Boston we have a problem.

No less than 24 hours from putting this blog up I hear a story about a separate BHA tenant in our building making threats to a neighbor. They live across the hall from us and are new parents. Sound familiar? More details when they arrive.

The Boston Housing Authority are liars who love lying

So it turns out that our piece of evidence was reviewed by Joei Sanchez. Our management sent a formal letter confirming the incident and that it was in direct violation of our condo guidelines. What does Joei and the BHA do? NOTHING!!!!! They say "one more strike and they're out". That's what you said last time. Are you kidding me? Nothing? You liars. When he was reviewing the tape with our building supervisor Joei made a comment that "It wasn't so bad. Nobody came in so it's not bad." Dub-L-U-Tee-Eff? WTF? Not bad? So just because nobody was robbed, assaulted, murdered, raped or a combination of these acts it wasn't bad? This is infuriating. I cannot tell you how I hate being lied to. Lied to my face with a complete disregard for the well being of every resident in our building. Yep, the BHA, your taxpayer dollars working to get you assaulted, murdered, raped and robbed. Why do I have a feeling Mayor Menino would be upset if he knew this.

So what now? Well I'm using the power that I have. The power of words. The power of the Internet and the power of this potentially going viral. I want friends to pass it along. I want the press to get a hold of it and see if there is an angle to expose the lying Boston Housing Authority. I want them to embarrass the mayor, because if they do this would end in a millisecond. Finally I want this to be a place where others can possibly find help too and we can stop being victims of government agencies with no accountability.

I'll continue to update as the information rolls in. I wish this never would have happened, but this is the hand I was dealt and now I'm playing for real.

We may have a solution

This past June was our annual condo association meeting, which I always attend. Our building manager asked me to stay to the end so he could talk to me afterwards. Turns out that the BHA case worker for our building, Joei Sanchez, came to meet specifically with me. He told me that he "does not like TD at all and wants to remove her from our building, but they need documented evidence that they have violated a rule, broken a law or weren't good neighbors" and if I could help him with obtaining that then TD and TDA would be immediately transfered out of our building.

It's as if God himself finally joined the fight and said "These people don't deserve this. Let me offer them my services." One of my pet peeves in our building, which does not have a concierge or security guard is the propping of our entry ways and leaving them unattended. We live in a city where lots of strange traffic wanders by at all hours. It's so selfish and unsafe to put your neighbors at risk, just because you don't want to use your key one extra time or you forgot your keys and are running three blocks down to the store. I'm vigilant about closing it every time I see it being a victim of a attempt to break into our condo after personally fighting with a contractor over it one afternoon. Thankfully the dog scared the potential criminal. TD herself has also had a mentally challenged woman from our neighborhood wind up outside her door after wandering in when she saw an open entry way. TD was apparently so scared she went to a condo association meeting to tell the community how we needed to improve security.

One Sunday morning the whole family leaves to walk the dog and the door is propped. I close it. We come back and it's propped again. I close it. I run down to the mail room and see it open. I prop it again. I hear TD's door close (they slam it every time as another ploy to annoy us) and the entrance door open. I immediately hear TD's door slam again. I put two and two together. I look outside and see it propped. I close it. Around Noon I get a knock on the door. It's a stranger asking me for tools because a woman is stuck in our elevator. I grab some stuff and run downstairs. I see the door propped. I ask a woman standing next to it if she needed it. She said "Oh no I was about to close it. That's unsafe." The woman in the elevator called the fire department. When they arrived I got the door open. Amongst the commotion I look up to see TD and TDA by the door where they have this conversation.

TDA: "What's going on here?"

TD: "Oh no. Well. Ummmmm...What are we going to do about the door?"

TDA: "Call and tell him he'll have to get buzzed in" NOTE: Getting buzzed in is the proper procedure. You push a button. You get buzzed in. Not very complicated.

I knew it was them. I called our building supervisor and asked him if he could look at our security cameras to see if they were propping. I also mentioned that there was a Poland Spring delivery of multiple cases of bottled water in our foyer that was broken into so could he check to see who did that. Seriously people. You steal from your neighbors? Did you not know that you were on camera? Idiots.

Turns out that TD and TDA were caught red handed. Bingo. We have our evidence. It also turns out that the door was being propped for a guy who walked in with a toolbox. Apparently he couldn't pull off the open the door while holding toolbox trick. This guys also felt it was OK to STEAL the friggen water as he opened one of the cases and grabbed a few bottles, but he ended up dropping them when he saw a resident coming. What a piece of shit. On top of that another section 8 housing resident actually stole an entire case of water in that time frame. If that friend of TD and TDA's is a piece of shit then this resident is an ungrateful piece of shit. I always thought he was a nice guy. Now I refuse to speak to him. He needs to be removed too. Stay tuned.

It's a race war

This story is a doozy. I work from home so I see and hear everything that goes on in our neighborhood. I happened to be at my desk when I hear "You cannot park here. I'm saving this spot for a friend." Keep in mind that we live in a section of the city with very little permitted parking so it's a free for all every morning with the day workers and hearing arguments over parking is a daily routine. My problem is my memory when it involves high stress affairs becomes nearly photographic. Here is how the conversation went down after I looked out the window and noticed that initial quote came from TD.

Commuter (It's important to note that she is Jamaican): "What are you talking about? I can park there. You have no right to stand in a parking spot."

TD: "I'm saving it for a friend. She'll be here soon."

Commuter: "Can you please move so I can park"

TD: "Leave and go back to where you came from."

Commuter (obviously incensed over the racial overtone): )U#()IDIWDIHWDIOJDIOHDIOHDIHHBN#IHN! Seriously she was speaking so fast and was so upset that I couldn't comprehend a thing, especially with her accent.

TDA (Yes he entered the fray): "GO BACK TO AFRICA!"

Commuter: AKHHAJHSHQHSHHAHHAHA^!^&^&^@T^&@&&@&*@

TDA: "GO BACK TO AFRICA!"

TD: "Just leave"

TDA: "GO BACK TO AFRICA!"

TD: "Do you live here? No? Well I do. I have rights because I live here."

Commuter: "Well now I know where you live"

TDA: "Call the cops!!!! She threatened you. Call the cops!!!"

TD: "I'm going to call the police you better leave."

The commuter begins to drive off and then you get this...

TDA: "GO BACK TO AFRICA!"

The commuter turns around, being unable to swallow any pride at this point and comes back.

TDA: "We called the cops I have your license plate number"

The commuter leaves. Enter Boston Police.

TD: "I was just parking my car and this woman got upset saying it was her space and she started threatening me."

TDA: "I wrote down her license plate number."

Police Officer: "That's not a valid MA license plate number. It is short one character."

TDA: "Yes it is! I wrote it down! That's the number!"

Police Officer: "Sir, trust me it's not valid. I'll check. Hold on. Nope not it."

TD (After heading inside for something): "Did they get the information"

TDA: "No. Her plate wasn't valid."

Police Officer: "Noooo. You wrote the wrong information down. You were short one character."

TD (Shoots devil eyes at TDA. Part of the lore of why he is called Tweedle Dumb Ass).

I am mad at myself for not stepping outside to issue a witness statement and for not recording the incident. I don't know why I froze. It is now a huge regret.

So what now?

The restraining order has done it's job, but the other goal here was to have TD and TDA transferred to another facility as they have been in direct violation of the Boston Housing Authority's guidelines for behavior. However, since the BHA is a gigantic bureaucratic mess that process is a debacle and I have continually found that they will make every excuse possible to avoid any sort of conflict that might involve an uncomfortable decision and/or conversation.

The problem is that although their IDs may say 50 and 60 years old they behave like children. I feel as if we're dealing with vindictive tween girls here who are upset over losing a boyfriend to a rival girl. It's sickening. As a result TD and TDA, in their very clever way, continue to harass us in two ways. They play their stereo at a very loud volume for short burts; short enough that it doesn't make sense to call the police as it will be over by the time they would arrive. They also drive a lot of nails into their wall and I'm guessing that they are not hanging hundreds of pictures nor conducting an authorized construction project. They obviously thought we were stupid so we documented every one and shared it with their case worker. Our management company has fined the BHA as the unit owner for violating our condo guidelines for our right to "quiet enjoyment". We have documented acknowledgment of this behavior and still nothing from the BHA.

We thought it was over

The problem ended immediately after the officers visit and we were so relieved by the fact that we wouldn't have to deal with it again. The police did their job by putting the scare into them. We could only be so lucky. Apparently the scare had an expiration date and by October the full on harassment started right back up. I let it go for one night, but it picked up again the next along with my personal favorite moment when TDA screamed "What is your fucking problem? Don't you hear us banging?" so I immediately called 911. I even told the dispatcher which officers responded the first time and so they sent one of them back, which was a relief since he was already familiar with the situation. As he came into our home he said "I have a solution. She's so cute, why don't you let us take her?" The officers collected the information and told us to stop by HQ to pick up the police report in a couple of days, prior to heading downstairs.

The very next day I was playing with my dog on a common grass area next to our building. I looked up and saw TD standing at the other end staring at us. I ignored her and she stayed frozen for 10 minutes. However, I was not going to avoid her just so I could get into the building, which is what she was essentially blocking. When we got within earshot TD unloaded on me that I was "now harassing her by calling the police" and that "she is elderly and disabled and we have no right to pick on her". I completely ignored her and went inside. She followed and continued yelling. I finally turned around and said "It would be in your best interest to stop talking, because the more you continue to say the deeper your hole gets. Stop stalking and harassing me and leave my family alone."

Here is what the report stated:

When the officers responded to gather their side of the story the officers spoke to TD and TDA who began yelling and screaming stating that "Yes they have been banging on the ceiling because the child has no right to walk on the floor." The officers advised them that banging on the ceiling and screaming was not the correct way to go about handling this situation to which TDA responded "Good then I'll call 911 every fucking half hour."

Excuse me? No right no walk? Correct me if I'm wrong, but the only thing that walking can be described as is a physical act of nature. By saying the baby has no right to walk you're saying she should be physically impaired. That is a threat. A physical threat against my daughter. As you can imagine that as a parent my emotions were wide ranging, but I took the high road and went to visit the attorney the very next day. The day after that we had a temporary restraining order against TD and TDA., which led to a continuous twelve month no contact order. That was the most painful $2000 I ever spent.

The mask has been lifted

The BPD arrived quickly and couldn't believe what they were hearing from us, not because we came off as liars, but that it was so ridiculous. Luckily the baby was still awake so I asked the officers if they wanted me to put her on the floor to see if they could hear the response. Both officers were incredibly nice and they even got on the floor to play with the baby, which we all thought was quite hilarious. Within seconds the banging ensued, but it was as if we hit a goldmine, because they did it for over 60 continuous seconds. The officers were bewildered and decided to pay TD and TDA a visit. Here is what we all learned via the police report.

1. They put holes in the ceiling from the banging, presumably from a broomstick.
2. TD states she has lived in the location for 11 years. Her license and self-admittedly registration are for an address in Quincy. We're in Boston. Her car is parked in a permitted spot directly outside of her unit. That is insurance fraud.
3. TDA who is a full-time resident now in Boston has a license and registration listed in Chelmsford. That is also insurance fraud.
4. TDA told the police he was a home health care worker, then he said he was retired, then he went back to being a helper. So what is it?
5. They like yelling at the police.
6. They like throwing notebooks at the police.

You stay classy TD and TDA.

The sh!t leaves the diaper for the fan

Let's jump on Coolio's "Fantastic Voyage" time machine and move ahead to one year later. Our pride and joy is crawling up a storm and aside from smiling ear to ear over her discovery of this newfound mobility you're just relieved that she is developing normally and all you can think about is how much she is learning about being a human.

To give some background for this stage of the story, our child is in daycare. She wakes up, on average, at 6:30 in the morning and is out of the house by 7:15 am and in that time frame she has to get dressed and fed, which for a one year old is no quickie. By the time she was done, if Mom wasn't ready to leave we'd play on the floor for a few minutes. They didn't arrive back home until 6:30 in the evening and after dinner and a bath there was probably 30 minutes of play time before bed. If you can do the math our less than 20lb baby had, at most, a maximum of 45 minutes to potentially crawl on our floors, but if you know a baby you know there are long stops and starts to explore and play. If I had to say she may have actually crawled on our floors about 15 minutes a day.

Those 15 minutes and admittedly more on the weekends, sent TD and TDA in to such a tizzy that the banging led to slamming common area doors in our faces, making comments under their breath as we passed by, finger pointing to friends and eventually letter writing, which led to my first experience with a verbal attack from TD. The letter was left under our door so the sleuth in me can easily assume that TD never filed a formal complaint with her landlord, the Boston Housing Authority, which would have been sent to our management company and the board of trustees. Instead I was told we were being rude by "making unusual noises at unusual times" and that "we should show some more respect". I can understand that it's unusual to somebody who doesn't work that somebody would actually try to start their day before 9am, but when the rest of society is typically up by 6am you're going to have to deal.

Now I admit this was a mistake, but I let my ego get the better of me. I took the letter and turned it over and drew a stick figure set of directions on what a baby is, what a crawling baby does and what their parents do to protect them from being hurt and ended my little comic strip with the quote "Your behavior is beyond childish. Stop harassing us." and proceeded to tape it to TD and TDA's door. Within 30 minutes TD pounded on my door and began shouting at me although the first thing out of her mouth was "You're right the behavior is childish....." and for ten solid minutes went on a rant like no other. The first thing I said to her, after hearing about her heart attack, other chronic illnesses, the fact that she's live there for 11 years was "If you need peace and quiet to comfortably live your life then perhaps living in the city wasn't the best decision" which is when I got "You're the one with the family. You should move. Families don't belong in the city." Knowing I was not speaking with a rational person at this point I repeated "stop harassing my family" and eventually closed my door.

Their banging became an obsession and that's when I brought the management company in. They advised us to contact the police should they do it again. So on July 19th, my birthday no less, with a couple of guests over to celebrate my 33rd I am on the phone with the Boston Police Department explaining the situation.

A new beginning

Fast forward to the Summer of 2006 when all of this begins to get really interesting. Mrs Giro and I have a baby. We couldn't be any more excited and terrified by the new challenge facing us. Two days after returning from the hospital Mrs G gets an infection and we're in the emergency room for a good portion of the day stabilizing her and coming up with a plan since the issue involved her being unable to breast feed anymore, which was caught us off guard and not exactly how we planed weening the baby off over the course of a year. Naturally after childbirth you get on edge over the slightest sign of immunity which resulted in our tension level was a tad high. To add to the stress it was the baby's coming out party for the extended family so we had a bunch of people sitting around a party waiting for the guest of honor, where in reality we had twenty sets of baby holding arms to take advantage of so we could get a break. I made the run to the pharmacy, after the ER discharge, to grab a couple of things and since it was an emergency the pharmacy was quite sympathetic and rushed the order through. When I picked up the prescription the pharmacist's aide was doing her job and walking me through everything so that I could properly explain it to Mrs Giro. While this was occurring I heard these rather loud and frustrating sighs behind me, which was obviously being directed towards me and the aide. I turned around because I was about to lose it and go on a verbal tirade triggered by my obvious disdain for ignorance and selfish behavior. Low and behold it was TDA and bringing up the rear was TD. TD asks "Hun, what's the problem?" to which TDA responds (this is not a lie) "Well if the numbnuts Punjabi over here could move a little faster then I wouldn't have to be waiting here." Two reaction options crossed my mind. 1. Say "Fuck you you selfish piece of shit. Wait your turn like everybody else. Nobody wants to be in this line because it's never for a good reason so show some fucking respect." or 2. look, breathe, ignore. I chose option 2. However, this is the moment that changed it all for me. It's as if they knew I discovered they were complete jerks outside of the isolation of our personal issue and that by outing them I was slowly but surely getting under their facade, which they didn't want me to know about. From that point on their anger turned to flat out hate.

Add a boyfriend and stir

Fast forward a year or so and TD gets herself a boyfriend AKA Tweedle Dumb Ass (TDA). This guy made his presence felt right off the bat by being a bona fide jerk to the neighbors, but we didn't make much of it, because TD stopped harassing us. We were assuming that the pole that was firmly entrenched in her ass was obviously being used in more relaxing orifices. The only reason this information is relevant at this point is because Mrs Giro and I were constantly making comments regarding a lack of banging and that the new boyfriend was obviously doing his job. Like all new relationships however the honeymoon ends sometime and since being miserable bitches was what they did best then there was no way you could deny it from rearing its ugly head again.

Welcome to the neighborhood

We were working on the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. My wife (Mrs Giro) answered and to her delight it was a neighbor, who will forever be referred to as Tweedle Dee (TD) who can only be described as a short gangly woman who looks about 70 years old. Truthfully though she's in her 50's, is a section 8 housing resident living in a unit owned by the Boston Housing Authority who never lets light into her apartment by leaving her blinds closed at all times. It's rather sad to see somebody live like this, but my sympathy flew out the door ages ago.

Keep in mind that I can only hear the conversation, but what was expected to be a welcome to the building visit immediately turned into "I can hear you walking around late at night. Please make it stop." My wife, somewhat shocked yet always the peacemaker, apologize and said we would be more conscious of our walking. Since my wife knows me too well she could hear me moving to the door to provide an alternative message to the neighbor, but she gave me a stiff arm and prevented a much more terse response. Normally I can put up with a lot, but I have zero tolerance for blatant ignorance and flat out selfish behavior. I would understand if after a week or two you wanted to politely tell us that you could hear some noise, but not within three days of moving in. That is unacceptable, but Mrs G tempered my emotions by assuring me that it was probably a one time thing. So what happens next? The following Saturday afternoon I was vacuuming and I get the first of what turned into a thousand ceiling hits to alert us that we were making too much noise. Now if only the story would have ended there, but this led to continued banging and one evening in January TD verbally berated friends of ours who were having a conversation and a cigarette outside of our building and on a city sidewalk. The behavior is over the top and please keep in mind that at this time we had no idea TD was a BHA resident and well outside of the protocol of how a BHA tenant is supposed to handle an issue.

The ceiling hits became so routine that we eventually drowned it out, but nothing irked me more than knowing this was all related to two people moving naturally like human beings were intended. As a result, since we have hardwood floors covering our entire condo we laid down rugs in our high traffic areas; dining room, living room, hallway. I really didn't want to for aesthetic reasons, but Mrs G felt that it was worth spending the money to see if we could get TD to stop. Did that work? Of course not.

What did I do to deserve this?

This is the first post regarding a long and disgusting story that has taken place over nearly five years. Part of the reason for doing this is therapy for me. Another is to hopefully create a sort of online support group for people who can share similar stories and finally I want to bring attention to bureaucratic city government that would rather put tax payers in harms way rather than deal with the problems they perpetuate. Here's our story.

It started off when a young, freshly married, couple bought their first home in 2003. They were facing a bright future in this dwelling where they would eventually start a family and enjoy the many benefits offered to them as residents of the city of Boston. We moved in on a fairly mild Saturday in November and without even unpacking a thing we started in on the painting, that eventually took a few weeks to conclude. On top of that we made the decision not to take time off of work, so that we could settle in, which meant that after an exhausting day at the office we'd be in for some long nights of grunt work. Naturally, the adrenaline rush of the experience would keep them going. That is until the following Tuesday when the seeds to "Loathe Thy Neighbor" were planted.

NOTE: I went back and forth over whether I should include the entire background in one long post, but I'm going to break it up into chapters. It will flow better that way.