5 Years On, Emotional Legal Fight Continues
Feb. 6, 2005
Melissa Purdon pulled out the cabinet drawer, its walls bulging with a rainbow of files.
“This is all Derrick,” she said.
There were three more cabinets just like it, every detail of Derrick Thomas' $2 million-plus estate stuffed into folders, a life boiled down to 8½-by-11-inch pages. From the minutiae of his investments to the distribution of his largess, all things Thomas have been handled by Purdon, a paralegal for Thomas' estate lawyer, Ron Bronstein.
Nearly five years after Thomas' death, the estate remains open thanks to legal wrangling caused by Thomas' lack of a will.
Though Thomas made $34 million over his 11-year career with the Chiefs, the value of his estate as of March 31, 2001, came to $2,055,529.75.
Since determining that figure after the sale of his belongings, Thomas' lawyers have litigated lawsuits from two mothers of children and an old friend and mentor hoping to recoup the car he gave Thomas years earlier, Bronstein said.
Other investments and belongings remain, leaving that figure likely to increase. With Thomas' possible induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame multiplying the value of his name, the proceeds from future licensing would go to the estate, Bronstein said.
All the troubles that keep the estate open date to the weeks before Thomas died, when Bronstein said he tried to persuade the 33-year-old to draw up a will.
“Derrick was a very difficult person to pin down to do anything,” Bronstein said. “He was ephemeral. I don't think it was possible to get him to do it, unless you'd have tied him down.”
Initially, Thomas' seven children received payments of $60,000 each, Bronstein said, and recently they were given $20,000. They will continue to receive occasional payments, he said. One mother, Kelly Harmon, receives around $2,300 per month in support, Bronstein said, while the others get $1,500 per child.
Though none of the five mothers of Thomas' children spoke specifically, most said they felt too much of Thomas' remaining money has gone toward legal fees. Bronstein did not specify how much it has cost to manage the estate, which is administered by Thomas' mother, Edith Morgan, and the local Gold Trust Co.
Nothing has been simple with Thomas' estate. During its sale in 2001, lawyers staffed off-duty police offers to protect the house in which his belongings rested. Among the items sold: two Rolexes, two Mercedes-Benz cars and cases of brandy, all an homage to his lavish lifestyle.
As part of their agreement, the five mothers of Thomas' children each were given a chance to take keepsakes before his goods went up for auction.
One chose a Pro Bowl watch. Another asked for a scouting film from 1984.
Terrye Jenkins picked an item that personified Thomas as much as any: the license plate from one of his Mercedes that read “IMAYDIT.”
Before Thomas died, he was ready to sign a contract extension with the Chiefs, one that probably would have been the last of his career. It would have included a multimillion-dollar bonus, guaranteeing his family's security.
“I think at some point he was really trying to concentrate and think about his future,” Purdon said. “I think that maybe even right before he died, he was concentrating on life after football.”
Beyond all the paperwork and legalese sits one final reminder of Thomas' legacy: the 1947 Ford. It was Thomas' baby. He put in hours of work and thousands of dollars to turn a clunker into a classic.
With a low-slung body and blue leather interior, it turns heads at car shows. Its license plate reads “58,” Thomas' jersey number.
A more fitting tribute, though, is painted on the rear bumper. Below a bright-green cobra flashing its fangs is a phrase: “OLDER TOYS FOR OLDER BOYS ... ”
“If you know anyone looking for a Ford roadster, tell them to call,” Purdon said.
from Kansas City.com
