No one came to my son’s surgery. Three days later, my mom texted me demanding $5,000 for my sister’s wedding dress.

Harold’s email to my attorney, Diane Mercer. Aaron and I had hired Diane years earlier for our wills, and she had always seemed like the kind of woman who could cut bread with a glance.

She called within twenty minutes.

“Leah,” she said, “do not speak to them by phone. Everything in writing. Save every message. I want copies of the account authorizations,continue reading …