Beyond This Point Are Monsters Read Online Free PDF Page B

any evidence to show the motive or cause for the abandonment of home, family or friends or wealth by the alleged deceased, are competent evidence from which may be inferred the death of one absent or unheard from, whatever has been the duration or shortness of such ab­sence. Unquote.
    â€œWe intend to show, your Honor, that Robert Osborne was a young man of twenty-four, mentally and physically well-endowed, happily married and the owner of a pros­pering ranch; that his relationship with his family, friends and neighbors was pleasant, that he was enjoying life and looking forward to the future.
    â€œIf we could follow any man around on any particular day of his life, we would find out a great deal about him, his character, the state of his health, his mind, his finances, his interests, hobbies, plans, ambitions. I can think of no better way of presenting a true picture of Robert Osborne than to reconstruct, as completely as I am able, his final day. Bear with me, your Honor, if I elicit from witnesses details that are seemingly irrelevant, and opinions, suppo­sitions and conclusions that would not be admissible evi­dence in an adversary proceeding.
    â€œThe final day was October thirteen, 1967. It started on the Yerba Buena ranch, where Robert Osborne was born and where he lived most of his life. The weather was very warm, as it had been since early spring, and the river was dry. A late crop of tomatoes was being harvested and crated for shipping, and the picking of dates was sched­uled to begin. The ranch was a busy place and Robert Osborne a busy young man.
    â€œOn October thirteen he awoke before dawn as usual and began his preparations for the day. While he was in the shower his wife, Devon, also awoke but she didn’t get up. She was in the early stage of a difficult pregnancy and under doctor’s orders to stay as quiet as possible . . . I would like to call as my first witness Devon Suellen Osborne.”
    The courtroom stirred, rustled, whispered, shifted its weight. Then everything was suddenly quiet again as Dev­on walked toward the stand. “Do you swear . . . ?” She swore, her raised right hand steady, her voice flat. Ford could scarcely remember the wild weeping girl of a year ago.
    â€œWould you state your name for the record, please?”
    â€œDevon Suellen Osborne.”
    â€œAnd where do you live?”
    â€œRancho Yerba Buena, Rural Route number two.”
    â€œDisplayed on the easel is a map. Have you seen it before?”
    â€œYes, in your office.”
    â€œAnd you had a chance to study it?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs it a true representation of a portion of the property known as Rancho Yerba Buena?”
    â€œTo my knowledge it is.”
    â€œDo you own any portion of Rancho Yerba Buena, Mrs. Osborne?”
    â€œNo. The deed has been in my husband’s name since he was twenty-one.”
    â€œDuring the early part of Mr. Osborne’s absence, how was the ranch business carried on?”
    â€œIt wasn’t. Bills piled up, checks came in which couldn’t be cashed, purchases were at a standstill. That’s when I went to you for help.”
    Ford turned to Judge Gallagher. “Your Honor, I ad­vised Mrs. Osborne to wait until ninety days had elapsed from the time her husband had last been seen and then appeal to the court to appoint her as trustee of the missing man’s estate. The appointment was granted, Mrs. Osborne was bonded, as required, and through my office made peri­odic accountings to the court of receipts and disburse­ments and the like.”
    â€œAnd that is your present position, Mrs. Osborne,” Gal­lagher said, “trustee of the estate?”
    â€œYes, your Honor.”
    â€œContinue, Mr. Ford.”
    Ford went over to the map and pointed to the small rectangle bearing the letter O. “Is this the ranch house, Mrs. Osborne?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd it was here that you