Her Brother Produced a 2018 Document He Said Canceled Their Mother's Will — Then a California Appeals Court Ordered the 2006 Will Admitted Instead

Photo credit: AI-generated image created using ChatGPT. Illustrative only.

Families can survive a lot, but money and inheritance have a special way of turning old resentments into paperwork. One day you’re talking about who’s picking up groceries, and the next you’re in a courtroom arguing about what Mom “really meant.” This case out of California is a sharp example of how a single document can blow a hole in a family—until an appeals court steps in and says, “No, that’s not how the law works.”

In Estate of Boyajian, siblings Anush and Robert Boyajian ended up fighting over which writing controlled their mother Layla’s estate: a 2006 holographic will or a 2018 notarized document Robert prepared that claimed to revoke her prior plans. The opinion, filed July 3, 2025, lays it out in plain terms, and you can read the court’s decision in the source material.

The trial court sided with Robert and treated the 2018 document as canceling the 2006 will, leaving Layla effectively intestate. The California Court of Appeal reversed, saying cancellation has a specific meaning in this context and the 2018 document didn’t meet the legal requirements to wipe out the earlier will. It’s the kind of story that makes you realize “close enough” can cost a family years.

A mother’s two writings and a family already under strain

Layla Boyajian had been married to her ex-husband, Mike, for 50 years, and they began divorce proceedings in 2004. The opinion notes Layla believed Robert was taking Mike’s side during that time, which matters because inheritance fights almost always have a history. People rarely start throwing legal punches out of nowhere.

In 2006, when Layla was 71, she signed a two-page holographic will leaving her estate to Anush, who was living with her then. The will’s authenticity and formal requirements weren’t disputed in the appeal. The language in the will was personal and pointed, including that she wanted “Nothing and Nothing to Robert” and nothing to Mike.

Then in 2018, Layla signed another document. Robert prepared it, and Layla signed before a notary, but it was not otherwise witnessed. That 2018 document purported to revoke all prior estate planning documents.

What happened after Layla died

Layla died in 2020. After her death, Anush petitioned to probate the 2006 will—she had possessed it since 2006. Robert contested, arguing Layla had revoked that will through the 2018 document.

The trial court held a bench trial with extensive evidence, including witnesses and exhibits. The notary who witnessed Layla sign the 2018 document testified. The trial judge ultimately concluded Layla died intestate because the 2018 document had validly revoked the 2006 will by “cancellation” under Probate Code section 6120(b), even though the 2018 document didn’t physically alter the 2006 will.

Both siblings also raised undue influence claims against the other. The trial court rejected both theories, finding neither document was the product of undue influence to the level required.

The legal issue: “canceling” a will isn’t casual language

California Probate Code section 6120 gives two paths for revoking a will. One is by a later will that revokes the prior one, either expressly or by inconsistency. The other is by an act done to the will—being burned, torn, canceled, obliterated, or destroyed—with the intent to revoke.

The fight on appeal centered on what “canceled” means. In everyday speech, you can cancel plenty of things without touching them. You can cancel a subscription with an email or cancel an appointment with a phone call. But the Court of Appeal said that’s not how the word functions inside this statute.

Leaning on older California authority and the history behind revocation-by-act, the appellate court held that “cancellation” requires a physical alteration of the will itself. The opinion references a classic description: a “lattice work” or criss-cross marking drawn over text. In other words, if you’re revoking by “cancellation,” something has to be done to the paper of the will—not merely to a separate sheet saying you meant to revoke it.

Why the 2018 document didn’t count as a cancellation

The trial court found clear and convincing evidence that Layla intended the 2018 document to revoke the 2006 will. The Court of Appeal didn’t mock that idea or pretend intent doesn’t matter. It just said intent alone isn’t enough for this specific method of revocation.

Revocation by act under section 6120(b) requires a physical act “done to the” will, consistent with how the Uniform Probate Code treats revocation by act and consistent with the cluster of words surrounding “canceled” (burned, torn, obliterated, destroyed). A stand-alone revocation document, even a notarized one, does not “cancel” a will under this provision if it doesn’t physically alter the will itself.

So even if Layla believed she was cleaning house legally in 2018, the law demanded a different kind of step. That may feel picky, but probate law is full of “picky,” because once someone dies, they can’t clarify what they meant. The rules are trying—imperfectly—to protect against fraud, pressure, and half-baked paperwork.

Could the 2018 document qualify as a later will instead?

Robert also argued the 2018 document could be treated as a “subsequent will” under section 6120(a). The Court of Appeal considered the argument, even though it hadn’t been raised the same way in the trial court, because it was a legal issue on largely undisputed facts.

At first glance, Robert had something to work with. The Probate Code definition of “will” includes “any testamentary instrument which merely appoints an executor or revokes or revises another will.” The 2018 document did revoke another will, at least in its wording.

But the court identified multiple problems. For one, the 2018 document was not a “testamentary instrument” as the code uses that term, because it didn’t designate a beneficiary or make a transfer of property upon death. It didn’t dispose of anything; it just tried to wipe the slate.

Second, it wasn’t witnessed by two people as required under Probate Code section 6110(c)(1). California does have a kind of “harmless error” provision that can validate an unwitnessed will if there’s clear and convincing evidence the decedent intended the document to be their will. But the court emphasized California did not adopt the broader Uniform Probate Code language that also relaxes the rules for revocations. The omission mattered, and the court treated it as an intentional choice by the Legislature.

Third, the court noted the lack of California authority supporting stand-alone revocations that don’t also make a property disposition. Whatever trends exist toward flexibility, California has not gone that far on revocation.

The undue influence argument didn’t rescue Robert’s case

Robert cross-appealed, arguing that even if the 2018 document didn’t revoke the 2006 will, the 2006 will should still fail because Anush unduly influenced Layla. The Court of Appeal rejected that challenge in the portion of the opinion not certified for publication, but the reasoning is still described in the text provided.

The key point is the standard of review and the burden of proof. Robert had a heavy burden to prove undue influence by clear and convincing evidence, and on appeal he had to show the evidence compelled a finding of undue influence. The trial court had heard testimony directly, including Anush’s denials that she procured the 2006 will or even knew about it before finding it.

The trial judge acknowledged there may have been influence in the home—families influence each other all the time—but concluded it didn’t rise to “undue” influence. The appellate court deferred to that factual determination, noting it’s the trial court’s job to weigh conflicting evidence, not the appellate court’s.

What the appeals court ordered next

The Court of Appeal reversed the order for probate and remanded the matter with directions to enter a new judgment giving effect to the 2006 will. The court’s published holdings were clear: revocation by “cancellation” requires physical alteration of the will, and a stand-alone revocation isn’t a “subsequent will” unless it also transfers property upon death and satisfies the relevant formalities.

It’s not hard to imagine how frustrating this is for a family. Someone signs a document in front of a notary, thinking it will handle things, and years later a court says it didn’t do what everybody thought it did. But that’s also why clean estate planning isn’t a place for shortcuts or DIY confidence.

There’s a sobering stewardship lesson here, and it’s not just for wealthy people. If you mean to change something, do it the right way while you’re alive and clear-headed, and make it hard for your kids to fight later. A few extra steps in the daylight can save everyone a long season of suspicion, accusations, and legal bills after the funeral.