by Molly Hoffer
“Hi guys,” I said to break the ice. I looked at each of them in the eyes, trying to gauge where they stood on my trust and on my presence.
They looked pretty much as they always did, somewhere between contempt, condescension, hatred, and tolerance. This might also come across as weird for other families. You know, you might come into a room of relatives after half-a-year away, and folks might jump up and hug you and say, “Oh, Vanessa, my little darling! I’m so glad you’re back with us!”
I guess we were more like a mafia family, but without that whole loyalty oath. I mean, if one of us croaked, the rest had more in the trust to split. It was hardly difficult for me to leave these brats and bitches behind. There wasn’t a day in those months when I was living at the crack house or nursing Nick’s injury when I regretted losing my “connection” with my family. This was why my relationship with Nick was much more powerful than all of my prior relationships. When people say they had never felt love before, this really was the case with me. I was raised by a full-time babysitter, and then I basically raised myself. As I looked at the faces in the room, I remembered attending parties, going golfing, going boating, and otherwise engaging in expensive recreational activities with each of them. But, either I didn’t speak with them at all, or exchanged short remarks, usually interrupted when they complained about my unfitting for the season outfit or otherwise criticized me, and made me feel inferior. One of my siblings, Manny, wasn’t at that meeting because this permanent blizzard drove him to suicide in his senior year of high school.
I sat down in the middle of the long table just to keep calm amidst this animosity, and to regain my breath after all that walking and that pretty dramatic ride on the train to get there.
“We have been discussing the disbursements that will be made this year to everybody,” James said, looking down at a summary on the top page of a hundred-page report lying on the desk in front of each of the people in the room. I scanned through the table of contents and a few of the pages. It was an end-of-the-fiscal year report, which explained the length. It summarized the company’s profits and losses for the year, and detailed various other news, and announcements. The annual disbursement of family funds was detailed on page 34. I looked for my name on the list of the summary table, and realized that I had been skipped that year as ineligible, in favor of other Szabos. I wasn’t even awarded an allowance. The reason stated was, “lack of significant occupation; failure to attend family meetings.”
“Ah… I would like to object,” I raised my hand, as I was reading this.
“I didn’t ask for appeals yet, those come later in the meeting,” James complained, knowing full well that objections could be raised and usually were whenever any member of the family had them, especially when their funds were concerned.
“First of all,” I continued, ignoring his empty rebuttal, “I’m here today, so this should go into the calculation if I am go get an allowance this year…”
“You missed five meetings. Everybody else was here, and you weren’t. Why exactly should you get special treatment?” James commented.
“You told me to leave, so I left. I followed your very specific order. You didn’t say, get out of the house, but come to family meetings…”
“You really want to discuss this matter in front of everybody?”
“Well, you apparently haven’t told anybody that I haven’t been at the meetings because you forbade me from coming, and legally I think you really should’ve.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you now. You know why I had to ask you to leave, and I’m not going to explain that decision right now for the sake of propriety!”
“Now you’re making me sound like some obscene criminal!” I exclaimed. I wanted to give the details about my ongoing affair with my ex-foster-brother, but I just couldn’t get it out in front of all of those condemning stares.
I looked back down on the disbursements summary and saw that the middle sibling in our family also wasn’t getting a payout that year. Leo was 28, so he was in that period when payments were based on the significance of one’s occupation.
“Why is Leo suddenly also in the dog house?” I asked. This was the first year he wasn’t given his share. He was sitting a couple of seats away from me. He was shaking his head and pointing his finger to his mouth, “Shhhh!” I shrugged, uncertain why I was being told to “Shhhh,” but very curious to find out.
“As everybody that attempted the last meeting knows, Leo has been using heroin for a few years now.”
My mouth shot open. I couldn’t control the expression of shock on my face. Sure, Leo wasn’t exactly the prime apple in the family, but why would he be using heroin… wasn’t it for desperate whores and unemployed depressed bums? I knew a few rich girls at our school that were rumored to be using cocaine, and a few other strong substances, and pot wasn’t exactly unusual at private college parties.
“What happened? Did you go to the hospital… or rehab?” I asked quietly, looking at Leo, trying to express concern, without interrogating him in front of the family.
“No, I haven’t gone… yet…” he replied, burying his face in his hands.
“You told everybody you were using, and you didn’t go to rehab? Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“No, I didn’t tell anybody,” he mumbled.
“Did you have an overdose?!”
“Nope again…”
I looked at James for an answer to this puzzle.
“He was tested under the monitoring program,” James explained briefly.
“The monitoring program?” I asked, recalling the details of that part of the Szabo Trust. “I guess it gives you the right to investigate violations, but it’s really to confirm if somebody has the job they claim to have, isn’t it?”
“The monitoring program has been expanded since you’ve been away,” James said sternly.
“So, what else have you found out about our family since I’ve been away?”
I looked back at the summary, and noticed that Stacy, my niece was also unpaid in the breakdown. I looked up at her quizzically, afraid to ask.
“A certain graphic video was found…” Stacy said, looking down shyly.
“Wha? Did the media get it? Who filmed it?” I exclaimed.
“No, I mean, I filmed it. It was on my computer…”
“Oh my god! You went on her computer, downloaded her self-porno, and used it to cut her out!?”
“I didn’t. The private investigator did it. And, Stacy is neglecting to tell you that she was going to sell it to her ex for a boat,” James corrected me.
“You’re disgusting! This is exactly what I’ve been saying. You’re out of control, and you’re bullying most of us out of our funds, just so that you’ll have more left over for yourself.”
“You should focus on the problems in your own life, and not try to fix your concerns about my morality,” James said, a bit red from having to defend himself in the cases we had been discussing.
“So, if you had run an employment check on me, you’d know that I’ve been working full-time as a manager, so I haven’t stopped engaging in a ‘significant occupation.’ So, unless you calculate in your own brand of morality, how exactly did you figure that I could be cut out?”
“No, I didn’t run an employment check on you, as you opted out of consideration by being absent from family meetings.”
I was speechless now, as all this seemed like a science fiction warped reality. My family always had weird problems, but the head of the family openly spying on everybody was a step beyond a bit of drug or sex addiction.
“Look, I’m here now, and I’d like to be given an allowance, and for the promised disbursement to be made next year when I turn 25. If you don’t plan on doing these, I guess I have to file a lawsuit to get them,” I said, getting to the point.
“You do not meet the qualifications for a disbursement this year, and we would have to check if you have corrected the problems preventing you fro
m receiving the funds next year,” James stated firmly.
“Then, I don’t have anything else to say today, and you’ll be receiving my summons for you to appear in court,” I said, just as firmly, as I stood up, with the report in-hand, and walked out without scanning my family.
If being cut out under the Big Father program was acceptable to them, I didn’t have the words at the moment to convince them to join the lawsuit. Also, I thought that they would be more likely to join me later on, once they saw that I had a concrete plan and was going to execute it.
I found a top Manhattan lawyer that was willing to take my case for 1% of my profits, which if they were a billion, would’ve been $10 million… Since my profits could’ve been nothing, he really only did it for the publicity. In fact, as part of his strategy, he immediately “leaked” the news about the brewing lawsuit to every major newspaper in the world, and there were suddenly hundreds of paparazzi stalking my every move.
When a couple dozen of them camped out in front of our Brooklyn apartment one morning, I knew it was time to explain the situation to Nick. He was feeling better and was walking without a limp, but he still hadn’t gone back to work, in part because of my paranoia about him getting hurt at a manual job again.
“Er… Nick,” I told him, as I served a pancake breakfast to lighten the blow. “Do you hear that ruckus outside?”
“Yea…” Nick started standing up to look through our front window.
“No, no,” I told him, gently guiding him back into his seat, and putting a couple more pancakes on his plate. “You probably know that I’ve been working on a research project?”
“Yea, is it a new novel?”
“No… it’s dramatic, but it’s not a novel. Well, you know I’m living out here in Brooklyn with you because I had a fight with my parents. But, what I didn’t tell you, and didn’t really know until recently, is that to get my inheritance back, I can’t just apologize and make it better… I actually have to sue them…”
“You gotta sue your parents?” Nick asked, looking confused, and unable to wrap his mind around that idea. “That’s pretty crazy… Don’t they have a whole bunch of money? I mean, they took me in, so they must have enough to go around?”
“Yea, they took you in, but keeping you wasn’t exactly expensive, between your books and your sketchbook. They have to give me… millions… and not just a sketchbook.”
“Wow!”
“Yea, so now I’ve filed a lawsuit against them to get my share, and what I had to tell you now is that there is an army of paparazzi downstairs.”
“So, what should I do… about that?” Nick said, genuinely looking for some guidance.
“I’m not sure what they know about you yet. I rented this place under my name, but they probably already spoke with the manager downstairs… So, chances are they know that I’m living with some guy, but not much else. Since you’ve been staying home, just continue doing that, and don’t answer the door. Unless, you object for any reason, and if you do… you know, you should tell me whatever you’re thinking, so we’ll be on the same page.”
“Yea, I’m thinking I’ll just stay home. I don’t want to say something that would make you lose the lawsuit or anything.”
“Thanks sweetie!” I said, and kissed him on his cheek.
Then, we finished our breakfast and I continued my research for the lawsuit.
On the next day, the media was rallied up and ran front-page pictures of me leaving my apartment to get to work, with headlines like, “Trust Fund Kid Making a Living on Her Own” and “The Billion Dollar Lawsuit over the Szabo Children Trust.” With these in the public’s eye, Attorney Kirk Matthew filed the lawsuit with the New York Supreme Court in Manhattan. The prime charge was that James had misused the funds in the Trust. While, I could only gather some surface information myself, Kirk matched my father’s techniques and hired a private investigator of his own. In the week, leading up to the media blitz he had gathered so much dirt on my good ol’ dad that there were boxes of dirt that we couldn’t toss at him during the trial or we’d drown in it as we tossed it.
But, before getting to shit tossing, Kirk had to make sure that the lawsuit wasn’t tossed out on a technicality. James had put his entire corporate law team on the job of defending his actions, and they had raised a few touchy issues in the preliminary hearing that made it touch-and-go for a bit there.
First, they contended that I was of “sound mind” and asked for me to be examined by a psychiatrist. Since my father was having doubts about my sanity, the request was admissible. I just complied and got examined, and as I expected passed as both stable, and able to speak for myself in court. I was a bit worried that James would’ve prepped her to ask some questions regarding my relationship with Nick, to try to find something crazy about it, but she asked basic questions she would’ve asked anybody, so I could evade talking about that touchy subject. It’s pretty crazy how crazy people are asked if they see or hear stuff that isn’t there to determine their sanity, I mean, do some of them just say that they do… And if they say so, what’s to stop people from saying it who just want to go to the psych ward instead of prison, but anyway.
Then, there were a few other points that Kirk had to establish, like that I hadn’t been disinherited by Karl in his will. Also, Karl’s will was brought out, and every point of it was closely examined to figure out what it said, and what he might have intended. Earlier drafts were also reviewed because in them there were lighter requirements regarding how meaning the employment of his grandchildren had to be for them to get a cut out of the Fund.
After some of these maneuvers, upon my request, Kirk filed a claim that I wanted to sue for a legal separation from my family and to take my funds to use independently of their funds and businesses. The motion was denied at the moment as irrelevant, but the Judge did say he might return to that question at a later time. If I weren’t a part of the family, laws would’ve changed regarding my access to my inheritance, so Kirk advised me not to press the point.
After that, the pre-trial motions continued when Kirk filed documents that supported the fact that I had worked for years for Kashion, and that I had glowing reports from my superiors in various significant positions. He also filed proof that I was fully employed as a manager in the months after I left the family (with only a small gap when I was looking for work). I was indeed still employed, and put in more than 100% into the job across these hearings because we hoped to bring my boss up to the stand to prove that he was happy with my performance.
“James Szabo has illegally stopped Vanessa Szabo from accessing the funds that Karl Szabo left in her name,” Kirk wrote in a legal brief he submitted to the Court.
Seeing that the victory was not guaranteed, James put aside the niceties and filed a claim with the Court that the reason he cut me out of the fund that year was because he discovered that I was engaging in a sexual relationship with Dominic Madsen, their former foster child.
I was pretty surprised that he let the lawyers put in “former” and didn’t just use the present tense to make the relationship more grotesque.
The paparazzi went nuts and one even climbed up on the roof and was hanging by a rope in parallel with one of our windows to try and get photographs of Nick. We closed all of the blinds, but it was still a challenge for me to walk to the train station every morning with that crowd following me around and asking me questions like, “How’s the sex with your brother going?” and “Did you start having sex with him when he was still your foster brother?” I doubt anybody else that takes the train to work gets harassed like that; at least, I haven’t seen anybody else on the front page, trying to “run” away from paparazzi along a ten-block jug to the train station. The paparazzi were pretty pissed about those long jugs too, and frankly most of them then had to take the train with me to get to my job. If I had a car, they would’ve driven over in their own cars, but if they wanted to stay with me on the train, they really had to take the train. So, they starte
d tossing insults at me, as I just sat there and emptily stared at the seat in front of me. I did answer some of them that were more positive, and most of them ran neutral or positive stories. One major paper ran a feature on relationships between foster siblings and on the legal repercussions of various types of sibling and semi-sibling sexual relationships.
Meanwhile, in Court, Kirk filed a defensive brief, arguing that Dominic was never adopted into the Szabo family, and that he was indeed no longer a foster child, or of fostering age, and that therefore I was not committing a legal or even a moral crime by engaging in a sexual relationship with him. “He is not her relative because he is not related by blood to her, and there are no legal ties that otherwise identify them legally as brother and sister,” his brief stated.
At this point, James’ team started pressuring my blood siblings and cousins into signing agreements that they would not join my lawsuit. They were all threatened with being cut out of the next year’s disbursement if they didn’t formally state that they wouldn’t sue. More than half of them signed these papers, mostly because they thought I’d lose, when all they really knew about was my relationship with a foster brother, and not all the legal details behind it.
Seeing that his plan for winning more money from the lawsuit by having other Szabos join me was in jeopardy, Kirk pulled out all stops, and hired some guy that was a retired CIA agent. This guy filed a pile of new dirt that put the old pile to shame. He discovered several suspicious withdrawals out of the Szabo Fund that James made over the years since Karl’s death. One particular $200 million withdrawal was from the Fund was to fund the purchase of a new company that was now controlled with a majority share by James. This company was entirely separate from the Szabo corporation, and did not put any profits back into the Szabo fund. I mean, the fund had money in it that was invested in different outside corporations, but all proceeds from stock fluctuations went back into the Fund to grow it for when it would be time to take money out of it. One of the problems I had with figuring out how exactly I was being ripped off long before my allowance was entirely cut off was that James gave out a long report on how the company was doing, and how much money everybody was getting from him for the year, but he kept the details about how the rest of the money in the trust was being invested secret.
