So, I go to the Post Office. While standing in line, my feet shifting of their own volition, I waited behind a woman with SEVEN packages to mail. Finally, when it was my turn, I knew there was something odd about the letter by the look on Kevin, the Post Office manager’s, face.
“Something wrong?” I asked, my heart THRASHING at an uncomfortable rhythm while Kevin signed and scanned the ominous letter from Danny.
“This package was sent here, then sent back to Georgia, and back here again. Look at it.”
I glanced at the envelope. My address had a line drawn through it and Nana’s address in Georgia was scribbled over/around it.
“What the hell?” I said, signing for the envelope. Then, I glanced at the Postmark, May 15, 2011. “Oh, shit…”
“What?” Kevin asked.
I quickly explained the eviction situation. “And by this postmark,” I said, “If this is an Answer to that Complaint, we’re screwed,” I replied as my hands began to sweat and tremble, “I assumed he hadn’t filed one. I thought we were in the clear.”
“Think he marked out your address so it would float around the Postal System for a month?”
“Could be, thanks, Kevin,” I said, walking away.
However, as always, I VOWED that no matter WHAT kind of bullshit pseudo-legalese Danny had hurled at me/Nana, I wouldn’t rest until that bastard is EJECTED from Nana’s house.
I hopped into my SUV, ripped open the envelope, and what I read made laugh so loud, I started coughing. It was a handwritten letter to the Court. It was full of misspelled words, fragmented sentences, and not only did most of the second page NOT make sense, but Danny had contradicted himself.
He CLAIMED that he was still Nana’s primary caregiver! He initially addressed it to Nana and me here at my house, and then….OOPS…after he got to the Post Office, he realized HIS error and in order to substantiate his fabrications, he changed the address. Okay, so if this doesn’t SCREAM JUST say NO to DRUGS in NEON lights….I don’t know WHAT does.
However, while he claims to be Nana’s primary caregiver at the beginning of his letter, at the top of page 2, he states that he lived with Nana and took care of her “24/7 from February 2010 until January 2301”…..seriously…that’s EXACTLY what it says. I assume he meant January 2011, or perhaps, January 23, 2011, but I’ve been taking care of her since her release from the rehab hospital on January 19th. In January, Danny was living with one of his drug buddies, somewhere in Chatham County, Georgia, but we don’t know where exactly….
Of course, logic frequently eludes the crack-fucked brain…He also expounds upon his previous malarkey that Dad’s name on the deed of Nana’s house grants him the imaginary right to occupy her house. He even included a copy of Dad’s Will. He says he has a copy of the deed to Nana’s house, but it’s not included with his handwritten load of CA CA.
He also contends that:
1) He has Power of Attorney over Nana’s finances (which he did, but she rescinded that POA on January 22, 2011), and he claims to have a Medical Power of Attorney as well, which is also in absentia from his docs.
2) That he has a copy of Nana’s Will leaving him her house; however, said Will is also not among his hodge podge of supporting material because I ripped it up and flushed it after Nana executed a new Will on January 22, 2011 along with a new POA and a Medical POA. All of which, granted me the authority over her finances, all medical decisions, and I’m now her sole heir (not that she has anything really…but anyway)….
Facts of which aren’t pertinent because Nana is STILL LIVING…..and I included a copy of the new POA with the Eviction Complaint so that I could sign/get everything notarized without dragging Nana to the bank, etc.
Too bad Danny didn’t go to law school. He could’ve beenthe next Johnny Cochran… 🙂
3) He also states that Nana has Alzheimer’s. And I’ve included his misspelled words for dramatic effect….he says she suffers from acute “memery” loss, and he goes into great detail about a “MOCA test” that was administered by a doctor that Nana saw ONCE.
And below, word-for-word, is his summary of her condition:
“My Grandmother, Maude Miller, scored a 16 out of 30 [on the MOCA test]. You can clearly see her Basic Cognative fuctions are severly metally compromised by her condition. This test indicates AD Alzhiemers disease. I have supplied you with the documentation proving this, and she (Maude Miller) is not in her right state of mind. I can further tell you her confused condition by staying with her for over a year. She had trouble with names foods. Identifying television shows and understanding movies she’d seen numreous times.”
However, her ACTUAL test results are also NOT attached to this diatribe of excrement. Instead, he has information on Alzheimer’s that he downloaded/printed out at the library. So, he could’ve used the library computers to type this lovely collection of Danny DUNG, but instead he wrote it out on copy paper? Egad, and he ACTUALLY took this to the Clerk’s office in Chatham County and filed it as evidenced by the Clerk’s time stamp.
I can just imagine the bright young law student or some older lady who’s worked at the Courthouse since the beginning of time – accepting this convoluted, unprofessional, half-assed excuse for a legal document….I’m sure it was the fat they eagerly chewed at the water cooler that morning! 🙂
AnyWHO….at the end he states that since Maude Miller does NOT live in Ohio, that the Court should “Dismiss, and the Eviction be thrown out”….then, LOVE THIS: he states that a copy of this letter has been sent to Nana by Certified Mail….
If he’s still living in GEORGIA with Nana, why the hell would he have needed to mail ANYTHING certified?
Then, the awesome kicker at the end:
“Please call me at 912-229-xxx4.”
So, THERE YOU HAVE IT! I didn’t need any AMMO to demolish Danny’s case. He’d done a superb job of hanging himself.
I immediately went home and assembled 60 pages of Nana’s bank statements showing where he withdrew somewhere between $3,000-$4,000/month from her checking account in 2010. Additionally, there are charges to strip clubs like Teasers and The Candy Shop (where they don’t sell M&M’s….unless naked girls are distributing them…:) ), etc., in order impeach his credibility.
I wrote a three-page letter refuting all of his claims, and I included a copy of the change of address form where Nana forwarded her mail to my house. I had receipts from Walmart here (with her name on them and OUR address) from her prescriptions as well as:
1) Photocopied envelopes from bills showing they have been forwarded to my house.
2) Copies of checks with mine and Nana’s names on them with MY ADDRESS that she’d written for bills and a birthday check to Margaret, etc….
AND ON AND ON AND ON….totaling around 100 pages of documentation.
I don’t know WHY I kept things like the Walmart receipts for her prescriptions, but something told me I might need them…
I couldn’t imagine the Judge ruling in Danny’s favor after reading my compilation of evidence. But in my mind, it didn’t really matter. I assumed/prayed that once Danny looked through it all, he’d fold like a cheap suit and finally take his dog and pony show elsewhere…
And, now, once again, the CLOCK hammered away, a time bomb in my ear….the waiting became my albatross weighing on me like fast food cellulite clinging to one’s ass (sigh).
The limited euphoria at reading Danny’s trove of deceit was shattered the next night when I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize from a 912 area code (i.e. GA), which said:
“I’m not leaving MY HOUS, you fucking bitch! and how do you slep at nit knowing you cremated dad again his wil?”
Oh, God, not THAT again (see Blog #19)….
I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d done to deserve this volume of hatred from my younger brother. We used to play Monopoly for hours on rainy days when we were kids. And what happened to the Danny who left his house in Charlotte, NC at 8:00 at night and drove – 500 miles to WV where I lived with my ex-husband, John, in the hopes of killing John (okay, not so great, but his heart was in the right place)…after hearing that John had broken my hand in a drunken milieu…and when he couldn’t find John, he showed up at my parents’ house at 4:00 a.m. just to make sure I was okay. THAT Danny was a good guy for the most part, but Crack Danny is no friend to anyone, least of all himself.
With a sigh, I rolled over and went back to sleep…
That said, C U NXT TIME, BOYS and GIRLS, because there’s more bedlam and havoc to come…
Peace out from the Don’t Do Crack/Game On Central