The Concealers by James J. Kaufman Page B

the twenty-third floor of the Empire State Building, for his 9:00 a.m. appointment, pleased that his corporate attorney was able to set up the meeting and that he’d thought Benjamin Forsyth was the right lawyer.
    Ben greeted Preston on time and warmly in the waiting room, making Preston feel as comfortable as he could under the circumstances. They walked to Ben’s office, where the attorney closed the double doors, turned, and stood facing Preston, appearing to take his measure. He then gave Preston a brief summary of his practice and they agreed on the ground rules, including the understanding of the protections, application of privilege, and strict confidentiality of their communications and relationship. Preston suggested they move to a small table and chairs.
    After they settled in, Ben said, “What’s going on, Preston, and how, specifically, can I help?”
    â€œI assume you have knowledge of my background?”
    â€œYes, to the extent your corporate counsel has filled me in, what I see on your website, and what you have told me today. I understand you want to talk about a matrimonial problem that concerns . . . a friend of yours.”
    â€œActually, I told my lawyers that because this is very personal. It’s not a matrimonial problem, but it is a surprise event in my life.” Preston told his new lawyer about Beth Kelly’s phone call. “I guess at this point I need to know if I’m in the right place. Is this the kind of thing you handle?”
    â€œYes,” Ben replied. “Paternity cases often go hand in hand with domestic relations, as you may imagine. You’ve obviously given this some thought. Do you believe this woman?”
    â€œWell, after the shock of the call, I did remember the . . . encounter. Whether that makes me the father? I don’t know. And why she chooses to tell me twenty-four years after the fact is beyond me.”
    â€œIt’s usually driven by money. But I didn’t hear you say that she asked you for money.”
    â€œNot in so many words. She did say she didn’t want anything, that it was not about her. But I don’t know this woman. Money changes people. She may be setting me up. Maybe this is all a scam.”
    â€œLet’s separate the issues,” Ben said, looking at his yellow pad full of notes. “First, is there sufficient evidence to conclude that in all probability you are the father? DNA, assuming the samples are correct and the procedures are followed, is probative of paternity. From what you’ve told me, she has a sample—and is willing to provide it. What we don’t have is proof of the chain of handling of this sample. In other words, what is the scientific proof each step of the way from the taking of the sample from your alleged daughter to your receipt of it? We can only assume that the sample is what this woman says it is, and how she took it from her daughter and so on.”
    â€œDo DNA samples have to be refrigerated or kept in a certain way?” Preston asked.
    â€œNo, they don’t have to be refrigerated. But if the sample could be confirmed as coming from the young woman, genetic profiling of DNA establishes paternity with a ninety-nine percent or higher probability. In short, if those things hold true, it’s almost certain you’re the father—and the court would agree.”
    Preston’s jaw tightened as he considered the implications. The lawyer continued.
    â€œThe daughter, however, is, as I understand it, of maturity—over twenty-one years of age—and emancipated. That would lead to the next piece of analysis: what are your financial and/or legal obligations to this young lady?”
    â€œWhat are my options?” Preston asked.
    Ben Forsyth spelled them out in careful lawyer-speak. “This woman, Beth Kelly, and her daughter, Katherine Kelly, have the burden of proof as to paternity and any support obligation. Practically speaking,