Tag Archives: politics

Occupied: Day 58 The Light at the end of the Tunnel

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I almost felt sorry for the Legal Aid lawyer. As she cross-examined me during our Jan. 5 eviction hearing, she asked about the feces found on the porch Dec. 5. (She did not ask about the feces found inside the house in October.)

“As I understand it the house is in a wilderness area. Would it not be possible that another animal could have deposited on the porch?”

“It’s a screened-in porch, ma’am.” I tried to keep my voice free of sarcasm.

Her face was a study in that moment. From behind her the guy I am trying to evict said, “It’s got a dog door.”

The lawyer made a quelling motion to him behind her back, but I couldn’t help myself. “The dog door is nailed shut.”

The lawyer blinked. I almost felt sorry for her.

He was evicted. Further, in an agreement our two lawyers cobbled together very quickly, he waived his right to an appeal in return for me not pursing monetary damages or a protective order.

Lest anyone think this “no money just go” deal is too soft on the guy, welcome to the joys of circuit court appeal. It cost me $1K to get a lawyer to run this eviction. It cost me $25 to file for the sheriff to attend the eviction on Jan. 16, assuming this guy stays that long. But circuit court would cost four times that, and we would do the whole thing again. In April or May, because that’s how far out it is to get on the circuit court docket. Meanwhile, he would continue living on my property.

My biggest fear was that he would be allowed to appeal without posting bond. In order to take a case from general to circuit court, you must pay a percentage of the costs that the general court found you liable for in the first place. But indigent people can request those be waived and appeal without costs. My attorney asked the judge not to waive them; the judge calculated what they would come to and he dude’s attorney said “Obviously he can’t pay that, which means you are limiting his rights to appeal.”

I will never know if this was part of his theatrical approach, or a moment of inspiration, but my attorney turned to me in a sudden movement. “Would you drop the protective order hearing and the costs if he waives appealing?”

“In a heartbeat,” I said without thinking. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the judge.

“I heard,” said the judge. Then he spoke to the Legal Aid lawyer. “Do you want to confer with your client?”

Ten minutes later, it was all over. So they tell me. At this point, I’ll believe it’s over when he is gone and the locks are changed.

But maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of the ending of this all-too-common story about trying to evict someone? Time to start looking for the appropriate publisher.

Occupied: Day 46

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So I can’t write in detail about the Dec. 22 eviction court date because the dude got Legal Aid, and astonishingly enough, this introduced some hilarity to events as well as cemented a final date of Jan. 5.

I respect and support Legal Aid. It’s not my suggestion that Legal Aid is to be laughed at; they do amazing work for important reasons. So let me explain just one thing about the day in court, and we will save the other funny stories for after the ruling has been made (Jan. 5).

The Legal Aid lawyer sent (on the Thursday before the Monday court date) a demand something called a Bill of Particulars. The bill asked seven questions, requiring documents for each.

My lawyer said this was highly unusual for an eviction, and since three weeks is the standard response time, it could be seen as a stall tactic to keep the dude in housing for another month while they thought of something else. I have started looking up some of the ways Legal Aid plans its strategies. There’s not a lot blatantly available on the Net, but a few people who have dealt with them in good faith have suggested that stalling and draining the coffers of the evicting party seem to be common approaches.

So my lawyer walked into the courtroom prepared to tell the judge that we would reply to the bill within two working days, because this had dragged out long enough. I assured him I could pull together all the documentation for the seven questions within that time, the bulldozers in my front yard notwithstanding.

(We had a plumbing issue: tree roots in the pipes. Not a hard fix, but an immediate need, and hence the guys showed up the same morning I was prepping for court.) My friend Amelia took pity on me and offered to take me back to her house so I wouldn’t have to time my bathroom visits with dashes to Walmart and the grocery store. And so we could print the documents there.

But my lawyer never even got a chance to say this. The judge had been very kind and prescient with the people before me, all of whom were having to own up to debts of a few thousand dollars, mostly from overdue rent. He joked with them about peanut butter balls and Christmas traditions and put them at ease even as he bonded them over for debt collection. He was great at reading people quickly, and matching energy.

So before my lawyer even spoke,the judge had sized us all up, and he said, “Right, my next available trial date is Jan. 5. So everyone will have their paperwork in by this Friday.”

A slight slump appeared in the shoulders of the Legal Aid lawyer. I almost felt sorry for her. This might be called getting hoisted by your own petard, when you try a tactic and it turns out creating difficulties for you.

Perhaps the judge knew that the court would be closed Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Which meant his “By Friday” meant “by 28 hours from now.”

Amelia and I bought booze, picked up a ream of paper, and went to her house. One hundred and twenty pages later, on the morning Dec. 23, with my friend driving the getaway car, we left copies with my attorney, filed one bundle with the court, and drove the third to Marion with a slip the Legal Aid office there could sign to show they had receive the documents on Tuesday.

Then we went to lunch.

The many funny stories that were part of this process, and the other funny things that happened in court, I will wait to tell you. My friend Laura was right: this is gonna make a helluva book.