Tag Archives: foreclosure

Jurisdiction, courts, and filings

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Searching for trustee filings is not a quick-and-easy process.

The idea is that the filings would show which houses will be coming up on the market in foreclosure sales; this is the kind of tip passed along in online conversation threads for would-be investors who want to dabble in real estate. In Maryland, however, getting such information is easier said than done. I just spoke with a nice clerk at the Prince George’s County Circuit Court, who told me clearly that “we are not required to keep any lists or [that] information.”

Let’s backtrack a little. In an earlier post, I clarified on the basis of information received that, in Maryland, the Circuit Court handles foreclosures. A Circuit Court judge explicitly confirmed the language of the law in writing to a troubled homeowner. All District Court judges know that house foreclosures are not to be handled in the Landlord-Tenant division of the District Court. Regrettably, this crystal-clear law has been repeatedly violated, especially in Prince George’s County, and in the chambers of Judge Crystal Mittelstaedt–where, regrettably, foreclosures have in fact been processed. In legal terms, the District Court lacks jurisdiction to help a house flipper foreclose on a homeowner.

Trying to track down ‘substitute trustee’ filings in Prince George’s County corroborates the principle. When a bank or lender plans to foreclose on a homeowner, often it will arrange with a ‘substitute trustee’, as previously written. By law, a record of the arrangement has to be filed with the county. As one typical legal website explains,

The trustee named in the deed of trust carries out the foreclosure action.  While the original trustee named in the deed of trust may institute the foreclosure, the lender will generally appoint an individual, firm, or company that is experienced in foreclosure matters to be substituted in place of the original trustee.  This is accomplished by the execution of a written document properly recorded in the county where the real property collateral is located.  N.C.G.S. § 45-10 and 11.

Figuring that since foreclosures have in fact been processed in the District Court in Hyattsville, Maryland, I should start there, I called up the court to ask how to look up trustee filings. A nice clerk in the Hyattsville building told me that was “not something we actually handle here,” and transferred my call to the District Court in Upper Marlboro. Another nice clerk there told me, very politely, that the information I wanted “sounds like it may be Circuit Court,” and transferred me there.

Once in Circuit Court, it still took a couple of tries to land in the Foreclosure Department. Note that foreclosures are indeed a department in the Circuit Court, not in the District Court. To put it bluntly, beware of anyone pushing a foreclosure who proceeds through the wrong court. Furthermore, it is a sound principle that the records should be kept in the building where the cases are adjudicated.

Last resort

Even in the right department, however, it would not be an easy or at-a-glance task to look up forthcoming foreclosures by means of substitute trustee filings. One would need a case number and would have to come in requesting to see a specific case.

With that information, one could go to Maryland Case Search, or to some law firms; some large banks have foreclosure sections in their websites; real estate firms have access to foreclosure listings. Everything is easier if you have the information already.

For example, if you already know that one major ‘foreclosure mill’ attorney is John S. Burson, you can find ready confirmation with a quick look at the multi-page list of some of his cases. If you know that the Wittstadts are walking foreclosure mills, you can easily look them up. Each of these names generates more than 500 results in the quick Maryland look-up.

Looking up the name Hijazi also generates more than 500 results. Many of these cases belong to Abdulla Haitham Hijazi, the attorney son of P. G. County DPIE Director Haitham Hijazi. Some of Mr. Hijazi’s foreclosure cases–indicated as such in the Maryland case list–are actions in district courts in Maryland. Mr. Hijazi did not communicate in reply to a request for comment.

Each page shows 25 results. One can find the results here, or go to Maryland Judiciary Case Search and fill in the search boxes with the name/s.

In a quick search of the first page, I counted two cases in the District court in Hyattsville, six in the District court in Frederick County, and five in the District court in Silver Spring. These are all cases involving real property in which Hijazi is listed as “Attorney.” In fact, Hijazi is a party in each. On the entire page of 25 cases, only seven were handled in Circuit Court (none of those in P. G.).

Second page, another 25 results. All 25 were handled in District courts–fourteen in Rockville; one in Glen Burnie; ten in Hyattsville. For those of you keeping score at home, seven of the Hyattsville cases date from 2016 or 2017 and are currently listed as “ACTIVE.”

Presumably there is still hope for those homeowners. Sadder are all the cases listed as “CLOSED.”

Third page, another 25 results. Not all are indicated as foreclosures, but most involve real property and are being processed in District courthouses with Hijazi as the “Attorney” for his company as party–twenty in all, with five in the Upper Marlboro District Court and the rest in the Hyattsville District Court.

As a citizen, I am beginning to wish that our Judicial Disabilities Commission would take an interest in this pattern.

It also looks like a viable class action lawsuit. That could be hard to pull off, admittedly; people who have already been forced out of their homes might be hard to find.

More to come.

 

 

 

“Important Notice about Eviction”

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Imagine coming home and finding a notice posted on your front door:

A person who claims the right to possess this property believes that this property is abandoned.

You just got home–from work, errands, visits. You’ve lived in the house for years; it’s your home. You and your relatives know the house well; so do your near neighbors. “Abandoned?” Potted plants on the front porch, porch furniture in place, house furnishings visible through the windows–this is abandoned?

Sad to say, some people who find such a notice on their front doors just leave. They don’t fight it. They just go, taking with them whatever belongings they can carry. They think it’s a done deal: they’ve been evicted. It’s over. Silent as it is, the printed word speaks.

But it’s not over. A neighbor of mine had this experience, some while back. Her particular posting, titled “IMPORTANT NOTICE ABOUT EVICTION,” told the homeowner,

If you are currently residing in the property, you must immediately contact:

Abdulla H. Hijazi, Esq., Hijazi Law Group LLC, 3231 Superior Lane Suite A-26, Bowie, Maryland 20715

with contact information via phone, fax and email.

Well, that’s one option: you could get in touch with the company that posted a notice telling you your home was abandoned. My neighbor took the wiser action of writing the judge who had jurisdiction. That took care of the abandonment claim, at least.

A call to Hijazi’s office, asking for information, has not yet been returned.

I asked the mayor of my own incorporated community what the homeowner should do. He had a quicker measure: “Call the police.” If you feel yourself to be intimidated, if you feel threatened, then put in a call to the police. The town administrator seconded: “That’s what 911 is for.” Regrettably there is no requirement that someone posting an eviction notice is supposed to let the town know first. No one checks in at the town office beforehand. You could theoretically xerox some notices, post them on doors, and nothing would happen.

My neighbor is someone I have been acquainted with for years. I know for certain that she lives in the house, did live in it at the time of the ‘abandoned’ eviction notice, and lived in it well before.

I am convinced, furthermore, that the company posting the notice knew that the house was not abandoned. I’ve had detailed conversations with the neighbor, and she is fortunately someone who keeps documents, answers correspondence, and makes copies. I’ve leafed through one of her three-inch-plus binders. She has made every effort to do everything right.

So what is the punishment for posting something you know is not true? Well, apparently–nothing. But isn’t it against the law? Well, apparently, if the homeowner is non-white–no. Or not effectively. I mean, is the poster even required to send a letter of apology to the victim? Or is an officer of the court required to apologize to the courts for what one might consider abuse of process? Again–seems not.

Giving up is humanly understandable. I have no respect for victim-blaming. But any house lost–by someone who wanted to stay in it–is a loss for everyone. This is not just metaphysics, as in We’re-all-part-of-the-great-web. It is survival in the most practical terms: if a real-estate investor can get away with this tactic against one of your neighbors, then he can use it against you. We all need to be paying attention.

With reportedly some six thousand home foreclosures still in the hopper in Prince George’s County, it is easy to understand how homes can slip through the cracks. But the effects are horrendous.

More to come.

 

 

Why is a P. G. County official (or his family) buying up foreclosed homes?

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On October 14, 2016, my neighbor received a two-page letter from the bank holding her mortgage note, M&T Bank.

Baltimore's own M&T Bank

Baltimore’s own M&T Bank

As foreclosure letters go, it could have been worse, on paper. M&T told her that it was “reviewing” her “workout package.” “It is possible,” the bankers informed her, that “we may determine that additional information is needed.” “If we determine that additional information is needed,” they assured her, “you will receive a letter identifying any additional documents that you need to provide.” Footnoted at bottom in faint and fine print was an address–a P. O. Box in Baltimore–and an 800 number for “Mortgage account information.”

The decision would be reached within 30 days after the bank received all the required information. That would be–spelling this out–the decision as to whether my neighbor was being kicked out of her house, the home she has lived in for eighteen years.

The bank said that she would receive one of five possible replies. 1) Her mortgage eligible for repayment or forbearance. 2) Mortgage eligible for trial-period modification. 3) Mortgage approved for permanent modification. 4) Mortgage not eligible for modification. Or 5) “More information is needed to make our decision. You will be contacted either by phone or letter to request the additional information.”

In proof of its bona fides, M&T signed off with one of those truly personal touches that make you wonder how a bank with heart like this stays in business:

Sincerely,

Single Point of Contact Team

Homeowner Assistance Center

The bank auctioned her house five days later. No further communication in the interim, from any person, through any medium. The letter was dated October 6; perhaps the bank docked eight days from the thirty, jumping the gun by a mere seventeen days.

The auction did not succeed. But that’s the end of the good news.

My neighbor’s house is still in the toils of the court system. In fact, it is still embroiled in two courts–only one of them legitimately involved under Maryland law.

Unfortunately, someone with connections in P. G. County had an interest in acquiring the property. Pshaw on the facts. The homeowner had cared for her mother, who died of cancer in her nineties. She had cared for her father, who died of Alzheimer’s, also in his nineties. The homeowner had lost her County job, quite possibly because of internal politics; fell behind three months on her mortgage; and has been working since 2014 to get her life back. Her house is not even underwater. No matter. The prospective buyer has all the cards–which happen in his case to include a top-tier County job as well as four adult sons and a former wife, mother of the latter, who invest in real estate via the foreclosure stream. Adiebi Hijazi, the former wife, is seen Tuesdays and Thursdays in front of the courthouse at Upper Marlboro, purchasing properties. The family has acquired quite a few houses in P. G.–all of them, as it happens, through the court of Judge Toni Clarke. “No one meets her”: the Honorable Ms. Clarke issues decisions without a hearing, from chambers, homeowner not present. The observation that “no one” meets her is not literal, be it noted. The prospective buyer of the house is present. “He goes in ex parte.”

Why is a P. G. County official pushing through foreclosures on properties he wants to buy as an investor?

The buyer is a son of Mr. Haitham Hijazi, Director of Permitting, Inspections and Enforcement for Prince George’s County, Maryland. Hijazi has gotten favorable ink in The Washington Post for his interest in cutting red tape in permits. The Department (DPIE) itself touts Mr. Hijazi’s activities in its newsletter, published at taxpayer expense. Hijazi is one of County Executive Rushern Baker’s few holdovers from the previous County administration. DPIE’s responsibilities include identifying properties that are vacant, abandoned, foreclosed or blighted. His son, Abdullah Haitham Hijazi, Esq., is the person who appears in court to represent the family interests.

Haitham Hijazi, Director of Permitting for P. G. County

Haitham Hijazi, Director of Permitting for P. G. County

Unstated in the department newsletter is the fact that Hijazi and his family themselves invest in buying up foreclosed properties. Worse yet, he and his family members actively push the foreclosures. And worst of all, they are canny enough to push them through the District Court in Hyattsville rather than through the legally mandated route through Circuit Court.

Here’s where a brutal process, grim at best, not to say heartless to the point of becoming morally repugnant, gets odd. As another Maryland judge states with laudable clearness,

” . . . all of the Judges of the District Court are aware that foreclosure matters fall within the exclusive jurisdiction of the Circuit Court.”

Question from Ms. Average Citizen: If foreclosure is exclusively the jurisdiction of the Circuit Court, then why do homeowners have to go into the District Court in Hyattsville to try to keep from losing their homes?

My neighbor has been represented by an attorney, a couple of times in the process; has received informal assistance from attorneys; and has been in touch with other homeowners in related cases. She and others in danger of losing their houses–and some who have already lost their homes–have had to show up in courtrooms in Hyattsville.

What she/they do is bounce back and forth between the District Court in Hyattsville–which, as mentioned, is not the venue for foreclosure–and the Circuit Court system in Upper Marlboro and Annapolis–which sometimes blesses the District Court foreclosures. It’s an agonizing process or game of shuttlecock, as our British cousins would say, or ping pong, where the hapless homeowner gets batted back and forth between parties with a more moneyed interest in the real property, though none of the sweat equity. First, the courtroom of Judge Crystal Mittlesteadt (Circuit Court), who denies without a hearing the homeowner’s request for a stay of proceedings. Then, the courtroom of Judge Brian Denton (Hyattsville, District Court), who at least listens to the homeowner, in appearance pro se. (In this particular matter, Judge Denton granted a continuance. That gave the prospective buyer more time but arguably gave the homeowner same. More to the point, the Hyattsville court did not have jurisdiction in the first place.) Then, another Hyattsville courtroom, where the homeowner’s continuance is denied. (“People get a continuance for missing a bus.” Again, shouldn’t have been there anyway.) In this case, denying the continuance requesnt meant that the Hyattsville judge “gave him my property.” Again, fortunately, it didn’t stick.

Imagine being in your house, living in your home, where you have lived for years, and facing the constant threat of losing the house any month. Any week. Any day. From a public policy perspective, what is the upside here?

Back to the court system, if ‘system’ is the term–

On a briefly happier note, the homeowner asked the (last) judge to reconsider, and the judge granted the request. The case then went to Hyattsville Judge Clayton Aarons, who ruled that the homeowner had to put up $7,500. A previous employer of the homeowner stepped in and put up the money. One for the good guys.

The case is now back in Circuit Court. The homeowner could not afford the constant legal help necessary to shepherd the matter through five or six courtrooms. Aside from the bank or the eager investor, who can afford such legal help? Pro bono legal work is not available for foreclosures, according to my neighbor. The University of Maryland legal clinic had a good guy available to help, and help he did. But he died in December 2016.

The interested real-estate-investor buyers in these cases have more options. They always have more cash and more financing than a homeowner in arrears, and more ability to hire legal talent.

They also have more legal talent on the bench–their bench–according to the accounts I’m hearing. In Prince George’s County, they have Judge Clarke. She “never decides for the homeowner.”

Questions emailed to County Executive Baker and DPIE Director Hijazi have not been returned.

More to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Middle Class Needs Legal Aid, Too

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Middle class needs legal aid too

In a sad, terrifying piece titled “Foreclosure’s Final Act,” today’s Washington Post reports a rare glimpse of our courtrooms from the perspective of the ordinary citizen:

“The court clerk calls his name, and Harry Rexrode, not entirely sure what to do, steps to the defendant’s table. He is dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt with dried paint spattered on the sleeves and work boots. He has no attorney.

“In a stern tone,Prince George’s County Circuit Judge Herman Dawson asks Rexrode whether he knows what is happening to him.

Rexrode, 50, nods his head.

“I want to see if I can get a continuance,” he says.

Dawson grins, as if amused by Rexrode’s use of the legal term. “A continuance? For what?”

“To stay,” Rexrode says.

“Rexrode is seeking a miracle really, in a place where there are precious few. He is in the county’s foreclosure court, asking Dawson to let him remain in the Hyattsville home he has owned since 1997 a little longer before the bank takes it and he is put out in the cold.”

This particular report is set in a courtroom in Prince George’s County, Md., where I live. It could have been set in any county in the larger Washington, D.C., region.

More on that below. The point to start with is that the report shows what happens not just to the poor, but to ordinary middle-class people, in this large and wealthy nation of ours, once they land in court.

One of the horrors of our legal system is one that has been too little reported: Judges in our courts are often inclined not to listen to parties who appear without an attorney. This might make sense in many legal cases, especially criminal matters, though it is awfully hard on the parties involved.

But telling Party A, or Party B, that he/she ‘should have gotten a lawyer’ is counter-intuitive to the point of abuse in some kinds of cases—particularly those cases where the party, whether plaintiff or defendant, is in court in the first place for financial reasons—in other words, for being cash-strapped.

From the Post:

“Courtrooms such as this across theWashingtonregion are the forums where banks ask judges to grant a default decree so they can take ownership of a home, and people such as Rexrode try to reverse or delay that decision.

They are almost always too late, and tragically ill-equipped to do so. Seated in Dawson’s nondescript courtroom, most share a look of puzzlement, fearful about their futures and uncertain of how the legal system works. They sound confused when the judge begins to pepper them with questions about dates of missed payments and when the bank began warning them about default. Few offer any evidence to support their claims.

“Have you talked to a lawyer?”Dawsonasks Rexrode.

“I didn’t know I needed one,” Rexrode responds.

Dawson, who often hears criminal and juvenile cases and has a reputation for toughness, shakes his head. Then he says something he will repeat over and over all day.

“You don’t come to court without a lawyer. This is the problem.”

That is a judge’s perspective. From the perspective of the ordinary citizen, one problem is landing in the courtroom of a judge who insists that everyone should get a lawyer.

At this point it is necessary to note that judges are not all alike. Some judges are better than others (demonstrating that the other judges could improve). Some judges, to their eternal credit, understand that people already drowning in a sea of debt are not in good position to pay a lawyer’s bills. Some judges appear to realize that most legal aid organizations—whether public entities or non-profits—provide lawyers only for proven indigents.

The unpalatable truth is that, if you are still in your house, you still have assets on the books—even if you are in arrears, even if you are facing foreclosure. And while you have assets on paper, forget about getting legal aid for free. Free legal aid has to go to the people who need it most urgently, in our system of legal triage—indigents on the street, mentally ill indigents who should never have ended up in the legal system to begin with, indigents facing the death penalty—whether or not their court-appointed defense counsel fell asleep during their capital trial.

Legal aid at reduced cost, at a sliding scale connected to income, is available only to a limited extent. The waiting lists of potential clients in any populous area far exceed the numbers of attorneys available to do pro bono work.

This particular newspaper article concerns people whose houses are being taken away from them by foreclosure. Sad to say, the basic situation is portrayed here with utmost realism: These people get dragged into court because they cannot pay their bills—and the first thing the judge says to them, with a certain obliviousness to the fact that lawyers cost money, is something along the lines of ‘You should have gotten a lawyer’ or ‘Where is your lawyer?’ or ‘Why didn’t you get a lawyer?’ And then the judge treats them like deadbeats for not hiring a lawyer—even while the legal system is punishing these hapless defendants for having run up bills. For having run up debt. For having spent money. For not having money left.

I can understand the impatience of a judge who—having put in years of hard work, first in law school and then in the legal system—has to put up with listening to uninformed people (of all classes/incomes) mangle legal language and degrade legal principles. I sincerely appreciate the occasional irritation of a judge faced with a party who clearly watched too much courtroom television at some point. More broadly, we can always find ways as spectators after the fact to divine what the out-of-money fellow citizen should have done, even if we did not do same ourselves: You should have lived with your parents until you got married, instead of renting an apartment. You should have postponed college until you could pay for it with cash. You should have waited to buy a car until you could pay for it outright, without financing.

Sure.

But even the most hard-nosed among us—that would be you, Mr. Will and Mr. Limbaugh, and by the way it’s not my country I’m blaming; it’s you—do not say, You should have waited to buy a house until you could pay for it outright. Lenders and the real estate agents themselves never, never, never took that line. (I bought my house in the go-go Eighties, and I still remember the puzzlement of the lender when I paid 20 percent of the price in down payment. His attitude was, since no one was forcing me to do so, why was I doing it?)

But back to our courtrooms.

Court

There are ironies in saying ‘You should have hired a lawyer’ to someone in court being foreclosed, or to someone in court declaring bankruptcy. But the Catch-22 problem is not confined to people in court for financial matters. It also faces people with difficulties in family court—not only in Prince George’s County but also in neighboring Montgomery County.

I watched firsthand, in one family court in Montgomery County, a Family Law Master who began every proceeding—child support, visitation, divorce, separation, every proceeding without exception—asking the party whether s/he had hired a lawyer. This in spite of large signs all over the courthouse, conspicuously saying that in Montgomery County, persons appearing pro se are (supposed to be) treated like those appearing with a lawyer.

Sure.

This particular Master took the same line even where the case was a simple matter of enforcing an agreement already settled by the courts, and even in cases so small that the amount of court award would be less than a lawyer’s bill.

In another courtroom devoted for the day to small family law cases, the judge entered—some minutes late—at exactly the same time as the attorney in the upcoming case. The opposing party, waiting in the courtroom, had no attorney, and lost a simple request that a previous court order, compelling the ex-husband to make a will to protect the minor in the case, be enforced.

In no way is this scene unusual. InMaryland, state and local judges are nominally elected by the people, but the judicial candidates are previously selected by—basically—other lawyers. A judge has every incentive to throw jobs to fellow attorneys.

Besides, attorneys are also hurting in the current economic downtown, particularly those in a small firm or in a solo practice who finished law school in debt, and they always need work.

 

Lawyers have to eat, too

However, hiring a lawyer, even if the client goes deeper into the hole to do so, is no guarantee of success:

“Terry Reeley of Bowie has an attorney. He speaks for her in court but is unable to convince Dawson that the bank failed to notify her about the default in a timely manner.

“”The judge didn’t want to hear anything,” Reeley says later. “We could see sitting there that he didn’t want to hear what people had to say. He was just tossing people and their lives out the door. Now I have no idea when the sheriffs will come and say ‘You’re out.’ ”

Reeley and her husband ran into financial problems after they lost their garage door business in October 2007. They fell behind on their mortgage, but she said she was unaware of the foreclosure and the sale of her four-bedroomCape Codhome until a notice was taped to her front door.

Dawson orders Reeley and her husband to pay $60.82 a day to the bank until they leave the property or are evicted. Reeley runs from the courtroom and falls into the arms of her best friend. “This isn’t fair,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They stole my house.”

As it happens, another Post article ran this morning on how Vice President Biden is going to head a task force on issues facing the middle class. This effort should be supported.

One issue is how inutile our courts too often are for protecting the middle class. There are some good places to start dealing with this broad and widespread problem.

1) Legal task forces. The legal profession could put up some of its money in a team effort, as trial lawyers have done on some other issues, to protect clients from attorneys who do not do the job they were hired to do.

2) Subsidized legal aid. Competent, qualified legal aid—could be subsidized for every individual in foreclosure for financial reasons, with some conditions. Many lawyers, as stated above, need work. Surely the talent could be found.

3) Legal aid for child support. Legal help could be subsidized for custodial parents trying to stay in the middle class with a little help from child support.

4) Better child-support legislation. Legislation might help more in getting the non-custodial parent to pay part of the minor’s educational expenses. (In Maryland, financial support for the minor ends when the minor turns eighteen; thus the non-custodial parent is free to wash his hands of college expenses. This, btw, is an incentive for divorce/family abandonment in hard times.)

5) Better oversight on foreclosures. Legislation could require any bank or other lender attempting to foreclose to meet certain conditions including subjecting itself to careful review of its lending practices, executive compensation, and investment practices.

Et cetera.