Foreclosure Outreach: Hitting the Streets of Worcester, Mass. to Inform Foreclosed Homeowners of their Rights.

Chris Horton, 66, is nothing if not a man with fire in the belly. On a Tuesday afternoon  he was at a special 3:00 p.m. meeting of the Worcester Anti-Foreclosure Team.  He had called for the meeting  and was running it.

Today’s mission: organize two-person teams to go out in the streets of Worcester, knock on doors, engage distressed homeowners, and hand them a new WAFT brochure spelling out their rights.

He had come to the meeting armed with addresses of homeowners facing foreclosure and eviction, along with maps marking their locations.  On the maps, he had circled addresses for each team to go to.

Along with action, Chris Horton brings passion -- a potent mix. At one point,  he stood up to denounce the illegal horrors facing homeowners: flawed documents, misrepresentation of the law, summary evictions, and looming homelessness.

It so happened that as he spoke, he had a backdrop of Spanish words.(Mujeres Unidas, meaning Women United) Chris says he is learning Spanish, one word a day, so that he can “communicate better.” He wants to be able to reach Spanish-speakers in the community who may have trouble with English.

In the photo below, Chris discusses his map of Worcester foreclosures with Dave (closest to him) and Lamont. Both went out on the streets in the outreach effort -- the only two to do so.

Some of the attendees, while sharing Chris’ passion, were new and not quite prepared for cold canvassing. There was also a shortage of cars. As people begged off, Chris looked at me.

I was sitting there quietly with my notebook and camera, the detached opposite to Chris’s fiery activism.  I waved him off. “I’m just here as a busybody,” I said, “to document.” Still, Chris tried to rope me in, asking if I were willing to drive. “I don’t want to drive,” I said.

He tried to get me to go along as a team member pairing up with one of the group. “I want to go with you,” I said, having already concluded that Chris himself was the story.

He demurred. “Sorry, I don’t think that would work,” he said.  He knows uselessness when he sees it. I was a fly on the wall,  buzzing  around people trying to get something done.  He just swatted a fly, that's all.

In the end, there was only one team of two, Chris and Lamont. Dave went out on his own.  “I’d like to tag along,” I said to Chris, “but it’s okay if you’d rather not.  I’ll just buzz off.”

“Nah, you can come,” he said unenthusiastically.

Dave agreed to cover one circled area on the map on his bicycle.  Peddling the streets to help troubled homeowners!  Now that’s commitment to a cause!

The meeting done, Dave went off on his bike and Chris, Lamont, and I climbed into Chris’s Toyota with papers and stuff everywhere. Chris moved stuff around to get Lamont in the front seat and me in back and we took off. It was about 4.00 p.m.

Almost as soon as Chris pulled away, his passion, his reason for doing this, spilled out. “There’s a hundred new ones a month,” he said.  “A lot of people are losing their homes, losing their dreams, ending up on the streets.”

He would have gone on but for logistics.  Even passion needs direction. “How are you as a navigator?” Chris asked Lamont. Lamont, map and addresses in hand, had grown up in Worcester and knows its streets.

He said he was on it. The first stop was 143 Providence St., he said, “up near the old St. Vincent’s Hospital.”  With Lamont directing, we soon pulled up to the 3-decker. Chris and Lamont went up and knocked on the door while I, lurking on the sidewalk, snapped a picture.

The first-floor resident opened the door and told them that the foreclosed 3rd floor had just been sold at auction and was vacant. Then it was on to 18 James Street where it was the same story. At the next stop, 66 Indiana, no one came to the door and Chris left a brochure in the mailbox.

At 100 Standish St., however, the foreclosed homeowner opened the door and Chris was able to give his spiel and hand over a brochure.  And as he left, the homeowner said, “I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

That  upper was immediately followed by a downer.  At 58 Valley View Lane, Chris all but had the door slammed in his face. He shrugged it off and kept going.   But the rest of the outreach effort was marked mostly by  frustrations and reaching very few distressed homeowners.

There was the time-consuming hassle of navigating in early rush-hour traffic. Though Lamont knows the streets, getting to the addresses was an ordeal. We spent far more time by the side of the road checking maps than we did with homeowners.  

At one street, the numbers were crazy and Chris drove up and down the street several times before finding the place. Lamont had never heard of another street. When we finally found it, it wasn’t a street at all; it was a crater-filled, boulder-bulging dirt trail, though, strangely,  with decent homes.

A shirtless man emblazoned with tattoos came warily to the door. He and Chris exchanged a few brief words, Chris handed him a brochure, and that was it. I barely had time to get a picture, but I did.

Back in the car, Chris said, “He was nervous about the camera.  He didn’t want his picture to be in the T&G (Worcester Telegraph & Gazette).”

“I understand,” I said.  “I should have asked. I’ll do that from now on.”  

 That photograph is not being used here.

Of course, the deaf mute in the back seat with the notebook and camera was no help. There was a map in back.  Early on, Chris asked me if I was looking up an address. “I said “no” and handed him the map. Am I good at being no help or what?

Though Chris had every reason to be discouraged, he was not.  Not a word of complaint passed his lips. Just the opposite.  He and Lamont bubbled over with ideas on how foreclosure outreach could be improved.  

They spoke of better coordinating names with addresses, of sending letters out beforehand, of getting more people involved. The newbies would be back and there would be more of them at the next meeting.

If anything, Chris Horton’s fires had been stoked.

This is quite a guy, I thought. Who is he, anyway? On the way back, in my sneaky way of minding other people’s business, I invaded his privacy.  

I learned that Chris grew up in Chicago and New York and started out working as a machinist. When he was laid off during the recession of the early 1970’s, he decided to try college.  He ended up practically making a career of it.  

By now living in Massachusets, he enrolled at UMass Lowell where, after 10 years as a student and teacher of math, he earned  a P.H.D. in physics. “So I should address you as Doctor,” I said.
“Yes, but a lot of good it did me,” he said. “There were no jobs.”

So he went back to college again.  This time he got a Master’s Degree in Radiation Safety.  But that additional qualification did little for his job prospects, he said.  Off and on for many years, Chris has taught high school and college math in many places in Massachusetts in a largely itinerant life.

He reels off a dozen or more cities and towns in Massachusetts where he has lived and worked. He has lived in Worcester for three years, an unusually long time for him. Yes, he’s ready to move but where he wants to go is surprising: Canada.

That's where his 9-year-old son lives with a former wife.  Chris has been married and divorced three times and the son is his only child. Other family? “All over the place,” he said, which I take to be no other family that he sees and is close to.

He only gets to see his son once or twice a year but is never allowed to spend alone time with him. “I can’t even take him out for a walk,”  he said in a voice heavy with heartache. If he moved to Canada, he could at least be close to his son.

So far, however, Canada has not been possible.  “I can’t get a green card,” he said. “I have to show them that I have the financial resources so I won’t become dependent on the government. I haven’t been able to do that.”

Chris lives on social security and sporadic income from teaching math to home students and through the internet. Financially, he says that “I am not really making it.”  He says that he would like to be teaching full-time, but that’s not happening, either. He says that the job market considers him, at 66, too old.

“When you figure me out, let me know,” Chris said as we parted.

“I will, but I got a long way to go,”  I said.

So long and keep moving.

P.S. Afraid of losing your home? If so, here are the ten most important things that you must know and do as a homeowner or tenant. They are from the brochure that Chris Horton is handing out, prepared with the advice of The Legal Assistance Corporation of Central Massachusetts. There are also sources for help and  further information, with phone numbers.

1. You can only be evicted after you have had your day in Court, even if your home or apartment is foreclosed! The eviction process begins with a letter called a Notice to Quit. You DO NOT need to move out immediately or by the vacate date.

2. You may be able to continue living in a foreclosed property if you have been a good tenant and don’t want to move. If you are a former tenant, new state law requires that you be allowed to stay. If you are a former homeowner and want to stay, stay. Contact the Worcester Anti-Foreclosure Team at 508-754-7793 to help  you in your fight to stay.

3. If you are up-to-date with rent, it is illegal for your landlord, old or new, to change your locks, remove your possessions, shut off your utilities, or threaten to do any of the above, unless a judge convicts you.

4. Save all letters, receipts, leases, and paperwork related to your tenancy, mortgage, foreclosure or eviction.  Save them even if you don’t have time to look at them right away. These will help you in court!

5. Report code violations to the housing inspector. Proof of code violations in your building can help you get what you need in Housing Court!

6. If you are offered “cash for keys,” don’t jump at it. It is likely to be in the bank’s interest,not yours.Bank representatives may try to pressure or even bully you into accepting the offer. Don’t let them.  You have a right to see them in Housing Court where the judge may give you more time or award you more money to move out.

7. Never sign anything that you don’t understand fully or aren’t totally comfortable with.  If you aren’t sure, don’t sign.

8. Never pay rent to someone  if you are unsure that he/she is the real owner, old or new. Only a title or deed  is positive proof of ownership.

9. If you are unsure of whom to pay rent to, save your rent money. Preferably, put it in a dedicated bank account or in ESCROW, until you are sure who you should pay.

10. Go to Housing Court even if you don’t have a lawyer or are unsure about what to do.Judges are often sympathetic to tenant needs such as moving costs and time to move.


Helpful Numbers and Resources:

* Central Massachusetts Housing Alliance. For help with housing search, call 508-791-7265.
* Massachusetts Justice Project. For a referral to a Legal Services lawyer, call 508-831-9888.
* Worcester Dept. of Public Health. For free inspection of conditions, call 508-799-8485.
* RCAP Solutions. If you have a Section 8 voucher from RCAP, call 1-800-488-1969.
* Worcester Housing Authority (WHA). If you have a Section 8 voucher from WHA, call 508-635-300.

Foreclosure Up Close: Waiting for the Sheriff to Kick You Out of Your Home.

The West Side of Worcester, Mass is a “nice” part of the city, quiet and respectable and where middle-class homeowners keep up their homes. Many have lived here forever. 

William O. Gardiner IV, above, has called this neighborhood home for 38 years; his parents brought him here at age six.  People call him Billy just as I answer to George or “Jodgie” when my given name is George Francis Pollock III.

People have no respect for royalty these days.

When Billy moved into his own home here eleven years ago,  it was one of the happiest days of his life. Next door was the family home he had grown up in and where his sister Kathy now lives with her two kids, Victoria and Austin.  The two of them can often be seen running around their uncle’s lawn, which they treat as their own.

He had a festive house-warming gathering of family, friends, and neighbors. I was there to welcome him and to extend my best wishes. You see, I was Billy’s other next-door neighbor. I still am, a relative new boy in the neighborhood compared to Billy.

Billy has been a good neighbor.  Over the years, we have developed an easygoing relationship with lots of kidding back and forth. The only problem I have with him is that extra roman numeral. (I do NOT like being out-roman-numeraled.)

Lately, the word in the neighborhood has been that Billy is in financial trouble and is even in danger of losing his home. One morning this past July, a lot of cars suddenly showed up at his house and just as suddenly drove off.  Was it an auction?

Billy seemed to drop out of sight. His house was ominously quiet. A typical nosy neighbor, I wondered: what is going on next door?  If Billy is in trouble, can I just stand by and ignore it?

I finally knocked on Billy’s door to invite him to go with Barbara and me to a photo show featuring six local photographers. Billy is a professional photographer.  I thought he would enjoy the show and that maybe we would have a chance to talk.

When Billy opened the door, his face was a portrait of relief. “Whew,” he said, breathing again. “I thought you were the sheriff.  I was going to come out fighting.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yup, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“How about taking a break from it and going to a photo show?” I asked. “Six local photographers are showing their work in Worcester tomorrow night.”

Billy hemmed and hawed and finally said, "Okay, come on by."  The next day, I went over at the appointed hour and rang the bell. Nothing, even though I could see his car in the driveway. We went to the photo show without him.

A few days later, Barbara and I were out walking and Billy came driving up our hill and stopped. “Sorry about the other night,” he said. “I heard the bell, but I was exhausted. I had been working all night for the third day in a row.”

“Not a problem,” I said.

He was wearing the uniform of a security guard.  A former Worcester City police officer for ten years and struggling to make a go of the photography business he runs from his home, Billy was clearly doing what he had to do to save his home.

In the scheme of things, Billy is just another number in the foreclosure express.  But he also happens to be my neighbor and  a human being doing his best to avoid losing his home.  “I’m no slouch,” he said as he drove off to get some sleep.

In our immediate neighborhood, three homes are for sale, not counting Billy’s. The homes, which have been on the market for months, are not selling.  Until this year, whenever a home went on the market, which was rare, it was quickly snapped up.

Now when our paths cross, Billy and I add black humor to our normal banter.

“After they kick me out, I’m thinking about pitching a tent on your front lawn,” he said.

“I have no problem with that," I said.

“How about that spot there?” he said, pointing to a patch of green under the big tree on our front lawn.

“That would work. But of course there will be costs.”

“Costs?”

“You know, to use our toilet and maybe the shower.  I’ll work up a price list, so much for a shower, so much for using the toilet -- you know the drill.”

“Will there be a separate price for a poop and a pee?”

“Of course.  You think I’m some kind of charity? But, tell you what, for a poop and a pee at the same time, I’ll give you a break on the price.”

Of course, the prospect of losing your home is no joking matter. Too much is at stake, Billy Gardiner’s entire life, to be perfectly clear. But maybe the joking around is a way for us to acknowledge what is happening, without getting into the horrific reality.

Still, I couldn’t shake the image of the sheriff posting an eviction notice on Billy’s front door. Though it was clearly none of my business, I tentatively began broaching the subject of what was going on.

Billy didn’t tell me to bug off, which he had every right to do. Instead, we began to talk. I asked him what bank held the mortgage.

“Fannie Mae.”

“Fannie Mae?” I was surprised, actually shocked. “Fannie Mae?”

I thought: The Fannie Mae bailed out in the financial meltdown of 2008 with billions of taxpayer dollars? The Fannie Mae taken over and owned by the United States Government and, in other words, by all of us?

“Is Fannie willing to talk?”

“Nothing. I call. They listen. They do nothing.  For them, it’s a done deal.”

That did it. We had to talk, really talk. Billy had a story to tell. “It means letting it all hang out,” I said.  "Do you really want to do that? You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know.  I want to.  Let’s do it.”

So Billy and I sat for two and a half hours at his kitchen table and got into horrific reality.

But not at first.

First we talked about Billy Gardiner the person that the number on the pile of financial and legal documents on his table does not exactly capture. The documents say nothing of the two great passions of his life. “Ever since I was a kid,” he said, “ I loved pictures and dreamed about being a police officer. I’ve carried a camera my whole life.”

Today his living room is set up as a professional photo studio and he has his own website for William Gardiner Photography. Two of my favorite photos of his are a group portrait of Worcester firefighters  and one of a Worcester landmark,  Coney Island Hotdogs. You can see them both and many others by clicking on his website above.

Always quick on the draw with his camera, Billy caught me in his back yard. He stuck his camera out the window and shot. Having  been working in my yard, I was in old clothes and covered in dirt. He calls the photo, “Filthy Dirty Old Man.”  I threatened to sue, but backed off when he reminded me that he had asked my permission.
 
Billy went to Worcester Academy, which is known for its high standards and tough entrance requirements. He spent six years in college, five off and on at Syracuse University and one at Howard University, leaving without a degree.

He tried an engineering major but it wasn’t for him. Howard had a Selected Studies Program  which let students design their own curricula.  He designed a curriculum in industrial relations and management. But he said that he couldn’t get Howard to approve it. “No matter what I suggested, they said no,” he said.

He went back to Syracuse University. By now, Billy was interested in  studying photography,  computer programming, and criminal justice management.  But the university did not offer the courses that he wanted. It had no course in criminal justice, for example. He ended up unhappily in the School of Arts and Sciences and eventually left.

Billy spent summers in Martha’s Vineyard six years in a row, where he worked as an ice cream maker. After leaving college, he embarked on five years working for three different temp agencies. “I worked everywhere at hundreds of jobs,” he said.  “One was at a foundry making concrete rooms for the Worcester House of Correction. I spent hours sweeping up cement dust.”

He snagged a regular job at Digital Corporation. He was responsible for handling  hundreds of monitors, keyboards, and infrared equipment. He kept track of it all and got it shrink-wrapped and out the door. It was not to be. He worked at Digital 364 days. “They fired me because they would have had to pay benefits after 365 days,” he said.

One day when he was working at Leiser Sound in Westborough, a state trooper came in saying that his handset didn’t work. “He was in full dress uniform,” Billy said, “and we got to talking.”

Billy still remembers his name, Sgt. Al Toney. He was black. “So what are you going to do with your life?” Sgt. Toney asked him.

Billy mentioned his old dream of being a police officer.  “Do you have to be the son of a cop, brother of a cop, or have some kind of in?” he asked.

“No, you have to take a test,” Sgt. Toney said.

Billy signed up and took the test for both the state police and the Worcester city police. In the meantime, he got a job as a campus cop at Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI).  He worked in the Office of Traffic Enforcement at WPI  from the fall of 1992 to the spring of 1994.

That’s when the Massachusetts State Police called.  He had aced the exam with a score of 95 and was invited to take training at the State Police Academy in New Braintree. He went, but hated it. “I couldn’t stand days of running constantly and being screamed at,” he said.  “It’s not the way I learn.”

Billy quit after five days.  

The Worcester police called. He had also aced the civil service test with a 98 and was invited for a personal interview. At the interview, Worcester police officer, Al Sjogren, said to him: “Of everyone we’re looking at, you are certainly the most educated and probably the smartest. Why do you want this job?”

“To help people, sir,” Billy said.

Billy Gardiner was sworn in as a  Worcester police officer on April 4, 1994.

The bad blood with other officers began almost immediately. Billy saw a police officer’s duty in a way that was polar opposite from many of his fellow officers, he said. “Their idea was ‘we’re cops, we can do anything we want.’  I believe that we have to follow the law and respect people’s rights.”

He cited domestic abuse  as an example. He said there is a right way for police to deal with it and a wrong way. “The right way is to spend time with the victims of domestic violence, respect their rights, talk to them, find them shelter if needed, get a restraining order to protect them if necessary.”

Billy said that other officers would answer a domestic abuse call and be out in five minutes. But many of the victims are from the “wrong side of the tracks,” poor, have trouble with the English language, and are upset and confused, Billy said. They need help from understanding officers.

Name-calling began. Billy was a “pussy.” He was a “gang leader.” He did “too much social work and not enough police work.” A lieutenant called him in and told him that no one wanted to work with him and that he needed to “take a look at your liberal attitude.”

In a “para-military organization” like the police, Billy said, this is code that “when we have to be heavy-handed,  I won’t back them up.”  He was a pussy because he “didn’t deck people, didn’t throw people down stairs, didn’t jerk their hands behind their back.”

With no officer willing to partner with him, Billy was transferred to the cell room where accused prisoners were kept.  “It was a disgusting pit,” Billy said.  He became an outcast within the department.

He said that no one would stand up for him because “they didn’t want to get the same treatment.” Other officers  wouldn’t cover their backs, and “nobody stood up to cover my back,” Billy said.

He became hyper anxious. He was uptight all day.  He went to the bathroom constantly. He said he was a “basket case every day.” He slammed doors.  He furiously smashed his 2-way radio. His fuse got shorter and shorter until, he said, “I became one of them.”

He stopped taking paid details. When he was not on duty, he was at home sleeping and eating. Severely depressed, he began seeing a therapist once a month. It was the start of nearly ten years of counseling.

He now wanted out of the Worcester Police Department and his superiors wanted him out. He said that only two ranking officers were understanding and treated him decently, Gary Gemme and Mark Roche.  Ironically, they are today Chief and Deputy Chief of the Worcester Police Department.

After a name-calling incident with a dispatcher who filed a report on him, Billy was sent to a psychologist to evaluate his ability to perform his duties.  After a 45-minute session, the psychologist determined that he “can’t do the job” and that it was “not reversible.”

Finally, in 2002, Billy was fired from the Worcester Police Department. Two police sergeants met Billy in the cell room and took his weapon. After a terse termination brief from the chief, Jim Gallagher, Billy was out the door on paid administrative leave.

Billy had applied for a full disability pension and appeared before a medical panel of three physicians. The panel approved him medically for the full disability pension. Then his case went back to the City of Worcester Retirement Board, which denied it.

A police union lawyer filed for mediation before a state judge and the city of Worcester backed off. He was allowed to retire on a regular medical disability of 25% with health insurance.

That’s when his life “nose-dived” and the financial problems began, Billy said.

He worked at Sports Photo Shop in Northboro for a while and also at Captive Images in Shrewsbury. But neither job lasted very long  or paid very well.  At the same time, he threw himself into his photography business that he began running from his home.

When photography, always his first love, didn’t produce the income he needed, he took other jobs to pay the bills. He worked as a driving instructor and I would see him on our hill in a car with student drivers. He worked as a substitute teacher in Shrewsbury middle schools. When he could not find work, he collected unemployment for a while.

He began to fall behind on bills.  He resorted to using his credit card, but said it was mostly to buy photographic equipment to get his Photo Studio up and running.  With interest and fees, his credit card balance went up to $17,000.

His original mortgage, with Mackinac Savings Bank in Michigan, was bought and sold repeatedly before being taken over by Fannie Mae. Among the buyers were Washington Mutual (which has spectacularly failed), Fleet Bank, American Mortgage Fund Corp, and JPMorgan Chase.

He didn’t get a chance to send a check to one of them before he got a package from another bank with a coupon book. The letter said that “we now own the loan” and payments should now be sent to them. Billy said it has been hard keeping track of who owns his loan and who is servicing it.

Along the way, he has tried to make his mortgage loan more affordable though modification. With Chase, in June of '08, he filled out all the paperwork to keep his payment at an affordable $979 for a six-month trial period.  At the end of six months, he had to do the paperwork all over again and "overnight" all the completed documents, which he did.  The modification was denied.  

When he succeeded in modifying the loan, the monthly payment went up, not down.  One modification jumped his monthly payment from $1200 to $1400. The last modification, in '09, increased his payment to $1,597.

According to a Chase payoff statement on June 30, 2010, the unpaid balance of $150,141.88 had climbed to $176,848.08. The added charges included $18,838.16 in interest, $5,628.11 for something called “Escrow/Impound Overdraft,” $1,877.25 for something called “Recoverable Balance,” and $392.38 in late charges.

“I stopped listening to everybody,” Billy said.

As he fell further and further behind in mortgage, car, and other payments, depression overtook him. For two months, he didn’t open mail, letting it pile up. He didn’t answer the phone.  People showed up at his door “offering me money before the house went up for auction.”

In one of his discussions with a Chase representative, there was an off-hand reference to Fannie Mae. “That was the first mention I heard of Fannie Mae,” Billy said. Unknown to him, Fannie Mae had bought his mortgage.  Fannie Mae foreclosed on July 27, 2010. On July 30, Billy came home to a notice stuck on his front door.

The first sentence was: “This property is now owned by Fannie Mae.” The notice informed Billy of his options. He could rent with a 12-month lease. He could relocate with assistance if he signs an agreement with Fannie Mae to move out and leaves “the property in broom-swept condition.”  The notice ended with the name of a real estate agent, David Parent of 195 Park Ave. in Worcester, that Billy should contact within 10 days to declare his choice of options.

Billy sat down and wrote a letter to Mr. Parent. This is the letter:

To David G. Parent,

My name is William O. Gardiner IV and I live at 69 Zenith Dr., Worcester. Recently, Fannie Mae took my property after I attempted to negotiate with them repeatedly around my loan. I believe you visited me and left me a letter saying I had two potential options, to stay put and pay rent, or to relocate with assistance.

My commitment is to stay in my property for the next year and rent it. At this time, based on my present income and budget, I am able to make a monthly payment of $700.  I hope that as landlord you are willing to work with me because it has become very challenging emotionally to leave my home of 11 years at this time. Not only have I lived here for 11 years, but I grew up in the home next door.

The financial hardship that I have been dealing with is a direct result of working for ten years as a Police Officer for the City of Worcester.  During that time I began to suffer from depression, hyper anxiety and post traumatic stress and as a result, was forced to retire and have been very limited as to the type of work that I can perform.

My Photography Studio is also in my home and this is one of my primary sources of income at this time.  To top it all off, I have been having difficulty finding alternative housing as my credit rating is in a place where traditional rental agencies are having difficulty working with me.

I appreciate your willingness to work with me around staying in the home I have lived in for 11 years. This week would have been the 11th anniversary of owning my home.  Once again, for my entire life, I have been committed to serving my community, as a police officer for ten years and as a volunteer throughout the Worcester area.

Thank you very much for any assistance you may be able to provide in keeping me in my home. I appreciate your making this work out for me.  I look forward to being able to stay in my home. Please be in touch with me to let me know how and to whom to send the rent.

Sincerely,

William O. Gardiner IV

On August 8, a Sunday, Mr. Parent drove up in his pickup, walked up Billy’s front walk, and rang the bell.  Not sleeping after working all night, which is unusual, Billy opened the door.  He knew it was Mr. Parent.

“I just sent a letter to you,” Billy said. “What can you tell me about what I can do to stay in my home?”

“I’m just a middle man,” Mr. Parent said. “You’ll have your day in court.  Fannie Mae is going to file for eviction.”

And that’s all he said before turning around and walking away, Billy said. “Unfeeling.”

Billy called Grace Ross, a Worcester activist who runs a group that helps homeowners fight foreclosure and eviction . The group meets twice a month and Billy has been going to the meetings.

“She is super well-read in the law,” Billy said.  She told him that he is going to get a “notice to quit,” served by a sheriff.  For a homeowner, that means you have to be out in 72 hours, Ms.Ross told him.

“Ignore it.  Do not get out,” Ms. Ross said.

She told him that he would be soon served with a request to go to court.  When he receives the request, she said, he should ask from Fannie Mae what is called a summary process. “That will require Fannie Mae to prove that it owns the property,” Ms. Ross said.

She went on: “Ask for answer and discovery.  They will have to show up with these in court.  They won’t have the information.  They won’t show up.  This happens almost every single time.  Basically, what we are doing is buying time and waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

That shoe is a formal “notice to quit” -- to get out of the home -- served by the sheriff.

But William O.Gardner IV is not just sitting there waiting for that shoe to drop.  He is doing everything he can think of to stop it.  "This is my home," he said.

So long and keep moving.


P.S. Mortgage defaults have become an avalanche. According to federal housing figures, 11.5% of all mortgages are in default, up from 5.7% two years ago. Banks and their mortgage servicers have been accused of mass producing mortgage foreclosures  with "robo-signing" of tens of thousands of affidavits. Bank of America, the largest bank in the U.S., JPMorgan Chase and other major banks have halted foreclosures in many states.  On October 13, 2010, all 50 state attorneys general announced a nationwide investigation of foreclosure practices.

P.P.S. As the parents (mom and stepdad) of a Worcester police officer, whom we lost a year ago, Barbara and I have had a very different experience with Worcester police. Our son was not the kind of police officer that Billy had trouble with ( in a parent's eyes, he could of course do no wrong).   The two got along well. The Worcester Police Department has gone over and above to console us and the wife and four children that our police officer son left behind.  We are very grateful for that. We both understand that this is Billy's story based on his own experience. We respect that and are pulling for him to keep his home.