Long story short, the sorry sac o’ shit renting the house next door to me (only renter on the street and he lands next to me) has been tresspassing on my property repeatedly. He walks over and does whatever he pleases. It started with him taking it upon himself to mow our grass, then he started looking in the windows, and the latest is that he has been coming over and banging on my deck steps with a stick. I have called the police three times and made reports, taken photos of him on my property, and on the advice of the police, taken out a warrant for his arrest for criminal trespass and also “Good Behavior” warrant.
So today we have our day in court, and… UGH! He has this smarmy, seersucker suit-wearing old geyser lawyer with a Denture Cream smile who proceeds to try and turn me into the defendant!
Excuse me grandpa, but IIIIIIIIII am the victim here, not Psycho Boy. I know it is your job to try and do this for your client you dust-farting antiquated Perry Mason wannabe, but I hardly think your premise makes any sense.
Let’s look at the facts here:
Your client has:
come into my yard and taken photos of me inside my house.
driven his lawn mower right up onto my heels on my property.
flicked cigarette butts into my yard.
thrown baseballs up against my house waking and scaring my children.
banged on my deck steps with a stick, again scaring the kids.
banged on my front door as I stood on the other side yelling at him to leave.
kicked over my trash can.
knocked over my bird bath.
flipped me off in front of my kids.
threatened to shoot the kids for coming in his yard (which they never do, they are petrified of him)
But you say I’m the agressor in this you inside-out Matlock?
Yeah, right. Did I mention that most of these acts were committed when Billy Bad Ass knew my husband wasn’t home? Yeah, that’s real brave… let’s go rattle the cage of a woman and a couple of kids… makes me feel reeeeaaaaal manly!
All incidents have taken place on my property, including his dog (Lab, never on a leash) biting my husband and charging at me with teeth barred.
Psycho Boy’s wife, who is covered in bruises, by the way, felt the need to come to my house a few weeks ago and tell me, “He’s really good guy, if you’d just give him a chance…”
Puh-leeze. I know battered-wife syndrome when I see it. I’m not buying your brand of crazy today, sister. If you can’t see that all he is doing is keeping shit stirred up so that you won’t have an ally the next time he busts you in the head, then there is no saving you.
The judge didn’t charge your client with criminal trespass, but he did impose a good behavior warrant on the guy. AND, I just want you to know, you Barnaby Jones on crack, that when you got up and told me, “You need to understand this works both ways”, nothing gave me more pleasure than looking in your nicotine-stained face and saying, “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.”
I have a feeling I am going to be back in court again.
I hate greasy, funk-stank lawyers who know their clients are guilty losers who get off on bullying on women and children. I hope you both get buried in a pile of elephant dung from the neck down, and then hyenas come and eat your faces off. Then army ants will come and gnaw your eyeballs out of the sockets, and roaches will appear and lay egg packets in your ear canals. Lastly, both of your lying tongues should be sucked out by the roots and eaten by baboons.