When my father passed away, I thought the worst was over. I never imagined the real battle would begin after the funeral in the cold walls of the courthouse.

My stepmother challenged my right to the land my father had promised me. She insisted the property was hers, and I was left to defend my inheritance.
I believed the law would speak for me. I had the documents, the will, and my lawyer’s reassurance.

But as the months turned into years, something strange happened: the case never moved forward.
Every time we went to court, there was a new excuse, a missing file, a sick judge, a sudden adjournment.
At first, I thought it was just bad luck. But after five years of the same endless cycle, I felt as though something unseen was working against me.

The delays drained me. I sold my car to keep paying legal fees. I couldn’t start the small business I had planned because the land was tied up in the dispute.
I began to dread each court date because I knew it would end the same way  “Come back in three months.”

Friends and relatives whispered that my stepmother had gone to certain people for “help” to keep the case in her favor. I brushed it off, but the constant postponements and my own nightmares made me wonder if there was more to this than just paperwork.

One evening, after another long day at court, I sat on my porch in tears. A childhood friend came to see me and listened quietly as I poured out my frustrations.
Then she said softly, “You’ve done everything you can in court. Maybe it’s time to seek spiritual guidance. I know someone who has helped people in situation like the Bokko”. Read more.