Not My Jurisdiction
Matt Peterson sat across from the head court clerks, frustration and exhaustion etched across his face.
“There must be a mistake,” he said, trying to catch the clerk's gaze. The man seemed determined not to meet his eyes, opening and closing random files on his desk as though he were terribly busy. “Please, I have all my documents here. You can compare them with your records.”
The clerk barely looked up. “Look, Mr Peterson. I understand your concern but really, it's not my jurisdiction. Just be in court on the date stated in your summons and speak to the judge.”
Matt exhaled sharply and stared at the Notice Of State Acquisition in his hand. It said his grandfather's estate would be seized in sixty days because the government claimed there was no legal heir. So preposterous, he thought at the time until he dug up all the tax receipts and a copy of the will from his study, took them to the probate division only to be told by every office he approached, ‘not my jurisdiction’.
One sympathetic clerk had been kind enough to search the system and uncovered the problem—a filing error buried decades deep listing his grandfather as legally childless. It would take a court order to rectify it.
On the day of the hearing, when he entered the courtroom, his mouth dropped open at the number of lawyers representing the state. There were more than twenty and he wondered if there wasn't more to the state acquisition of his family's property.
The lead state lawyer stood, his shoulders held high as he said, “The state has established that no lawful heir exists pertaining to Goodwill Manor. We move for full acquisition proceedings.”
The judge, a stern middle-aged woman, nodded and peered over her glasses at him. “Mr Peterson?”
Just when his lawyer rose to respond, someone spoke from behind them, his deep voice carrying across the courtroom. “My property is not up for acquisition, My Lord.”
Everyone turned except Matt who froze for a long moment. He didn't need to—the voice belonged to no other than his supposedly deceased grandfather.
The crowd murmured around him as the judge requested the intruder approach the bench. Only then did Matt turn to see his grandpa who looked nothing like a ghost. It seemed time had treated him kindly. At ninety-five years old, he carried himself with surprising strength as he walked slowly, leaning heavily on a cane, his once jet-black hair fully white. But his sharp features and steady gaze were unmistakable.
The explanation of Jason Peterson's disappearance for over fifteen years unraveled in the judge's chambers during recess.
The state lawyers refuted Jason's claim that he had been alive all these while and demanded medical examinations and identity verification. Then Matt's lawyer presented the clerk's findings about the clerical error.
Hours later as the sun dipped below the horizon, the court premises emptied, the matter was resolved. A clerical error had recorded the wrong man's death certificate as Jason Peterson's.
Matt and Jason spent the night getting reacquainted at the Goodwill Manor.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "not my jurisdiction".
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