Chapter 7 - I CHANGED THE WORKSHOP LOCKS
Fear makes self-help feel noble.
It usually looks worse the next morning.
The workshop belonged to the estate.
Miles Trent had changed the exterior lock after Dad’s death.
He and Sophronia each had authorized access under inventory protocol.
I did not.
After learning Dad had signed the amendment, I became convinced Sophronia would enter the workshop and destroy it before the court decided anything.
No evidence she had attempted that.
Still.
At eleven at night, I drove to Dad’s house.
The property was vacant.
I called a locksmith.
Showed my driver’s license.
Explained I was the decedent’s son.
Did not explain I lacked estate authority.
He changed the side-door cylinder.
I paid cash.
Then I left.
I did not enter the blue cabinet.
Did not touch records.
In my head, I had protected evidence.
At seven the next morning, Miles called.
“Dacre.”
I knew.
“You changed the lock.”
“Yes.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That Sophronia—”
“Stop.”
He rarely raised his voice.
“This is estate property under court supervision.”
“I didn’t take anything.”
“You interfered with access.”
“I was preserving it.”
“Without authority.”
There.
Then:
“Bring every key to my office by nine.”
I did.
The probate court held an emergency conference.
Sophronia’s lawyer argued I was attempting to seize Dad’s estate.
Overstatement.
But my action helped them.
The judge ordered:
Exterior access controlled solely by Miles and a neutral property custodian.
No unsupervised access by either sibling.
Security camera installed temporarily.
No removal of property.
I paid the cost of restoring the proper lock.
$640.
My money.
Then the judge looked at me.
“If you believe estate evidence is at risk, you file a motion.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“You do not appoint yourself sheriff of your father’s garage.”
“No, Your Honor.”
Humiliating.
Correct.
Sophronia smiled outside court.
“You always prove Dad right about you.”
I almost answered.
Naomi touched my elbow.
I kept walking.
Then my mistake had another consequence.
The hearing on opening the cabinet was delayed four days so neutral custody could be established.
Four more days of wondering.
Aurelia asked:
“Did key open yet?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I made something harder.”
“What?”
“I changed Grandpa’s workshop lock when I wasn’t allowed.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“I thought I was protecting his papers.”
“Did you?”
“Maybe. But I still wasn’t allowed.”
She considered.
“Grown-ups get time-out?”
“Probate court is close.”
May you like
She laughed.
Fair.
