Being the dutiful good son, the very first letter I took myself down to the office of the country tax authority and told them that there was not any Wanda Hendrix (name changed just to still be “Dragnetish’ about it) living in my mother's apartment and, according to the apartment manager, had never lived there in the 30 some odd years since the place was built.
The secretary there apologized for the mistake and said it would be taken care of right away. I asked, just out of curiosity, why is the county tax authority asking for back taxes from this Wanda Hendrix (name changed to stay “Dragnetish’ about it) on an apartment that is rented, not owned and that she apparently never lived in?
The reply was, sorry, cannot go into that due to privacy concerns.
Anywho, the letters never stopped. The next one I even tried the local telephone directory to find if this elusive Wanda Hendrix (name changed to remain “Dragnetish’ about it) lived in my hometown. There was no listing for her, not even close. And after two more visits to the county taxing authority and never getting passed the secretary or any type of satisfactory explanation, I let bygones be bygone— The letter were always marked ‘Return to Sender - Addressee Not Here, Nor Has Every Been Here’ and stuck back into the outgoing mail slot.
Lastly, about six month or so ago and better than ten years after my mother passed on, the local paper here had an Obituary Notice for Wanda Hendrix (name changed to conclude being “Dragnetish’ about it) who passed away at age 101 in a local nursing home. The obit said all her relations had passed on before her. Intrigued, I called the nursing home and while citing privacy concerns, they did admit she had been there for the past 30 years but could not tell me more.
Okay, just one more mystery of life that shows what goes around comes back around... 
and even asking for the facts, just the fact won't get you squat— Especially when dealing with government stupidity of the highest caliber
