She seems to have succeeded in tracking the assassins and bringing them to justice: "even if I had been there myself," says her husband, "I could have done no more." But this was by no means the only dangerous task she had to undertake in those years of civil war and insecurity.

When Lucretius left her they seem to have been staying at the villa where her parents had been murdered; she had given him all her gold and pearls, and kept him supplied in his absence with money, provisions, and even slaves, which she contrived to smuggle over sea to Epirus.[244] And during the march of Caesar's army through Italy she seems to have been threatened, either in that villa or another, by some detachment of his troops, and to have escaped only through her own courage and the clemency of one whose name is not mentioned, but who can hardly be other than the great Julius himself, a true gentleman, whose instinct and policy alike it was throughout this civil war to be merciful to opponents.
A year later, while Lucretius was still away, yet another peril came upon her.

While Caesar was operating round Dyrrhachium, there was a dangerous rising in Campania and Southern Italy, for which our giddy friend Caelius Rufus was chiefly responsible; gladiators and ruffianly shepherd slaves were enlisted, and by some of these the villa where she was staying was attacked, and successfully defended by her--so much at least it seems possible to infer from the fragment recently discovered.
One might think that Turia had already had her full share of trouble and danger, but there is much more to come.

About this time she had to defend herself against another attack, not indeed on her person, but on her rights as an heiress.

An attempt was made by her relations to upset her father's will, under which she and Lucretius were appointed equal inheritors of his property.