Chapter 27
S ailor
"And can you explain to the court what happened when you informed your landlord about the water damage, Ms. Thompson?"
Ayana Thompson shifted in her seat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her clothes were simple, but immaculate, and regardless of being nervous she held herself with dignity.
"I called him the same day it started. That was January twelfth. The bathroom ceiling was leaking and there was water all over the floor. He said he would send someone, but nobody came."
I nodded and glanced at Landry before I continued.
"And then what happened?"
"I called again the next day and the day after that. The water was starting to soak into the hallway carpet and it smelled horribly. I have a three year old son and I was worried about mold. I called him every day for two weeks."
I nodded and moved across the courtroom floor. Judge Hernandez was known for her no-nonsense approach which was why I tailored my strategy to be straightforward and factual with just enough emotional appeal to humanize Ayana.
"Did Mr. Landry eventually send someone to fix the leak?"
"A handyman came on February third, looked at it and said he needed to open up the ceiling to find the source. He put a bucket under it and said he'd be back the next day but also laughed and said good luck getting Landry to fix it. He didn’t spend that kind of money on repairs."
"Did he return?"
"No, ma'am."
"And the leak?"
"Got worse. By Valentine's Day part of the ceiling collapsed. I was lucky it didn’t fall on us. Water was everywhere, my son's bedroom was soaked too."
I approached the evidence table, retrieving a series of photos. "I'd like to enter these into evidence as Exhibit C. These photos were taken on February sixteenth, documenting the state of Ms. Thompson's apartment."
After the photos were entered, I displayed them on the courtroom monitor. The images were detailed and very clear as to the state of her apartment by then. Soaked drywall and tiles were hanging from the bathroom ceiling and walls with dark water stains spreading across the carpet. You could see the mold forming along the baseboards in the bathroom and hallway.
"Ms. Thompson, what happened after the ceiling collapsed?"
"I called Mr. Landry again. I told him we couldn't live like this. My son was starting to cough all the time. I asked to be released from my lease, but he refused. He said if I left, he would sue me for the remaining rent and keep my security deposit."
"What did you do then?"
"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't afford to pay rent on two places but my son was getting sick. I used the last of my savings to pay for a hotel for a few nights and that's when I contacted the tenant's rights organization who referred me to you."
"Thank you, Ms. Thompson." I turned to face the defense table. "No further questions, Your Honor."
Todd Landry's attorney, a middle-aged man with an expensive suit and a dismissive demeanor, rose for cross-examination. His strategy had been clear from the beginning and nothing like mine—blame my client, minimize the damages, and present his client as a reasonable businessman dealing with a difficult tenant, which she wasn’t.
"Ms. Thompson, isn't it true that you were late with your rent three times in the six months prior to the leak?"
I remained outwardly calm but mentally noted the irrelevant line of questioning for my rebuttal.
"I was late once, by three days when my check was late because of a mix up at work that had nothing to do with me. I communicated with Mr. Landry and paid the late fee, which he tripled," Ayana answered firmly.
"Isn't it true that you have had other complaints about the property? Issues with neighbors, concerns about the parking situation?"
"Objection, Your Honor," I interrupted. "Relevance? Ms. Thompson's previous communications with her landlord about unrelated matters have no bearing on the uninhabitable conditions caused by the leak."
"Sustained," Judge Hernandez nodded. "Counsel, stick to the matter at hand."
The questioning continued for another fifteen minutes with Landry's attorney trying and failing to undermine Ayana's credibility. She remained composed and answered directly and honestly. I felt a sense of pride at her resilience because the situation shouldn’t have happened and she could have let him run over her.
After the cross-examination was done I called a housing inspector who confirmed the severe water damage and code violations, followed by a pediatrician who testified about the respiratory issues Ayana's son had developed due to mold exposure. She didn’t have anywhere else to go and was in that moldy apartment for three full months.
Landry's testimony was next and I watched him carefully as he took the stand. He was in his fifties and far too arrogant for my liking.
"Mr. Landry, how many rental properties do you own in the Atlanta metro area?"
"Twenty-seven units," he replied in a cocky manner.
"And how many maintenance staff do you employ to service these properties?"
Got you, asshole!
He shifted in his seat. "Two full-time handymen."
"Two people for twenty-seven properties," I repeated, letting the implication sink in. "And when Ms. Thompson reported the leak on January twelfth you documented that in your maintenance request system, correct?"
"I believe so, yes."
I approached the evidence table again. "Your Honor I would like to enter Exhibit F, the maintenance records provided by the defendant during discovery."
After receiving permission, I handed Landry the records. "Can you point to where Ms. Thompson's January twelfth request is documented?"
Nope, you did not, asshole!
He flipped through the pages and frowned. "It must have been an oversight. We get a lot of calls."
"An oversight, right." I took the documents back. "And the calls on January thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and so on? All those are oversights too?"
"As I said, we receive a lot of calls."
"Yet you managed to document a noise complaint from another tenant on January thirteenth, a request to replace a dishwasher on January fourteenth, and a broken garbage disposal on January sixteenth. All addressed within forty-eight hours."
Landry's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "I know what you’re getting at but those were simple fixes."
"More simple than a leak that destroyed a tenant's home?" I arched my brow. "Mr. Landry, when were you first notified of the severity of the leak in Ms. Thompson's unit?"
"When my handyman visited in early February."
I nodded, pretending to accept his answer, then pulled out another document. "Your Honor, Exhibit G, text messages between Landry and his handyman, Ramon Diaz, dated January fifteenth."
Landry looked like he wanted to jump over the stand and strangle me when I displayed the messages on the courtroom monitor:
Diaz: Thompson unit in Westside Arms bad leak from upstairs bath. Need to open ceiling + fix pipe. Prob take 2 days min.
Landry: Hold off. That building too old, repairs $$$. Put bucket for now.
Diaz: Leak bad man. Will get worse.
Landry: Just patch drywall then. No major repairs.
The courtroom was silent as the communication remained displayed. Landry's attorney shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Mr. Landry, would you like to revise your previous statement about when you became aware of the severity of the leak?"
He glared at me. "Those messages lack context."
"What context would justify instructing your handyman to ignore a serious leak that was damaging a tenant's home? A home where a three-year-old child lives?"
"Objection!" his attorney called out. "Argumentative."
"Sustained," Judge Hernandez ruled. "Mrs. Hassan, rephrase."
I nodded respectfully. "Mr. Landry, Georgia landlord-tenant law requires that landlords maintain rental properties in a habitable condition. Would you agree that a collapsing, water-soaked ceiling and spreading mold constitutes an uninhabitable condition?"
"That's subjective.”
"Not according to the housing inspector who testified earlier. Let me ask you this, when Ms. Thompson requested to be released from her lease due to these conditions, why did you refuse?"
"She signed a twelve-month agreement. Businesses operate on contracts and she signed a damn contract."
"Contracts also include an implied warranty to be habitable, don't they?"
His attorney knew where this was going. "Objection, calls for a legal conclusion."
"Your Honor, Mr. Landry owns twenty seven rental properties. It's reasonable to expect him to be familiar with basic landlord-tenant law," I argued.
"I'll allow it," Judge Hernandez decided. "The witness may answer."
Landry cleared his throat. "Generally, yes."
"Generally," I repeated with a smile. "Mr. Landry, did you make any effort to relocate Ms. Thompson and her son while repairs were pending? Repairs you refused to do?"
"That's not my responsibility."
"Actually, Georgia law says it is when conditions render a property uninhabitable due to landlord negligence. One final question, how much would the proper repairs have cost if done immediately after the leak was reported?"
“How the hell am I supposed to know that?"
"Let me refresh your memory." I produced another document. "According to the estimate from your own contractor, dated January seventeenth, the repair would have cost twelve hundred dollars if addressed immediately. After the ceiling collapsed, the same contractor estimated over eight thousand in repairs plus remediation for extensive mold damage. Does that sound accurate?"
"Approximately."
"No further questions, Your Honor."
The remainder of the trial proceeded as I anticipated, with me celebrating the win I knew I would secure. In his closing argument, Landry's attorney attempted to paint my client as difficult and the situation as exaggerated but the evidence was enough to prove my point. He was a slumlord.
Judge Hernandez ruled in our favor on all counts—release from the lease, return of security deposit, reimbursement for hotel stays and medical expenses, and punitive damages for the willful negligence. When the gavel came down, Ayana grabbed my hand with tears in her eyes.
"Thank you. I can finally get my son out of that place."
"You did the hard part. You stood up for yourself and your son. I just helped with the legal part."
After reviewing the judgment paperwork and explaining the next steps to Ayana, I packed up my briefcase and embraced the satisfaction of doing something meaningful. When I turned to leave the courtroom, a familiar figure in the back caught my eye.
Rival was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with a look I knew would lead to noteworthy orgasms later. I hadn't noticed him during the proceedings because I was focused on the case but knowing he had been here had me grinning. I made my way toward him, unable to suppress my smile.
"How long have you been sitting there?"
"Since opening statements.” He pushed off the wall to meet me. "I stopped by your office to see if you wanted to grab lunch and TJ mentioned you were in court, so I thought I'd come watch."
"Stalking me?" I teased.
"Supporting my wife and I’m glad I did that was possibly the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my entire fucking life."
"Oh really?"
"Really. The way you cornered him with those text messages, brilliant."
"Just doing my job."
"Yeah but you look sexy as fuck doing it."
I glanced at my watch. "I'd love to continue this ego-stroking session, but I have another case in an hour."
"Dinner tonight? I'll cook."
"It's a date," I agreed, surprised by how natural it felt now to make plans with my husband and how good it felt to know he would be there at the end of my day.
He leaned down to kiss me goodbye. “Go do that shit, counselor. I'll see you at home."
I watched him walk away and smiled at the shift in my life over the past months. I had gone from a woman who avoided commitment at all costs to someone who found comfort in a man who forced me to trust him with every layer of my life. It should have felt constraining but instead it felt like peace. This was love…