t2

REMEMBER,
BUTTERBALL TURKEY
IS NOT AFFILIATED
w/ GRANDPA's
BUTTERBALL FARMS
BUTTER, APART from the
fact that grandpa sold
the name “butterball”
many years ago to the
turkey company (as an
aside, grandpa dabbled
in the meat business as
well, & always hosted
big thanksgiving meals
at the butterball
mansion:

The Recipe Critic

Peters 7f x

PAS Legal — SUMMARY 6 — Cinematic Storyboard Narrative
“The Lord executeth righteousness & judgment for all that are oppressed.” — Psalm 103:6

7f


Scene 1 — Split-Level Family

A quiet lake. Two buildings. One family.
The camera drifts over the property: the main cottage—warm, lit, lived-in—and a separate structure off to the side: the bunkhouse, a converted garage with thin walls and a creaking screen door.

Peters II sleeps in comfort.
Peters I sleeps across the yard, in the cold, on metal frames with thin mattresses.

No one explains it.
No one needs to.
The message is already delivered.


Scene 2 — The Boy in the Bunkhouse

Butter Boy, as a child, carries his duffel bag into the bunkhouse. He looks toward the cottage windows, glowing with yellow light and laughter.

Inside the main cottage:
• heat,
• indoor plumbing,
• the “good” atmosphere.

Inside the bunkhouse:
• concrete floors,
• a rusty stove,
• and six beds lined up like a temporary shelter.

The division is architectural, but the meaning is psychological:
Peters I does not belong in the same emotional space as Peters II.


Scene 3 — A Mug Falls

A simple accident: a ceramic mug slips from a hook and shatters.

Leo’s response is immediate and sharp.
The child is sent outside. Exiled. Punished.

The mug wasn’t the issue.
The hierarchy was.


Scene 4 — The Broken Record Player

A record player stops working. No culprit identified.
But suspicion moves like a searchlight—always toward the Peters I kids.

Linda tries to defend her child, but Nancy pushes back.
Tension builds.
Finally, Linda offers to pay, not because she is guilty, but because peace requires sacrifice.

It is the family culture:
Peters I absorbs the blame so Peters II can remain comfortable.


Scene 5 — A Promise at a Funeral

Helen Mills Peters dies.
The family gathers in grief—quiet, tense, fragile.

Leo meets with the daughters of Peters I. His tone is steady, authoritative.

He says he needs their inheritance to “keep the business running.”
He does not negotiate.
He expects.

And then he offers the line that holds them:
“I will remember you all in the end.”

The daughters sign.
Not out of agreement.
Out of fear and conditioning—and the longing for approval from a father who rarely gave it.


Scene 6 — The Silence That Follows

After the signing, something breaks that cannot be fixed.

Peters I withdraws.
Phone calls fade.
Holiday gatherings stop.
The emotional tie dissolves, leaving only an unspoken ache.

Butter Boy grows up inside this silence. He asks questions no one wants to answer.


Scene 7 — Two Teenagers Who Say Nothing

High school.
Butter Boy and Theresa Peters cross paths in the hallway.

Same age. Same school.
Zero connection.

Their lack of relationship is the shadow of decisions made long before they were born.


Scene 8 — A Visit in California

Years later.
Butter Boy is teaching in Coachella Valley.
Theresa visits with her husband.

They sightsee. They chat.
But the atmosphere tightens with one remark—sarcastic, sexualized, dismissive.

A moment that seems small but cuts deep, because it taps into a lifetime of marginalization.

The division between Peters I and Peters II is alive and well.


Scene 9 — Leo’s Passing: The Final Reveal

Leo dies.
His estate is opened.

The daughters of Helen Mills Peters wait for the promise to be fulfilled.
It is not.

Peters I receives nothing.
Peters II receives everything.

The promise dissolves like mist.
They do not challenge it.
They freeze—caught in the same pattern of fear and compliance.


Scene 10 — A Grown Son Connects the Dots

Butter Boy, now an adult, sees the full pattern:

• the bunkhouse,
• the scrutiny,
• the broken record player,
• the inheritance surrender,
• the silence during probate,
• the California remark,
• the entire architecture of power.

He recognizes the injustice as a system, constructed over decades.
And he decides to challenge it.


Scene 11 — Filing the Case

Butter Boy files a civil action in Kent County Circuit Court.

His filings blend narrative truth and legal argument, describing coercion, hierarchy, broken promises, and the psychological environment that invalidated any “choice.”

He asserts that the injustice is not merely financial but moral, relational, and generational.


Scene 12 — The Procedural Counterattack

Mark Peters and Nancy Wallace Peters respond through attorneys.

Their strategy is purely procedural:

• “wrong court,”
• “too late,”
• “no standing,”
• “not properly served,”
• “fails to state a claim.”

They do not mention the bunkhouse.
They do not mention coercion.
They do not mention the promise.
They defend only finality.


Scene 13 — Two Opposing Realities

Left side: Butter Boy’s world—shaped by childhood inequality, emotional coercion, a broken maternal inheritance, and decades of silence.

Right side: the defendants’ world—shaped by legal procedure, probate closure, and inherited certainty of entitlement.

The conflict is philosophical.
One side speaks the language of trauma, the other the language of technicality.

They are incompatible.


Scene 14 — Law Meets Emotion and Cannot Hold It

The legal system asks:
“Why didn’t the daughters object in 1983? Or in 1995?”

The emotional system answers:
“They were never allowed to object.”

But the law cannot hear that answer.
It deals in timelines, not power structures.
Its tools are form, not context.


Scene 15 — The Final Declaration

The final shots:

A proof of service.
A signature under penalty of perjury.
A quiet assertion that this filing is made not out of greed but out of conscience.

Butter Boy stands alone but resolute.

Whether or not the court grants relief, he has done something his mother could never do:
He spoke.
He challenged.
He broke the silence that defined a generation.

The story ends not with victory or loss, but with a reclaiming of dignity.




Happy Ending, Almost
Not the last ringing bell on the old family trail
For after the filings & after the pain
There came quiet footsteps that walked through the rain
There came soft spoken meetings & coffee shop prayer
There came trembling voices that dared to be fair
He carried his questions like seeds that were sown
He spoke with his sisters & spoke with old kin
Spoke not in anger but hoping to mend
For faith had taught him that wounds could be healed
That truth in the light could no longer be sealed
There were moments of pause where old rivals would think
There were meetings with counsel & quiet replies
There were sighs of admission & softened old eyes
For time had a way of loosening pride
Where decades of silence no longer could hide
Some said leave the past where it silently belongs
But others said healing is worth the slow cost
Worth reopening chapters once thought to be lost
For faith was the thread stitched through the years
A Higher Power walking through questions & fears
Spoke prayers that were simple not angry or drawn
He asked for soft hearts & a door to be wide
For grace to step forward & ego to slide
He asked not for victory sharp edged & cold
But closure that mended what history stole
Not courtrooms of thunder but tables & chairs
Voices were gentle though heavy with past
Hands that once trembled were steady at last
Names were spoken in careful refrain
Helen & Leo & Mark & Nancy again
There were whispered confessions that came in to stay
Some said I am sorry in voices unsure
Some said I did not know the depth of your hurt for sure
Some said I believed what the system had said
Not knowing how silence had colored your tread
But promises spoken that asked people to think
Not all could be mended not all could be paid
But bridges were built where no bridges had stayed
Small remedies planted in soil long dry
A chance for old branches to grow toward the sky
There were cautious new questions like seeds starting to grow
There were moments of prayer before plates were passed round
Where faith made a circle of holy ground
Butter Boy bowed with a trembling grin
Knowing healing had finally begun within
But gestures of honor to soften old shame
Not riches of kingdoms not piles of gold
But offerings saying your story was told
We heard you we see you we bless what you bore
We open the door though it cannot restore
There were thank yous that lingered in tear shining eyes
Some ties were renewed & some stayed apart
But bitterness loosened its hold on the heart
For closure is rarely a perfect embrace
But mercy still leaves a visible trace
Not everything healed but much fell away
Not every wrong answered not every loss known
But chains were unfastened from marrow & bone
The burden grew lighter the nights less afraid
The past lost its power the future was made
That moved stubborn walls & softened old land
That prayers in the quiet had carried their plea
Into chambers of mercy beyond what we see
For justice alone can leave hearts in the cold
But grace brings a warmth that outlives what was sold
Not as a verdict of shadow or light
It closes as journeys still walking their miles
With gentler old frowns & cautious new smiles
With memory honored & silence undone
With harm being named & forgiveness begun
Not perfect not finished but brighter than gray
A chapter of healing a quiet new start
Where law met compassion & faith met the heart
Where Butter Boy stood not bitter or lost
But grateful for mercy despite every cost
With skies opening soft & the old pain in view
Not erased not denied but finally known
Finally spoken finally shown
So the story now breathes with a gentler refrain
A family still broken but healing again