Source: https://www.flprobatelitigation.com/
Timestamp: 2019-04-26 16:31:27+00:00

Document:
Is half a signature enough to validly execute a will?
Will execution formalities are second nature to most of us, but it never hurts to go back to basics.
Under F.S. 732.502, a Florida will isn’t valid unless it’s in writing and signed at the end in the presence of at least two attesting witnesses, who sign the will in the presence of the testator and in the presence of each other. Like most US states (and Commonwealth jurisdictions), Florida’s rules for executing wills trace their roots back almost two centuries to the UK Wills Act of 1837.
The execution rules are simple, but you need to get them exactly right. Why? Because Florida requires “strict compliance”. In other words, unless every last statutory formality is complied with exactly, the will’s invalid.
[F]ormalities are explained as fulfilling several functions that ensure that a will accurately and reliably reflects the testator’s intent. … First, will formalities serve an evidentiary function by providing reliable evidence that the testator intended a particular document to constitute a legally effective will. Second, they serve a protective function by reducing the possibility of fraudulent wills. [Third,] … will formalities serve a cautionary function by reminding the testator of the legal significance of executing a will. … [And fourth,] will formalities serve [a] channeling function by funneling all wills into a substantially similar form. Because all wills are written, signed, and witnessed, probate courts can more efficiently determine whether the testator intended to execute a valid will.
Although the traditional law gives the court assurance that it can safely distribute the decedent’s estate according to the terms of a formally compliant will, critics contend that requiring courts to invalidate clearly genuine yet formally defective wills conflicts with formality’s role in the realization of testamentary intent. They argue that the rule of strict compliance is overly concerned with preventing the validation of fraudulent or unintended wills and should be more concerned with validating genuine wills.
It’s against this backdrop that the 2d DCA considered what it means to actually “sign” a will under a strict-compliance reading of F.S. 732.502.
In Bitetzakis v. Bitetzakis the decedent clearly intended to execute a valid will, but thought he had to do so before a notary (not true). Midway through signing his name, his wife stopped him and told him he’d need to sign again before a notary. She also testified that her husband normally wrote his entire name when signing documents. The next day they went to see a notary but husband goofed again, mistakenly signing a self-proving affidavit instead of re-signing his will.
In this case, the probate court erred because the evidence does not establish that the decedent signed at the end of the will or directed another to subscribe his name in his stead. See Dalk, 826 So.2d at 247 (“[W]here a testator fails to sign his or her will, that document will not be admitted to probate.”). Under these very unique circumstances, it is clear that the decedent recorded something less than his full customary signature and therefore did not sign the will within the meaning of section 732.502. See Signature, Black’s Law Dictionary (10th ed. 2014) (defining a signature as a “person’s name or mark written by that person … esp., one’s handwritten name as one ordinarily writes it” and “the act of signing something; the handwriting of one’s name in one’s usual fashion”).
To be sure, Florida law permits a testator to sign a will by making a mark not commonly regarded as a formal signature. See In re Williams’ Estate, 182 So.2d 10, 12 (Fla. 1965) (“[A] mark made by the testator at the proper place on his will with the intent that it constitute his signature and evidence his assent to the will is sufficient to satisfy the statutory requirement that he ‘sign’ his will.”). However, in this case we cannot construe the decedent’s alphabetic first name as constituting his mark because there is no evidence that the decedent had the concomitant intent that it serve in place of his signature. In other words, there is no evidence that the decedent signed his first name “with the intention that [a portion of his signature] evidence his assent to the document.” Id. at 13. To the contrary, that the decedent intentionally ceased signing the will and later signed the self-proof affidavit in an apparent attempt to ratify it dispels any notion that he believed or intended that his first name serve as his signature and assent to the will.
And because these cases often turn on issues of “intent” (for example, if a caregiver uses a POA to pay herself from mom’s bank account, did caregiver intend to financially exploit mom or compensate herself for legitimate services?), and because a person’s intent is usually proven indirectly by circumstantial evidence, the importance of what “test” is used to decide the intent question can’t be overstated, especially when the consequences may include years behind bars. The Johnson v. State case is all about what it takes to prove criminal “intent” in exploitation of the elderly cases.
The Johnson v. State case involves an 88 year old woman who was Baker Acted and hospitalized after exhibiting signs of dementia and found living in deplorable conditions. A neighbor visited her in the hospital, and ultimately ended up as her agent under a power of attorney (“POA”). Eventually, a guardian was appointed on behalf of the elderly woman and her neighbor (and neighbor’s minor daughter) were removed as signatories on her accounts. The guardian placed the elderly woman in a nursing home where she died a short time later.
Based on these facts, one could plausibly conclude all we have is a fee dispute (i.e., was $2,590 a reasonable reimbursement for time spent and expenses incurred?) and an example of a well intentioned neighbor making a dumb mistake involving pay-on-death bank account designations that resulted in no harm (if the bank funds were frozen, the pay-on-death designations were never effectuated). On the other hand, one could just as plausibly conclude what we have here is the use of a POA to defraud an elderly woman. The deciding factor is: what was going on inside the head of the defendant neighbor? … in other words, what was her intent?
As explained by the 4th DCA, because this is a circumstantial-evidence case, the prosecutor’s burden is especially high.
In circumstantial cases, “a conviction cannot be sustained unless the evidence is inconsistent with any reasonable hypothesis of innocence.” Id. (quoting State v. Law, 559 So.2d 187, 188 (Fla. 1989) ). “[I]f there is direct evidence of a defendant’s actus reus, but the defendant’s intent is proven solely through circumstantial evidence, the special standard of review applies only to the state’s evidence establishing the element of intent.” Id.
There are two key cases issued by this Court which are instructive to the issue of intent in an exploitation of the elderly case. The first is Everett v. State, 831 So.2d 738 (Fla. 4th DCA 2002). … The second key case is McNarrin v. State, 876 So.2d 1253 (Fla. 4th DCA 2004). … Everett and McNarrin establish that when a defendant charged with exploitation of the elderly alleges that funds taken from the alleged victim were used for the victim’s benefit, the State must submit evidence to the contrary. Such contrary evidence could include unexplained deposits in the defendant’s bank accounts or acquisitions of property. See Everett, 831 So.2d at 742. In the instant case, although there was evidence corroborating Appellant’s claim that much of the money taken from the victim’s accounts was used for the benefit of the victim, there was also evidence establishing that Appellant deposited some of the money taken from the victim’s accounts into her own bank account and named her daughter as the beneficiary of the victim’s accounts. This evidence, when viewed in the light most favorable to the State, supports the alternative theory that Appellant intended to benefit herself and not preserve the victim’s estate. See Durousseau v. State, 55 So.3d 543, 557 (Fla. 2010) (“Under the circumstantial evidence standard, when there is an inconsistency between the defendant’s theory of innocence and the evidence, when viewed in a light most favorable to the State, the question is one for the finder of fact to resolve and the motion for judgment of acquittal must be denied.”). Accordingly, we affirm the trial court’s denial of Appellant’s motion for judgment of acquittal on the issue of intent.
When it comes to probate proceedings, there’s a strong public policy favoring finality, even it means valid claims sometimes get sacrificed. For example, F.S. 733.903 tells us that once a probate proceeding is closed, it won’t be reopened because sometime after the fact someone finds a perfectly valid will that would have changed everything.
And if you’re the personal representative, F.S. 733.901(2) tells us that once you’re discharged, you too can rest easy in the knowledge that you can’t be sued for anything you did during the probate proceeding. But alas, this last bit of finality is subject to a few exceptions, which are the focus of 1st DCA’s opinion in the Sims case.
This case involves a probate proceeding that went on for over 10 years, involved multiple personal representatives, and one very active pro se litigant. The final PR was an attorney who filed a final accounting that was objected to. The probate judge overruled the objections, approved the final accounting, and discharged the PR in 2015. Two years later the PR was sued by the same objecting party for “fraud” and “embezzlement”.
Appellant correctly asserts that section 733.901 “does not serve as an absolute bar to the suits filed after the discharge of the personal representative.” Van Dusen v. Southeast First Nat’l Bank of Miami, 478 So.2d 82, 89 (Fla. 3d DCA 1985). The statutory bar codifies “a modified res judicata concept … applicable in probate cases.” Id. at 91. The bar will not be applied to a suit for fraud by concealment, where its application “would permit a fiduciary to benefit from its alleged wrongful acts if it could conceal them for the statutory period.” Karpo v. Deitsch, 196 So.2d 180, 181 (Fla. 3d DCA 1967) (holding that suit was not barred by discharge where suit alleged PR concealed from heirs the true value of estate and concealed from the court the identities of the heirs preventing heirs from asserting objection or claim prior to discharge). Likewise, where the PR conceals its intentional transfer of an estate asset by failing to report the distribution in the petition for distribution or otherwise, the PR “is not entitled to the sanctuary provided by” section 733.901. Van Dusen, 478 So.2d at 91.
The lawsuit at the center of this case seemed to include the magic “fraud by concealment” allegations needed to survive a motion to dismiss. So rather than challenge the pleading on its face, the defendant challenged it on summary judgment, which allowed the trial court (and the appellate court) to look beyond the four corners of the complaint. When that happened, the claims crumbled, both at the trial court level and on appeal.
Appellant filed his lawsuit against Bernard and the law firm on March 13, 2017. While the amended complaint generally alleged fraud and “embezzlement,” the facts asserted by Appellant were that the PR failed to provide him with sufficient accountings to explain all expenditures, leading Appellant to the conclusion that estate funds had been removed without explanation. The missing interim accountings, which Appellant was ultimately provided, simply do not rise to the level of “concealment” by the PR presented in Van Dusen and Karpo.
But what if an estate gets probated and years later an heir shows up who was excluded from the original proceeding? That’s what happened in this case.
According to the appellate brief, “[a]lthough the decedent died in 1971, no one in the family had the means or know-how to file estate administration papers with the County at that time.” While it’s never stated explicitly, reading between the lines my sense is that the property at issue in this case is an example of “heirs property” passed down informally to surviving family members who lack the resources to judicially perfect their property rights in a probate proceeding. As explained in an excellent Florida Bar article entitled The Disproportionate Impact of Heirs Property in Florida’s Low-Income Communities of Color, these arrangements can lead to all sorts of negative consequences.
Now back to the case. The decedent died in 1971. In terms of formally clearing title to her property, nothing happened until 2001 (29 years later), when her two daughters initiated a summary administration to probate a parcel of real property owned by the decedent at the time of her death. The decedent had adopted three of her grandchildren. These adopted children didn’t get notice of the probate proceeding, nor did they get a share of the property.
This statute seems pretty clear cut. If you’re an heir, and you weren’t included in the probate proceeding, you get a do-over. But reading the statute that way runs headlong into Florida’s strong public policy favoring finality in probate proceedings. So not surprisingly, as explained by Judge Schwartz in a thoughtful concurring opinion he wrote in Klem v. Espejo-Norton (a case I wrote about here) the usual rule in Florida is that an estate won’t be reopened even if a rightful heir was excluded. The exception to this rule being the type of “fraud by concealment” scenarios discussed in the Sims case above.
The probate judge reopened the Watkins probate proceeding in a non-evidentiary hearing where apparently no one made a “fraud by concealment” argument. Instead, the argument was made that the petition to re-open was time barred by F.S. 733.710(1), Florida’s non-claim statute for probate creditor claims. Since this isn’t a creditor-claim case (it’s a case about excluded heirs) that argument went nowhere.
Florida’s nonclaim statute applies to claims brought against the estate by creditors. It does not apply to the beneficial interests of heirs. See In re Estate of Robertson, 520 So.2d 99, 102 (Fla. 4th DCA 1988) (rejecting argument that nonclaim statute barred claim of heirship because such claims were “not the type of ‘claim’ contemplated” by nonclaim statute); see also Frank T. Pilotte, Creditors’ Claims and Family Allowance, in Practice Under Florida Probate Code (9th ed. 2017) (“[H]owever, the definition of claims and the nonclaim statute clearly do not apply to the beneficial interests of beneficiaries.”).
So what happened here? While the 5th DCA did say the heirship claims weren’t time barred as creditor claims, it didn’t grant the adoptees any property rights, all it did was affirm a trial court order reopening an estate. Does that mean the general rule barring the reopening of probate proceedings in the absence of fraud doesn’t apply in summary administration cases? Who knows. Here’s what we do know for sure: a family with not-that-much to begin with found itself enmeshed in the kind of probate/property-rights mess that seems to disproportionately burden folks most likely to be the recipients of “heirs property”. And that’s a shame.
As defined in F.S. 736.0103(4), the term “beneficiary” refers to the entire universe of persons who have a beneficial interest in a trust, as well as to any person who has a power of appointment over trust property in a capacity other than as trustee. For purposes of this definition it’s immaterial whether the beneficial interest is present or future, vested or contingent, or whether the person having the interest is ascertainable or even living.
By contrast, the term “qualified beneficiary,” as defined in F.S. 736.0103(16), encompasses a much smaller — but favored — subset of trust beneficiaries. This class of beneficiaries is limited to current beneficiaries, intermediate beneficiaries, and first line remainder beneficiaries, whether vested or contingent. These beneficiaries are prioritized in two key ways. First, qualified beneficiaries are going to have standing in just about any judicial proceeding involving their trusts. Second, qualified beneficiaries are at the center of all trustee disclosure obligations.
For example, no matter what your trust agreement says, F.S. 736.0105 tells us you can’t waive the duty under F.S. 736.0813 to notify qualified beneficiaries of an irrevocable trust of the existence of the trust, of the identity of the trustee, and of their rights to trust accountings; nor can you waive the duty to provide a complete copy of the trust instrument and to account to qualified beneficiaries; nor can you waive the duty to respond to the request of a qualified beneficiary of an irrevocable trust for relevant information about the assets and liabilities of the trust and the particulars relating to trust administration.
Bottom line, you can’t do your job as trustee if you don’t know who your qualified beneficiaries are.
Miss law school? How about a couple of brain teaser hypotheticals?
Example 1 — Meaning of Beneficiary. At his death, ninety-year-old D leaves $1,000,000 to T as trustee “to pay the income to D’s spouse S for life, then to distribute trust property to such of D’s descendants as S by will appoints, and in default of appointment in continuing trust to spray income among D’s children from time to time living, and at the death of the last to distribute all trust property per stirpes to D’s then living descendants and if there be none, to D’s alma mater, QB University.” D is survived by S, by two children, C1 and C2, by a grandson Bob (C1’s child) and by a great-granddaughter Fay (Bob’s child). On these facts, the beneficiaries of D’s trust include S, C1, C2, Bob, Fay, QB University, and an indeterminate and unascertainable class of as yet unborn descendants of D. Note that T’s power to spray trust income among D’s children does not make T a beneficiary because T holds that power as a trustee.
Example 2 — Meaning of Qualified Beneficiary. Same facts as Example 1. The qualified beneficiaries of D’s trust, as of his death, include S, C1, C2 and Bob. S is included because she is a permissible distributee. C1 and C2 are included because they would become permissible distributees were S’s interest to terminate at D’s death (i.e., were she to die at that time). Bob is also a qualified beneficiary because he would take the trust property were the trust to terminate at D’s death (because of the death of S, C1 and C2). As of D’s death, neither Fay nor QB University are qualified beneficiaries. Note however, that if Bob were to die after D’s death, Fay would then become a qualified beneficiary because she would be entitled to trust property as a consequence of a hypothetical trust termination at that time. That is, the determination of who is a qualified beneficiary is made as of a specific point in time and can change over time.
Clearly, who’s in and who’s out as a qualified beneficiary isn’t always going to be obvious. You need to apply the statute to a concrete set of facts to make sense of it. And thanks to the 4th DCA we now have two more real life examples. In both cases the 4th DCA makes clear that when in doubt the term “qualified beneficiary” is going to be read expansively, even if the trust agreement was intentionally drafted to reach the opposite result.
Should you assume intermediate beneficiaries die “sequentially” or “simultaneously”?
In this case the trust agreement left everything to D’s surviving spouse, S, and upon her death to her three daughters, A, B, and C, and when the last daughter dies, to several charities. F.S. 736.0110 extends the rights of a qualified beneficiary to any charitable organization expressly designated to receive distributions from a charitable trust if the organization would otherwise meet the definition of a qualified beneficiary.
D was survived by his three daughters (his wife predeceased him). D’s trustee then filed an action seeking to resign and he named D’s three daughters and the charities as defendants, alleging that they were all qualified beneficiaries of the trust. The daughters argued that the charities weren’t qualified beneficiaries, and thus didn’t have a say in who gets to be successor trustee, because if any one of them died, the surviving sisters would get their share. Thus, the charities weren’t first line remainder beneficiaries. The trial court agreed and entered summary judgment against the charities.
Wrong answer, says the 4th DCA. When you’re defining who falls within the magic circle of qualified beneficiaries you need to assume all intermediate beneficiaries die simultaneously.
The lower court’s order contemplates the sequential termination of the daughters’ individual interests such that A’s interest passes to B and C; then B’s interest passes to C; then C’s interest passes to the charities. This interpretation is contrary to the plain language of the statute.
The statute contemplates the simultaneous termination of the interests of the distributees (“termination of the interests of other distributees or permissible distributees then receiving or eligible to receive distributions”). If the interests of the distributees of the trust were simultaneously terminated, all of the daughters’ interests would terminate and the charities would be the distributees. Therefore, the charities are qualified beneficiaries under the plain language of the statute.
Can you use a “multiple-trust scheme” to draft remainder beneficiaries out of the picture?
When it comes to blended families, estate planning can be a special kind of hell, as amply demonstrated by this case, which is now on its second round before the 4th DCA.
In this case D’s trust was for the benefit of his surviving spouse, S, and upon her death for D’s adult children from a prior marriage. D was survived by S and his children. Both D and his estate planning attorney clearly anticipated there was going to be trouble, and tried their best to draft those problems out of existence, as I previously reported here the first time this case made its way to the 4th DCA.
This time around the question was whether a trust agreement that says S’s “Family Trust” terminates when she dies and that at that time new trusts would be created for D’s children, effectively cuts them out as qualified beneficiaries of S’s trust. As explained by the 4th DCA, that was clearly D’s intent.
[I]t appears that the husband settled on the multiple-trust scheme for the very purpose of preventing the children from challenging the manner in which the wife spent the money in the Family Trust during her lifetime.
[T]he fact that the Family Trust terminates upon the wife’s death does not preclude the children from having a beneficial interest in the Family Trust. Indeed, by definition, a remainder interest in a trust refers to the right to receive trust property upon the termination of the trust. ….
Thus, while the husband may have intended to prevent the children from challenging the manner in which the wife spent the money in the Family Trust during her lifetime, see Minassian, 152 So.3d at 727, the children are qualified beneficiaries under [F.S. 736.0103(16)] and are therefore entitled to the corresponding protections afforded to qualified beneficiaries under the Florida Trust Code.
Florida remains the largest recipient of state-to-state migration in the US, and the top choice among retirees. A percentage of those transplants are going to be married couples that moved to Florida directly from a community property state or may have lived in a community property state at some time during their marriage. How big a percentage? Bigger than you might think.
There are nine community property states in the US, including our two most populous states: California and Texas. Additionally, Alaska is an elective community property state, and of the five inhabited US territories, Puerto Rico and Guam are community property jurisdictions. That’s a lot of people. But it doesn’t end there.
You also need to keep in mind that married couples moving to Florida from foreign civil law jurisdictions (think all of Latin America) usually bring along with them some kind of community property rights. For an excellent article discussing those issues you’ll want to read Transnational Probate and Estates: Procedural Strategy in Light of Latin American Law and Practices.
OK, so even if community property is common, why should we care? Because when one of those community property transplants dies in Florida, the surviving spouse’s testamentary community property rights don’t go away, they’re preserved by the Florida Uniform Disposition of Community Property Rights at Death Act (“FUDCRPDA”) (see F.S. sections 732.216 to 732.228); Florida’s version of the Uniform Disposition of Community Property Rights at Death Act (which has been adopted in 17 states).
For more on FUDCRPDA and how it’s supposed to work, you’ll want to read Playing Both Sides of the Florida Community Property Street?, by Richard Warner, one of the smartest probate practitioners and most provocative commentators in Florida.
But here’s the problem: because Florida isn’t a community property state, community property is an issue most Florida probate attorneys never think about, which means it might be a while before anyone gets around to looking into whether a surviving spouse has any community property rights worth filing a FUDCRPDA claim to preserve. Does this lack of awareness matter? Yes. Why? Because community property claims in Florida probate proceedings are forfeited if they’re not made before the statutory filing deadline. So what’s the filing deadline? According to the 4th DCA, it’s sooner than you might think.
The wife’s petition, filed pursuant to sections 732.216–.228, Florida Statutes (2015) (known as the “Florida Uniform Disposition of Community Property Rights at Death Act”) sought to confirm and effectuate her vested 50% community property interest in an investment asset acquired and titled in the decedent’s name while the decedent and the wife were domiciled in Texas, a community property state. See § 732.219, Fla. Stat. (2015) (“Upon the death of a married person, one-half of the property to which ss. 732.216–732.228 apply is the property of the surviving spouse and is not subject to testamentary disposition by the decedent or distribution under the laws of succession of this state.”).
The decedent’s daughters objected, claiming wife’s FUDCPRDA claim was time barred. So what’s the deadline for filing a community property claim? Good question; FUDCPRDA doesn’t tell us, you need to look elsewhere.
If a surviving spouse is going to make an elective share claim, F.S. 732.2135(1) tells us exactly what the deadline is for filing that kind of claim. By contrast, FUDCPRDA doesn’t have any explicit filing deadlines. Wife argued there are none (which makes sense if she was simply perfecting existing property rights to non-estate assets she already owned). Daughters argued wife’s community property claim is a form of creditor claim, so the filing deadlines for probate creditor claims apply (which makes sense if we view a FUDCPRDA claim as creating new property rights to estate assets owned by the decedent).
Daughters won the definitional argument: community property claims = creditor claims: creditor deadlines apply.
a liability of the decedent, whether arising in contract, tort, or otherwise, and funeral expense. The term does not include an expense of administration or estate, inheritance, succession, or other death taxes.
(emphasis added). The wife’s community property interest is “a liability of the decedent.” Although the decedent’s possession of the community property in his name may have created a resulting trust, see [Quintana v. Ordono, 195 So.2d 577, 580 (Fla. 3d DCA 1967)] (“A resulting trust is generally found to exist in transactions affecting community property in noncommunity property states where a husband buys property in his own name.”), upon the decedent’s death, his estate became liable to the wife for her community property interest. Thus, upon the decedent’s death, the wife’s community property interest was a claim which the wife had to pursue.
Upon the decedent’s death, the wife had the ability to perfect her community property interest by seeking an order of the probate court pursuant to section 732.223. Because the wife’s community property interest was a “claim” as defined in section 731.201(4), the wife had three months after the time she published the notice to creditors to file her claim according to section 733.702(1), and in any event had two years after the decedent’s death to file her claim according to section 733.710(1). The wife did neither. As a result, the circuit court properly found that the wife’s untimely claim (in the form of her petition) was barred, and that no exception to the statutory deadlines existed. Ruling otherwise would have left no deadline by which the wife had to file a petition to perfect her community property interest, contrary to section 733.710(1).
So what are testamentary community property rights in Florida?
Whether a surviving spouse’s vested community property rights are part of the deceased spouse’s probate estate making them subject to the estate’s claims procedures, or are fully owned by the surviving spouse and therefore not subject to the estate’s claims procedures.
As explained in the petitioner’s jurisdictional brief filed with the Florida Supreme Court, this is a matter of “great public importance” the court will hopefully agree to address.
If you make your living in and around our probate courts you’ll find the FY 2016-17 Probate Court Statistical Reference Guide interesting reading. The chart below provides the “cases filed” data for three of our largest circuits/counties: Miami-Dade (11th Cir), Broward (17th Cir), and Palm Beach (15th Cir).
And because one year’s snapshot is only so useful, the chart also reports the per-judge average case filing numbers for the prior four years to reflect trends over time.
*In Palm Beach County (15th Cir) there are 9 part time probate judges. For purposes of the chart I count them as 4.5 full time probate judges.
In Miami-Dade – on average – each probate judge took on 2,535 NEW cases in FY 2016-17, in Broward the figure was slightly higher at 2,901/judge, with Palm Beach scoring the lowest at 1,896/judge. Keep in mind these case-load figures (which have remained relatively constant over the last five years) don’t take into account each judge’s EXISTING case load or other administrative duties.
 We aren’t doing our jobs as planners if we don’t anticipate — and plan accordingly for — the structural limitations inherent to an overworked and underfunded state court system. As I’ve previously written here, one important aspect of that kind of planning should be “privatizing” the dispute resolution process to the maximum extent possible by including mandatory arbitration clauses in all our wills and trusts. Arbitration may not be perfect, but at least you get some say in who’s going to decide your case and what his or her minimum qualifications need to be. And in the arbitration process (which is privately funded) you also have a fighting chance of getting your arbitrator to actually read your briefs and invest the time and mental focus needed to thoughtfully evaluate the complex tax, state law and family dynamics underlying these cases (a luxury that’s all but impossible in a state court system that forces our judges to juggle thousands of cases at a time with little or no support).
 We aren’t doing our jobs as litigators if we don’t anticipate — and plan accordingly for — the “cold judge” factor I wrote about here; which needs to be weighed heavily every time you ask a court system designed to handle un-contested proceedings on a mass-production basis to adjudicate a complex trial or basically rule on any technically demanding issue or pre-trial motion of any significance that can’t be disposed of in the few minutes allotted to the average probate hearing.
All matters relating to the validity of wills and their execution; distribution, management, sale, transfer and accounting of estate property; and ancillary administration pursuant to Chapters 731, 732, 733, 734, and 735, F.S.
All matters relating to the care and treatment of individuals with mental, emotional, and behavioral disorders pursuant to sections 394.463 and 394.467, F.S.
All matters related to the involuntary assessment/treatment of substance abuse pursuant to Sections 397.6811 and 397.693, F.S.
Adult Protective Services Act cases pursuant to Section 415.104, F.S.
Developmental disability cases under Section 393.11, F.S.
Incapacity determination cases pursuant to sections 744.3201, 744.3215, and 744.331, F.S.
Tuberculosis control cases pursuant to Sections 392.55, 392.56, and 392.57, F.S.
All matters relating to determination of status; contracts and conveyances of incompetents; maintenance custody of wards and their property interests; control and restoration of rights; appointment and removal of guardians pursuant to Chapter 744, F.S.; appointment of guardian advocates for individuals with developmental disabilities pursuant to section 393.12, F.S.; and actions to remove the disabilities of non-age minors pursuant to sections 743.08 and 743.09, F.S.
All matters relating to the right of property, real or personal, held by one party for the benefit of another pursuant to Chapter 736, F.S.
Not surprisingly, many of these transplants are slow to abandon the professional relationships they’ve fostered back home — often for decades. When it comes to estate planning that can be a big mistake. Why? Because just because your estate planning documents work back home doesn’t mean they’ll work in Florida. And the person who “pays” for that mistake may be the attorney — not the client (think malpractice claim).
For example, if a trust’s executed somewhere else (like Illinois), F.S. 736.0403(1) tells us it’s generally going to be valid in Florida if it’s valid back home. But that last rule is subject to some big caveats, including Florida’s special execution rules for revocable trusts having “testamentary” provisions. In those cases F.S. 736.0403(2)(b) tells us the non-Florida revocable trust has to comply with Florida’s execution formalities for wills — no matter what the rule might be back home. That can be a huge trap for the unwary.
At the heart of the Lindenau v. Lundeen case is an Illinois retiree who moved to Florida but kept working with his estate planning attorney back home. The decedent’s Illinois attorney (Lundeen) drafted an amendment to his client’s Illinois revocable trust after the client had moved to Florida and established a new domicile in Florida. The trust amendment was signed by the decedent (Falkenthal) in the presence of two witnesses, but only one of the witnesses signed it. That’s just fine in Illinois, not so much in Florida, as Falkenthal’s new Florida girlfriend (Lindenau) learned when the 2d DCA held in Kelly v. Lindenau (which I wrote about here) that the trust amendment granting her title to the home she shared with Falkenthal failed as a matter of law.
In [Robinson v. Giamarco & Bill, P.C., 74 F.3d 253, 257 (11th Cir. 1996)] … Michigan attorneys negligently drafted and reviewed a Florida resident’s will, trust, and follow-on testamentary documents. 74 F.3d at 255–56. The client died in Florida, and the will was admitted to probate and the trust administered in Broward County, Florida. Id. at 256. The trust and the estate incurred unexpected tax liability and consequently sued the Michigan attorneys for malpractice. Id. The Eleventh Circuit held the Michigan attorneys “commit[ed] a tortious act within this state” because “[t]heir negligence has allegedly caused damages to an estate in Florida.” Id. at 257.
But just because you’re covered by F.S. 48.193 doesn’t mean you’re done. Once that condition’s satisfied, the Court then moves to step two by evaluating whether the defendant has “minimum contacts” with Florida, such that hauling him into a Florida courtroom does not offend “traditional notions of fair play and substantial justice.” Int’l Shoe Co. v. Washington, 326 U.S. 310, 316 (1945). If step two’s satisfied, the case stays in Florida. If not, it gets dismissed.
Lundeen contends this case … aligns with Fleming & Weiss, P.C. v. First American Title Insurance Co., 580 So. 2d 646 (Fla. 3d DCA 1991). There, the out-of-state law firm sent an opinion letter to a Florida bank concerning a subordination agreement that would be used in Florida as part of a mortgage agreement to purchase Florida property, which allegedly caused harm in Florida. Id. at 647. The firm sent the letter “knowing and expecting” it would be used by the Florida bank “in transacting the Florida land loan.” Id. at 648 (Nesbitt, J., dissenting). Nevertheless, the court held the firm’s contacts with Florida insufficient to satisfy due process because the firm “did not solicit business in Florida, maintained no agent or property in Florida,” and “stated … the opinion was based solely on New York law.” Id. at 647–48.
Also similarly to Fleming & Weiss, Lundeen does not solicit business in Florida, has no office in Florida, is not licensed in Florida, owns no property in Florida, and has no other clients in Florida. And while the attorneys in Fleming & Weiss … knew and expected their documents would be used in Florida, Lundeen had no such guarantee when he drafted the Trust and the Amendments. (See Doc. 9 ¶¶ 18, 25.) His lack of expectation or intention to subject himself to Florida law distinguishes this case. … By including an Illinois choice-of-law clause and not expecting or intending the Trust to be invoked by Florida courts under Florida law, Lundeen did not purposefully avail himself of this forum, according to Fleming & Weiss.
This case instead comes down to whether Lundeen’s act of drafting the First and Second Amendments “involve some purposeful availment of the privilege of conducting activities within the forum, thereby invoking the benefits and protections of its laws.” … Because the Trust and Amendments were to “be construed and governed by the laws of Illinois” (Doc. 2–1 at 8), and Lundeen did not expect nor intend for the Trust to be administered in Florida under Florida law (Doc. 9 ¶¶ 18, 25), Lundeen cannot be said to have created a “substantial connection” with Florida sufficient to subject him to jurisdiction. See Fleming & Weiss, 580 So. 2d at 647–48.6 Accord Newsome v. Gallacher, 722 F.3d 1257, 1280 (10th Cir. 2013) (collecting cases supporting general agreement among federal courts that “representing a client residing in a distant forum is not necessarily a purposeful availment of that distant forums’ laws and privileges”).

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