Murder follows the last will of a very rich man
Excerpt
Chapter One
“How much?” asked Laird McKenney, the senior partner in the law firm of McKenney and McKenney. “You’re asking me how much that estate is worth? It’s worth more than the assets of you, and me, and probably every other lawyer in the State of West Virginia, all added together. The land alone is over nine thousand acres and half of it is under laid with coal twelve feet thick. Not only that but there are piles of cash in a dozen different banks in this country and, so I’ve been told, in numbered accounts in Switzerland. Old Jack owned stock in a dozen different major corporations and, in most of them, he was the controlling shareholder. Conservatively, I’d judge his estate to have over one billion dollars in assets. That’s right; I said ‘billion’ not ‘million’ and, yes, I know the difference.”
“Good God! You mean we are expected to administer that estate? We’ll have to hire twenty more lawyers, and we’ve got nowhere to put the ones we have working here now. What are we going to do, give up all our other clients?”
“There’s no damn estate to administer. The two sons are the only devisees and they are also the only heirs.”
“Well then, what’s our connection with the estate?” asked Zane Wilson, a junior partner in McKenney and McKenney.
“Our connection is that we need to figure out a way that screwed up tenancy can be resolved or else figure out some way to make those rotten boys each sign a lease.”
“What makes you think they might want to resolve the tenancy, Laird?” asked Zane.
“I don’t know for certain. But it’s a damn good guess that they do because they can’t stand each other. I have never in my life known two brothers who hated each other more than the Marcus boys do. It’s a miracle that one of them hasn’t killed the other by now. Morally and mentally they are about five years old. From the time they were infants, they have done anything and everything they could to make life miserable for each other, for their family, and for everyone else around them. They were thrown out of more schools that I ever knew existed. Neither of them has sense enough to come in out of the rain. They are twins, but they don’t look alike. Lawrence is a great big fat guy, with thin black hair, and a huge double chin. His brother, Terrance, has flaming red hair and freckles. He’s skinny as a rail. The only thing that is common to the two brothers is that each stands over six feet tall. Larry has been married several times. As far as I know, Terrance has been married only once.”
“Where are they living now? I know that old man Marcus lived near Charleston somewhere. Do they live at his place?” This question came from Coleman, the newest McKenney in the firm. He was Laird’s eldest grandson and Scott’s eldest son.
“I wish I could answer that,” replied Laird. “Neither of them has lived with Jack since they were teens. He threw both of them out after Joyce died. To the best of my understanding, they never spoke to each other after that. The two boys didn’t even show up at their mother’s funeral.”
“Well, if they are that bad, why did he leave them all his money and stuff?” asked Scott.
“I think he wrote that crazy will just to get revenge on them for the way they treated their mother and the way they treated everyone around them,” replied Laird.
“I don’t follow,” said Coleman.
“Well, you read it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I still don’t see…”
“They inherited the whole damn thing, but it is all tied up in some kind of screwed-up tenancy. From the language in the will you can’t tell if it is a joint tenancy, or a tenancy in common. You studied ‘tenancy’ in that fancy law school of yours, didn’t you?”
“Sure I did, Grandpa, but I still don’t see…”
“Well then you know that if it is a joint tenancy, they each own 100% of the whole thing,” responded his grandfather. “That means that the one who outlives the other gets the whole damn thing. The dead one’s heirs get nothing. But, on the other hand, if it is a tenancy in common, then each one of them owns a one half undivided interest in the whole thing. Then when one of them dies, his heirs get his one half.”
“Well, what difference does that make? The dead one can’t use anything anyway, can he?”
“It’s not the being dead part that hurts. What hurts is that, according to the language in the will, neither one can do anything with the assets without the cooperation of the other. Old Jack is probably rolling around in his grave laughing at the way he fixed it so those two will have to learn to work together for either of them to collect a single dime out of his estate.”
“Why can’t each one just sell what he owns and not worry about the other brother?” asked Coleman.
“Let me explain it this way. Suppose you and I jointly own a fishing boat. You want to sell it, and I don’t want to sell it. Who would buy the boat if only one of us agreed to the sale? The answer is ‘no one’. Now here’s the part that is important to us. Old Jack had nine thousand acres of undeveloped coal land. Well, no coal company worth its salt will start to mine that coal if they only have permission from one of the co-owners. On top of that, there’s all that money in all those banks. Do you think any responsible bank is going to release funds to just one tenant if the other tenant doesn’t agree to the release? Until there is some resolution of exactly what kind of tenancy has been created by Jack’s will, neither Terrance nor Lawrence will be able to spend a dime of the assets of that gigantic estate. Jack’s joke has created a legal mess the likes of which I have never before seen. I don’t know where to begin to try to unravel the mess he deliberately created. This will could turn into a lawsuit that would last for generations. It’s worse than Jarndyce vs. Jarndyce. I wish I could bring Jack Marcus back to life for just long enough to wring the old bastard’s neck.”
“Dad, there may be a fairly simple solution to all this,” said Scott.
“And what might that be?” asked Laird with a wary look at his son.
“Just use a straw man. Have each of them convey all of his interest in the estate to some neutral person. That would consolidate the two interests in that person and then the interests would merge. The straw man could then convey one half of the estate back to each of the boys. That way each brother would own one half of the estate free and clear of any claim from the other. Surely they must know that half a loaf is far better than no loaf at all. It seems simple to me,” Scott said proudly.
“That sounds good to me, Grandpa,” contributed Coleman. “I remember a professor in law school talking about the use of a straw man to resolve tenancy problems. This looks like a perfect case to use one.”
“Well now, I’ve got a surprise for you two students of the law,” said Laird. “Back in the ancient days when I was in law school the professors told me about ‘straw men’ too. And, believe it or not, I actually understood what they were talking about. If you would stop solving the case before you have heard all the facts, I’ll tell you why a ‘straw man’ solution isn’t worth a damn.”
“There’s more?” asked Coleman.
“Yes, there’s more. There’s a lot more. First and foremost we don’t know where Terrance B. Marcus is. We don’t know where he lives, and we don’t even know if he is dead or alive. He’s disappeared from the face of the earth. Perhaps you will tell me how you propose to get his signature on that deed to a straw man? If Terrance is dead and this estate is a joint tenancy, then Lawrence C. Marcus owns the whole darn kit and caboodle. If Terrance is dead and the estate was a tenancy in common, then Terrance’s wife, if he still has one, owns half and Lawrence owns the other half. There would be no need for a straw man if that were the case. It’s only if Terrance is still alive, that there is any call for a straw man. Even then, both brothers must agree to the conveyance to the straw man, and they haven’t agreed on anything since they were born. How about ‘them apples’ my good and faithful progeny?”
“So what is our role in this mess, Dad?” asked Scott.
“Elm River Consolidated Coal Company is our biggest client. You know that we have handled their business for years. Well, Elm River wants to mine the coal under those nine thousand acres. They tell me that the coal seam under that land is twelve feet thick in places. Elm River could make a bloody fortune if they could get the right to mine that coal. Harley Thompson, the President of Elm River wants our firm to get him the mining rights for that land. All we have to do is figure out how to do it. Is that enough of a legal problem for you?”
“So, all we have to do is find Terrance B. Marcus, dead or alive. If he is still alive, we get him and his brother Lawrence to agree to sell the mineral rights to Elm River. If he is dead, then we get his brother and his widow to sell the mineral rights. Oh, sure, that’s no problem at all. Listen Dad, I’ll take care of that this afternoon, right after I finish work on my perpetual motion machine,” said Scott.
“Your clever sarcasm is noted,” said his father. “And yes, that’s the deal. I want us to find Terrance B. Marcus, or find his heirs, one or the other. If and when we find him, then we have to try to convince him to hire himself an attorney. If he gets himself an attorney then we might have someone with sense enough to negotiate a coal lease for that nine thousand acres.”
“Couldn’t we represent Terrance if he is alive, grandpa?” asked Coleman McKenney.
“We represent Elm Coal Company. We cannot represent either of the Marcus boys, jointly or severally. To do so would be a major conflict of interest. Now, all of you get the hell out of my office and start earning us a living.”
“One more question, Dad?”
“And what is that?” sighed Laird.
“Who is paying the taxes on all this stuff? If that isn’t taken care of, then the State of West Virginia or the Federal Government will soon own everything by forfeiture for failure to pay taxes.”
“Old Jack was too smart to let that happen. He set up an irrevocable trust fund years ago, and the sole purpose of that trust is to keep current all the taxes, State and Federal that arise because of any asset he might have. That trust will keep this problem alive and keep the assets out of the greedy hands of the State of West Virginia or the Federal Government forever.”
Read more about Jack’s Joke and Karl Warden HERE.
Copyright 2008 Karl Warden. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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