Late last July I received a call from the San Bernardino sheriff's office asking if I was Robert Boyer's sister. I knew something bad had happened to him. And it had. They said he had died several days before at Loma Linda Hospital and his body was being held in the morgue until next of kin were found to take care of his remains. They asked if I would be willing to do that. I hesitated, telling them about how Robert and I had been estranged for thirteen years after he had done something so horrific to me, I never wanted to talk to or see him again. After sleeping on it, I decided that, even though he had treated me badly, he was my brother and he didn't deserve a pauper's funeral. I made arrangements for his cremation. After talking to his best friend whom I had known before, I was told there was no will. I then drove to Redlands California to take care of Robert's remains and administer the estate. If there was no will, I being the only heir would inherit everything; the house and any other assets he had. But when I got there, the wills came out of the woodwork. In the weeks that followed, as I sorted through family photos and memorabilia, my life flashed before me. All of the pain of growing up in a family so disoriented and dysfunctional came back to me. This is my story.