My Parents Abandoned Me At 13—Unaware That 15 Years Later They’d Be Begging At My Door
The Legal Threat
I spoke to Margaret Morrison, Uncle Harold’s estate attorney, the next morning. She confirmed my suspicions. Sandra had hired Victor Harrington to file a claim challenging the will.
Their grounds? Undue influence. Alleging that I had manipulated a sick man in his final months. They were also demanding to attend the will reading as immediate family members of the deceased.
I stared at the photo of Uncle Harold on my desk. In the picture, he was smiling almost like he’d known this would happen—almost like he’d planned for it.
Margaret Morrison’s office occupied the 47th floor of the Columbia Center, Seattle’s tallest building. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you could see all the way to Mount Rainier on a clear day. March 10th wasn’t clear. Rain streaked the glass as Margaret laid out the situation.
“Victor Harrington filed a formal challenge to the will on behalf of Richard and Sandra Meyers,” she said, sliding a document across her desk. “The claim alleges undue influence. They’re arguing that you isolated Harold from his family during his illness and pressured him to change his estate plan.”
I read through the filing, my stomach tightening with each paragraph.
“They’re demanding 50% of the estate,” Margaret continued. “Their legal theory is that as Harold’s only surviving sibling, Richard should be entitled to inherit under intestacy rules, or at minimum receive a significant share that reflects the natural bonds of brotherhood.”
“Natural bonds,” I repeated. “Richard and Harold hadn’t spoken in eight years before I came to live with Uncle Harold.”
“Did you know that?” Margaret nodded. “I’m aware. Harold told me the whole history. But that’s not what concerns me about this filing.”
She pulled out another page from her folder. “They don’t need to win this case. If this goes to litigation, the estate could be frozen for 12 to 18 months during discovery and trial. Meanwhile, the properties need management, tenants need attention, bills need to be paid. A protracted legal battle could cost hundreds of thousands in legal fees and potentially devalue the entire portfolio. So they’re betting I’ll pay them off to make them go away.”
“That’s the strategy,” Margaret agreed. “It’s not unusual in estate disputes.”
The Secret Document
I looked down at the challenge filing. In the section describing our family history, Sandra had written that I had abandoned my family and exploited Harold’s loneliness. The woman who threw me out was claiming I abandoned her.
“Do you have any documentation about your circumstances in 2010?” Margaret asked. “Anything that establishes what actually happened when you went to live with Harold?”
I thought back to that night on the porch. The garbage bags. The four-hour wait. Uncle Harold arriving in the darkness.
“I was 13,” I said. “I didn’t exactly keep records.”
“Harold did.” Margaret was already reaching for her phone. She dialed her assistant and asked for a specific file number from the archives.
20 minutes later, her assistant returned with a yellowed folder. Margaret opened it carefully, scanning the contents. Then she looked up at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Diana, did you know about this?”
She slid the document across the desk. The header read: “Voluntary Relinquishment of Parental Rights and Transfer of Guardianship,” dated July 15th, 2010.
The document stated that Richard James Meyers and Sandra Ellen Meyers, being of sound mind, voluntarily relinquished all parental rights and responsibilities for their minor daughter, Diana Marie Meyers, and transferred full legal guardianship to Harold Raymond Meyers.
At the bottom were four signatures: my mother’s, my father’s, Uncle Harold’s, and a notary public from King County, Washington. File number 2010 GH5847.
“They didn’t just kick you out,” Margaret said quietly. “They legally gave you up. They signed away their parental rights. As far as the law is concerned, Sandra and Richard Meyers stopped being your parents the moment they signed this document.”
My hands were trembling. I’d been 13 years old, sitting on a porch in the dark. I had no idea my mother had been signing papers inside the house.
“What does this mean for their claim?”
Margaret’s expression shifted. “It means Richard has no standing to claim inheritance through familial relationship. Legally, he’s not your parent. He severed that connection himself, in writing, with witnesses, 15 years ago.”
