I Knew it was Too Good to be True

A busy couple of days.  After a couple of weeks of procrastinating due to wonderful weather, I embarked yesterday on the Dead Dad 2010 Tour of financial institutions and other estate tidying-up matters.  Yesterday was a cake-walk - although not without it's amusing aspects.

My folks had relationships with three banks.  It was interesting to see how each of them dealt with dad's demise.  The first, which we will call "Bank A" was the institution with which my family has had the longest relationship.  I have got to know the staff from numerous visits over the past year or so.  They inspected the certified copy of dad's death certificate, made a copy, and it was done.

Ditto with "Bank B" which although I did not know the staff well, accepted my offerings of ID, death certificate, and power of attorney documents without hesitation.  Done.

"Bank C" was a bit more difficult.  It is an institution with national interests, a serious beneficiary of TARP bail-out funds and a culture and bureaucracy nearly as formidable and impervious to common sense as the State of Alaska.  The poor clerk I dealt with was apparently unable to make any move without consultation with multiple functionaries located God knows where.  She would speak to one on the phone, have a cryptic conversation, ask me a few questions and then furiously enter data into their system.  Then another phone call, another cryptic conversation, more data entry and so forth.  She spoke to her legal department, her "client services" department and others.  Still, I was able to accomplish my mission with no more than modestly elevated blood pressure and only a slight hint of biliousness.

Then things took a turn for the worse.  At mom's in the morning I had reviewed a letter from the City and Borough of Juneau expressing their collective sadness at dad's demise (they are apparently avid readers of the Juneau Empire Obituary column) and respectfully requesting information that would allow them to determine whether or not the grieving widow was entitled to the property tax exemption my father had previously enjoyed.  A simple form to fill out.  I filled out the form and mom signed it.  Then off to the safe deposit box to locate the documents necessary to support her claim for continued exemption.

YIKES!  Contrary to mom's belief, the trailer they owned and occupied free and clear from any debt was registered solely in dad's name.  I made a copy of the title along with a copy of dad's will and legged it over to City Hall.  They were perfectly happy with the documentation provided and mom will continue to enjoy the historical tax break.  But I just KNEW the next stop would not be as easy...and I was right.

This morning I went back to the safe deposit box and gathered all the documents that I thought might be useful.  Then off to the State of Alaska, Division of Motor Vehicles.  After taking my number and waiting a very modest half-hour or so I found myself cheek-to-jowl with the predictably formidable looking functionary.  I explained what I wanted - to get a new title for mom's mobile home with her name on it.  I explained the documentation I had including (but not limited to)  dad's death certificate, dad's will, a power of attorney from mom and the original title.  Response:  "You need a document from the Court."

"What document from the Court?"  I inquired.

"Something that says the will is valid and you're the executor" says the functionary.

"May I see the regulations and statute that require that?" I asked.

"Sure.  (Postal service style walk  to the back room.  Return two minutes later)  My supervisor will get those for you, I'm going to lunch."

I waited ten minutes or so.  Then the supervisor appeared.  She gave me a form (with only a policy and procedure cite) and a copy of regulations that were only partially on point.

"Has anybody ever questioned these requirements?" I asked.

"Go ahead, if you've got the time."  She replied.

I responded, "Thanks for the help."

Off to the Clerk of the Court with a quick conversation with Dougie between times to confirm that I was fucked.  My attorney advised me to hire an attorney.

And I am now attempting to do so.  I hope to meet with him prior to my departure on Friday to get the probate proceedings underway.  What a waste of everybody's time and money...