Amos Took The Witness Chair And Remembered Who Had Signed

The hearing began on a Tuesday with rain ticking against the courthouse windows.

I sat behind Lena and Owen. Mireya sat across the aisle. She had brought a new black folder. I had brought the court's numbered copies of my flour sacks.

Grant stood and described me as a man who had lived free on an old man's boat.

I stared at a square I had drawn around a failing seam.

Four hundred dollars for a used pump. Thirty-one hours without a full night's sleep. Free was a strange word for it.

I started writing an answer on my copy of the repair list. Lena glanced back and shook her head once. My turn would come through the evidence. I put the pen down. Across the aisle, Mireya kept her chin high, as if good posture could stop the clerk from reading a date.

Lena put the original 2021 will and 2025 codicil into evidence through the people who had kept and witnessed them.

Beth Rusk described the meeting. Grandpa had arrived with Amos, asked for coffee, and corrected the spelling of a tool on the equipment list.

"He said the boat had two winches, not one," she told the judge.

"Did Rafael give the instructions?" Lena asked.

"He wasn't there. Mr. Batista gave them."

Then Amos climbed into the witness chair. He set his cap on his knee.

"You were a river pilot?" Grant asked.

"Until I retired."

"A lawyer?"

"No. You need somebody to dock a tow, though, I'm your man."

The judge asked him to answer directly. He nodded and held his cap still.

Amos said Grandpa had read the codicil, signed it, and watched both witnesses sign. Grandpa had told them that Mireya could manage money, but Rafael knew how to care for the boat.

Grant asked about the $1,200 loan.

My throat tightened. Mireya had learned about it from the papers we had supplied.

"You paid for this fight," Grant said.

"I loaned Rafael money after his grandfather died."

"You expect him to win."

"I expect him to pay me back. That's separate."

"You dislike my client."

Amos looked across the room.

"I dislike what she's doing. I didn't know she'd do it when I watched Tomás sign last year."

Lena asked one more question.

"Did Rafael ask you to witness the codicil?"

"Tomás did. Called me himself."

Ruth came next with her records. She explained the difference between her appointment ledger and her official journal. Both placed Mireya alone in her office on May 11, a week after Grandpa's death.

Her commission record showed that she had not even been a notary on the claimed September 2024 signing date.

"Did you authorize your stamp to be placed on this will?" Lena asked.

"No."

Grant pointed out that wills did not need a notary to be valid.

"Agreed," Lena said. "The question is whether anyone actually witnessed this one."

Tess Monroe stepped forward. Her name appeared as one of Mireya's two supposed witnesses. She had sewn our stage curtains for $360.

Lena showed her the will signature, then a signed payment voucher from Grandpa's old files.

Tess leaned over both pages.

"That's the same signature," she said. "See the broken line in the M? My pen ran dry on that receipt."

"Did you sign a will for Tomás Batista?"

"Never. I sewed curtains."

The other listed witness, Leo Dent, had painted the landing rail. His sworn testimony, accepted by both sides, said he had signed his $480 payment receipt and had never witnessed Grandpa's will.

Mireya's red nails pressed into her folder.

The judge asked Grant whether his client had anyone who could testify to the supposed 2024 signing.

He requested time to speak with her.

During the break, I found Amos at the water fountain.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Those chairs were built by someone who hated knees."

I handed him his cap. He had left it under his seat.

"Thank you," I said.

"You already said that."

"Not for the loan."

He took a long drink, then wiped his mouth with a paper towel.

"Your granddad asked me to watch. I was watching."

Back inside, the judge continued the hearing until Thursday. The order protecting the boat stayed in force. Ellen would keep control of estate funds and property while the evidence was completed.

Mireya left without looking at me.

Owen stayed by the courtroom door, taking a call. When he hung up, he asked us to wait.

A delivery clerk arrived with a sealed packet sent in response to a records request. It came from the print shop Mireya had used after Ruth's appointment.

On the order sheet visible through the packet's clear sleeve, I could read her name, a $27.50 charge, and one instruction.

Print As Original. Cream Paper.