The Bank Refused To Help Me Close My Late Dad’s Account. When I Sent Them One Document, They Called Me Back Within Minutes

At first, they treated me like a scammer. “We can’t help you,” the banker said, eyes cold, voice final. I left the building in shock, still mourning my dad, now blindsided by red tape. But later that night, I opened one of his old folders—and there it was. The one thing they said I’d never find. I sent it over the next morning. Minutes later, the bank called me in a panic…

I arrived before opening with Dad’s death certificate, my ID, and the appointment printout. At nine sharp, the guard waved me in, and I walked to the service counter. I carried a tabbed folder for identification, death records, and account notes. I checked in on the tablet and waited while printers clicked and phones murmured. When my number flashed, I stepped forward and set the folder neatly on the counter.