Every factual claim on this site was verified on July 28, 2026, and the date is printed because these policies move. Nothing here is a guess.
This site is for people in the United States dealing with somebody else’s online accounts. Most arrive after a death. Some arrive after a diagnosis, or after a parent starts forgetting passwords, and a few are putting their own affairs in order. Ordinary readers come first here, ahead of lawyers, so the writing skips the words that make guidance unreadable.
Two front doors lead into the material. One is for when somebody has died, and the other is for putting your own affairs in order. Behind them sit pages on the paperwork, the money, the platforms, and the law that governs all of it.
The plainest instruction on the site is short. Copy the files out before cancelling anything, which is why saving the photos and files comes first.
The site doesn’t sell anything, and it has no product to recommend. There’s no newsletter and no form. It doesn’t offer comfort, because a web page is a poor place to look for that. What it can do is make the next step findable and clear, and that’s the whole design.
One more thing belongs up top. Nothing on this site has been through a legal review of any kind, and it isn’t legal advice. Where a decision turns on the law, the lawyer handling the estate is the person to ask before you act.
Every claim on this site carries a date
Policy pages change without saying so, and a guide written three years ago can be wrong in a way nobody notices. Dates are a cheap defense against that.
Claims on this site fall into three groups, and each group ages at a different speed. The statutory framework behind all of this is stable. The split between who somebody messaged and what the messages said is stable too, and so are the security principles. Those parts of the site should hold steady for years to come.
A second group drifts every year. State adoption, retention policies, and loyalty-program terms all move, and a number that was right in 2024 may well be wrong now. The site names the year for those claims, and where your state stands carries the caveat in full.
A third group changes without any notice at all. Settings paths, feature names, and the absence of a feature can all shift between one visit and the next one.
Some sources can’t date themselves, which makes the problem worse. Google’s, Apple’s, and Bitwarden’s policy pages carry no last-updated date at all. Discord’s support article about deceased users changed its identifier during the research. An identifier that drifts breaks every guide that cited the old one by number.
The method sits on its own page. How this site checks its facts sets out the sources and the three groups above. Read it before you trust any single number on this site, including the numbers on this page.
Old errors circulate in other guides for years
Other guides still repeat errors this site traced. Most involve RUFADAA, the model state law on fiduciary access to digital assets, and each error has a traceable source of its own.
Louisiana never enacted that law—its 2016 bill died in conference. The text of that bill still circulates formatted like a real statute, under a citation that looks official. An AI-generated summary went further and invented a repeal citation pointing at an unrelated blockchain act. None of it is law.
California enacted in 2016, and some commercial sources still list it as a state that hasn’t. That error came from a map drawn around 2017. The error is still in print years later.
Three other errors follow the same shape. A story that X launched memorialization in late 2025 traces back to a feature Twitter announced in November 2019 and never shipped.
A digital-legacy tool at 1Password shows up in guides, and the company had no such feature as of July 28, 2026. TikTok’s “Remembering” label came from a code discovery by a data miner in March 2024. The company never announced it. Adoption totals for the model law circulate anywhere from 38 to 48 at once, because sources count differently.
One error came out of this site’s own research. An early pass classified Oklahoma as a state that had not adopted, because no statute could be found. A later pass read the 2024 act—which is why absence gets treated here as a finding that decays.
This site gives no legal advice and sells nothing
Nothing here has been through a legal review. The site reports what a named source says, and it stops at the point where a decision needs a professional.
That line matters more here than on most subjects. Three bodies of rules apply at once: a platform’s terms, a state digital-assets law, and federal privacy and computer-crime law. They don’t always agree. Which one governs a particular account is a question for the lawyer handling the estate, or for the probate court.
The site takes no position on money. It reports what a company’s terms say about a balance, and it doesn’t tell anybody what to do with it. Where cryptocurrency or a business is involved, specialist counsel is the referral rather than a web page.
AI simulations of people who have died get one page of their own here. That page reports the research and the regulation as they stand, and it takes no position on whether anybody should use them.
There’s nothing to sell here. The site carries no products, no affiliate links, and no newsletter sign-up. Nothing asks you to leave an email address before reading the next page. There’s no funnel here, because there’s nothing waiting at the end of one.
The tone is a deliberate choice too. There are no countdowns, no scare lines, and no reminders that time is short, because a real deadline stated plainly is enough. If you’re arriving in a bad week, the point of each page is right there in its first line.
Four areas fall outside what was checked
A gap named is more use than a gap papered over. Four areas sit outside the research behind this site, and the pages say so where they come up.
Email providers other than Google weren’t checked. Yahoo, AOL, and Microsoft’s consumer email each run their own process, and none of them was verified here. If one of those inboxes is in your pile, you’re working without a source this site has checked. Ask the provider directly, and write down what it says.
Payment platforms were not checked either. PayPal, Venmo, and Cash App hold balances and recurring charges, and their death processes fall outside this site’s verified material. The bank and the estate lawyer are the people to ask about money sitting in one.
Identity theft after a death sits inside the topic and outside the research. Credit-bureau flags, notice to Social Security and the IRS, and obituary detail are documented here as an exposure rather than a solved sequence.
The fourth gap is geography. Everything here describes the United States, and state law differs from one state to the next in ways that matter. As of July 28, 2026, 47 states and the District of Columbia had enacted the model law. Louisiana and Massachusetts had not, and Delaware keeps an older act of its own.
Two doors lead out of this page. If you’re dealing with a death, start at after a death, which orders the work by urgency. If you’re arranging your own accounts, start at plan ahead, where the settings that outrank a will come first.