Chapter 6 - The Eviction Hearing
The Arapahoe County District Court was quiet on the Monday morning following the Thanksgiving weekend.
Jenna sat at the defense table, wearing a dark, unbranded coat, her hair tied back in a simple knot, completely stripped of her usual glamorous aesthetic.
Her parents sat behind her in the gallery, looking grim and defeated. They had spent Thanksgiving in a low-tier roadside motel outside the city limits, their turkey dinner consisting of microwave meals from a gas station.
Michael sat beside her, his suit rumpled, his eyes bloodshot.
I sat at the plaintiff's table beside Harold, wearing a crisp navy suit and David’s old silver watch on my wrist. I didn't look back at them.
The judge, a stern woman in her sixties named Magistrate Vance, reviewed the file in silence for ten long minutes.
"Mr. and Mrs. Vance," Judge Vance spoke, her voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "I have reviewed the occupancy agreement dated May 12th, along with the certified property deed and the text message records submitted as Exhibit C."
She looked over her glasses at Jenna.
"Mrs. Vance, you stated in your written response that the text message reading 'Thanksgiving is for family only' was a harmless boundary statement."
"It was just a misunderstanding, Your Honor!" Jenna blurted out, standing up before her attorney could stop her. "We were stressed! We intended to invite her for dessert!"
"Sit down, Mrs. Vance," the judge ordered coldly.
"The agreement you signed explicitly states that occupancy rights are held at the sole discretion of the deed owner, Helen Vance," the judge continued. "The text evidence clearly demonstrates a deliberate exclusion of the property owner from her own asset, fulfilling the explicit breach conditions of Clause 14B."
Judge Vance picked up her gavel.
"The court hereby grants a permanent Order of Ejection. The defendants have forty-eight hours to remove any remaining personal effects under sheriff supervision. The property at 14820 Sycamore Lane reverts entirely to the unencumbered control of Helen Vance."
Gavel slam.
May you like
The sharp crack of the wooden mallet signaled the absolute, undeniable end of their suburban illusion.
Michael buried his face in his hands on the table, while Jenna fell back into her chair, staring at the ceiling in pure, unadulterated shock.
