The long and frequently brutal saga of Gina Rinehart's attempt to deny her children control of a trust fund established for them by their grandfather, Lang Hancock, is not the only example of wealth's ability to debase its possessors, but the scale and bitterness of the battle, and the way it has been played out so publicly, is unrivalled in contemporary Australia.

This mother of all feuds, as the media has portrayed it, has involved phalanxes of expensive barristers, solicitors and (in all likelihood) public relations consultants. It has consumed vast amounts of court time, and featured threats, intimidation, accusations of misconduct and chicanery. And, despite Thursday's decision by the NSW Supreme Court to appoint Bianca Rinehart trustee of the $5 billion Hope Margaret Hancock trust, it's highly likely the Rineharts will be back in court to argue the question of whether the trust's stake in Hancock Prospecting should rise to 49 per cent (as Lang Hancock is said to have intended) or be kept at the current 25 per cent, a figure that came about as a result of a debt reconstruction undertaken after Lang's death in 1995.

It's not unusual for inheritance disputes, which this is, to end up in court, or to be the source of so much family friction. What sets the Rinehart quarrel apart from common or garden variety inheritance disputes (aside from the money at stake) is Gina Rinehart's apparent determination to ensure that three of her four children are denied meaningful access to it. The vesting date of the trust was originally September 6, 2011, but under the pretext that vesting would trigger a massive capital gains tax bill, Mrs Rinehart inveigled her children into allowing her to extend the vesting date to 2068 – by which time they will be in their dotage.

Her logic for doing so remains a mystery, although some have suggested it is borne of a belief that her successor as chairman of Hancock Prospecting needs to be a proven fighter, scrappy and resilient, and that only a trial by fire will determine which of her children meet the required standard. It could hardly be said that Mrs Rinehart's path to the job was particularly torturous, however. An only child, she assumed control of Hancock Prospecting in 1992 as a birthright.

If anyone thought her accession was inauspicious, they have been since proved wrong. Mrs Rinehart's wealth far exceeds what her father managed to accumulate in his lifetime. The mineral boom was undoubtedly a factor in her becoming Australia's richest individual. However, under her direction, Hancock Prospecting evolved from a royalty collection agency into a fully fledged miner and exporter, a testament to her determination and business acumen.

One enduring sign of Ms Rinehart's determination has been an inexhaustible appetite for taking legal action, and to continue these long after commonsense might have dictated they be dropped or settled. One among many such actions was an attempt to seize assets worth $30 million from her former stepmother, Rose Porteous; another was to overturn an agreement between her father and his business partner, Peter Wright, over the division of their Pilbara assets. Both failed – as indeed have so many of Mrs Rinehart's legal jousts. What was at stake, financially speaking at least, hardly threatened Mrs Rinehart's overall wealth. Yet it mattered enough to burn bridges, even those connecting her with her children.

The expression "money can't buy happiness [or good taste or bearing]" is said to be the salve that ministers to the inadequacies of the less well-off. In Mrs Rinehart's case, however, it would seem to contain a kernel of truth.