Surprises

I arrived early for an inspection appointment at my Silver Lake listing and was surprised to see a red padlock on the gate. This vacant property is in escrow, and the co-listing agent, Patricia, and I always keep in close communication. I couldn’t imagine she'd padlock the gate to the lower residence without telling me.

The buyer and his parents arrived while I was puzzling over the mysterious lock, and we exchanged pleasantries before going in. I unlocked the front door and was confused to see candles burning in the kitchen, a box full of papers and junk, a bicycle leaning against the wall, an empty shoebox with the wrapping tissue nearby, and doors to the bedroom and bathroom closed.

This is not how we left the property two weeks ago.

We suspected that behind the closed doors were people – uninvited guests - people we knew nothing about. After making noise and calling out for whoever was behind the door to come out, we exited the building and phoned the police. While waiting for police to arrive, two slight, white scoundrels scampered out of the building, still pulling on their clothes and juggling their belongings. I asked them to take their red padlock with them, but they mumbled that it wasn’t theirs. They did, however, take me up on my suggestion that they go back and get anything else that belonged to them.

In a situation like this, I’m very grateful to have other people, people with power tools, nearby to assist, and was therefore relieved when the property inspector arrived. Returning to the building, we found more personal items including small empty baggies coated with white powder, condoms, clothing, and paperwork. The bathroom, which before held nothing, was now equipped with toilet paper, shampoo, and soap.

As the inspector and buyer toured the property and took notes, I did my own discovery.

I found my “For Sale” sign, which had been hanging out front, now on the floor of a closet. An abandoned organ that had been on the porch was now inside the laundry room. How long had these guys been living here?

And what about the separate attached unit accessible only by removing the mysterious padlock- were others squatting inside there too? I decided it was best to wait for an assist from the police before finding out. After another hour and a half, the inspection was completed, and the buyer worried about leaving me alone to wait for police to arrive. I phoned 911 again and assured the buyer that I was safe, pointing out the friendly neighbors who were now curiously watching over me. I also phoned Patricia, who was only 20 minutes away.

One by one the neighbors came out of their homes to tell me what they had been seeing. They told me that some guy who did not match the description of the two who had already decamped had conversations with one or two of the neighbors, and had shown them he had a key that opened the front door. He talked a good game, although his story didn’t quite add up. To one neighbor, he was the new owner. To another, he was the new owner’s tenant. The neighbors fell for his story, reassured by the fact that my ‘For Sale’ sign was no longer on the property. And because my sign was no longer there, they couldn’t get my name and phone number to call and ask if this guy was for real.

Patricia arrived, and we stationed ourselves across the street from the property to keep a better eye on all the exits as we still waited for the police. A third call to the police, and one other neighbor came by to tell us her description of the squatter with the key. Tall – animated – crazy eyes.

Several more minutes of waiting, and I saw a man matching this description coming down the street toward the property. Feeling invincible, all 5’ 1” of me, I walked over to the front door and got between him and his possessions. Not smart. Not smart at all.

This guy seemed to really believe the story he proceeded to tell us, even though it changed by the minute, while the stench of alcohol emanating from his person remained constant. He insisted that he belonged there, but we knew that everything he said was untrue. He spun a fanciful story of being a potential buyer who got the key from the listing agent to look at the property, even though he knew it was now off the market. He insisted that the real estate agent’s office was in Burbank – our office is in Studio City. We are the only ones who have keys (or so we thought). He said the property was sold. It is only in escrow. He reached past me and proved that his key did, in fact, unlock the front door. I asked him to give me the key. Knowing full well that the police were on their way, he was insistent on standing his ground and waiting for police to straighten things out. I phoned 911 for the fourth time and reported that two squatters had left, but another wanted to get in, and that we didn’t know if there were others still inside. Mr. crazy eyes chuckled and muttered, “squatters…”

One neighbor was now watching us from a balcony across the street; another stood nearby, all of us with our smartphones at the ready, waiting.

After 15 – 20 minutes,  'Crazy Eyes Squatter Chief' said that he couldn’t wait around forever. He unlocked the red padlock and tucked it into his backpack. No explanation as to why a potential buyer would padlock the property. He then took a piece of paper and scribbled what he claimed was his name and phone number with a pen that had no ink, then left us.

When the police finally arrived, they seemed unimpressed with our situation. This is something they see all the time in both good and bad neighborhoods of Los Angeles. They finally searched all areas of the property, guns drawn, and found no other squatters.

Then they gave us a lesson on squatters’ rights in Los Angeles. Oftentimes the police have their hands tied. Just because a neighbor has reason to believe there is someone illegally living in a property, the police have no right to search. If the police do knock on the door, they are often presented with a story of how the squatters belong there, and they have a phony lease agreement to prove it. The only way for us to ensure that our property would not be ‘re-possessed’ by squatters before it was rehabbed and inhabited by rightful owners was to either pay for a 24-hour security guard or to board up the property and post 'No Trespassing' signs. We chose the latter, and I must say that doing so has not improved the curb appeal.

The police also told us that they would not go through the boxes of papers and knick-knacks to look for contraband. It was up to us. The real estate agents.

The crazy thing is that this is happening all the time in L.A. There are many vacant houses with no one keeping an eye on them. Perhaps the owners are elderly, and they have moved to a senior facility. Perhaps it’s a vacation home used only a few months out of the year. Or, as was the case here, the owner had died, and his estate is going through the probate process.

Crazy but understandable. Rental prices in Los Angeles have skyrocketed, and vacancies are few. Social services have been dismantled for lack of funding. Those that remain are a haven for many, but not all homeless people find them desirable, even if they could secure a spot.