Worst aunt in the family; bring a recording device

One star, would be zero if I could. This review is for Aunt Carla, who apparently moonlighted as a funeral director and forensic accountant at my mother’s wake.

Let me set the scene: It’s the afternoon of Mum’s funeral. I’m standing by the sandwich platter, trying to remember how to small-talk with cousins I haven’t seen since 2019, when Aunt Carla strides in like she’s head of the bereavement police. She announces—loud enough for the caterer to hear—that I’d stolen two thousand dollars from Mum’s bank account before she died. She said it with the same casual confidence she uses to order a flat white. Then she actually called the local police from her phone, right there among the floral arrangements, reporting “suspicious financial activity.”

I went outside to the driveway to confront her. Neighbours were coming home from work, and a few leftover guests were hovering by the fence. I asked her, very calmly, to retract the lie. She told me to “prove it.” I could feel my face go hot. I told her I’d paid for the funeral out of my own savings because Mum’s account was frozen pending probate. She laughed and said, “Sure you did, sweetheart.”

That’s when Uncle Frank stepped in. He pulled me aside, put a hand on my shoulder, and whispered that he had a text from Aunt Carla planning the whole accusation. I felt a flicker of hope—finally, proof. But then he walked over to Carla and showed her the phone, not me. They exchanged a look. I realised he’d been feeding her information the whole time. He wasn’t mediating; he was collaborating.

So I pulled out my phone and played the voicemail. Mum’s voice, recorded a week before she died, saying: “Carla has always been jealous, don’t let her bully you about the money. It’s yours. You looked after me.” The cousins went quiet. Someone started crying.

A police officer arrived, took statements from both sides, and told us it was a civil matter. The family is now split into two camps: the ones who believe Mum’s own voice, and the ones who still think Carla’s version has merit. Carla and Frank left together, heads down, whispering. I haven’t heard from them since.

What I want you to do: If you have a relative like Carla, record everything. Save voicemails. Keep receipts. And don’t let them weaponise a funeral for their own agenda. One star. Would be zero if I could.