The Landlord's Asisstant, Part 4: It's Only A Bench Warrant
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Sandra Tsing Loh's dad gets a bench warrant.
Perhaps it was too good to be true.
I was using Craigslist to help my dad rent out his bedrooms in Malibu. I know you may laugh, but the friends of Craig were, in fact, liking what we had – $550 a month, beach access, laundry, convenient Starbucks, wireless!
A couple of problems surfaced almost immediately, though.
First, my dad’s phone line became abruptly disconnected, which made scheduling visits difficult.
Secondly, even when intrepid Craigslisters called the cellphone of my dad’s wife Alice – she is Chinese. They couldn’t understand her English. Also, she seems continually upset about something. Not about the state of the rooms, which she is energetically painting and spackling. But–
When I arrived in Malibu, to sort through the various complexities – "And can you tell me, how many people live with your dad?" one woman had e-mailed me, in some alarm. "How many?"
Well, when I arrived, my dad admitted that there was just a little bit, just a touch, just a soupcon of a bench warrant... out for his arrest.
And, you know, a bench warrant, it’s a sitting kind of warrant. It’s not an aggressive kind of warrant.
From what I could piece together, there had been a renter, with a dog, against my dad’s rules, things did not go well, she threw a little bit of a lawsuit up against him, he threw a little bit of a countering thing back. But didn’t show up in court on the right day. He is 88 with Parkinson’s and passes out a lot on bus benches. Missed the date, de facto lost the judgment, hasn’t paid, now he’s going to the slammer. The Malibu slammer.
I arrive on my dad’s porch. Doing his exercises that morning, he fell, scabbed his entire upper lip and now his beard is caked with blood. The sweater has crumbs. The fly is undone. He looks terrible and that is excellent.
"It’s a great day to go to court!" I yell, in my dad’s one good ear.
These Malibu courts? Couldn’t be nicer. The clerk tries to help us: "If there’s a sitting warrant? I think you give yourself up to the sheriff and then he walks you in to the judge?"
Not necessary. Judge Ford takes one look at my wobbling dad and says:
"I’m withdrawing the bench warrant and giving you a new court date, Mr. Loh! What’s convenient for you?"
He gives us a Monday in January at 10 a.m. Factoring in the traffic... dropping my kids off at school, trolling up to Zuma, I ask:
"Your honor, could we make it closer to 11?" He gives us 1:30!
Victory! We’re back in the game!
P.S.: Rooms still available! Phone’s back on! Come on down!
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