Category Archives: blue funks

A Continu-WHAT?

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Feb. 9 was supposed to be our last day in court about the never-ending quest for a kind and just eviction.

His lawyer withdrew. She said in essence he was dissatisfied with the outcomes and communication had broken down. The judge looked…. distraught as he said he had no choice but to grant her request.

The next request: dude asked for a continuance. He needed the info and folder from Legal Aid. He’d “been busy” and needed more time.

His lawyer had left the courtroom. Five minutes before we started, my lawyer had said with a laugh that he would NEVER do a flat fee eviction again, because Legal Aid was all about delay, delay, delay. Another lawyer sitting nearby recounted his experiences and they commiserated.

Now my lawyer stood with yet another court date coming under his flat fee, and he used his cell phone to call the Legal Aid lawyer back and ask her about the folder. The judge granted the continuance, over the stringent objections of my lawyer, because “he had no choice but to be fair.” Plus, we all know this court appearance was about the fallout from how dude left the property: he ripped up a few things, took a lot of things, and threw everything else into the fire pit in plastic bags. It was just pure meanness, really, the kind of thing a little kid does when thwarted and unable to manage their emotions.

Ms Lester of Legal Aid

I asked my lawyer to make a quick deal: bring back the Zero Turn lawn mower and two paintings, and the rest would not be criminally prosecuted. The judge’s face lit up. He turned to Dude.

“You’re not gonna get a better deal than that,” he said. To my lawyer, he said, “what does she want back?”

My lawyer turned to me, and said, “In her own words, your honor.”

OK, so then I had to say, in court, to the judge, “a pig reading a cookbook.”

The judge choked back what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. I kept going “a painting of tree trunks, which is original and I can’t get back, and the lawn mower.”

My gaze flicked to Dude, whose face in that moment showed, God’s truth, happiness. He was happy that he had taken something that I really liked. That’s hard to deal with.

I will never see any of those items again. My lawyer will prosecute for the theft of the expensive lawn mower at the March date, after he’s had time to review that file and all….

And the Legal Aid lawyer had a bailiff follow her out, taser in hand, because of Dude’s demeanor to her in court. Since I’m allowed to talk to her now that she doesn’t represent him, I asked her if that happened often.

“This is the first time,” she said. “And I can take care of myself in terms of harm, but I don’t want to deal with the legal case that would follow.” She smiled at me and left.

Best exit line ever.

The pig artwork is by Lori Dieter. I love her whimsy.

Empty

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Friday Jan. 16 was the day That Guy was ordered out of my house. Lots of interesting little tidbits to share later about court orders versus clerk offices and sheriff departments, but for today let’s talk about going out there to see if he was gone.

He was. He had stripped the house. Cabinet from the walls. Doors from a cabinet left behind. Furniture, wall art, rugs. The linoleum down the hallway ripped up, probably the worst of the damage.

Nate, a handyman who went with me to change the locks and be there just in case, is accustomed to evictions. He works for a non-profit I volunteer with that helps house homeless people. Some use it as a perch from which to relaunch. Some see it as a cozy nest they need do nothing to keep.

Nate looked around and said, “Most of this makes sense. They took the rugs and the linoleum to keep from being held accountable for pet damage. I don’t know why they took the cabinet off the wall, or the hanging bars from the closets.”

They are gone. And with them any hope of this guy ever having a good housing deal again. He’s shot himself in the foot because word is through the community. Nate works for the homeless help center. The friend who introduced me to him has refused to take him back to her house. He will find some help someplace: a couch surf, a family tie. But he will never get the deal he had with us:10 hours of work a week, keep the house you’re living in clean and in good working order, pay the light bill.

Another friend who gave me moral support through the court proceedings has a beloved grandson who was harmed as a child. An unstable upbringing involving pain and violations of a child’s trust. And this beloved child now inflicts pain and violates trust. Just like the guy we would have let live in our property forever, if only he had kept his end of the deal. Pain does not heal pain, but so many people try it anyway.

The trailer is empty. The promises are empty. The future is empty. Hollow in the holler. Why are people proud to be their own worst enemies?

Render of 3D Contemporary Empty Room