The attorney asked me whether my nephew had ever been given permission to photograph or appraise the collection. I said no. He told me not to confront him yet and asked me to bring a copy of my father’s will to his office. My father had specifically listed the coins and stated that they were to remain together unless the executor approved otherwise. My nephew wasn’t the executor, wasn’t named as a beneficiary, and had no authority over the collection. Then the attorney asked me one more question: “Did your nephew tell the buyer who legally owned those coins?” I said I didn’t know.
I called the coin dealer pretending to be interested in the collection. He told me he’d already received photographs, a complete inventory, and a proposed sale price from my nephew. Then he gave me the name on the paperwork. It wasn’t my nephew’s name—it was mine. My nephew had represented himself as acting on my behalf. Worse, the buyer had already transferred a deposit to an account my nephew controlled. I took everything to the estate attorney, who immediately sent the dealer a formal notice that the sale was unauthorized. The dealer canceled the transaction and returned the deposit.
When I confronted my nephew, he said he thought the family would eventually divide the money anyway. I told him that wasn’t his decision to make, especially four days after his grandfather’s funeral. The attorney made him return every photograph, inventory sheet, and document he’d taken from the house. The coins stayed together exactly as my father had requested, and I eventually had them professionally appraised for the estate. My nephew apologized, but I stopped letting him into the house without someone else present. He said he was only finding out what the collection was worth, but by the time the attorney called me, he’d already found someone willing to pay him for something that was never his to sell.
