Holy crap

[nycwriters]

It is David S****** addressing you. Many of you have seen me since my
unfortunate - and hopefully for all, temporary -- return to New York from
Berlin last month. Many of you have not and may be curious or thankful (but
still curious) by this. There have also been rumors of trouble, danger,
frustration and imprisonment, and, sorry to say, these tales are more true than
not.

So for those of you who have been half-following this situation, I thought I
might clarify it. And beg. Lots of begging. Not the money sort, but still.

To put it bluntly: Last December I subletted my apartment to a Con Artist whom
appears to be part of a larger ring of Con Artists. He then resubletted my
apartment out to a Model and a Juggler for a greater profit, which was
magnified by his theft of several pieces of my furniture, including a
ridiculously large bookshelf. He thinks of himself as an underground leasing
agent and he and his cohorts evidently do this all over the city. I'm sure it
is not all they do. He has his "subletters" sign guest agreements and I would
assume that they will be waiting a monk's lifetime before they find their hefty
security deposit returned.

This fellow uses a fake voice, and in all probability a stolen identity. He is,
as Con Artists often are, a pathological liar, and this, of course, is not the
story he tells. He claims to be temporarily up from Atlantic City to start a
croupier school. After stopping payment on his initial check for first month
and security, he claimed that his mother had died, which would explain the
delay in his payment. Furthermore, it would explain why there appeared to be so
many people in the apartment. And he continues in this vein, long after his
ruse has been discovered.

His scheme is devilishly simple. After the controversy of his stopped payment
on the initial check (and refusing to leave after I attempted to kick him out
after three days), he promised to leave at the end of January. He then, as an
alleged sign of good faith, offered to pay for January in advance. Despite
protestations that I would rather receive the security deposit promised, the
checks were then marked Rent for December and January. Feeling that I would
rather ease this person out of my life, and not wishing to be stuck for rent, I
cashed the checks.

As he had hoped. For with that action he could then plunge me into my current
Hell.

New York City maintains a vague and often misunderstood (and misused law)
entitled "Squatters' Rights". And, as usually enforced, this law states that
anyone who can prove that they stayed in any lodging for thirty days is now a
tenant of that lodging, only removable by choice or court order. That may
strike you as ridiculous. If, say, you move a Significant Other into your
apartment and then break up after a month-and-a-half, surely the Other has no
right to stay in your apartment merely because he or she can show a check stub
for paying half the electric bill? Surely a lease or tenant history must count
for something?

But I'm afraid it is the case. At least as interpreted by the NYPD. And so I
have found myself in the ridiculous and perilous situation of having the police
repeatedly inform me that I do not live in my own apartment, and that I must
hand over my keys to criminals, or be sent to jail. Once in jail, the criminals
are then allowed drill my locks without fear of reprisal. As, indeed, they
have. Fortunately, the kindness of the law has so far only found it necessary
to serve me a summons for Illegal Entry into my own apartment, with a court
date forthcoming next month.

When I refer to my stolen possessions or my copy of the "guest agreement", I am
informed that it is a civil matter. It is a phrase that has been repeated to me
by every arm of law enforcement I have contacted. When I provide evidence that
the Con Artist uses several social security numbers, that he has partners, that
he has his own address with a longstanding phone record on the Upper East Side,
that this is a business for him, I am again informed of the civility of the
situation. As the Con Artist deals in crimes that are considered civil - and as
his identity is in all probability a stolen one -- he has no criminal record.
He does not fear housing court, as he does not live in the apartments that he
steals. He does not fear lawsuits because, as any of you whom have ever won a
judgment in court know, it is impossible to collect from closed bank accounts.

Essentially, he and his partners may continue along this career path for the
rest of their lives with no threat of legal intervention. In fact, they may use
both the law and the police to advance their criminal intents. Such is life in
our New York City.

But it is worse than that. After the Model and the Juggler (truly terrible
people in their own right) moved to their new home, the Con Artist phoned me to
tell me he was giving up my apartment. When I inquired about my missing
furniture, he called me a "dick" in his real - not his fake Nu Yawk - voice and
hung up on me. I went back to my home (to find that he had crushed and smeared
a head of garlic on my floor), changed the locks and moved in. For the next
several days, he began pestering my (now former) lawyer to draw up a release at
my expense that would free him from any legal liability. When I refused - he
had, after all given up the apartment and moved out (to the extent that someone
who never lived there could move out) - he then proceeded to have the police
attempt to evict me, claiming that I had wrongly displaced him. They gave me an
ultimatum: give him a copy of the keys or be jailed. They added that I would
also be allowed to live in my apartment along with the Con Artist. Fortunately,
as I descended the stairwell of my building I had the presence of mind to begin
taking pictures of the Con Artist, which caused him to first threaten me, and
then flee without the keys. Afterward, the police reprimanded me for provoking
him.

It would appear that short of a costly and lengthy court proceeding, the Con
man and his cronies may show up at my door with the police any time he wants,
harass me and threaten me with jail, and then refuse the keys, only to begin
the harassment again with another set of police officers.

At the moment. I hesitate to leave my apartment for any length of time, lest he
return with a locksmith, ready to drill. I have already spent several thousand
dollars on this situation, and if I head to court, it will cost me thousands
more. Furthermore, I continue to pay rent on my Berlin apartment which, at some
point, I need to return to.

This may go some way to explaining my low profile since my arrival. Those of
you who would like to get in contact or who wish to see me, I would hope that
you would do so. Come over. I am currently without an attorney and if any of
you know a good or cheap housing lawyer, it would be more than helpful. Or if
you know of any journalists (or Existentialist playwrights) who may be
interested in the absurdity, send them my way. Any sort of help, even a kind
word, really, would be appreciated.

At this point, I will even accept advice. Though I must warn you that I will
counter your advice with a legal or personal anecdote that you will find
incredulous. Housing law, one resignedly discovers, is insane. As a
conglomeration of lobbying from opposed interests, it is meant to be.

As it is, I cannot file an Eviction Notice until March 2nd. I expect that the
Con Man may return on this day, as he knows I have to leave the apartment. The
question is, of course, what does he want from me? I suspect that he is scared
that I may expose him and his gang. And I may. If anyone with any sort of law
enforcement authority would listen.

There is much sickly humorous detail that I have not recounted in this letter -
I have only limed the surface of my situation's complexity. And I will recount
it as asked. As it is, I am turning to all of you, as I have no-one else to
turn to.

Feel free to pass this around to anyone you think can be of help.

Under House Arrest,

David S******