My wealthy brother arrived at the courthouse like he was untouchable—perfect suit, confident smile, expensive lawyer at his side. I sat alone at the respondent’s table while he asked the judge to give him complete control of my property and accounts, claiming I was “unstable” and hiding assets.
His plan was simple: use concern and family loyalty to erase me on paper.
When the judge asked for the legal basis, his attorney requested “protective control.” My brother played the caring sibling, insisting he only wanted to “protect the family.”
I handed the court one sealed document.
The bailiff read the inventory list my brother submitted—starting with my bank accounts and then a vacation cabin he claimed as family property. But my sealed page proved something different: my brother had secretly filed a restriction on that property himself using his company account, then tried to have the court transfer it to him.
The judge called it what it was—leverage and possible fraud.
Then the bailiff read the next item: access to my safe deposit box. Records showed it had been opened two days earlier with a notarized authorization. I told the court I never signed one.
The bank audit confirmed the signature didn’t match mine—and the notary used was employed by my brother’s company.
Finally, my last document revealed the truth: the online notarization session listed the signer as Evan Hail—my brother. He had forged authorization in my name while accusing me of instability.
The judge denied his petition, issued preservation orders, and referred the matter to the county fraud unit.
My brother came in expecting to take everything.
He left facing an investigation instead.