Proactive Landlording

[Mark N.A]

So our latest rehab is a nice SFH in a working-class neighborhood. Except for the duplex next door where the 20-something-year-old fellas are always home. Never go to work and never go to class. Did I mention the mean pit bull one of them owns? That chased my fiancé into the house? That we called the cops on and filed a report on?

Anyway, them boys didn’t like that. That evening they jammed the entry keyhole so it wouldn’t function. Evening after that they chunked a fair number of bricks up onto the roof.

Something my fiancé didn’t like. So yesterday evening she got me to drop her off a block away so she could sneak inside; you know, so she could catch them fellas red-handed at their nightly mischief.

Mostly all they did was sit on the porch smoking dope. No brick chunking, much to her disappointment. Then one a them goes inside and comes back out with a big ol’ garbage bag fulla something. He takes it into the back yard, opens it up and starts cleaning all the pot inside.

Those of you who don’t know what that means, don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about how me and my fiancé know about it (ain't never claimed to be angels).

Anyway, next day we go to the local police station. Kinda real slow up there on a Sunday. Cop behind the counter’s pretty bored, you can bet. After my fiancé tells him about the bag of pot, he holds up his hand and asks: “You reckon it was two fingers full, or maybe three fingers full?”

“I’d say it was two or three pounds full,” my fiancé replies.

Sure got his attention. So he calls up a couple narcotics officers and they propose what’s called a “Knock and Talk.” That’s where, oh, you can figure it out.

But my fiancé thinks it’s really lame. “Here’s the key to our house,” she says. “Hide in there like I did!”

But they assure us that a Knock and Talk can be pretty successful. And if they even smell dope they then have probable cause for a warrant. Lame, is all my fiancé can think.

So we depart and go do some errands (at Lowe’s naturally, our second home). On the way back we decide to cruise by our rehab. And what do we see in the distance? FOUR cop cars gathered at the scene of the crime. Soon joined by a fifth cruiser, a K-9 vehicle.

About then my fiancé’s phone rings. It’s the desk officer and he says: “I can’t tell you much right now, except that you’ll read about everything soon. Thanks for stepping up.” Now my fiancé’s thinking, man, that knock and talk stuff ain’t so lame after all.

Anyway, I guess the moral of this little story is: if you’re gonna do illicit things out of your home, be extra nice to your neighbors. The other moral is: if you ever chunk bricks onto my fiancé’s rehab, she will follow you into hell to extract revenge. But maybe the real moral is: be a proactive landlord, take a stand, get involved, make a difference.