Diary of a Triplex: Part 1

Back in 2015, we knew that we were taking a risk buying our house. Our side of town in East Burlington, NC used to be the original start of the city and a nice neighborhood to live in. However, as time went on and the textile industry boomed and died the jobs left and houses started to become neglected and run down.

I'd like to stay that we were savvy buyers that researched the market thoroughly but really we were just looking for the cheapest deal and relied heavily on intuition. We did know that a lot of small towns in North Carolina had been experiencing revivals with home prices climbing and downtowns adding coffee shops, bars, boutiques, restaurants, nightlife, etc... When we first moved into the city, there was nothing downtown besides a dive bar and a furniture store. Seven years later, and Burlington has welcomed a coffeehouse, food hall, brewery, wine bar, book store, guitar shop, condos, ice cream boutique, bottle shop, and more on the way. However, that is all happening downtown and we are literally on the other side of the railroad tracks one mile away from the action.

What is more, between us and downtown is Ireland St. where hookers, pimps, crack dealers do regular business. We live on Main St. where for the most part everything is copesetic. This is a transitional neighborhood that's best years were 50 years ago and is slowly finding it's footing again. So sometimes it's two steps forward and one step back. This happened to be the case with the house right next to us.

When we first moved into the house our neighbor in the corner house was an older woman named Angela. Her house was a very large home built in the 1940's like ours but was built into a triplex. It had been long neglected and very little had been maintained. The siding was a chalky aluminum siding with rust stains from window air conditioning units. The shingles on the roof were well beyond their usable lifespan. Clogged gutters became planters with 3 foot trees. Satellite dishes populated the roof from previous tenants. Coax cable hung around the eves like cobwebs. Windows that leaked had towels stuffed in the window sills. Old rubber matts left in the lawn became enmeshed with sod. Rot and water damage perforated the entire exterior.

We weren't excited to live next to this house in this condition but we felt like we could overcome the neglect on our block. Really we had no guarantee that our optimism was based on evidence but it was too difficult to see any other path forward. We bought our house and so to speak we had made our bed and were prepared to lay in it. However, the situation was to get worse before it improved.

Eric, the mid-40's son of Angela showed up one day and moved into the house. He had been living in Texas and was convicted of indecent liberties with a minor. Eric was also an addict of multiple substances and diagnosed bipolar. Simply put, he was a rough dude. Unfortunately, the 6ft fence between our two properties didn't stop the chaotic downturn of events from spilling over.

Sadly, Angela had been diagnosed with a terminal illness that was to take her very quickly. Eric would inherit the house and start renting to people with substance abuse problems and criminal backgrounds. What was a quiet neighboring house became a nightmare in a fortnight. Over the course of a year, fights would break out multiple times a week, people came and went 24 hours a day, break-ins were not uncommon, and Burlington Police and even Federal Marshalls were frequent visitors. Meanwhile, Savannah and I were calling the police and exhausting every possible idea to improve the situation. One day we sat looking out the window and counted 30 cars that visited in one day. Most times the passenger would get out of the car and go inside and come out in less than 5 minutes. It was obvious that the occupants were selling drugs. It was busier than a 7-11. Then something happened that moved me to action.

A couple living at the property, Keosha and Jared or better known as Kilo and Hood (their alter egos), had moved into the house and ratcheted up the drama in short order. One time, I saw Kilo in an impressive feat of strength during a fight go up to her opponents car and rip the antenna off the vehicle and start kicking large dents in the door panels. As Rick James said, "Cocaine is a hell of a drug."

But things were to deteriorate further. Keosha cheated on her boyfriend Jared with a guy across town. When Hood learned of the affair, he decided to confront the interloper face to face. Breaking into the house of the other man, Hood made his way to the bedroom and beat the man terribly. Thinking he made his point, he tried to abscond without repercussions from his actions. However, Hood's victim shook off the beating found his weapon and delivered 6 rounds into Hood's back hitting his spine. From now on and into the foreseeable future, Hood drinks all his meals through a straw.

So we were at a lost. Would the violence next time be right next to us? We had just spent the past few years remodeling our house but it seemed that the best course of action was looking like selling and moving away.

One morning after a good nights rest a thought came to me. I had seen Eric get in a fight with one of his tenets and escape the house and flee to other side of the street. I thought for a moment that the situation had maybe been deteriorating even beyond what Eric could tolerate. So when I saw him in the backyard one day I asked him if he would be interested in selling the house and to my surprise he enthusiastically said yes.

Honestly, I wasn't prepared for a Yes. It's like when you off the cuff toss and accidentally land a piece of trash in a trash can across the room. You're surprised and excited but unlike the fleeting joy that comes with a trick shot, I now had to come up with an entire strategy on how to follow through.

Fast-forward through pulling out money from the equity of our home, dealing with a fumbling mortgage company that made us miss our closing date, swatting away competing bids from other home flippers that smelled blood in the water, becoming Eric's chauffer and personal assistant, and playing every card that was given me to the best my average intelligence could muster, we were finally able to secure purchasing the triplex for a pittance and would make up the balance with a truckload of elbow grease.

This was our success and also our folly. To be continued...