Two Trustees, One Trust, and Zero Agreement
By Richard Watson, Esq. & Jacqueline Watson, Esq.
Here is a fact that catches almost everyone off guard: if two people are named as co-trustees of a California trust, neither one of them can do anything—not sell a house, not write a check, not hire an accountant, not call a roofer—without the other one agreeing. Not a single thing.
This is the law. It has been the law since before the telephone existed. And it means that when two co-trustees disagree, the entire trust freezes in place—every bill unpaid, every asset untouched, every obligation unmet—until they find a way to agree, or until one of them asks a court to break the tie.
Elena Reyes understood none of this on the October afternoon she stood in the kitchen of the house where she grew up, staring at a stain on the living room ceiling. The stain was the color of weak tea and roughly the shape of Lake Tahoe, and it was spreading. A heavy rain the week before had revealed what everyone suspects about old roofs but nobody wants to confirm: this one leaked. The house—a three-bedroom ranch in a Southern California suburb that her mother, Carmen, had bought in 1987 with the proceeds of a life insurance policy after her husband died—needed a new roof. It needed a lot of things. But what it needed most, according to the seven-page trust Carmen had signed two years before she died, was to be sold.
Elena knew this. She had read the trust document carefully, more than once, in the way of a person who works with numbers for a living and believes that documents mean what they say. Elena is a financial advisor. She is married. She has two children—a daughter in high school who is already worrying about college applications, and a son in middle school who is not worrying about anything yet. She lives forty minutes from the house. She promised her mother she would take care of everything. She has been trying to keep that promise for three years.
The problem is her sister.
Sofia Reyes-Keller, Elena's younger sister, is the other co-trustee. She was named alongside Elena in Carmen's trust, and she lives in the house—has lived in it, rent-free, since the last year of their mother's life, when Sofia and her husband David moved in after David lost his job as a regional sales manager. Sofia does not work outside the home. For the better part of a decade she has been writing a novel, a project she describes with the fierce protectiveness of someone who has poured years into something that is not yet finished and may never be. She believes she sacrificed more for their mother's care than Elena did. She believes she deserves more than an equal share. She will not sell the house. She will not discuss selling the house. When Elena calls, Sofia screams. When Elena texts, the replies come back in capital letters, punctuated with profanity.
Elena believes it is David, Sofia's husband, who is the voice behind the screaming. She cannot prove this. David does not attend meetings. He does not sign documents. He does not communicate with Elena at all. But something shifted in Sofia's tone after David moved in, a new hardness, a new vocabulary—talk of "deserving more," of their mother's trust being "unfair"—that did not sound like Sofia and sounded very much like someone else.
None of this changed the text of the trust. Carmen's seven-page document—spare, unadorned, drafted by a local attorney whom both sisters visited together the week after their mother died—directed that the house be sold and the proceeds divided equally. The attorney confirmed this, sitting across from both of them in his small office, in plain words that left no room for interpretation. The trust mandated a sale. The trust directed equal distribution. Carmen, a retired school librarian who kept a handwritten ledger of household expenses on the kitchen counter next to the coffee pot, who labeled every shelf in her pantry with a label maker, who loved both of her daughters with a ferocity that was quiet and steady and unshakable, had been clear about what she wanted.
That was three years ago. The house has not been sold. The roof still leaks. The property taxes and insurance premiums are still being paid from a Bank of America checking account that grows thinner every quarter. Sofia drives Carmen's 2018 Honda CR-V, titled in the trust's name, to the coffee shop where she works on her novel; last year she was in a fender-bender she never mentioned to Elena. Elena found out three months later from an insurance notice mailed to the trust's P.O. box. There is a safe deposit box that took three months to open because neither sister could get the other to show up at the bank at the same time. When they finally did, they found their mother's wedding ring, a few savings bonds, and a sealed envelope containing a handwritten note in Carmen's careful script: Please take care of each other.
Neither sister has spoken about the letter since.
They could not agree on the funeral. Carmen wanted cremation. Sofia insisted on a traditional burial. They compromised—cremation, with a full memorial service—but the argument set the tone for everything that followed. If they could not agree on how to say goodbye to their mother, they were never going to agree on how to carry out her wishes.
And then there is Jingles, Carmen's elderly orange tabby, whom Sofia claimed immediately. Every time Elena visits the house to try to discuss trust business, she notices the cat's water bowl is dry and the litter box unchanged. It is a small thing. But small things, in a trust dispute, are never really small.
This article is about what happens next. It is about what the law provides when two co-trustees cannot agree on anything, and one of them wants to do what the trust says while the other refuses to move. It is about the specific, concrete, step-by-step legal path that California's Probate Code offers a co-trustee who has reached the end of persuasion and finds herself standing in a leaking house, holding a document that says sell, with a co-trustee who says no.
The Rule That Stops Everything
The first thing Elena's attorney told her was the thing she least wanted to hear.
"Can't I just sell the house myself?" she asked. "The trust says to sell it. The drafting attorney confirmed it. Why can't I just list it?"
Because California law will not let her. Probate Code section 15620 provides, in language that could not be plainer: "Unless otherwise provided in the trust instrument, a power vested in two or more trustees may only be exercised by their unanimous action." (Prob. Code, § 15620.) Unanimous. Not majority. Not "reasonable efforts to agree." Unanimous. Every power vested in Elena as a trustee—the power to sell property, to sign checks, to hire contractors, to make distributions—requires Sofia's agreement before Elena can exercise it.
This principle is not new. In 1870, in a case called Learned v. Welton (1870) 40 Cal. 349, the California Supreme Court held that where a trust conveys the trust estate to two trustees and empowers them to sell, a conveyance by one trustee while the other is still serving does not pass legal title. The rule is more than 150 years old. It predates the automobile, the airplane, and the income tax. It is bedrock.
There are exceptions. A trust instrument can override the unanimity requirement and authorize a single trustee to act alone, or allow a majority of trustees to control. (Central Sav. Bank v. Lake (1927) 201 Cal. 438.) But Carmen's seven-page trust—the one her attorney drafted and both daughters reviewed—is silent on this point. It says nothing about what happens when the co-trustees disagree. It contains no tie-breaking mechanism, no majority-rule provision, no dispute resolution clause. It simply names both daughters and assumes they will get along. Many trusts make this assumption. Most of the time, they are wrong.
So Elena is stuck. She cannot sell the house. She cannot fix the roof. She cannot list the property, hire a real estate agent, accept an offer, or sign a deed. The law has given her every responsibility of a trustee and none of the freedom to act like one.
But there is one critical exception to the unanimity rule, and it changes everything.
In 1955, a California appellate court decided Stanton v. Preis (1955) 138 Cal.App.2d 104. The court held that the rule requiring co-trustees to act unanimously "does not apply in proceeding to invoke power of appropriate court to direct or permit trustees to deviate from terms of trust." (Id. at p. 111.) In other words, the unanimity rule governs what trustees do with trust property. It does not govern a trustee's right to ask a court for help. A single co-trustee can walk into a courthouse and file a petition—without the other co-trustee's consent, without the other co-trustee's knowledge, without the other co-trustee's blessing—and ask a judge to break the deadlock.
Elena's attorney told her this on a Tuesday. For the first time in three years, she felt something that was not frustration. It was closer to relief.
The Duties That Will Not Let You Sit Still
Elena's next question was the one most people ask when they learn the unanimity rule: "So what am I supposed to do? Just wait?"
Her attorney's answer was immediate. No. The law will not let you wait. You have duties, and those duties require you to act.
This is the part of trust law that surprises people the most. A co-trustee is not merely allowed to take action when the other co-trustee is failing in their obligations. A co-trustee is required to. The Probate Code imposes a set of fiduciary duties on every trustee, and those duties do not pause because a sibling is not returning phone calls.
The Duty to Participate. Probate Code section 16013 provides that "[i]f a trust has more than one trustee, each trustee has a duty to participate in the administration of the trust and to take reasonable steps to prevent a co-trustee from committing a breach of trust or to compel a co-trustee to redress a breach of trust." (Prob. Code, § 16013.) This is not a suggestion. It is a command. The duty has teeth: the California Trust Practice treatise explains that "[a]ll co-trustees are obligated to supervise the activities of the other co-trustees. A co-trustee will be liable for acquiescing in, or concealing, the breach of another co-trustee." (Cal. Trust Practice, § 6.06[1][c].)
Read that again. A co-trustee who does nothing—who sees the breach and looks away, who watches the trust bleed and shrugs—is not being cautious. She is exposing herself to personal liability. Sofia's refusal to engage is not merely frustrating. It may itself be a breach of her duty to participate. And Elena's failure to act in the face of that refusal could make Elena liable, too.
The Duty of Loyalty. Probate Code section 16002, subdivision (a), requires that "[t]he trustee has the duty to administer the trust solely in the interest of the beneficiaries." (Prob. Code, § 16002, subd. (a).) Note the word: solely. Not primarily. Not mostly. Solely. Elena's duty is not to Sofia. It is not to David. It is not to family harmony. It is to the beneficiaries of the trust—which, in this case, means both sisters equally. The duty of loyalty is the lens through which every trustee action will be judged.
The Duty of Impartiality. When a trust has two or more beneficiaries, Probate Code section 16003 imposes a duty to "deal impartially with them." (Prob. Code, § 16003.) This duty becomes especially fraught when, as here, a co-trustee is also a beneficiary—and one beneficiary is living rent-free in the trust's most valuable asset while the other waits for a distribution that never comes. The trust is paying the insurance. The trust is paying the property taxes. Sofia pays the utilities and the garbage bill, but the trust is carrying the weight of a house that one beneficiary occupies and the other cannot touch. That is not impartial. It is a subsidy, flowing in one direction, and it grows larger every month.
The Standard of Care. Probate Code section 16040, subdivision (a), holds every trustee to the standard of "a prudent person acting in a like capacity" under the circumstances. (Prob. Code, § 16040, subd. (a).) Ask yourself: what would a prudent person do, faced with a three-year deadlock, a leaking roof, a trust instrument that mandates a sale, insurance premiums draining a dwindling checking account, and a co-trustee who refuses to communicate? A prudent person would not sit still.
The Duty to Defend and Enforce. Probate Code sections 16010 and 16011 impose duties on a trustee to "take reasonable steps to enforce claims that are part of the trust property" and to "take reasonable steps to defend actions that may result in a loss to the trust." (Prob. Code, §§ 16010, 16011.) The trust is losing value through inaction. Every month the house sits unsold, the checking account shrinks, the roof deteriorates, the property depreciates. Elena has a duty to stop the bleeding.
The picture that emerges from these duties is unambiguous. Elena cannot wait. Her fiduciary obligations do not merely allow her to take action. They compel it. Sitting still is not the safe choice. Inaction is itself a potential breach.
The Power to Hire a Lawyer — And Why a Co-Trustee Cannot Stop It
This is the moment the story turns.
Elena decided to hire a trust litigation attorney. When Sofia found out, she sent a text message in all capital letters: "YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO USE OUR MOTHER'S MONEY FOR A LAWYER." Then another: "I WILL FIGHT YOU ON EVERY SINGLE THING." Then a third, consisting mostly of words that do not belong in a legal article.
Elena's hands shook reading them. She showed the messages to her attorney. Her attorney read them, set the phone down, and explained the law.
Probate Code section 16247 provides that "[t]he trustee has the power to hire persons, including accountants, attorneys, auditors, investment advisers, appraisers . . . or other agents . . . to advise or assist the trustee in the performance of administrative duties." (Prob. Code, § 16247.) Notice the phrasing. The trustee. Singular. The power to hire an attorney belongs to each trustee individually. It is not a joint power. It does not require unanimous consent. It is not subject to a co-trustee's veto.
This reading is confirmed by the Court of Appeal's decision in Kasperbauer v. Fairfield (2009) 171 Cal.App.4th 229, which held that section 16247 "permitted a trustee to hire attorneys to advise and assist trustee in the administration of the trust and authorized court to order attorney compensation to be paid from trust assets." (Id. at p. 229.)
Additionally, Probate Code section 16249 provides that "[t]he trustee has the power to prosecute or defend actions, claims, or proceedings for the protection of trust property and of the trustee in the performance of the trustee's duties." (Prob. Code, § 16249.) Again: the trustee. Singular.
And Probate Code section 16200 identifies three independent sources of trustee authority: powers conferred by the trust instrument itself; powers conferred by statute; and, except as limited by the trust, any power that a prudent person would exercise under the circumstances. (Prob. Code, § 16200, subds. (a)–(c).) Even though Carmen's seven-page trust says nothing about hiring counsel, the Probate Code grants Elena that power independently. The trust's silence does not create a gap. The statute fills it.
Sofia's angry text message, then, has no legal force. It is a feeling, not an argument. It is a wish, not a prohibition. Elena's power to hire an attorney is statutory. It belongs to her by operation of law, and no co-trustee's objection—however loud, however profane—can take it away.
Can the Trust Pay for the Lawyer?
This is the question that keeps co-trustees up at night. Hiring a lawyer is one thing. Paying for one is another. Elena is a working mother with a mortgage and two children. She does not have the resources to finance years of litigation out of her own pocket. If the trust cannot pay for the attorney, the right to hire one is theoretical—a power that exists on paper but crumbles against the reality of legal bills.
The good news is that California law provides a clear framework for the use of trust assets to pay legal fees. The less good news is that the framework has limits, and understanding those limits matters.
The Statutory Foundation. Probate Code section 16243 grants the trustee "the power to pay taxes, assessments, reasonable compensation of the trustee and of employees and agents of the trust, and other expenses incurred in the collection, care, administration, and protection of the trust." (Prob. Code, § 16243.) Attorney fees incurred in the administration of the trust fall squarely within this provision.
Section 15684 reinforces this by granting the trustee a right to reimbursement for "[e]xpenditures that were properly incurred in the administration of the trust." (Prob. Code, § 15684, subd. (a).) The critical phrase is properly incurred. This is the gatekeeper. Not every legal expense qualifies. Only those that serve the trust and its beneficiaries pass through.
The "Benefit to the Trust" Standard. The question of whether trust funds can pay for a trustee's legal fees comes down to a single principle, articulated most clearly in Donahue v. Donahue (2010) 182 Cal.App.4th 259, 268: the litigation must be a "benefit and service to the trust." The fees must be "reasonable in amount and reasonably necessary to the conduct of the litigation," and they must also be "reasonable and appropriate for the benefit of the trust." (Ibid.) This is a double requirement. The fees must be reasonable in their amount, and the litigation itself must serve the trust's interests.
For Elena's situation, the most directly relevant authority is the California Supreme Court's holding in Security-First National Bank v. Tracy (1943) 21 Cal.2d 652. The court held plainly that "[a] trustee who necessarily brings an action for declaratory relief and instructions as to his duties is entitled to an allowance of attorney's fees out of the trust estate." (Id. at p. 664.) A petition for instructions—the very tool designed to break a co-trustee deadlock—is exactly the kind of action California courts have held justifies the use of trust funds for legal fees.
Elena's case is strong under this standard. She is not pursuing personal grievances. She is not trying to take more than her share. She is asking a court to enforce the trust's own terms—to order the sale of a house that the trust mandates be sold, to break a deadlock that has paralyzed the administration for three years, to stop the monthly hemorrhage of trust funds into insurance premiums and property taxes on a house that one beneficiary occupies and the other cannot use. That is the definition of a benefit to the trust.
When Trust Funds Cannot Be Used. The law draws a clear line between litigation that serves the trust and litigation that serves only the trustee. In Estate of Vokal (1953) 121 Cal.App.2d 252, 260, the court held that "[a] trustee is not entitled to attorney's fees incurred by him in unsuccessfully defending an effort to remove him for performing an unauthorized act." Self-serving litigation—a trustee defending personal misconduct, a trustee pursuing private interests at the trust's expense—does not qualify.
Similarly, in Whittlesey v. Aiello (2002) 104 Cal.App.4th 1221, 1230, the court denied fees where the dispute was between competing beneficiaries and "did not stand to benefit the trust itself." The court explained that "there is no basis for the recovery of expenses out of the trust assets" when the litigation is essentially one beneficiary fighting another over allocation of trust benefits, because the prevailing beneficiary would be forced to finance both sides of the fight.
The distinction matters. A petition for instructions to break an administrative deadlock and enforce the trust's terms is fundamentally different from a personal dispute between beneficiaries over who deserves more. Elena's petition asks the court to do what the trust itself directs. Sofia's belief that she should receive more than her equal share is a personal grievance, not a trust administration issue.
A Practical Comparison:
| Litigation Likely Payable from Trust | Litigation Likely NOT Payable from Trust |
|---|---|
| Petition for instructions to break co-trustee deadlock (Security-First Nat'l Bank v. Tracy (1943) 21 Cal.2d 652) | Defense against trustee removal for misconduct (Estate of Vokal (1953) 121 Cal.App.2d 252) |
| Action to protect trust property from waste or depreciation (Prob. Code, § 16249) | Beneficiary-vs.-beneficiary disputes over allocation (Whittlesey v. Aiello (2002) 104 Cal.App.4th 1221) |
| Good-faith action to enforce trust's own terms (Donahue v. Donahue (2010) 182 Cal.App.4th 259) | Self-serving litigation for trustee's personal benefit (Whittlesey v. Aiello, supra, 104 Cal.App.4th 1221) |
The Petition for Instructions: Letting the Court Break the Tie
Elena tried everything. She called. She texted. She wrote letters. She proposed mediation. She suggested a buyout—she would buy Sofia's share, or Sofia could buy hers, at fair market value. Sofia refused every offer. She would not name a price. She would not respond to proposals. She would not sit in a room with a mediator. She would not do anything except stay in the house and insist that Elena stop bothering her.
Three years of this. Three years of a trust that should have been terminated within months of Carmen's death. Three years of insurance premiums and property taxes paid from a shrinking checking account. Three years of a house depreciating, a roof leaking, a car being driven without authorization, and a co-trustee who treats the trust's property as her own and the trust's obligations as someone else's problem.
Elena's attorney told her it was time for court.
Probate Code section 17200, subdivision (a), provides that "a trustee or beneficiary of a trust may petition the court under this chapter concerning the internal affairs of the trust." (Prob. Code, § 17200, subd. (a).) Subdivision (b)(6) specifies that proceedings concerning the internal affairs of a trust include proceedings for the purpose of "[i]nstructing the trustee." (Id., subd. (b)(6).)
Two things about this statute matter enormously. First, the word "trustee" in subdivision (a) is singular—"a trustee . . . may petition the court." Not "the trustees." Not "all trustees." A single co-trustee has standing to file. Second, subdivision (b)(6)'s provision for "instructing the trustee" is designed precisely for situations where a trustee needs the court's guidance on how to proceed. A three-year deadlock over a mandated sale is exactly that situation.
And here, Stanton v. Preis returns with its full force. The court held that the unanimity rule does not apply to court proceedings. A single co-trustee can file a petition for instructions without the other co-trustee's consent. (Stanton v. Preis, supra, 138 Cal.App.2d at p. 111.) Sofia's permission is not required.
When Elena told Sofia about the petition, Sofia said she would fight.
Good. Under Stanton v. Preis, the law actually agrees with her. The court held that a dissenting co-trustee "ought in good conscience to assist court by filing appropriate pleadings, by actively participating in trial, and by prosecuting appeal if he believes court's decision is in error." (Ibid.) Sofia's threat to fight is not a problem. It is the system working as designed. The court hears both sides. The court decides. That is the entire point.
A petition for instructions in Elena's situation would typically ask the court for several things: a determination that the co-trustees have reached an impasse on the sale of the residence; an instruction directing that the property be sold in accordance with the trust's terms; an order authorizing the petitioning co-trustee's reasonable attorney fees to be paid from the trust, having demonstrated that the petition was brought in good faith and for the trust's benefit; and any further instructions necessary to complete the trust administration that has been stalled for three years.
The Attorney-Client Privilege: A Trap for the Unwary
Elena's attorney raised one more thing she had not considered, and it is something that catches nearly every co-trustee by surprise.
When a trustee hires an attorney to advise on trust administration matters, the attorney-client privilege for those communications may not belong to the trustee as an individual. It may belong to the office of the trustee. And that distinction has significant consequences.
The California Supreme Court addressed this directly in Moeller v. Superior Court (1997) 16 Cal.4th 1124. The court held that when a successor trustee takes office, the successor assumes all the powers of the trusteeship, "including the power to assert the privilege with respect to confidential communications between a predecessor trustee and an attorney on matters of trust administration." (Id. at p. 1134.)
In the co-trustee context, Moeller carries a practical implication that many lay trustees miss entirely. Because the privilege attaches to the office rather than the individual, a co-trustee may have a colorable claim to access communications between the other co-trustee and that co-trustee's attorney concerning trust administration. When Elena's attorney advises her about the petition for instructions, about the sale of the house, about trust administration strategy—those communications may not be hers alone to protect.
But Moeller also identified an important escape hatch: "If a predecessor trustee seeks legal advice in its personal capacity out of a genuine concern for possible future charges of breach of fiduciary duty, the predecessor may be able to avoid disclosing the advice to a successor trustee by hiring a separate lawyer and paying for the advice out of its personal funds." (Id. at p. 1134.) The principle applies with equal force to co-trustees. If Elena needs advice about her own personal exposure—her potential liability for the three-year delay, for example, or her exposure to a surcharge claim—she should retain separate personal counsel, paid from her own funds, to ensure those communications remain privileged.
This is reinforced by Fiduciary Trust International of California v. Klein (2017) 9 Cal.App.5th 1184, where the court held that former trustees "did not establish, by describing documents in their privilege log as relating to a petition for removal or surcharge, that the documents reflected legal advice obtained out of concern for their personal liability rather than general concern for the trust." (Id. at p. 1198.) The exception is narrow. Merely labeling advice as "personal" is not enough. The trustee must demonstrate a genuine personal-liability concern, retain separate counsel, and pay from personal funds.
The practical takeaway is straightforward. A co-trustee in Elena's situation may need two layers of representation: one attorney advising on trust administration—the petition, the sale, the deadlock—whose fees are paid by the trust and whose communications may be accessible to the co-trustee; and a separate attorney, if needed, advising on personal liability, whose fees are paid out of pocket and whose communications are protected. It is a nuance that few people think about until it is too late.
The Path Forward
Elena sat in her attorney's office and, for the first time in three years, felt like she understood not just the problem but the solution. The law was on her side. Not because the law favored her personally, but because the law was designed for exactly this situation—a situation as old as trusts themselves, in which two people who share a responsibility cannot agree on how to carry it out.
Here is the path her attorney laid out. It applies to Elena, and it applies to anyone in California who finds themselves in a similar position.
First, read the trust instrument. Even a thin, imperfect trust may contain a provision that helps—a dispute resolution clause, a majority-rule provision, a power to act independently in certain circumstances. The trust instrument is the primary source of a trustee's authority. (Prob. Code, § 16200, subd. (a).) In Elena's case, the trust was silent on every one of these points, which is why the Probate Code's default rules control.
Second, document everything. Every text message, every voicemail, every attempt to communicate and every refusal to respond. The three years of failed efforts to cooperate. The drafting attorney's confirmation that the trust mandated a sale. The roof leak and the repair estimates. The insurance premiums and property tax bills. The fender-bender that was never reported. The car being used without authorization. This record will demonstrate to the court that the petitioning co-trustee acted in good faith and exhausted every reasonable alternative before turning to the court.
Third, hire a trust litigation attorney. The power is statutory. The consent of the co-trustee is not required. (Prob. Code, § 16247.)
Fourth, file a petition for instructions. Ask the court to break the deadlock. A single co-trustee has the right to file without the other co-trustee's consent. (Prob. Code, § 17200, subd. (b)(6); Stanton v. Preis, supra, 138 Cal.App.2d at p. 111.)
Fifth, seek court authorization for trust-funded fees. Demonstrate that the petition was brought in good faith and for the benefit of the trust. A petition for instructions to enforce the trust's own terms is precisely the type of action courts have held justifies an award of attorney fees from the trust estate. (Security-First Nat'l Bank v. Tracy, supra, 21 Cal.2d at p. 664; Donahue v. Donahue, supra, 182 Cal.App.4th at p. 268.)
Sixth, consider separate personal counsel if needed. If there is any concern about personal liability—for the delay, for the inaction, for anything that might give rise to a surcharge claim—retain separate counsel, paid from personal funds, to protect those communications under the attorney-client privilege. (Moeller v. Superior Court, supra, 16 Cal.4th at p. 1134.)
Seventh, prepare for the co-trustee's participation. A dissenting co-trustee has both a right and a duty to participate in the court proceedings—to file responsive pleadings, to present her case, to argue her position before the judge. (Stanton v. Preis, supra, 138 Cal.App.2d at p. 111; Prob. Code, § 16013.) That is not an obstacle. That is the process working as it should.
The House, Waiting
The stain on the ceiling has grown. It no longer looks like Lake Tahoe. It looks like something larger and less defined, something that has been spreading so long it has lost its shape. The roof still leaks. The property taxes are due again next month. Jingles is asleep on the couch in a patch of afternoon sun, next to a water bowl that is, once again, empty.
In Elena's desk at home, in a file folder she labeled with the same block-letter precision her mother used on every shelf in the pantry, there is a sealed envelope. Inside it is a note in Carmen's handwriting: Please take care of each other.
Carmen did not write that note because she expected her daughters would never disagree. She wrote it because she knew they might. She was a school librarian who spent thirty years watching children learn the hardest lesson there is: that the people you love most are the people who can frustrate you most deeply. She drafted her trust with the same clarity she brought to everything else in her life—equal shares, the house to be sold, the proceeds divided. She said what she meant. She meant what she said.
Every family is different. Every trust dispute is unique in its details, its grievances, its silences. But the fundamental problem—two people who share a responsibility and cannot agree on how to carry it out—is as old as the law of trusts itself. The California Probate Code was written for exactly this moment. The petition for instructions exists not as a weapon and not as a last resort, but as a safety valve—the mechanism the law provides when the people entrusted with carrying out a loved one's wishes cannot find their way to agreement on their own.
The law offers a path. It is not always an easy one. But it is a clear one. A co-trustee has duties that compel action. A co-trustee has powers that permit her to hire counsel. The trust can pay for it, when the litigation serves the trust's interests. And the court is there to do what two co-trustees cannot: decide.
The house is waiting. The trust is waiting. The law has been ready for a very long time.
If you are a co-trustee in California who has reached an impasse with your fellow trustee, you do not have to wait. You have duties. You have powers. And you have the right to ask the court for help.
Contact Watson Law Group, APC to discuss your rights, your duties, and your options. We represent co-trustees who want to follow the trust instrument and get the administration done.
Richard Watson, Esq. | Jacqueline Watson, Esq.
watsonlaw.org
Disclaimer: The characters and scenarios described in this article — including Elena, Sofia, David, Carmen, and Jingles — are composites created for educational and illustrative purposes. They do not represent any actual persons, living or deceased, or any specific trust, estate, or legal matter handled by Watson Law Group, APC. This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Every trust dispute involves unique facts and circumstances. If you are facing a co-trustee disagreement, you should consult with an experienced trust litigation attorney about your specific situation.
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