“This is ridiculous. You dropped out of community college. You’re a homeless bum we threw out for being a waste of space.”
“I was homeless for a while, yes,” I said calmly. “Thanks to you. But I worked my way through school. I graduated from college, then law school. I did it all without a single cent from you.”
The judge entered before my father could respond, and everyone scrambled to their seats.
Judge Patricia Hullbrook was in her sixties, with steel-gray hair and a no-nonsense demeanor that made even experienced attorneys nervous. She looked over the courtroom, her eyes settling on me with a flicker of recognition.
“Counsel, please approach,” she said.
I walked up to the bench, and my parents’ attorney, a man named Gerald who charged $500 an hour, joined me.
Judge Hullbrook looked between us, then down at the papers in front of her.
“I see we have representation for the defendant now,” she said. “Counselor?”
“Anna Thompson, Your Honor,” I said. “I’m representing Clare Mitchell in this matter.”
Judge Hullbrook’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Anna Thompson. I thought that name looked familiar. Didn’t you argue the Riverside Apartments case last year?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“You won that case, if I recall. The tenants got everything they asked for—repairs, rent reimbursement, and damages.”
“That’s correct, Your Honor.”
She looked at my parents, then back at me, and something shifted in her expression.
“This should be interesting. Let’s proceed.”
As I walked back to my table, I caught my mother’s expression. Pure horror mixed with disbelief. My father looked like he’d been slapped. Melissa, sitting behind them, had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
I sat down next to Clare, who was staring at me like I’d just walked on water.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just tell the truth when you’re asked questions,” I said. “That’s all you need to do.”
Gerald stood up first, presenting my parents’ case. He painted Clare as a difficult tenant who was looking for excuses not to pay rent, who was making mountains out of molehills regarding minor maintenance issues. He showed photos of the apartment that had been taken years ago when it was first rented—pristine and clean.
“The plaintiffs have always maintained their properties to the highest standards,” Gerald said smoothly. “They’re responsible landlords who simply want what they’re owed—the rent that was agreed upon in a legally binding contract.”
When it was my turn, I stood up and walked to the evidence table. I’d spent the last two weeks gathering everything I needed: photos of the leaking ceiling, the black mold, the broken windows that wouldn’t close properly, medical records showing that Clare’s daughter had developed respiratory problems, maintenance requests that had been ignored for months, a city inspector’s report that condemned parts of the building as uninhabitable.
“Your Honor,” I said, laying out the evidence piece by piece, “the defendant didn’t withhold rent out of spite or convenience. She withheld it because the apartment she was paying for had become a health hazard. Nebraska law is clear. Landlords must maintain properties in a condition fit for human habitation. When they fail to do so, tenants have the legal right to withhold rent until repairs are made.”
I walked the judge through every violation, every ignored request, every broken promise. My parents had collected rent for months while knowing the building was falling apart. They’d threatened Clare when she complained, told her she could leave if she didn’t like it, fully aware that she couldn’t afford to break her lease and move somewhere else.
“This isn’t about a ‘difficult tenant,’” I said. “This is about landlords who saw their tenants as nothing more than a revenue stream, who cared more about collecting money than ensuring the people living in their buildings were safe.”
Judge Hullbrook listened intently, making notes, asking pointed questions. When I showed her the medical records for Clare’s daughter, I saw her jaw tighten.
“Counselor,” she said to Gerald, “did your clients know about the mold?”
Gerald shuffled his papers.
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