Racism in itself is a serious moral and spiritual “disease”. It is an affront to human dignity, a cause of hatred and division, a disease that devastates society.
Some of my former neighbors have asked why I moved away. My silence has protected a lot of people, but silence is what protects the racist. Silence allows racist policy to continue to exist, silence emboldens the racist to act, silence allows white privilege to flourish. It is very, very clear that I expected justice, but it has not been forthcoming. My story is a good example of how systemic racism worked in Indiana and how it works in this country. To this date I have never received any portion of my husband’s estate, even though he had a clear written will.
It began with an individual racist act but continued into the realm of systemic or institutional racism. The people of Mt. Vernon, my neighbors probably felt they had done something to offend me which is not the case. They are to be commended in their role, friendly, helpful, and supportive. My husband’s lawyer was cordial, professional, someone in whom I placed my trust, and my trust in him has never been in question. In the often-heard story of relatives who manage to take the estate when someone dies, we sympathize, we shake our heads, we know this is not going to end well. If it just stopped at that, it’s just personal, sad and immoral, some might say sinful though it be. But when it rises to the level of institutional support, that’s when it becomes systemic racism, illegal and unjust, no longer a private matter. In 2009, two hours after the death of my husband Wednesday, September 9, his sister and her husband illegally entered our home before I arrived and did willfully and intentionally destroy a copy of my husband’s will. What I offer here is not hearsay, or conjecture. I have proof. And this proof has been presented to all the right places: the courts in Mt Vernon, Posey County, to the attention of lawyers who took my money and wasted my time but offered me no help. Nancy, our good neighbor across the street with a clear line of vision to our home, saw the couple enter the house. A close friend was with me when I arrived home and we were greeted by the couple in our kitchen. As an inter-racial couple Paul and I had good, I would say, excellent relations with our small-town neighbors, and my co-workers and I at the local university had good professional relationships. So, these events were totally surprising, unexpected and have shaken me completely. Early morning, Thursday September 10, this sister-in-law called our lawyer’s office to arrange for the reading of my husband’s will. The person who made the appointment is presently a practicing attorney in Mt Vernon. Plainly something illegal happened on that call: a sister arranging for the reading of the will not 24 hours after the death of her brother, when the funeral arrangements had not been finalized? Paul had a will, properly witnessed. He also had in place for many years a pre-paid funeral with clearly written instructions that he did not want to be embalmed, he wanted to be buried as soon as possible after his passing. Eventually he was laid to rest in the family plot, next to both his parents. The estate did not even pay for a headstone for his final resting place. How cold is the greedy heart? Monday morning, two days after the funeral, we met at the lawyer’s office for the appointment arranged by the sister-in-law. The sister-in-law entered the office with papers and documents illegally removed from my husband’s desk and files which she had taken from our home. Along with those documents, she handed the lawyer a will, which turned out not to be Paul’s current will, which would have been in the lawyer’s office anyway. What happened to that will? She handed the lawyer a will that had been made some years before Paul and I had been married. In that will she, as his nearest of kin at that time, had been made the heir and executor of his estate. The lawyer looked over the will, but he needed time to read it through. Another meeting was arranged for Wednesday. But of course, that was the will he had to go by. I left the office that Monday morning, and when I went back over to the house, the brother in law and their oldest son were loading items from the house onto a trailer, to transport them to their home in Morganfield. Nothing had been decided, I had not even heard the reading of a will, neither had anyone else. Then I was able to look into the file cabinet where copies of my will and my husband’s will had been kept. A copy of my will was still in the file drawer, and there was just a space in the drawer where a copy of my husband’s current will had been kept. Items from our home were loaded for transport, some items ripped from the walls such as beautiful custom-made bookshelves. Pretty much the house was in shambles. Illegally entering our home, illegally removing items cannot be right. My marriage to my husband had never been a problem, as far as I could tell, to my co-workers, or our neighbors. I adored his very dear elderly aunt, I felt nothing but affection from her, she traveled with us, ate many meals at our home, Paul and I ate meals in her home, that I am African American never came up. My sister-in-law had indicated that she was not happy that Paul had married me, but this was never openly pressed. I have never been to her home, never been invited to her home. Of course, as the legal wife, the lawyer made it clear that although I was not named in the will that he had in hand, I would be heir to a part of my husband’s estate. With the sale of the house, the value of the estate would be determined, and then the matter would be taken to the Probate Court. I should be sure to retain a lawyer who would help me, thus my sister-in-law was appointed executor of the estate. Now we move to the systemic level of racism which includes the white privilege implied. I never had any idea when the estate was submitted to the Probate Court. In fact, when I tried to file Paul’s income tax, I was told by the IRS that his taxes had been filed and that he was listed as single. News to me. When I contacted the lawyer’s office handling the estate, I was told that within a few weeks, the lawyer’s office would be closed. I asked if my husband’s estate had been settled and eventually received information by mail that the estate had been submitted for probate 2 years before. I had never received any information from the lawyer, or the executor of the estate, or any legal representative about my husband’s estate. I contacted a lawyer, who of course, requested a retainer fee, which I sent to him along with all the correspondence I had received from the lawyer representing my husband’s estate. My lawyer read over copies of the information that I had sent to him, and reviewed information he was able to obtain from the Probate Court. On the information that Paul’s lawyer sent to me, documents, records, and summaries, I included notes indicating false items in the materials received from my husband’s lawyer. There were, for example, notes reporting meetings that I never attended in Indiana. I was working in Alabama and can easily prove where I was on those dates. It was at that time that I heard for the first time that on the date when my husband’s estate had been submitted to the Probate Court that the lawyer representing the estate would have been incapacitated. He had had both a stroke and a heart attack. This meant the sister and the person in the lawyer’s office would have likely presented the documents to the court. I had never heard this nor been notified of any of this. Then to make things even more difficult, the lawyer that I was paying to assist me made it very clear: a) there were items in the summary reports that he found unusual, things he would not have done, things that caused him concern; and especially as it was clear from my notes that false information had been included in the summaries; b) he could not assist me because he had such great respect for my husband’s lawyer and if he took me as a client, he would expose the inaccuracies in the summaries and therefore expose my husband’s lawyer; c) if I chose to move forward with the case, I was asked please not to mention his name (my lawyer’s name). It was his privilege to keep himself out of this case. He cashed my check. Bank records will easily show the check was cashed. I did move forward. Now the effect this had is that I then continued to look for a lawyer to assist me before the statutes of limitation ran out. I did not realize that something was going on, as I called what amounted to a 14-page record of all my efforts to find a lawyer to help me. I have it in writing from a lawyer who after reading the court records noted: areas of fraudulent concealment, the impact of fraudulent acts, and other undisclosed matters on statutes of limitation. The lawyers could see evidence of fraudulent behavior, but unfortunately, they could not, or would not assist me. Finally, the limitations were reached, and on a defining phone call it came clear what was happening: I called a lawyer in Evansville, gave him the Court Case Number. He put me on hold, when after a few minutes, he came back on the phone, the man was seething: “What is it you want?” he demanded hotly. “Well, I need a lawyer to assist me to apply for my portion of my husband’s estate,” simply stated. That’s when I knew there was not going to be any legal help for me: “Do you think any of the good ole boys in southern Indiana are going to assist you?” And there it was. I was left wondering what were the lawyers, the good ole boys, seeing when they checked at the court case number to make them behave this way? I could not believe I was hearing that. The personal individual illegal behavior by Paul’s sister was being supported by the legal system. That is institutional or systemic racism. The good ole boys were exercising their white privilege, protecting one of their own. My husband’s sister took every penny from the widow and did not even bother to provide for a decent marker for her brother’s final resting place. Paul knew he would not withstand a third heart attack, so we spoke about end of life plans: he selected what he wanted read at his funeral, and he considered what he wanted on his headstone. I have since 2013 done all the research myself, traveled to Mt Vernon and Evansville to gather information, presented it to the County Prosecutor’s office, the sheriff’s office, the Probate Court, the Indiana State Bar Association, Indiana Supreme Court, Disciplinary Commission. To no avail. I am taking this to the court of public opinion and social media to get my story out. I can do that, I can protect myself, I can use my voice. All lives matter, mine, too. If anybody cares. Do I deserve justice? Soon my friends will have the answers they have wondered about for many years because I plan to tell them all the details. I have been asked if I have suffered from racism in this country. I look successful. Really, I have, of course, but I paid my taxes, got the occasional speeding tickets, worked all my life for over 30 years in universities on three continents, but here in my native land, I suffered the ever so subtle and not so subtle acts of racism. Ignorant people are on their own before God, I live my life. Notwithstanding, I made my way in this world, honestly, doing right unto others as I had been taught. What happened to me in Indiana when my husband died is a glaring example of how the laws of this country did not protect me and all too often do not protect people of color. If anyone ever asks me to recommend a lawyer in Evansville or Mt. Vernon I will speak of my experience. And I will name names, as it is my privilege to do, why should I be silent? And will my experience make any difference to anyone? People are used to hearing about racism, that’s how it has always been. This is why people are taking the knee, taking to the streets. Enough is enough. People are being killed: jogging while black, sleeping at home in their own beds while black, living while black. And people are suffering, mostly in silence from the racist attitudes of far too many people in this country. The silence is being broken… Patricia Alston October, 2020 Postscript: Dear Readers, Pat would appreciate any comments you may want to share. Thanks, Ann
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