach resort in Tunisia were murdered by an ISIS gunman.
âA Saudi bomber killed twenty-seven and injured 227 at a mosque in Kuwait.
âTraditional marriage died, with the United States at last legalising same-sex unions.
âAnd Mildred Dolan finally succumbed.â
Her last sentence had relevance to the matter she was here to discuss. Thinking her rant must, therefore, be concluded, I introduced myself. âMs. Wynne? I am Brittany McFarlane. Pleased to meet you. Do take a seat.â
She ignored my greeting and went on with her rant.
âThe first two events interested me because Iâve often aspired to be a mass murderer: to purge the world of the unclean and the undesirable. I could happily murder Isabel Morgan and her brood. That would definitely make the world a better place.â
âThe third event was momentous because Iâve often considered a same-sex partnership. I hate men, with good cause.
âThe final event was significant because Mildred Dolan claimed to be my mother.â
Joanna Wynne strode to my visitorâs chair, then, and thrust herself into it with the air of a petulant child whose sweets had been taken from her.
âMildred wasnât my mother,â she continued. âIrene Wynne was. But Irene disappeared almost half a century ago.
âMildred was Isabelâs mother, but she raised me, after a fashion. Or at least she would claim to have. Even she wouldnât boast of parenting well. But Millieâs last will favoured me, and my long wait to collect should have ended with Mildredâs passing.
âIt appears my dear stepsister, Isabel, forged a replacement will. So I need a good lawyer to prove the new document a fake and ensure I get what is rightfully mine.â
People can be weird, but my newest clientâs introductory speech was really quite bizarre. It rendered me, for a moment, somewhat discomposed.
My name is Brittany McFarlane. Iâm a lawyer specialising in wills and estates. Iâve been qualified for almost four years now, and Iâm proving to be exceptionally good at what I do.
I entered my profession fired with determination to make my name as a winner and eager to enjoy the spoils of war. But I also believed family provisions lawyers right wrongsâoverturning wills made by the vengeful and malicious and restoring equity, soothing the hurts suffered by the wrongly disinherited.
Will bequests are windfalls, so why shouldn't named beneficiaries share their windfall with both the victims of malice and the lawyers who put wrongs to right?
More experienced colleagues repeatedly tell me that the kind of people who come to us are seldom victims of anything other than a deep sense of entitlement and a warped perception of fairness.
âNo-win/no-pay agreements compel us to support the claimantâs greed,â my boss reminds us often. âAnd given that a lost claim discourages future claims, even the most ardent lawyer representing a defendant wants to ensure the plaintiff profits, even if the plaintiff is a malicious liar. And in my experience, most plaintiffs are.â
I prefer to think most are truthful and have genuine claims. But as profitable as it is, mine is a dirty business. I watch as loved ones tear each other apart, and it can be depressing at times. But thatâs what families do, isnât it? Fight? Especially over money.
According to numerologists, my destiny number is six, which is said to mean I was placed on earth to spread compassion and love; to be a teacher, healer, friend, and empathetic coach.
Nah.
That would be my brother, Nicholas. Heâs a shrink. Twelve years older than me, he disappointed our folks terribly when he opted to study psychology. At first, he practised with a focus on profit. He sought out wealthy clients with messed up marriages or delinquent kids. Then Sarah came into his life, and the world turned. Now, heâs all about kindness and giving and making it a better world for the less well-endowed.
We smile tolerantly when he starts on. Mum and Dad are hoping itâs a stage heâll outgrow. Eventually, reality has to kick in.
Nic broke the mould, but I think it was inevitable I should follow in the footsteps of my forebears. We come from a family of lawyers, stretching back through three generations. Dad is a quiet achiever who, to his credit, occasionally puts the profit motive aside to take a case pro bono, though never without first ensuring doing so will enhance his reputation.
My mother drove my ambition. She quoted Vince Lombardi often. I grew up convinced that âWinning isnât everything⌠itâs the only thingâ. And then, in law school, my tutors focused on teaching me how to win, and that law is a business.
âItâs a fact, rarely confessed,â my cynical parents claimed, âthat lawyers seldom concern themselves with justice or truth. They ply their trade to win and to profit.â
Call me an idealist. Despite my upbringing, I entered the profession determined to prove that justice and profit are not mutually exclusive.
âJustice is an unattainable ideal, and the pursuit of it is the province of dreamers,â my mentors advised. âTruth is an abstract. What is true depends on your point of view.â
The latter statement is true, but I prefer to dispute the former. Maybe I do dream a little, but I hope I never grow as cynical as my more experienced advisers.
Clients like Joanna Wynne come to us hurt and grieving, and they lay their trust at our feet. They need more than objective legal representation. They need comfort and succour. I relish the opportunity to ease their pain and set things right.â
âEight lawyers spat me out before I found you,â Joanna said.
Her choice of words left me somewhat nonplussed.
I had heard the exhalation of pent-up breath into the phone when I agreed to take her case. Well, why not? It seemed like an easy win. She told me her mother left almost everything to the older, much more affluent sister, Isabel. Joanna was a needy pensioner living hand-to-mouth in public housing. Sheâd read the law. Dying mothers should provide for their needy offspring.
âMildred always preferred Isabel,â Joanna declared now, in a tone laced with bitterness. Extracting a tissue from her purse, she raised tortoiseshell sunglasses to dab at her eyes. The action appeared almost theatrical. I felt compelled to remind myself that people handle grief in different ways. Clients usually try to appear composed in my presence, but she had suffered a cruel blow.
âMy father was wealthy,â she said. âMildredâs actions deprived me of the comforts he would have provided for me.
âMillie was a cruel and vindictive woman, and we never got along, but she liked to appear virtuous. She talked a lot about honouring moral obligations. She knew Iâd been wrongly deprived, and she promised to make it right.
âI was with her when she made her will. She named me the executor, and the bulk of the estate was to be mine, as it should be. But Isabel has always been a greedy and manipulative bitch. Sheâs even more despicable than Mildred, and she would stop at nothing to hurt me.â
She shot me a pleading glance. âWhat is the punishment for forging a will? A long jail sentence, I hope.â
I studied her, considering what might be an appropriate reply. Mid-50s, maybe? Tall. Painfully thin. Ghostly complexion. Hollow cheeks. Sheâd have been pretty once, and she still possessed a sense of style. Though smartly dressed, her attire was well-worn. She repeatedly flicked her long copper-red hair behind her shoulder. It was somewhat disconcerting that those dark glasses remained permanently on, even indoors.
Consumed with anger, now, she appeared to be exerting all her energies on hating the woman she perceived denied her a birthright and condemning the sister she both envied and despised. She paused a moment, seeming to collect herself. Assuming a more dignified pose, she said, âIâve read the law. Mothers are required to provide for needy offspring. And I can evidence need. An earlier will favoured me.â
âMay I call you Joanna?â I asked, having until now deferred to professional etiquette.
âJust Jo, please,â she said, smiling. âAnd as much as Iâd like to avenge Isabelâs greed and my motherâs cruelty, I just want justice. I want whatâs fair⌠what was always rightfully mine.â
Her tone, now, was earnest, with just a hint of regret. Her manner suggested good breeding, but it appeared she had fallen at some point. I suspected life had treated her unkindly. She appeared intelligent but displayed a strong sense of entitlement, a belief sheâd been wrongly denied a life of privilege.
âWe need to start at the beginning,â I said, striving to sound soothing, yet indisputably in control. âIf youâve been unfairly dealt with in a will, the law protects your right of inheritance. Eligible persons can file a claim under the Family Provisions Act. I can represent you to do that, and you only pay me if your claim succeeds.
âWhy donât you tell me, in your own words, what makes you think Mildredâs will is a forgery? Give me a little background about your family and relationships. Do you feel up to doing that today?â
Her assertion of a forged will was most likely absurd, but I couldnât tell her that. I needed information to determine what might be behind her suspicions. And in any case, at some point, I would need to know the whole ugly story. Clientsâ stories are always ugly.
âEither the client or the deceased is despicable,â my boss declares often, âand it matters little which.â
It matters to me. I want to fight for fairness. Of course, there are always three versions of a story: the clientâs, the defendantâs, and the truth. In Family Provisions Claims, the latter will rarely be exposed. The cost of witnesses and evidence is just too high. A lawyerâs job demands that her sympathies lie with her client. Profits depend on ensuring the clientâs version is accepted and they get what they, rightly or wrongly, believe to be their due.
My job is to accept most of what clients tell me, focus on the parts that appear to support their claims, and try my hardest to ensure they are paid handsomely and as early in the process as possible. Keep it out of court if possible, but make sure that if it ends in courtâ where good acting is every bit as important as on the stageâthe client is thoroughly coached and their performance is perfect.
In her engrossing novel, A Will of Deceit, Lorraine Cobcroft takes us to the courtroom, where a battle over a will unfolds, and into a marriage that begins happily but ends in pain. After her motherâs death, Joanna Wynne finds out sheâs not the executor of her motherâs will. Seeking redress, she hires Brittany McFarlane, a brilliant lawyer just starting out. However, does Joannaâs allegation hold? Is she willing to compromise even a little, perhaps agreeing to split the inheritance 50-50 with her sworn enemy, Isabel Dolan?
The case looks rather straightforward. All that Brittany has to do is prove that the will in question is forged. Except not everything is as it seems. For one, Joanna isnât forthright and didnât relate well with the deceased. For another, Isabel seems to genuinely care for her younger sister, Joanna, which contradicts Joannaâs accusations.
In Lorraineâs A Will of Deceit, the dead speak. Mildred Dolanâs story is painfully touching, capturing a woman who all she ever wanted was a good life for her children, a loving husband, and instead constantly endured utter neglect and abuse. The love for her girls guided her as she wrote her Will.
A lot to enjoy about this book and remember. From rich characterization to a gripping plot, this novel appeals broadly, particularly to fans of romance and legal dramas. It has strong female characters. Joanna quickly goes from believing in Brittany to utterly hating her. She has no kind words for men: she sexually exploits Bryan Winterwood, then dumps him âwhen he stops drinking and gambling and becomes a model employee.â Isabel is Joannaâs opposite. She has a family to look after, is willing to share, and cares for her mother as any daughter should. Mildred is a loving mother and a good wife. It takes her a long time to see the cracks on the wall, and when she does, her childrenâs safety comes first, even when faced with a jail term. As a lawyer, Brittany stands out among characters for her strong moral compass, being the ardent student of her father's teachings and her own beliefs about justice.
The bookâs opening is such a page-turner. How Joanna enters Brittany's office and introduces herself leaves a mark, putting her under the spotlight, which she stays in throughout. As the plot unfolds, as the legal dispute between Joanna and Isabel reaches an impasse, a look back at the deceasedâs life takes over, told beautifully and sadly.
The ending is both satisfying and humorous; as the boss shares news with his junior, the laughter that ensues is so genuine and infectious that the reader is sure to join in.