My Father Signed Papers Saying I Wasn’t His Son. I Used Them When He Sued Me For Support Now He Is..

Litigation Suicide

The court date was set for a gray Tuesday in November. It was the kind of day where the sky looks like concrete and the air bites at your face when you walk from the parking lot to the courthouse.

The trees were bare, and dead leaves were scattered across the sidewalk. Everything looked cold and final.

I wore my best suit, navy blue and well-fitted. It was the kind of suit you wear when you want to project success without being flashy about it.

I felt calm in a way I hadn’t expected. For 10 years, I had carried the weight of what Gerald had done to me, dragging it behind me like a chain attached to my ankle.

Now I was about to set it down. I hadn’t seen Gerald in a decade.

When he was wheeled into the courtroom, I almost didn’t recognize him. He was withered and shrunken.

The broad shoulders I remembered had curved inward. The commanding presence had diminished to something almost pitiable.

He was in a wheelchair pushed by a home health aide who looked like she would rather be anywhere else. But the arrogance was still there.

I could see it in the set of his jaw and in the way he held his chin up even as his body failed him. The entitlement was etched into the deep lines around his mouth.

He was wearing an expensive suit that was clearly from better times, hanging off his gaunt frame like a costume from a play he was no longer cast in. He looked like a king in exile, still expecting the throne while sitting in the gutter.

Gerald didn’t look at me when he entered; he looked straight at the judge. The judge was a stern man named Judge Morrison, who had a reputation for having zero patience for family dramatics.

Morrison had been on the bench for 30 years and had clearly seen every variety of human dysfunction. His expression suggested he had already decided this was going to be a waste of his time.

Gerald’s lawyer stood first. His name was Prescott, a bottom feeder in an expensive suit who clearly specialized in whatever cases paid the bills.

He had the look of a man who had stopped believing in his clients a long time ago but still needed to make his mortgage payments. Prescott launched into his opening argument with theatrical sincerity.

He painted Gerald as a devoted father who had fallen on hard times through no fault of his own. He described a man who had sacrificed everything to raise his son, only to be abandoned in his hour of need.

He called me an ungrateful child who had achieved success and turned his back on the man who made it all possible.

“Your Honor,”

Prescott said, gesturing toward Gerald’s wheelchair with practiced sympathy.

“The statute is clear. The defendant has substantial financial means. His father is destitute and in failing health.”

“The biological link between them is irrefutable. We have submitted a recent paternity test ordered by my client which confirms a 99.9% genetic match.”

“All we are asking for is the statutory support required by Connecticut law. We are simply trying to keep an old man off the streets.”

It was a compelling narrative. If you knew nothing about our history, you might have felt sorry for the old man in the wheelchair.

You might have wondered what kind of son would abandon his elderly father to poverty. Then it was Meredith’s turn.

She didn’t use the podium. She stood right next to me, her hand resting on my shoulder in a gesture of solidarity that I knew was calculated for the judge’s benefit.

Everything Meredith did was calculated. That’s what made her so effective.

“Your Honor,”

Meredith said, her voice cool and clear.

“We do not dispute the plaintiff’s current financial status. We have reviewed his documentation, and we accept that he has, through his own poor decisions, rendered himself indigent.”

“Nor do we dispute the accuracy of the DNA test he has submitted. The genetic science is clear.”

She paused. The courtroom was silent.

“However, we move for immediate dismissal based on the doctrine of judicial estoppel.”

Judge Morrison raised an eyebrow.

“Explain, counselor.”

“Judicial estoppel prevents a party from taking a position in a legal proceeding that is directly contrary to a position they successfully took in an earlier proceeding.”

Meredith turned to look directly at Gerald as she spoke.

“Essentially, Your Honor, you cannot tell one court that the sky is blue in order to win a case and then tell another court that the sky is green in order to win a different case. The law does not permit such fundamental inconsistency.”

She walked toward the bench and handed a document to the bailiff.

“Ten years ago,”

Meredith continued, her voice gaining an edge.

“Gerald Ashford coerced my client into disclaiming a multi-million dollar inheritance. He achieved this through a calculated campaign of emotional manipulation and legal maneuvering.”

“Central to this scheme was an affidavit sworn under oath and filed with the probate court in which Gerald Ashford declared that Ethan Ashford was not his biological son.”

The courtroom went dead silent. I watched Gerald’s face for the first time since he had entered.

He looked at me, and his eyes were wide. His mouth opened slightly.

He clearly had not expected this. His lawyer looked confused and alarmed, frantically flipping through his own papers.

Prescott had clearly not been told about the affidavit. Gerald had hired him to file a simple support petition, probably assuring him it would be straightforward.

He had neglected to mention the inconvenient paperwork from a decade earlier.

“This is Exhibit A,”

Meredith said, holding up the document.

“An affidavit of non-paternity signed by the plaintiff, dated June 14th, 2014.”

“In this document, Gerald Ashford states under oath, and I quote: ‘I have irrefutable evidence that Ethan Ashford is not of my biological issue, and I hereby sever all familial recognition and legal connection to him.'”

She let the words hang in the air.

“He used this sworn statement to secure sole control of his father’s trust fund. He presented it to the probate court as evidence that my client had no claim to the inheritance.”

“The court accepted his representation, and the trust was dispersed according to his wishes.”

Meredith turned back to face the judge.