Scumbags rented the adorable, quaint, charming, wonderful home known as the Cat In The Hat. A couple, in their mid-fifties. She was on a 90-day assignment working as a nurse at our local hospital.
They refused to pay rent, and wouldn’t return phone calls. The windows were covered by blinds pulled tightly, and as often as I drove by (very, very often – the home is around the corner from where we live) I rarely saw any movement or signs of life. At one point, my folks suggested having a cop go by on a “welfare” check.
I filed the Eviction papers on a Monday and a court date was set for a week later. I was awed that the Scumbags were allowed to live rent-free for even another hour, let alone a week. Turns out that my court date was a lot faster than most are permitted – and have since heard horror stories from friends and customers about squatters living rent-free for months on end.
A few days later, a uniformed officer posted the notice of eviction. It must have frightened them.
Later that day, a neighbor alerted me to a trailer pulling up to the house and that it was being loaded. I sped over as fast as I could, and stood watch, helpless, as Scumbag husband loaded the moving trailer with boxes. Considering that they had moved in with just one car-load of belongings, and that the vacation home is beautifully furnished, it seemed obvious that theft was about to occur. I said so out loud.
Scumbag husband was sketchy; almost to the point where I didn’t want to stand near him and watch any longer.
“Dude,” he said. “This trailer’s too small to fit the furniture. We’re not stealers anyways.”
“You’ve already stolen from us,” I replied. “I have absolutely no reason in the world to trust you.”
He continued loading the trailer and eventually walked back into the house, closing the door behind him.
The law on his side, I left and went back to work.
Later that night, I received another phone call from a neighbor. The Scumbags had left, and the doors were literally left wide open – front and back.
I arrived to find absolute squalor. The front door to the mud room was torn from its hinges. The living room was a complete disaster with half-full beer cans, cigarette butts, muddy footprints on the carpet, and dog hair so thick it looked as if it were a fur rug. The stench overwhelmed me, until I realized it was coming from the kitchen and bathroom area.
Hand over my nose, I walked into the bathroom to find ungodly amounts of filth which I will politely decline to describe (suffice to say, I had to wear a mask and gloves when I eventually cleaned it). I backed out and walked into the kitchen to find rotting food, spoiled crab (yes, crab) in a trash bag in the refrigerator, a URINE sample, raw cookie dough with teeth-imprints, more overflowing cigarette butts, crushed peanuts on the floor, opened containers of old food sitting on the counters.
Absolutely disgusting people had trashed this beautiful little home.
Candy wrappers, hundreds of them, scattered the floor and overflowed from trash cans. Empty Ben n’ Jerry’s ice cream containers were in every room. Plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were glued onto walls. A lava lamp ** A FREAKIN’ LAVA LAMP ** was turned on and in the middle of the floor.
After being told that there was no way to install cable television upstairs, they took it upon themselves to do some splicing and dicing, stapling cable cords from the downstairs.
Inhalers, pill containers, syringe tubes and Coca-Cola cans littered the master bedroom. It was as if a cracked-out rave had occurred. Utter filth.
I went outside and threw up. Then I cried.
It was almost midnight; there was no way I could even attempt cleaning, and I knew that I had to document everything.
The next day, I filed a police report. The very sympathetic officer told me that there was nothing that he could do except file a Theft incident. Not knowing everything that was missing just yet, he gave me his number and told me to call him when I had a complete list. He wished me luck with the cleaning, and tried to make me feel better by telling some horror stories of past evictions that were worse.
I arrived for the court date this morning, knowing full well that they weren’t going to show up. The law allows for a 10-minute grace period (in case the Defendants are late, of course) and afterward, I was awarded a judgment in our favor. It was anti-climatic, to say the least. I was instructed to keep the original documents to show to the tenants should they show back up and move back in. Yes, even if they showed back up today and moved back in; they wouldn’t have to leave until Friday.
The fact that these people, these Scumbags, are on their way to rent yet another vacation home only to do the exact same thing SICKENS ME! The law protects them and allows them to take advantage of antiquated and ridiculous laws.
I’ve just lost a little more faith in our government.