#016: Roots

I used a small copier in Powell's study to copy JQ's final papers, then returned the originals to the book and replaced it in the bookcase, with the thought that since it had remained undetected there all those years, that would be the safest storage for the time being.

Having only Marcia Kalinsky's words as a guide, I had no way of knowing just how significant this "true final will" might actually be—and, actually, it was only a rather informal codicil to what obviously must have been an involved and intricate formal will, considering the dimensions of that estate.

Marcia had told me, you may recall, that JQ had spent the last two years of his life reorganizing his estate in such a way that "most everything would go directly to Karen instead of to his own son." Since there had also been talk of a "trust" from Karen, I had assumed that the bulk of the estate had gone into that trust, which is a more or less standard operating procedure for bequests to minor children. The "trust," in that sense, is designed to preserve the estate and to expand it as much as possible through wise investments until such time as the heir is deemed mature enough to take responsibility for his own business affairs, meanwhile providing income adequate to maintain a certain desired standard of living. A trustee is appointed to manage that trust at the time that the trust is created on paper—in this case, according to Karen, our friend Terry Kalinsky—and it was my understanding that such an appointment is not dependent upon confirmation by a probate court, as it is for an executor. When the trustor dies, then, the trustee takes over as irrevocable agent for the trustor in carrying out the terms of the trust and as sort of a financial guardian for the beneficiary.

The setting up of a trust is of course a very intricate legal procedure, with all sorts of ramifications having to do with inheritance taxes, probate expenses, that sort of thing. For holdings as massive and as extensive as Highland's, the intricacies must have approached infinite mass. But I could only imagine all that, having no actual knowledge of any of it.

Being only "almost a lawyer," moreover, I could not fully evaluate the possible effect of a hand-scrawled death-bed codicil upon such a mass of highly formulated estate planning; indeed, I would go so far as to suggest that few highly competent lawyers would hazard a guess on that score even with all the papers in front of them. The final determination would have to be made by a probate court and the legal skirmishing in that arena could consume years of court calendars.

So I really did not know what I had, there. The flow of events following JQ's death, such as they were, would seem to have reduced or perhaps totally neutralized any significance to Karen, herself, but if a legal basis could have been established in time, the codicil could have had tremendous significance to Kalinsky—and perhaps it still could.

Marcia had told me, remember, that JQ had spent the final two years of his life reorganizing the estate. If that were true, and the codicil seemed to more or less verify that by implication, then obviously the dying old man had a last-minute change of heart.

I am going to reproduce for you, here, the full text of that death-bed wish, "The True Last Will and Testament of Joseph Quincy Highland:

Let it be known by these presents that although I am of rapidly deteriorating body, I am of sound and rational mind and not under the influence of alcohol, narcotics or medications of any kind whatsoever; being of sound mind and in excellent possession of all mental faculties, I do set my will and desires to this writing in full knowledge of my imminent departure from this lifetime, perhaps within the next several hours; I do hereby with full faculties intend that this writing be regarded as a legally binding and governing document that shall serve to modify any and all provisions of any and all extant documents executed by me during my lifetime having to do with the distribution of my worldly assets upon my death, but does not and shall not serve to invalidate wholly or to replace wholly such documents but only those provisions that are in conflict with or inconsistent with the desires herein expressed, to wit:

It is my death-bed wish that all my worldly assets except the First Trust established for the benefit of my Granddaughter, Karen Elena Highland, shall upon my death pass directly to my son, Thomas James Highland, and I do hereby nominate my son, Thomas James Highland, as sole executor of my estate.

I do also hereby and specifically remove as Trustee for my Granddaughter's First Trust Terrance Kellan Kalinsky and do hereby appoint in his place my son, Thomas James Highland, as sole Trustee of the First Trust established for the benefit of my Granddaughter, Karen Elena Highland.

Lest there be any doubt as to my wishes so stated above, I do hereby expressly and specifically declare all other Trusts, save the First Trust named above, to be canceled and voided as though they had never been drawn; all other bequests, save those named above, are likewise canceled and voided as though they had never been made.

The codicil was signed and dated on the day that I later determined was JQ's last day on earth.

There also were two witnessing signatures, those of Bruno and Tony Valensa. Figure that one.

Considering the fact that TJ had passed on shortly after JQ, and since Karen was TJ's only natural heir, probably, it would seem on the surface that this newly discovered document—even if admitted to probate—would have no real impact on the final settlement of the estate. Unless, of course, there could be claims against TJ's estate, which could be considerable if the bulk of JQ's estate had passed to the son before TJ's death—and that would knock the whole thing into a cocked hat—especially if Elena had family somewhere and taking into account California's community property law.

The most striking feature, of course, was the impact on Kalinsky. This guy had, for the past eleven years or so, occupied the catbird seat from which old JQ, in his final hours, had sought to eject him.

Forget for the moment about bequests, large or small, and just consider that the executor of an estate can reasonably expect to collect two to three percent of the total assets for his services. The executor of an estate with the value and complexity of this one may even be deemed by the probate court to be worthy of a larger slice, but take just three percent of the Highland assets and we are talking a chunk of money.

The term billion has no real correspondence in the mind, the value so indicated being such a high number as to place outside normal human usage. In the United States, it means a thousand millions. Think of that Three percent of just one billion produces a figure of thirty million, and we are talking U.S. dollars. We are also talking the root of all evil; as some would have us believe, and I was looking at roots entangled and running everywhere.

Even the Internal Revenue Service was having trouble trying to determine just how many billions old Joe was worth.

It was all too murky for my quick assimilation, and I was staggering about in the dark, anyway, since I really had no idea whatever as to the actual legal status of the estate. I had been given casual generalities and a very limited understanding of the relative positions of all the players in this drama.

Karen, herself, had been vague and apparently disinterested in everything except her immediate problem, or what she perceived as her problem.

Kalinsky had actually told me nothing whatever but had simply conducted himself in a manner that would lead to the natural presumption that he was in charge and running things.

The interview with Marcia had produced more tangible information than I had gained anywhere else, and even that was suspect.

My tap on the federal computers had given me the understanding that the estate was still in probate, yet everyone at Highlandville seemed to be preparing for the big turnover on Karen's twenty-fifth birthday, one short week away. So maybe the federal data banks were running a bit behind; if that were true, it would then be an indication that the estate had been settled in very recent times. I cannot believe that the IRS would stand by and allow that transfer unless they already knew the dimensions of their own share; likewise the State of California and various other agencies with fingers in the pie.

So I had to martial the facts and attempt to draw my own picture since circumstances simply did not allow me the luxury of a liberal education in the matter.

Before I do that here, though, I want to give you JQ's last words to his "Dearly Beloved Karen:"

You are too young and I too old and limited in time to fully explain the peculiar exigencies which have moved my hand this night toward your continued protection under my love. Just be aware and one day when you are older try to understand that my motivation in this action is solely toward your ultimate benefit and to shield you from a very real danger that I, in my physically diminished state, am otherwise powerless to oppose.

I wish also to request of you a particular favor, as a testament of our love for each other, that you remove from my soul a most grievous burden that I simply cannot carry to my grave: love your mother, Elena, as I have loved you, and do your best to give back to her that which I took from her without just cause, understanding in your heart of hearts that all her supposed sins are instead my sins and all her failures my failures and all her weaknesses my weakness.

Give back to her, Dear Karen, all that which you alone now have the power to give. Good-bye, My Darling. We shall meet again, one beautiful day, beyond the stars.

Powerful stuff, eh. It was even more powerful in the original script. And I was beginning to love this old man, this reclusive, eccentric billionaire who'd had the power to install kingdoms and reshape the economics of earth—to feel a particular kind of pity for him, also.

With all that power, and all that apparent wisdom, and all that love, he had nevertheless managed to totally screw up his own family.

And, yeah, I knew why that book had been ejected from its resting place of eleven years. But why me, Joe? Shit. Why me?