“That’s right. All of his bank accounts, his investments, his production company. They all list Margot as the sole beneficiary.”
D.A. Stern quietly assesses the jury, ensuring the information Shane Windham has conveyed sinks in. “That seems... unheard of. That there wouldn’t have been a trust of some kind, with a portion of that money set aside to take care of his aging parents or for the children.”
Shane Windham leans forward, too close to the microphone again. “It was unconventional. And to be honest, I advised against it. But his parents don’t need the money, and Joe didn’t want a complicated financial structure. He trusted Margot. He wanted her to have it all.”
I glance quickly at the rest of the jury as most everyone scrawls feverish notes.Was it his way of buying her silence about his affairs?I think, looking at Durrant Hammerstead as I do, hoping he points to as much in his cross-examination.
“And what about GotMar, the undergarment line that Margot is the face of. Can you tell us more about the structure of that business?”
Shane Windham clears his throat yet again, a cacophony of loosening phlegm. “When it was founded, it was rolled under Joe’s umbrella corp.”
“What does that mean exactly, in terms of ownership?”
“It means Joe is...wasthe majority owner of GotMar. He funded it. And when Margot bought out her ex–business partner, Bess Waterford, it was legally Joe who did so. That move gave Joe one hundred percent ownership of GotMar Incorporated.”
There’s another grumble across the courtroom, a collective understanding of where this discussion leads.
“And did Joe and Margot have a prenup?” D.A. Stern asks, riding the wave of intrigue in the room.
I shift in my seat. With Damon by my side, Cam behind me knowing what happened last night, D.A. Stern leading perpetual-throat-clearer Shane Windham down an inevitably Margot-damning path right in front of me, I’m feeling increasingly claustrophobic. I tug at the neckline of my burgundy boatneck sweater and glance at Margot. If I feel the walls closing in around me frommyvantage point, I can only imagine what it must feel like for her.
For her part, Margot looks on with no malice. She appears tired. Perhaps too tired to make the details of Shane Windham’s testimony matter.
“They did have a prenup, yes,” Shane Windham states.
“And what are the details of that prenup, regarding Joe’s business dealings, should they have gotten divorced?” D.A. Stern wanders back to the prosecution table, completing his triangulation between the stand, jury box, and his seat. His favorite black pen bounces between his fingers as he does. He has yet to stand at the podium at any point of this trial.
Shane Windham clears his throat and leans forward. “Margot would not be entitled to any of his businesses.”
“Margot would not be entitled to any of his businesses,” D.A. Stern echoes as he makes his way toward Shane Windham on the witness stand. He references an exhibit, Joe’s full will, a shockingly short document of only five pages. “Just so I’m perfectly clear, what you are telling us is that should Margot have decided she was... unhappy in her marriage, and opted to simply leave Joe—”
“She would have left with very little,” Shane Windham finishes. “And Joe would have retained full ownership of GotMar.”
I think of Margot in one of her last episodes ofAuthentic Momsbefore Joe died, which aired last fall. In an interview, she spoke directly to the camera, her words overlaying scenes of her rushing around the GotMar offices. She spoke with conviction, animatedly even. She said her hardworking grandfather always instilled in her that it doesn’t matter what you do, just be the best at it. There is money and opportunity in everything—anything. “I used to call it his ‘be the best garbageman’ speech,” she had said. “In response, he told me, ‘Find me the best garbageman. I’ll bet he’s the billionaire head of a garbage empire.’ Sure enough, he sat me down and we searched online and found a guy in Sydney who started with a shovel and sold his business for half a billion dollars.” The scene cut to Margot staring fiercely at the camera, that brief joviality replaced with her classic sternness. “It’s not the ‘what’ that matters, it’s the ‘how,’ ” she said.
D.A. Stern puts on a performative frown. “How is that possible, in the state of California where community property laws allocate fifty-fifty ownership of assets in divorces?”
“Because they had a prenup, and because she signed her business over, those things supersede property law.”
“Interesting,” D.A. Stern muses. “But if he dies—”
Shane Windham does not wait for D.A. Stern to complete the question. “She gets everything,” he says, staring again at Margot as he does.
“She gets everything,” D.A. Stern repeats. He wanders back to his seat. “No further questions, Your Honor,” he says before unbuttoning his jacket and plopping down.
It’s as though the air has been sucked out of the room. For all the murmuring over the last week, the gallery is now silent.
Durrant Hammerstead cross-examines, though I don’t hear much of it.
She would have lost it all if she left him. It’s a hard fact to argue.
Damon beside me presses his palm to the back of his neck.
I watch him, a swirl of emotion roiling in my gut. For the sake of the case—and the safety of my heart—I have to figure out how to avoid Damon when we break for lunch, knowing I want nothing more than to find out if this courthouse has an accessible roof.
30.
Autopsy (n.)
