Court

Court last week was, to say the least, extremely frustrating; however, the day gave me fodder for the Book That Should be Published.  I had not one, but three, dog cases, two with the same two dogs, and the third with a heretofore unknown dog, as well as the couple whose house will be torn down as they say inside, "Did you hear a noise?"

I pray for the wisdom of Solomon, but so far, it has not appeared.  I will keep hoping.

The older couple, although I believe they are probably pretty close to my age, have been appearing in court over several years, always for violating the housing code.  I have seen pictures of their home, which seems to be similar to the tar paper shacks common to the area where I was born and grew up.  Over the years, the pictures show some windows having been replaced with corrugated tin and some with plywood.  The roof now has, instead of a few small blue tarps hiding a few small spots of disrepair, a huge blue tarp covering about one-third of the house.  A porch has been torn off but not rebuilt.  Shrubs and vines abound in the summer months, so that the area looks like the scary forest in Walt Disney's Snow White.  The house is probably Webster's picture definition of the word "dilapidated."  I have no idea how they live in that excuse for a house.

But live there they do.

Over the years, they begin a project here and there, but never finish:  their son needed to use his truck and couldn't lend it to them; he has been sick; she has been sick; he has a bad heart; they didn't understand what I wanted them to do; and on and on.  Finally, this year, when the blue tarp took on its now gigantic proportions, I asked, "Do you think that his chronic bronchitis could have something to do with the mold that probably is in the walls at your house?  Do you think that the roof might leak into your house and cause mold?"  They looked at me as if they had never heard of such a thing.  In fact, they probably haven't heard of such a thing.

So the City has finally had it and has declared the house to be a dangerous building and subject to demolition. They have the right to challenge that finding, and they can show that the building is not dangerous; however, they have not done so.  The challenge time period is six months; that time period expires in June.  They are still living in the house.

I saw them three months ago.  The City's housing specialist came into the court to report that they had picked up paperwork, and that they needed to complete it.  After that, the housing authority would call them when an apartment became available.  "We don't want an apartment.  We want a house," the wife said.  The housing specialist patiently explained that houses didn't come open very often, but they would be next on the list when one appeared.  It was then that I found out that this couple has an adult son who lives with them. I got the idea that he might be unemployable, because although he is about 30 years old, he has never had a job.  The wife told us that he had "bad teeth."  I asked about his going to a dentist.  "We can't afford a dentist."  I explained that Medicaid would help them with medical costs.  "He's not on Medicaid," the wife said.  I asked why not, and she told me that they had never signed up for Medicaid.

I encouraged them to sign him up for Medicaid so that he could get the health care he needed, including a visit to the dentist.  They nodded, and I ordered them to come back the next month to report.  I really wanted to keep them on the move so that they wouldn't get too comfortable in their own home and just forget that it was going to be torn down.

The next month, they appeared, and I asked for a report. They had picked up the paperwork, and the son had gone to the dentist.  The dentist had pulled a lot of teeth, and the son was in pain.  I asked whether they had called the dentist's office to see if something could be done for the pain.  They kind of looked at each other, and the wife told me, "No, we haven't called back.  It hurts too much for him to go back."  I explained that maybe an infection had developed and that their son needed some medication.  They looked at each other again and she said she would call.

Then I asked about whether they had completed the paperwork.  They looked at each other and she said, "No."  I asked why not, and, you guessed it, they looked at each other.

I ordered them to complete the paperwork and take it back to the housing authority and return to court the next month.  They left and I sighed.

The next month, they appeared and proudly reported that they had completed the paperwork requesting housing.  They told me that they had also called the dentist but could not get in to see him because there were no more vouchers and they couldn't afford it.  I was happy because they had completed the paperwork, and let them go, but ordered them to return the next month.  Again, I didn't want them to forget that they were living in a condemned house and would have to move.

That takes us to last Wednesday.

They came in and approached the bench when it was their turn.  Jamie, the housing specialist came downstairs and was smiling, so I thought the problem had been solved.  She said, "The housing authority offered them an apartment this week!"  I began smiling because I thought this was good news.  Then the wife said, "We don't want an apartment. We want a house."  Jamie looked at me.  I looked at her.  She said, "You won't be able to get a house right away.  They don't come open very often.  But you will be first on the list for a house when one is available."  They looked at each other.  The wife said, "We didn't ask for an apartment."

I threw up my hands, both literally and figuratively.  I asked Jamie whether the apartment would still be available.  "Oh, no," she said.  Once they turn it down, it will go to the next person on the list."

I looked at the couple and said, "I have tried to do everything I can to get you a habitable place to live, and now you have turned down  a place that will get you out of the house before it is torn down.  I don't know what else to say.  Your house will be torn down in June.  It will be gone.  Where will you go?"

They looked at each other.

"You're dismissed," I said, and moved on to the next case.

Later, the clerk asked me what to do with the case.  I told her that we couldn't do any more with it.

Then I went to my church staff meeting and asked for prayers that I could find some answer that would keep these people in a house and not make them new members of the homeless community.

Solomon, where are you?