Eric Dinnocenzo - The Tenant Lawyer (24 page)

“I am. Do you know her? How’d you find that out?” I asked with surprise.

“She’s one of my parishioners.”

“She is?”

Father Kelly nodded. “She told me about the case. She’s very worried about going to trial.”

“It’s a tough situation.
A tough case.”

Father Kelly kind of raised an eyebrow, as if inviting me to continue. I gave him an overview of the case, making sure not to disclose any privileged information, and explained the effect of the
Rucker
decision issued by the Supreme Court.

“Sounds like she’s up against tough odds.
That’s too bad. You know, Miguel used to come here with his mother when he was younger. He stopped some time ago. I hear he’s involved with drugs, but please don’t tell Anna I told you that.”

“How do you know this?”

“A lot of information passes through this church.”

“Is it well-known? Does Anna know?”

“I don’t know if it’s well-known. As for Anna, I think she knows but she doesn’t know
,
if you get my meaning. She doesn’t want to know.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s had a tough life. She’s on SSI for psychiatric reasons. She’s poor and has lived in Washington for years. The drugs and crime, the bad conditions, seeing Miguel’s and David’s father gunned down. She has a lot of spunk to her and personality, but she’s also a troubled person.”

“I see.”

“Never really feeling safe, either,” Father Kelly added. “It does something to a person. I think all these factors contribute to her condition and keep it from improving. She probably doesn’t want to tack on other problems, meaning getting involved with Miguel and his problems.”

I had never before really considered Anna’s emotional problems in a meaningful way, even though I knew she was on SSI for depression and anxiety. I had accepted those two diagnoses as mere labels without considering their implications. I felt bad for her. I sat there for a little while longer with Father Kelly, our discussion shifting once again, this time to the changes that had occurred in Worcester over the years. People who worked in Boston and its outskirts were moving farther and farther out of the city in search of affordable housing, and in recent years had migrated beyond I-495 and into Worcester. Reportedly, the train carried a much larger number of commuters into Boston each morning than it had just a few years earlier. Even a small development like the skywalk was important to city leaders, Father Kelly theorized, because it contributed to their overall goal of making the city more modern and more desirable. As I thought of all the changes that had occurred in Worcester in the years since I had left for college, I wondered if maybe the skywalk was a part of that change. Until that point, I had only thought of it as an isolated, impermissible use of federal funds. But perhaps the skywalk was something that was going to be built one way or another, almost inevitably, much like the slow spread of Boston commuters past I-495 and into Worcester County.

19

Wh
en I entered the colonel’s office, I saw that he was dressed in a maroon cardigan sweater with a white button-down shirt underneath. This was unusual for him, since he wore a shirt and
tie
every day, and I wondered what the cardigan was all about. His outfit was nicer than mine, certainly, as I was wearing jeans and a sweater. I simply wasn’t accustomed to sartorial variations on his part.

Anyway, I was there to ask his permission to file a lawsuit against the city.

We began by reviewing the federal regulations, and we shared the opinion that they were somewhat vague and ambiguous and might not support our cause of action. But we also agreed that the underlying policy behind the use of CDBG funds—that they were intended to provide assistance to low and moderate-income residents—gave us a leg to stand on.

“Filing suit is the next logical step,” I suggested, “since nothing else has worked. And I’ve already invested so much time in this and have gone to meetings on it. If we back out now, it won’t look good.”

The colonel leaned back in his chair. “You know what this means. We’d have to depose the city manager and city council members. That’s serious stuff.”

“I know, but I think it’s a worthwhile case. A lot of money is at stake—money that was wrongfully allocated and could really help people and make a difference in their lives.”

“It’ll be a lot of work, and it’ll cost money to take depositions.”

“I know. I brought that up and that’s something that can be worked on. We’ll figure it out. The community groups may be able to put up the money.”

“Community groups don’t have money,” the colonel responded.

I feared that his conservative nature would lead him to say no. I imagined myself reluctantly having to deliver that message to Father Kelly and the rest of the group.

“Okay. Go ahead with it if you want to,” he said.

I was surprised at both his decision and the speed at which he had reached it.

“I don’t think it’s a terribly strong case,” he observed, “but I think you have legal footing and, importantly, the moral high ground. You’ll have to get an injunction to freeze the funds.”

“Yeah.”

I left the colonel’s office feeling almost jubilant. I had a romantic vision of myself going up against enormous odds and emerging as a champion for the underserved. Of course, I wasn’t considering the tremendous amount of work that would be involved or the possibility that I could be biting off more than I could chew. It’d be a much bigger case than I had ever handled on my own, and I’d certainly be outgunned by the other side.

20

I
was certain that I was going to lose the
motion in
limine
.
Merola
had drafted a good legal memorandum and my opposition wasn’t as strong, basically because there was no case law backing my position.

Judge McCarthy heard a few motions ahead of ours, and I watched him carefully to discern his mood, which appeared to be fairly good. One case involved a Latina single mother with two young kids who had missed a rent payment under a settlement agreement; he gave her the chance to remain in her apartment if she could pay the arrearage within ten days. When Judge McCarthy was in a bad mood, tenants sometimes felt the brunt of it and didn’t get that kind of chance.

When it was time for me and
Merola
to argue his motion, we took our places at the counsel tables. Judge McCarthy peered down at us from the bench, almost as though he was wondering what we were doing in his courtroom. “You two again,” he muttered. He thumbed through the court file for a few seconds. “So I see this is a
motion in
limine
brought by Mr.
Merola
. I also see Mr. Langley has requested a jury on this case.” He seemed visibly annoyed by that fact.

“
Your
Honor,”
Merola
said. “I know you have some background knowledge of this case from the motion to dismiss, so let me get right to the point. This is a
motion in
limine
to exclude evidence from the jury of the fact that the tenant’s son was awarded a scholarship to U. Mass. at Amherst, and that if the tenant loses at trial, the son could lose the scholarship. The reason for the motion is that the housing authority has reason to believe that the tenants will try to bring this up at trial. It was, in fact, brought up by counsel at the motion to dismiss hearing. But this information should clearly be excluded because it is totally irrelevant to the underlying eviction case and would unfairly prejudice the housing authority. It would make an emotional appeal to the jury by trying to tug at their heart strings, but that is all that it would accomplish. It has no relevance. Now, I have set forth in my supporting memorandum some cases which I think are controlling on this issue. No one disputes that it would be unfortunate for the son to lose the scholarship. However, if the family is evicted, the housing authority isn’t forcing them to leave the area. They could stay here and the son could keep it. It’s just not something that is part of this case.”

“
Your
Honor,” I said. “The facts about the son are relevant. This is his chance to get out of Washington and go to college. He’s lived there all of his life, and he has struggled against immense odds to do well in school. He ignored other outside pressures that kids growing up in the projects face and stayed on a straight path.”

While addressing the court, I felt almost as if I had floated outside of my body and was objectively observing what was going on. Typically, I was so immersed in argument that I had no real perspective on what was transpiring. But I noticed that Judge McCarthy had his lips pursed together in a thoughtful manner and was listening intently, and it was then that a light flicked on inside my head. I could see the path that my defense of Anna and David would take, and it was as clear to me as a long flat stretch of highway running ahead for miles. I had to do more than just make a legal argument, because my legal argument was a loser. I had to fully impress upon Judge McCarthy, right here and now, what was at stake for David. I had to educate him in this hearing about the injustice that would occur if he and Anna got evicted. Then I could try to withdraw my jury request.

I continued, “I believe the scholarship is relevant because the whole story needs to come out in this case, not just a fifteen-second episode involving a drug deal in a convenience store parking lot. The person accused of being involved in the drug deal is my client’s other son, Miguel, and he doesn’t even live in the apartment with them. Unfortunately, his name is on the lease because my client neglected to take it off. That’s why we’re here, because she neglected to take his name off—a woman who has depression and anxiety and is on SSI. She forgot to take him off, so a good kid might lose his shot at college because of that simple oversight. He has an actual college scholarship and he’ll lose it if evicted. He and his mother will have to move to Puerto Rico because she can’t afford a market-rate apartment. He won’t graduate from high school here and that will be the end of it. If ever there were innocent tenants, Your Honor, it is these people, because they weren’t involved in the deal at all. They had no knowledge of it.”

“
Your
Honor, I object,”
Merola
interrupted. “We’re going off point here. Mr. Langley is making an argument that’s not part of this motion. In fact, what he is saying is the very reason I filed this motion. If we go in front of the jury, he’s going to argue that the eviction is unfair and that the scholarship will be lost, but none of that is relevant. The question is quite simple: Was the son on the lease and was he involved in a drug deal? That’s it. Not whether the other son will be able to go to college.”

“The eviction is unfair,” I responded. “Mr.
Merola
just wants to hide that and pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Judge McCarthy put his hand up in the air to stop us. “Mr. Langley, the potential for prejudice greatly outweighs the relevance, of which there is practically none here.”

“But Your Honor, at trial I should be able to introduce who the players are, meaning both of the sons and what their stories are.”

“Enough,” Judge McCarthy said firmly. “I’ve made my ruling. The motion is granted.”

I exited the courtroom, the wind suddenly out of my sails, frustrated that I hadn’t been able to further tell David’s story. I felt angry at how Judge McCarthy had cut me off, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was retribution for having requested a jury. On the other hand, at least I had managed to communicate the sympathetic aspects of the case. I had at least done that. But the problem was that Judge McCarthy didn’t
seemed
fazed at all by them, save his initial thoughtful reaction. Now, if I could convince
Merola
to consent to the withdrawal of the jury request, the case would be in Judge McCarthy’s hands. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I hoped that Judge McCarthy would be moved by David’s situation. I was painfully aware that so far he didn’t seemed moved at all.

I waited two days to call
Merola
because I wanted to put a little time between the hearing and my call to him. I began the conversation on a cordial note by talking about the weather. “I’m surprised the snow is already starting to melt. Maybe we’ve seen the last of winter.”

“You never know in New England,” he replied.

“I’m actually going to Vermont this weekend.” I had decided that a trip out of town might help my relationship with Sara and had suggested to her that we go to Vermont. She eagerly agreed, as she loved to travel.

“Where?
I love Vermont.”

“I’m not sure yet.
Maybe Stowe.”

“Stowe’s great. The snow won’t melt up there. I wouldn’t worry about that. At least I’m sure the skiing will be fine.” He paused and then almost dreamily said, “I look forward to going hiking with my wife and children when the winter’s over.”

“I didn’t know that you hike.” An image entered my head of him and his family climbing up the side of a mountain like the Von
Trapps
at the end of
The Sound of Music
. It brought a smile to my face to think about it.