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Michele Picot
Leonce Picot Eulogy
The Burger King and I
Michele's New World

Dislcaimer: There is nothing published here that Laura Picot Sayles could deny under oath then subsequently pass a polygraph. She claims to have no memory of anything a month old, but that is not a defense. Truth is the absolute defense for defamation, and Laura has defamed her sister for many years prior to Michele Picot refusing to accept any more, bearing it in silence. M. Picot, conversely, can testify that every word is true and pass a polygraph. The Strawberry Agency has not revealed untrue or private information since nothing is "private" when scandalous behavior reflects on innocent family and friends. It tends to become known by any number of people and before long is countywide. Laura's pecadillos were continuous fodder for members of her father's staff who she belittled or insulted. The Down Under secretaries, purchasing agent, latter day chefs (after Planchon, who favored Michele) busboys, front desk men, and certain waiters and bartenders spread everything around they heard about the Picot family- to associates, to their family members and friends, and to Michele. It is hurtful having your associates come to you with what's being said about your family members.It is true, Michele was the last of about 200 people who knew Leonce regularly brought a mistress to dinner at the Down Under. Finally her husband told her, and though she had no great affection for Leonce's wife, was thoroughly embarassed by her father doing that with Laura and the whole staff looking on. In that way, our "private" misbehavior becomes public the moment it injures innocents and it takes just one person who opens their mouth... Michele never said a thing till our interview, after Leonce's death.

Laura Ellen Picot, aka Laura Picot-Sayles aka Laura Sayles

A Child is Born Christmas 1977

In 1977,

"National Distillers were rewarded when titanium profits increased from $6 million in 1977 to $30 million in 1980 as the government required more of the metal for its military jets. National Distillers celebrated its titanium success with Almaden wine, which was making a profit of $20 millio+n on sales of $144 million. An insurance company agency purchased by National Distillers in 1979, the Indiana Group, was another ..."

INDIANA GROUP,INC. Document Number P05000082292 FEI/EIN Number 20-2976871 Date Filed 06/07/2005 Effective Date 06/08/2005 State FL

Kay's number****6781, was never cancelled by Leonce, her PR, odd since Death Certificate Filings usually trigger the end of an account. Michele discovered this in 1993 and had it cancelled, under the suspicious stare with pursed lips the lady behind the window had for Michele.

Photo by Michele Picot Strawberry, owner, taken in her humble living room, Dec. 1977.

"Oh no, Michele had a baby and he might get some of Daddy's Money!" Laura Picot thinks beside the Christmas tree, hung with Nellie Picot's 1940's ornaments.

"What should I do now?"

Poor innocent babe had no clue of the plans swirling around the heads of his Aunt, Step Grandmother and Step Great Aunt, Joyce Fix. This baby was something that had to be dealt with, though he was needed for a period to make Leonce and his nagging wife appear as if they were normal grandparents of a child who is probably more WAIS-intelligent than his mother. This measure was professionally captured at age 5.

So Laura quickly married the nicest young man, but he was too nice for Laura, and of much better character. After her famous Wedding Bash at La Casa Vecchia, (landscaped by Michele Picot-Strawberry,) which she goes on about to this day, she got rid of Michele's new brother-in-law and jumped into the sack with an old college buddy, Mr. Sayles.

Another dream wedding was soon in the works, and Laura popped out two granddaughters to counteract the one grandson. Then she jumped into bed with a restaurant manager she believed her father would set up in a restaurant.

It was ever so embarassing and an act of family destruction for the three cousins, Nell Picot, and very distresssing to Michele that after what she and her sister had experienced due to Leonce's sarong hopping and jealousy of his wife, Kay, that Laura had not learned any lessons about love and marriage, infidelity aand its impact on young children. Least of all did she consider the innocent children she impacted- her daughters and nephew and how they may have felt about sudden disruption into another lifestyle, a contrary family dynamic. They didn't know, Laura was simply copying the behavior of her father, the Smart Money.

Laura did not allow her daughters to speak or see her cousin at all following the Sayles divorce. She completely divided the family and demanded that Leonce support her, set her up in a wine and cheese boutique, and buy her a $350,000 house because she had nothing. Laura had Zilch.

Leonce and Carolyn both knew Laura had never been able to keep a job because of personality problems, and Laura terrorized Leonce with threats to harm herself.

Her original house and furniture had been a gift from the Sayles family, and she certainly had no entitlement there after having her husband arrested for punching out the guy he came home from work and found in his bed with his wife. Of course the little girls were there, with police. A swell middle of the night circus.

As a teenager, Michele Picot-Strawberry's son worked as a cook at the Down Under. Michele had long removed herself from any of Laura's territory once she became ensconced as Down Under Bully. Laura wanted to be Daddy's work wife, and there was no competition there. Michele Picot-Strawberry was more interested in marine life than wine, and was mortified that Fish and Wildlife showed up at the Down Under one night and served her father a Warrant for serving Turtle Soup.

Some days after work Michele's son would come home on the verge of tears.

He asked, "Mom, why does Aunt Laura look at me with so much hate?

That pretty much led to Michele's hopeless conclusion that both she and her son would be robbed of everything they had been promised and been shown in writing when the day came to settle Leonce's Estate.

And because she is a WAIS v1 upper 2%-er, twenty years in advance Michele knew the conclusion- Laura would be the one to drive the knife into her own sister. Laura Picot Sayles knows exactly what she did and why and now plays around as if she is a dealer in luxury property, after usurping the life insurance benefits of her sister, who had suffered far more hardship than she, for love, and Laura ultimately robbed her own nephew, the very one who worried her in 1977.

It is Strawberry Truth, Laura Sayles was born to mortally wound her sister, steal from a baby, and deny her Mother who cherished her and raised her so well, her real Mother, Kay.

Without the fortification of Spirit which Kay infused into the household, Laura, by following her father down a path of lies, in adulthood quickly joined the Cult of the Golden Calf.

Like Vibrio sticks to plastic, so Michele Picot-Strawberry had become early on stuck to Methodist Episcopalian literature and verse. She wishes Laura would simply repent and be saved. Step-mother Carolyn's jewels, cars, champagnes, gluttony and discompassionate personality grew up like a chain of mountains blocking Laura's vision of righteousness and eternity.

Carolyn often nasally droned, " there is no God, no one sees, and you have to look out for number one."

That way, you are free to be an adulterer at whim, to expose innocent children to unacceptable family dynamics, to steal, lie, covet, be cruel to your employees and those who have placed tbeir love and trust in you- there is just no accountability. Because there is no one to see and weigh the scale at the appointed time.

*

1972

Apparently Leonce Picot, PR did not file a Death Certificate as Kay's SSN was active until Michele found it and cancelled it in 1993. How he got the estate closed without performance of those basic duties remains to be seen...

Further, her SSN was in the name Katherine Ann Daniel (step-father). Apparently it was never changed with marriage, since Kay was allowed no income. The question is, after the divorce, how did Katherine Ann Daniel file income tax suddenly out of the blue for the next six years, 1966-1972? She did have jobs then, and earnings as a free-lance writer. But her last filing must have been 1953, the year she was married.

Michele inherited $1700 from her mother and Leonce refused to provide an accounting, but threatened Michele with parental abandonment if she didn't drop the subject.

Part II. The Instant Opportunist

Kay spent many an hour with Laura upon her lap, for gentle lessons in sociability and kindness. They had to send her to church school at one point, but the cunning little child managed to invent a system to twist morals and precepts to her advantage, against those who would never expect it.

Beyond the family home, it started with Necy, a school friend, at around age nine. On a Saturday morning, Laura decided to arrange her social calendar for the day, first calling Necy.

Things didn't go as planned for Laura and she grew hysterical, sobbing and clinging to Kay. Necy would not commit to a particular activity with Laura for the stated reason that she wanted to wait and see who else called her, since it was early morning, and there might be a more interesting offer from someone else.

"Necy is an opportunist," Kay stated matter of factly.

"What does that mean?"

"An opportunist waits for choices offering them the most fun, and doesn't care if their best friend asked to see them first." It was a suitable definition for little girls.

For, we had been taught that accepting the first invitation of a friend was politeness. That is why party invitations must be made in advance, in the event another opportunity arises the morning of the party, where one is expected, and much has been planned.

This became the first test of Laura's inadherence to her mother's diligent lessons in etiquette. Necy had not been polite. She refused her good friend, hoping for a better offer. Thus, we had to be shown opportunists are not friends.

But Laura disagreed with her mother, thinking Necy was the smart one, and that is the point, despite the best upbringing, Laura spontaneously evolved into a very sophisticated type of opportunist for the remainder of her life, evidenced by her ongoing adult behavior.

Not just for social advantages, as a teenager did Laura take her opportunities to the limit, but once grown, once she was rid of the inconvenience of Kay, an endless loop of Jiminy Cricket Laura could only escape by being away from her mother, she became the sort of opportunist who preys on others, like an invasive species.

She waits in her cave, then strikes with malevolent information, or hearsay to her superiors, the moment her target is safely out of earshot.

Michele endured many years of Laura's undercutting ploys launched upon their father. Finally she let Laura have her way- Daddy was all hers. It just wasn't bearable to end up with such an embarassing, filled with hate for her chosen inferiors, material-driven sister, determined to vilify Michele and amputate her from their father's "family."

Thus it was doubly sad to lose Daddy prematurely, only to read of his death in the newspaper years and years later, because Laura and the wicked step-sisters, all for their own separate reasons were after Michele's promised legacy. It was cruel to attempt cutting her off after so many years of valuable service to their restaurants, silence about Kay, so many Christmas presents to win love she couldn't afford- but what would the difference be? She had lost her jolly loving father decades ago, her precious home, and the most beautiful mother in the world.

Had Michele won the Nobel Prize, with the three Harpies buzzing around with an apparently needy granddaughter, Leonce Picot would have never believed it.

This was Laura's goal, from 1977, to accomplish complete parental abandonment of Michele and her offspring before her Daddy died.

Part III. Plagiarism to Not Paying Sib-contractors

Laura's road to perdition, from bullying, to personal injury became more complicated once Michele left for college at 17.

As she was 19 when Kay was killed, Laura, Carolyn, and Leonce Picot had gone through Kay's house thoroughly, removing her personal papers, sparse but tasteful furniture, and certain personal items belonging to Michele, some which had been childhood Christmas gifts from Kay- a collection of Madame Alexander Little Women Dolls, a fascinating wooden carved horse carriage, golden with pink feathers which Kay had brought from San Francisco. Michele had cherished these items from her mother, but they were never found.

Leonce sent Michele alone to the ransacked house, to retrieve what was left of her possessions. It was a horrible experience, to go in the house again, and Michele was giddy, dizzy, nauseous, and afraid she would see Kay's ghost.

In Michele's room was an Ethan Allen desk where she had done years of homework and saved her childhood and teenage treasures. She found, at the very bottom of old school papers in the bottom drawer, her A+ term paper on Marine Biology. Though it had been retyped and signed "by Laura Picot."

Her teacher that year was one of the best and rarest talents ever, and did much to build Michele's courage based on her IQ, achievement, and potential, seeing she was suffering in a brutal family environment.

Michele had long maintained a saltwater aquarium of things she caught with a collander, by sifting Sargassum. And after writing, in 6th grade, an impressive report on the Coelacanth, decided on " Marine Biology" for a topic of the year's deciding paper. This teacher was incredibly progressive, a true teacher dedicated to bringing out the best in every student, and reputedly one of the best in the county public school system.

Though the class had been warned to not choose too broad a topic, Michele felt she could tackle Marine Biology in a paper that had to be at least 2,000 words. The class was assigned the term paper at the beginning of the school year, to be presented at the end of the year, not that we were not loaded with reports and class presentations using film and the opaque projector, usually one per week.

Every day after school required the afternoon be spent in the library where all the encyclopedias were, and Michele and her friends worked at a long table together, thoroughly hushed by the strict librarian, writing up reports on any subject of choice.

It took the school year for Michele to figure out how to fit her Marine Biology topic in a small paper, and before understanding that taxonomy even existed, decided to cover marine organisms phylogenetically, from the earliest life forms in the ocean, microbiotic, through Elasmobranchii to mammals.

"Picot, you're a genius," her teacher said, and the A+ was well earned.

Laura entered this same teacher's class before Michele had left home for college. And what Michele discovered at the bottom of her drawer was that Laura had turned in her sister's paper as her own. There it was with Laura's name on it and the teacher's A.

Now, this means Laura had to steal the paper from Michele's desk around 1967, by sneaking through her desk when Michele was away, perhaps spending the night with a friend.

Most likely, Mr. B. had given the paper to Kay, who he greatly admired for her literary brilliance, because he knew it was Michele's paper of three years prior. As our little family was in tatters at that time, and because Laura had a habit of feigning shyness and fragility when in trouble, he let it go, but not without discussing it with Kay. Michele is fairly certain Kay put the paper in the bottom desk drawer, buried, where Michele would one day find it and know.

This seems a small matter except it became greatly amplified with time.

The Sr. Sayles had given Laura and her husband their first house, classy digs, and completely furnished it with new furniture. Michele was renting a $500/month house, and living hand to mouth designing and often planting her own landscape designs. For example, one Christmas, Laura and her first husband gave Michele's family two bags of groceries for a gift.

There was a planter under a roof overhang, beneath the front picture windows of the house that was a tangle of weeds. Laura generously offered the job of beautifying the front of her house to Michele. And, like every planting of Michele's, it was a beautiful job which brought the front of the house to life.

The job took two days, driving to nurseries to pick up the plants, without a deposit since Michele had no reason not to trust her sister, and was planning to give her a big discount. Then Michele performed the labor to make it all happen.

She had decided she would make a $50.00 profit on the job, and presented Laura with a statement for about $232.00.

Laura sneered, "I want to see your invoices first. I want to know how much money you are making off me, and I won't pay you unless you give me copies of your invoices."

Having already put her own money into soil, plants, mulch and gas into the job, Michele was ready to run to the bank before she bounced a check.

Now, there is no business on earth that is required to present their wholesale receipts before they are paid. Michele's colleagues could not believe her own sister had so much nerve. Most landscapers would have wasted no time slapping a Mechanics Lien on the residence so the offense would be in the Public Record.

But Laura was an adult bully by this stage of her life. She slammed the door in Michele's face and said, "Come back when I can see how much your profit is."

Michele had been counting on her $50.00 to buy food that evening. She called Leonce and told him Laura would not pay her, using bully tactics, demanding to see proprietary wholesale invoices. It was Mr. Sayles who had the sense to at last write the check for $232.00. He agreed the planter was beautiful, as did Laura.

Yet, this was just the beginning of more deliberately inflicted pain to come, for Mr. Sayles, two little girls, and the Pauper Family of Michele, along with the suffering inflicted upon the Sr. Sayles who were the natural grandparents of her children. They lived in the north. It greatly wounds grandparents who have lost their grandchildren to divorce, especially when an offending wife has custody. As well, after all they had done to make the couple secure with a house and furniture to start their marriage, they were wounded for what their son had suffered, and by the end of hope that his would be a well adjusted and happy family.

Leonce and Carolyn Picot could not have been more delighted, as for justification of their subterfuge, they always claimed all three grandchildren were their natural grandchildren.

Carolyn Picot had the nerve to tell doctor's receptionists Michele was her daughter, and it was embarassing to have a receptionist trivially say, "You look just like your mother."

Michele answered, "You have never seen my mother. She has been dead since 1972."

Neither did she allow Kay and Leonce's grandson to be introduced as Carolyn and Leonce's grandson. He was just a commodity to them as was Michele. As if Carolyn Picot or Leonce could be given credit for Michele's brains; Michele was commoditized to make the nouvelle Picots seem of higher quality and appear to be normal people.

Laura Picot Sayles, Nobody's Sister

0 star Rated

aka Laura Sayles, Laura Picot-Sayles, Laura Ellen Picot, Fort Lauderdale
#nojusticenopeace

Laura Sayles and Leonce Picot, the "Odd Couple," Covered Each Other's Socially Unacceptable Behaviors for 40 years, Exploiting Family Members and Employees for Fun and Profit as America Went to Hell in a Handbag

Personal Anti-Bullying Defenses from the More than Accurate Memory told in the first Person, by Laura Picot Sayles' Impeccably Mannered and Honest Sister

Written by Agents Strawberry and Newton

6/08/2023

Introduction

Laura Picot-Sayles is the younger sister of Michele Picot-Strawberry, both grand-daughters of Frank H. Kryder and Vessie LeVonne Lawhon, Kay Daniel Picot's aka Katherine Kryder's parents. Daniel was Katherine's stepfather for a time. I was so family-confused. I met "Daddy Jack Daniel," an engineer, but by then LeVonne, who I had re-named "Bunny" was married to Gramps, a retired newspaper man who had a grown family in New York, some of whom I met but didn't understand how we were related, though we were told we were cousins.

In the golden years of life, sisters have each other, once the parents are gone, friends have died or grown too far apart. That is the Way of the well-adjusted, or what is thought of as the American Happy Family. Well-adjusted families love and respect each other naturally, and as a doctor wisely taught me, relationships of any type, heterosexual, homosexual, or familial, can be well-adjusted, or maladjusted.

A weak foundation leads to a maladjusted family, and unless all affected parties are willing to shore up the caved in places for the good of all, time eventually brings out the worst and it all comes tumbling down. Though I never expected my father and sister who I had grown up with would resort to inflicting sorrow, loneliness, dilemma, and insurmountable troubles on those who loved them.

So it is said,

"Be sure, be very sure
Your anchor holds
And grips the solid Rock."

History and profile are of utmost importance when demonstrating a long existing pattern of behavior and way of life that harms others by intention. My sister's childhood tendencies developed with impetus, not just by undermining me and seriously physically injuring me by the time she was seven. She grew up to later rob my family with the sincere wish I will die in shame and ruination, hopefully, a baglady. Ideally, she would prefer I kill myself, and her nephew to go the same way, as if it would justify hers and Leonce's position that there was just something wrong with the three of us, don't look at them. That is her intention for her sister, who knows her better and longer than anyone alive.

By no means a vendetta memoir, Laura Picot Sayles has wrought this story of herself, and having used personal mail interception, false publication to newspapers and slander for financial gain she knows was not hers, has destroyed the solitude of her closest kin, living and dead. She has made false representations repeatedly, injurious to other humans, and has always hidden behind her father, and in the worse case, behind a nefarious trustee to pull off a robbing act which she flaunts.

Because of Leonce's abuse, Kay killed herself, or as an abusive ex-spouse, Leonce may have shot her since he covered up the incident, did not have the gun's ownership determined, quashed an investigation and did not have an obituary published, though she was quite well known and popular in our part of Fort Lauderdale. The police lost the gun.

Laura made it quite clear that I, her sister, at 19, was not particularly welcome in Laura's new family of Daddy and his wife who were enjoying the use of Kay's furniture in their mansion, and other items taken from Kay's estate while I was away at college.

Too young to respond, I, like Laura should have done, underwent grief counseling though it did not work, intelligence testing, and then hospitalization for a mood swing shortly after giving birth. Daddy chose the psychiatrist, the same one Kay had consulted. He filled me with so many drugs I couldn't read, stay awake when sitting, or even get my bearings back in the world. The doctor suggested he and I would make a great couple, he divorced with a grown family. He wanted my DNA to add to his in another family. He constantly undermined my husband and made therapeutic suggestions which were expensively impossible such as, "Why don't you take a vacation to Marco Island?"

He had so much more to offer materially than my existing husband did- Ferraris, a house in Bay Colony, travel, clothes, anything I wanted. I have very few "wants" and this totally grossed me out, as Leonce was paying for this advice.

Thus I gave up on psychotherapy, this man having been "the best in town," until one day a hairdresser gave me a Prozac, sensing I was having a bad day.

"We all take it," he chortled, referring to a salon full of manicurists, aestheticians, and hair stylists.

I was astonished with one dose, wondering, "So this is the way everyone else feels?"

Without Champagne, Wine and Rum to escape my memories, I commenced a general physician's sanctioned lifetime prescription of Prozac, from Switzerland. The generic brand does not work near as well. Daddy said he would pay for it, but that lasted about two months.

Still it was a number years before I could find a suitable therapist- a male doctor was not the answer. However, the greatest lesson came from a team of 5 therapists who all at once concluded this and told me in concert:

"Michele, you are too nice. You let people walk all over you and it isn't right."

I was not allowed to leave the room until I called one of the therapists a name.

"You old dog," was the best I could do.

I finally found a woman internist-psychiatrist, European-trained, with unsurpassed experience gained in NYC to become qualified to practice in the USA. I have incurable depression which has to be controlled, or I quickly become suicidal, and I know how it originated.

I saw a practically perfect, brilliant specimen of womanhood deteriorate and succumb before my eyes to spousal abuse, my own irreplaceable Kay. Then I was threatened with total familial abandonment if I didn't keep my mouth shut about Leonce claiming to have authored Kay's books, or if I didn't rub down Carolyn's ostrich burled wood table with special oil every night after dinner. She was onto her second Old-fashioned by then, and cigarette dangling from her shapeless lips, she enjoyed leaning against her custom built pecky cypress bar watching her new Cinderella rub until she could rub no more. I thought it was an ugly table no matter how much I oiled it.

Apparently, I have plenty of company these days, people depressed everywhere, half-functional, self-medicating with alcohol and opiods, because they fear the stigma of consulting a psychiatrist, or don't have access to a medical doctor. Many say it is brought on by bullying and/or trauma, such as early death of a parent, or separation from a parent. Leonce and Laura delivered both in plentiful supply.

I had a personal client who was also a psychiatrist, and she committed suicide with her family at home, a day before our next meeting. When I heard it, I was instantly ill and half my face was paralyzed. I thought I was having a stroke, then my physician confirmed Bell's Palsy.

He asked, "Well what has happened in your life lately?"

"My client and friend, a psychiatrist, just committed suicide."

The man slumped onto his stool and lowered his head, covered it with his hands, in pain. It was an awful moment. I looked at his face for paralysis once he lifted his head. He was not half-facially paralyzed, but his shock and grief were fully expressed. Tough news for a doctor.

Suicide is like a hurricane, I was told by another doctor friend. Sometimes the storm passes over and you make it out the other side alive. And I have felt that, even with Prozac, when very stressed, but I know it will pass, so I take an extra Prozac, cry some, pray, and it does pass. If you know someone is in that hurricane, you can help them weather the storm, just don't try to reason with them.

But you have to have a thought to hang onto always, before a storm comes, which is what my personal psychiatrist told me,

"Suicide is a permanent answer to a temporary problem."

But that has to be known and embedded, because once in the storm, it is too painful to exist, it feels, and logic is not very useful.

Most of all, alcoholism and street drugs are not an effective way to treat depression, a Swiss Drug made in Indiana is much better.

It cannot be said that Kay Picot did not work fervently to raise her girls as proper Episcopalians. We were very involved with the life of our neighborhood church and its families, though we were usually absent a father, too busy at The Mai-Kai, unlike the adjusted happy families with fathers who were doctors who still made it to service Sundays. Though Kay did not let it get her down. Her singing voice was record-worthy, and it soared above the congregation's mumbled hymns.

I can still hear her glorious voice floating through her kitchen windows, carried on the breeze some distance to where I explored the open range of the adjacent backyard easements, before the days of fences and walls.

Laura and I were taught exquisite manners by our mother, what was in good taste, teaching us endless ways to amuse ourselves without a toy. Kay and Leonce drew a strict line between the world of children and adults. We were taught to, at social gatherings, be aware that many adults had already raised their children and shouldn't be nuisanced. There was always a children's table at dinners. We were generally not allowed in the vicinity of adults who were talking while drinking cocktails. Adult things were not our business, so we were the smiling seen but not heard girls. We excelled in brief introductions to our parents' associates, then disappearing to where children were not noticeable.

Someone told me of back then, "You and Laura were the most perfect little girls."

Upon the violent expiration of her mother who so truly loved her, pushed into her grave by Leonce, for money, Laura swiftly adopted the haughty, overlord thinking of a wicked and bitter stepmother, a former divorcee, married to the Caressa Shoe King before Leonce. Carolyn hated her school teacher job and was almost ready for the glue factory. She commenced her journey to obesity right after the Honeymoon. No more "slim and trim" for Leonce! Oops, there goes another star.

Laura considered Carolyn Guerard Phelps to be better than her mother if she ended up with Leonce who had chosen to beat up our mother one too many times. He would have been jailed for what he did by today's high standards of gentlemanliness. Leonce had more money suddenly than he had ever had in our little house. Leonce had made it to Idlewyld, so his was the side to choose. I don't blame Laura for being lured from our middle class neighborhood Spartan home to the choicest realty in town- she was in high school then,where peers tend to stick with those in their same income bracket.

Was it not what he always promised Kay, Michele, and Laura, that we would live in Idlewyld one day? Indeed he drove us through the neighborhood constantly, and moreso at night around Christmas, to admire and wish for the impressive displays of the wealthy.

Laura is now trapped in Leonce Picot's obsession with Stars, owning bunches of Mobil Travel Guide 5-Star restaurants, 4-Star in the very least. Laura doesn't connect Mobil Guides to Mobil Oil, Sunniland and the Cuban Oil Embargo, Nixon, or the Bush Dynasty.

"Clueless."

A competitor in Palm Beach once goaded Leonce when he lost a Mobil Star, calling my husband and me to exclaim in her heavy French accent how mad he was to have lost his stars. Leonce insisted the Guide just wouldn't allow him three 5-star restaurants, which is the only reason two of them were only 4-Star. He explained it wouldn't have been fair to the other restaurateurs to have him conspicuously elevated, when there was a disproportionate number of other establishments which could not even meet the Guide's requirements for consideration.

Too bad Laura can't remember "The Star Belly Sneeches," by Dr. Seuss, that was intended to teach her how quickly and meaningless things like stars, diamonds, and industry awards become. Everybody is a 5-Star this or that now. The former system has been rendered meaningless.

I am a Five Star Forgiver, having forgiven my sister for a lifetime of unprovoked aggression against me, beginning with serious deliberate physical injuries, one to the head which could have been crippling if not fatal, and once viciously biting a chunk out of my bare hip while I was happily eating a tuna sandwich at our lovely Early American dining table.

The wicked stepmother said of Laura, " We created a monster in her."

This was done to cover up the evil schemes of Leonce and Carolyn Picot.

So it is right to start the Profile at the beginning of Laura's early expression of hatred toward her sister, before we were traumatized, when we were happy and well-dressed, which guided her actions and words as time passed into the shame of treacheries inflicted by one sibling on the other.

It is my only defense, and we are all entitled to a defense, especially when I can only afford God is My Judge.

I. Laura Picot Intentional Serious Physical Injuries to Sibling

The first intentional injury I almost edited, for Laura was only three and she gave me a rather common injury, a type generally written off as "accidental." At the time, I knew for certain it was intentional as I watched my sister slam my pinky into the back door jamb of Mr. McAfee's house with the heavy glass paned door, with all her might, laughing with glee. We were instructed by then on fingers in doors, never to slam doors, especially car doors. She knew it was wrong, staring right at me while she did it. It tore an L-shaped flap into the top tip of the finger, and for many years I had to contemplate that L-scar, a portent of what was to come. The pain was extreme, and Kay rushed to assure me it must have been an accident, though Laura never agreed that it was or said a word of apology .

This was the begining of a lifelong pattern of subversion and hurt. Not once did I ever inflict pain on my sister. I teased her some, but never physically felt or expressed any aggression or hostility. I simply didn't think that way, more engrossed in fairies, secret gardens, little adventures and explorations. I never felt I wanted to cause my sister PAIN, nor did I.

A surgeon told me, all kids pinch each other, and Laura's daughters were avid pinchers when too close together. But Laura was fascinated with human torture at an early age. She pinched the soles of my feet when I was asleep, and our parents were traveling, leaving me with no one to come to my aid. It was painful enough for tears. She giggled and giggled.

The head injury was no accident. Leonce rigged a trolley between a tall pine and a huge ficus tree in our backyard of adventure. The pine was the highest point of the incline, the distance great enough to build up thrilling speed on the way down, requiring a catcher to stand several feet from the wire's end at the ficus, to catch the rider before they slammed into the tree. We played rounds and rounds of this with the neighborhood kids. One day it was just the two of us, and Laura and I took turns catching. There I was, sailing down the wire right past her with my back to the tree, watching my sister staring vacantly as she stood motionless until the back of my head and neck hit the tree full force, knocking me off the trolley handle.

Kay came running from inside, saying the crash into that immense tree shook the whole house. Our mother took concussions and childhood illnesses very seriously. Laura could not have cared less she had hurt me awfully and wandered off.

The bite to the hip? Kay instructed us perpetually of medical and natural dangers- stepping on rusty nails hidden in the sand, running through the DDT fog that was used for mosquitoes in the neighborhood, standing water after a flood, the dangers and ways of choking, lightning, man-of-war, barracuda, and the danger of a human bite.

We had just come back from a Saturday trip to the beach with Leonce and I was still in my bathing suit. Leonce always served tuna sandwiches and milkshakes after the beach, and I was obliviously savoring lunch when Laura Picot snuck up behind my chair, planted her body for traction, like a pit bull, then stretched her torso and neck around the left side of the chair sufficiently to sink her teeth into my bare flesh. I had been taken completely by surprise and the pain was worthy of shock. An orthodontist could have cast molds from her upper and lower teeth impressions into my flesh, and the bruising was instantly blue. This was the beginning of her ongoing, reasonless campaign against me, her bona fide full blood sister. It never occurred to me ever to physically hurt a playmate, particularly my sister; she and Leonce are the only people ever to have intentionally inflicted physical injury upon my body. My friends and I did not fight or even disagree enough to get mad.

I was proud of my litttle sister, who was always forgiven by everyone, because of her "shyness." Each fall I saved and planned what to give her for Christmas. She simply had no desire to be around me, unless I was the only one around.

When the War of the Roses cranked up between Kay and Leonce, we experienced terror for the first time, but we did not share our feelings about it.. Though we were in our twin beds with the door closed, Leonce was twice Kay's weight and he yelled very loudly. What I witnessed in our living room in the daylight, and how he terrorized us late at night, in the mid-sixties would have landed Leonce Picot in jail in one second these days. My girlfriends were often afraid of my father and clammed up when he stomped through the room in his size 13 Martin Burns heels.

Laura was only ten when Leonce began traumatizing our creative, innovative, upbeat family, he fired up on Mai-Kai grog, close to dawn. We were too young to understand what it meant to have a brute take credit for a wife's devoted work and craft while he went sarong hopping, bringing her STDs. In those days, mental and physical abuses and harassment by men was a wink between playboys. We had yet to burn our bras. The mothers just took it. You hid the trouble in your family. Screaming battles, smashing all the Stangl dinner plates and crystal in our darling Ethan Allen Home Kay had put together by her total frugality, made it difficult or impossible to go to school some mornings, too upsetting to go to Girl Scouts.

Fortunately I was a reader, and Kay was endowed with a library of great literature which kept me focused elsewhere, along with Nancy Drew.

When our parents divorced, Laura launched special propaganda to take over her daddy and have her mother and me stamped as "weird."

Leonce divided us as well, constantly saying I was so much like my mother who he relentlessly abused and robbed to the point of suicide, September 16, 1972. As Kay became increasingly the recipient of his secret brutality to her, his Muse and his childhood friend since age 13, I became a greater rival in Laura's mind, because Leonce was the Smart Money, and I was a loser, like Kay.

Laura was not aware, or didn't care that Leonce harbored a lifetime of hatred for his older half-sister, Betty Malloy. He was confused himself about his grandfather and grandmother and who his relations were by rank. His jealousy of Betty probably flared when Leonce's father died in 1940. He competed for his mother Nellie Picot's attentions, and even as a tiny child I sensed his disdain for Aunt Betty, making me confused and uncomfortable. But our childhoods were already laden with confusion as we never understood who our family really was. There were stand-ins to make us appear normal, but it felt very abnormal- the adults who controlled our information were too mum about the past.

Leonce developed his false narrative, after Kay was dead, that Laura and I never got along as children and fought like cats and dogs. He said it to anyone and everyone, like spreading the word. It was simply untrue. She may not have liked me, but I never stopped wanting a real sister, especially not having had a mother to meet my true love, to play with her grandson, to go through a young woman's passages of life with.

To further drive a wedge, Leonce refused to give me a wedding because I married a musician, while Laura had her killer blast at Casa Vecchia for her first husband of six months or so, and a quiet family ceremony in the lush Sea Ranch Green Room for her marriage to Mr. Sayles. I was Maid of Honor in a dress I had to sew, (Laura bought the material and pattern for about $25.00) and my son, Laura's nephew, was in a little suit with a blue ascot.

The senior Sayles' did not think well of Leonce- he was not their type, and before long, their son was no longer Laura's type.

But Leonce misjudged the effect he wanted. I was so head over heels in love, I didn't think about Saving the Date, but I did think it was exceedingly cruel for my father to have not sent a note of congratulations to the couple he proceeded to take advantage of for the next three decades. Plus I am still married to the man I loved at 19, while Laura has two thoughtless and cruelly executed marital transgressions to her name, wiyjpuiy compunction. forcing Leonce to support her until he died.

This shows how weddings can be such a waste of money.

(see left column for Part II. and Part III)

Part IV. Laura Picot as an Adult, Family-reported Child Battery, Emotional Abuse to Teenaged Nephew, Bullying Employees, Elder Abuse, And Lying for Profit to Herself

Leonce messaged me via a phone call with my husband, that by 2016, after our wicked step-mother died, Laura and her daughter Kristen had completely drained him financially, asking for "help." He sounded frantic and harried.

"I can't help Laura anymore. I can't help Kristen anymore. I have to find $6,000.00 right now!"

As for her restaurant career she forced her father to give her after her second divorce, Laura Picot Sayles entering into her father's enterprise was the beginning of the end of a star which had suddenly flared, but then burnt away in a few years. Even without Leonce being taken down by the Dayton-Fort Wayne gang, Laura, destroyed then continually depressed the company morale which had been carefully planned at the inception of the Down Under. Kay and Leonce had believed he should have a company better than the Mai-Kai, and the way to that was surpass the cuisine and incur loyalty and dedication with company benefits, profit-sharing, bonuses, perks, and parties.

Kay Daniel Picot, in fact, named the Down Under, not for any Australian connection, but because the restaurant was sited in an intracoastal easement "Down Under" the Oakland Park Bridge. Al Kocab copied Art Noveau clipart for the restaurant logo and drink menu, originating with an old British series, "The Duchess of Duke Street," starring Gemma Jones.

Laura did away with all frivolity wasted on employees. It was too costly. What she didn't know that Borchers of Dayton was in league with Fort Wayne and Berry of California to bring Leonce to his knees. He had been laundering Kay's estate (including Laura's per stirpes share of Kryder, since Katherine was deceased, which Laura could not have possibly known) to the point where they had him counting Rolls Royces in his dreams. With Carolyn whining in the background, they convinced Leonce he was invincible and would be a tremendous success in California, which became his Waterloo.

By 1982, with the official "founding" of Fort Wayne National Corporation as a multi-bank holding company, the need for Leonce's services in the borrow up to 6 million, pay back $400,000 a year, then repeat, were not needed so much. As he never expected that, he had to be compromised by bigger men who could frame him up for stealing Frank Kryder from Katherine's estate. His portrait as an ex-husband surely matches up to the possibility the caper was all his own invention.

At one point, the Picots' employees were forced to cash in their pensions. There are many who say it was Laura who trashed Leonce's business, a once well-founded company with good morale and pride in what was being offered. She caused people loss and misery, without accountability. She worked in cahoots with Borchers who instructed her in company insurance which ultimately broke the bank.

Employees on the Group Plan were forced to pay for their own mishaps: a million dollar death suit caused by an employee driving a company car, to pay for a long case of terminal cancer, and to pay for diagnosis and treatment of an expensive case of juvenile arthritis. The premiums were ridiculous, and a sweet profit to Borchers, posing as a family friend.

Now that I have experienced unprecedented off the charts lying in America by lawyers, judges, and elected officials, I recognize Leonce and Carolyn's style.

And it was Carolyn who called me in the middle of the night when Laura had smashed her daughter's head against a wall, this after the trauma of the girls' father been arrested at night and the family breaking up. There was no reason to tell me that- Laura had called her stepmother for advice, but Carolyn wanted to get me entangled, perhaps call the Department of Children and Families, to ruin Laura's family even more. Considering all that Carolyn had to say about her stepdaughters at the Down Under bar, which made its way back to our ears, if she told me about the head bashing, why not tell everyone else? Laura was not popular with her father's employees. Plus, Laura had already deliberately bashed my head long ago, on a ficus tree, with no remorse.

continued...

(see left hand column for Part III)

Part IV Robbing the cradle, Robbing Michele's Husband of $25,000 Labor over 16 years for the Down Under

Forensic accounting and study of Leonce Picot's misch-masch of too many unnotarized Trust Amendments, Revocable, Family, and Irrevocoble LIT, estimates Laura and the Trustee witheld a rather large unaccounted for Life Insurance benefits designated for me, after Leonce's pre-inheritance deduction for expenses he incurred when my house foreclosed. Though named beneficiaries are entitled to see a LIT Accounting, Trustee bent over backwards to obstruct my right to one. It was the "fair share" I never had to worry about, but had to humiliate myself to receive, in the way Kay Daniel Picot was humiliated and beaten down. To top off Leonce's exit, his Trustee and my sister treated me as an awful, hateful person who was not worthy of a penny, not even worthy to be informed my father had died. It could not have magnified my grief more, and I had never given my father anything but my academic accolades, design awards for his restaurant at $8.00/hr., no major illnesses or injuries to pay, luxury presents, and a perfect driving record to boot. I did not complain when I was in the north at college hungry, without a winter coat or proper wardrobe, and sent $35.00 weekly to cover all my expenses.

A Business Contract was made between Leonce Picot and both his sons-in-law to sign on as restaurant watchdogs, for a $25,000 bonus kept in Trust for each grandchild until his death. He pleaded with our husbands to sign on for watch duty, so that Leonce could merrily off to California where a trap had been laid for him to end up owing the Owner of The Yellow Pages $1,000,0000. The Sayles children received their $25,000 eventhough, since Laura ruined the marriage, her husband no longer worked at the Down Under, maybe doing a three year stint all-told.

My husband admired Leonce Picot and trusted him, though I begged him not to do so, and despite Laura's constant abuse at work, he was loyal and worked about 16 years for that bonus which was assigned to his son, for a start in life. Leonce showed it to us written in his Revocable Trust into which he conveyed his homestead. Seemed like a safe enough deal, to my husband who had yet to experience Leonce's Liar's Poker expertise.

To the delight of the Picots, their billionaire opponent, an investor in 1001 Nob Hill did not recover in the case. During the lawsuit, the Picots filled up our garage with booty from San Francisco, Italian leather furniture, a Chinese Altar Table, very antique. Carolyn said they had needed the expensive furnishings for their San Francisco apartment, to give the appearance that they were successful and wealthy. We could not park in our own garage, and Leonce was already planning to swipe our house out from under us. I had a house for three years in my lifetime, and never recovered enough to obtain even a shack to own. I was shackled with student loans. My home was good enough to conceal the Picot's contraband, but not good enough for me to possess and have a chance at building equity after their evasive purposes were accomplished.

Leonce also arranged to have the ultra expensive brand new kitchen equipment for 1001 Nob Hill, loaded up into a van by the Beagle Boys in the middle of the night for transport to Florida, where he hid it in his wine and crystal warehouse. It was not his to take. He concealed it from creditors against the lease he broke for 1001 Nob Hill.

Though Leonce had sworn, since he remarried, and many times after Kay's death, that his estate would be divided in three shares should he predecease his wife, between Laura, Michele, and Carolyn, it was Florida Law at the time anway. He presented it to me as if it were his way of being totally fair, and that I would be secure no matter what. No worries. These plans were made known to Laura and me by estate attorneys in the Down Under wine room: the plans were for Casa Vecchia to become Carolyn's legacy, the Down Under to become Laura's legacy, and I would inherit about 3.3 million dollars from the sale of La Vieille Maison. Ha ha ha.

Though he had nothing to fear from me, Leonce was terrified that I could publicize the truth about Kay, and thus apparently felt the need to keep money as some sort of carrot before my nose to protect his reputation.

All good laws are undone by lawyers, especially in Florida where they have become as overpopulated as the foreign iquanas, pythons, wild parrots, giant African snails, toxic algal blooms, venomous red lion fish and flesh eating amoebae.

Experts say Laura, Leonce, Carolyn Picot had been defrauding me for years. And what more needs to be said about a Trustee Lawyer who takes via lawyers $100,000 Promissory Notes from elder estates?

I have studied estate fraud for thirty years, of every kind and character, not just in my own family, but up close and personal. Without wandering into the mire, in a brief tale, I personally witnessed estate fraud, as an end of life campanion and caregiver, Power of Attorney, and Health Care Proxy for essentially helpless friends and elder teachers, four times. These were people who could not pay, or I wouldn't let pay me because I had to make sure their money lasted long enough for them to die at home, clean, dignified and in their own surroundings.

Every doctor of my voice teacher, who had many, many doctors, marvelled at how well she was cared for at 92. She was moisturized with Celadon, hydrated to the hilt, manicured, and free of grey hair which she dreaded, and fed wonderful food by a Jamaican CNA who was an excellent cook for elders. When necessary, I had professionals come to the house to do her hair, manicure and pedicure. I had full responsibilty for keeping the house in top condition, protecting it for her grand-nephew in D.C., who didn't even know he was going to inherit $250,000. I did the shopping for my teacher and live-in aide, drove us all to doctors appointments, hospital care, which included me hiring a round the clock CNA of my screening to remain at my teacher's bedside throughout hospital stays, or convalescent home internment. I had to pray that she would live long enough to get her Will changed back to her grand-nephew from a gigolo legatee. We made it. And though she begged me to take certain items she wanted me to have from her house where I had studied 30 years, I refused, telling her nothing would leave that house while she was alive. I put her valuables in the front room studio with a special lock, because old students began showing up when I was away, people who she hadn't seen in years, asking for this or that book or sheet music.

In more dire cases, I washed clothes, changed beds, cleaned houses, complained to Hospice Supervisors for despicable neglect by their personnel. I moved in with one friend from my ballet class to read to her and keep her surrounded with flowers and her rosaries in the last two weeks of her life, because she had no one, except hospice caretakers- no family, and in the end, friends too afraid to see her with a black hole carved through her torso, except such friends who wanted her morphine. I led the DEA, who comes at death to remove "the comfort kit" which never gets opened, to every hidey hole where morphine was stashed. I hid it all, because visitors were coming over for morphine and drinks whenever I had to go home for washing my clothes and just grabbing a few hours rest. I learned much about elder abuse and its heralding signs.

Elders under my supervision, had previously been drugged and taken to the bank to add an outsider's name to CD's designated for a grand-nephew. Lawyers had changed Wills that had been written for 22 years, removing $250,000 in homestead real estate designated for heirs at a distance- changed for deals between a thieving elder abusing couple who charged $700 for cleaning an elder's two bedroom house, and the client's lawyer.

So I knew once Laura Picot decided my husband no longer had a job when the Down Under closed, and there were only jobs left for Joyce Fix, Carolyn's sister and Laura at La Vieille Maison, his 16 years of work for his son's future, Leonce's grandson, Laura's nephew, promised and shown to us in legal documents by Leonce, was in peril. We were given seven days notice the Down Under was shutting its doors. That meant loss of health insurance, income, a car which had been given as a Christmas gift when our AMC Hornet had died for good, a gift which we were suddenly required to make $367/month payments for a six year old Dodge Caravan on its last engine, because our "gift" had been changed to a lease car, which added $250.00 to our monthly car insurance.

That was itself enough to foreclose our home which had a 13% interest private mortgage, as my student loans for graduate school were immense, though Leonce's divorce settlement required he cover my education completely. Meanwhile, the nouvelle Picots moved on to a new oceanfront penthouse, and Laura forced Leonce to buy her a $350,000 house in the clear.

Joyce Fix and Laura Picot were not at all compatible. Joyce openly expressed her disgust for both Leonce's daughters, and as well complained constantly to my husband when they worked together about how Leonce took advantage and worked everyone so hard for so little money. Though "Michele's Restaurant," La Vieille Maison, as it had been dangled before her to induce her to accept her many despicable sacfrices without a word, was the last one standing. And it wasn't big enough to hold both Joyce and Laura, who made Leonce miserable to the point he had to put Laura in a wine and cheese boutique two blocks away.

Laura Picot Sayles, however, after Leonce's death, claims to have been the Comptroller for the restaurant, which must be what happened to my 3.3 million dollar inheritance. Ha ha ha.

Joyce Guerard Fix and Carolyn Guerard Phelps Picot had an ample inheritance and many childhood-adult privileges Laura and I never had, provided by their own father.

I had left my father in peace since 1998, once he caused us so much loss in just seven days. It is hard to love someone who long planned to crush you, but I was taught to never get mad. He was free to lie, to have his marriage, to have his happiness as he saw it, to hide his transgressions, and I left it alone. I never felt I was wanted at family occasions, so eventually I just disappeared, all of ten miles away. I knew Carolyn would expire first. She was immense, drank and smoked cigarettes her whole life, lived on rich food and never pursued any program of fitness. When she died in 2015, I thought I might have a chance to see my father, one last time, having been a castaway since 1998.

My husband had several very compassionate conversations with him in that interim, listening to Leonce's many woes of being ill, unbelievably lonely, tapped for cash by Laura and her daughter. He cried to my husband, who despite all, had compassion for his father-in-law, regardless of his abuse. Then the day came when Leonce was forbidden to accept any more phone calls from him.

So here's how things played out. Typical of impending estate fraud, interferors begin maligning established heirs to enable their future fraud, cutting off all contact between their mark and family members with divisive maneuvers. They intercept mail and presents. They tell venomous lies. At the right moment, as frailty approaches, a Trustee and the vultures convince the elder or terminally ill they are completely broke, and pressure them into desperation deals, such as the one Laura Picot Sayles employed to sell Leonce's penthouse while he was in hospice and move him into a rental on the brink of death. They couldn't even wait a few months to let the man stay in his own home to die.

Leonce was under oxygen. He and Carolyn had reversed mortgaged the penthouse, so he wasn't having to make mortgage payments, and it is a wonder that he could not survive a couple months longer on social security having worked 71 years of his life, 30 years of it with a large income.

But my husband's Business Contract for the $25,000 to be delivered at death was in a Trust with the Homestead, so Laura's motivation was not to keep her father comfortable and secure as he was dying, but to freak him out of his home so she could sell it before he died, and hide the contract money, as well as extinguish the property as a homestead, 1/3 promised lifelong to me. It was bad enough that Leonce's grandchildren thought they were getting an inheritance from their grandfather. It was not from him, but from the Commitment of their fathers' work for Leonce and Carolyn Picot's champagne soaked illusions.

Leonce's Trustee had his own motives to make the most from our unhappy family. That is like gold to a crooked lawyer- divorce, suicide, hostile siblings. Using these weaknesses in a family is how the Trustee ends up with the Big Money, compromising family conspirators who enable him.

The Trustee was heavily in debt and recently released from the bankruptcy he declared after defaulting on an elder's Promissory note made from an elder's Trust. Furthermore, he was required to have a Co-Trustee to collect the Leonce Picot's Life Insurance and to make disbursements. But, as the Co-Trustee's attorney son told me, "My father hasn't been able to serve for years, and I will testify if you need it."

Trustee took it upon himself to step into a 60 year old family mess he knew nothing about, proceed to further injure innocent parties who were grieved, and decide who should get what, with no accountability.

Laura Picot Sayles and Joyce Fix told the Trustee I was only a half-sister and that Carolyn was her mother and Joyce was her aunt. This is what he told a Judge, "I (as Trustee making distributions) relied on third party information."

This third party information was used to substitute Joyce Fix for Leonce's widow's share, had Carolyn been alive, to over endow Laura, and to not notify me of my father's illness or death. It was six weeks after death that my husband read a news article about it where Laura claimed to be the daughter of Carolyn Guerard Phelps Picot, a barren woman, and I, Leonce's grandson, and his son-in-law were not mentioned as survivors.

Laura said there would be a private funeral, which consisted of $1600.00 spent to cremate her father and stick him in a vault next to his partner in crime.

I had been living in a roofless house for two years battling landlords and fighting an illegal eviction when I finally tracked down this Trustee. I owed a doctor $10,000 for a torn rotator cuff, and $3500 to a kind friend who kept us off the streets once. Fortunately, our trusty $650 Ford Explorer has sustained us from then, through a COVID lockdown escape from Florida, and still runs great while the air blows cold. But we don't need a/c anymore anyway.

Trustee gruffly said I was disinherited, but offered me $82,000 to sign away my rights to a Life Insurance Accounting. I refused, and he then offered $100,000, pleading with my husband to get me to accept the money and get lost.

However, in the six weeks before I located the Trustee, immediately after Leonce's death, said Trustee paid off his own debts of $100,000 to Arcon Roofing, and a $76,000+ small business loan.

Joyce Fix lost not a minute to commence $350,000 improvements to her home, which is valued at $895,000, and Laura Picot Sayles began her career selling luxury real estate. She is not good at it, having made 3 sales a year for the last six years, not counting Daddy's place, and she is only allowed to sell commercial property up to 1.9 million. That is like strip mall realty in South Florida.

Leonce's grandson received not a cent of his father's labor, while Laura's daughters were over-endowed.
Laura chose to side with a woman, Joyce, she had long detested, to have the pleasure of seeing me stripped and cast into hardship till I die. Considering her history and the sleaziness of the Trustee, it would not have been the first time she got into bed with someone for money.

Nevertheless Laura harbors a lifelong pathologic hatred of a sibling, her worst offense. No amount of charismatic "you can have it all" church services can absolve her, the girl whose beautiful and true mother worked so hard to instill Christian principles of love and obedience in her children.

Too bad for the whole lot of them, money can't buy them Wisdom.

V. Forgery

Will Laura try to have me put in jail too, for pushing back against a lifetime of her Bullying? For that, nothing but a trial by jury will do. As I expected I would be cheated considering the nouvelle Picots behavior of 1998, I used that time to gather reams of the forensic documents pertinent to a long and winding case. She most definitely would alienate a jury, especially with the document in Kay's Probate that she forged my name to giving Leonce Picot control of his ex-wife's estate while he was remarried to a woman who had treated me with animus, from our very first introduction.

I was 19. I was 1900 miles away, trying to attend college on Leonce's $35.00/week allowance. Laura was 16 and enjoying her private suite in Idlewyld with her new idols. I had absolutely no knowledge of Probate then, how things worked, or what it was, why it existed.

In later years I learned more and began to wonder how Leonce became appointed Kay's PR, why he refused to provide an accounting or file a Death Certificate that would cancel her SSN. So I went to the archives and retrieved the packet. There was a paper with my name signed to it, giving Leonce Power over the estate, yet lo and behold, it was executed in Laura's sixteen year old handwriting, nothing like my diligently practiced, elegantly slanted handwriting.

Leonce taught Laura to forge my name for purposes of him pulling the financial reins, to defraud the court. Had I known I was in a position to get control of my life, despite my grief, I surely would have, and they knew it. They forged my name to get power over me.

Kay frequently quoted, "He who makes war on his family inherits the Wind..."

Laura has commenced a war to keep payment for my husband's work for herself. Until that happened, I took everything on the chin without complaint.

She believes she has won, since I was "disinherited." by a Trustee relying on his "third party information," as told to a judge.

My best chance as an author is to first tell Kay's story to the world of women crying for justice against cruel fathers and husbands.

Plus, Leonce begged me to write a book.What would our story be without our Laura?

As I have already been threatened with prison, via a conflict of interest lawyers who had no idea what she was getting them into, it will cost her everything she has to try to put me there.

Then, she inherits the wind.

continued...

VI. Descent to Perjury