Chapter 3: The Dossier of Ruin

The eviction notice arrived on a Thursday, slapped to Liam's door with all the ceremony of a parking ticket. The legal language was dense and intimidating, but the message was simple: pay the new rent rate of $1,950 per month or vacate the premises within thirty days.

Liam photographed the notice from three different angles before peeling it off his door. Even in his anger, his designer's instincts kicked in—proper documentation required good lighting and clear resolution.

Inside his apartment, he called Ava Chen.

"It's illegal," she said after he read her the notice. "Textbook retaliation. We can fight this."

"How long will that take?"

"Months. Maybe longer if he appeals." Chen's voice carried a note of frustration. "The system isn't designed for quick resolution, Mr. Carter. Justice takes time."

Liam looked around his cramped studio—at the water stains still visible on the wall, at the space heater he'd need again when winter returned, at the three years of his life he'd invested in making this place livable. Months of legal battles while living under Croft's escalating harassment suddenly seemed unbearable.

"What if I just move?"

"Then we lose leverage. Tenant protection laws are stronger when you're still in possession of the property."

"But I'd be free of him."

Chen was quiet for a moment. "Mr. Carter, what's your primary goal here? Staying in that apartment, or making sure Silas Croft faces consequences for his actions?"

The question clarified everything. Liam didn't want to stay—he wanted justice.

"Consequences," he said.

"Then move. But before you do, we're going to make sure Croft pays for every single violation he's committed. We're going to document everything wrong with that building and report it to every relevant city agency. By the time we're done, he'll wish he'd treated you with basic human decency."

That evening, Liam began his reconnaissance. He'd lived in the building for three years, but he'd never really examined it with a critical eye. Now, armed with a camera and a notepad, he started seeing things differently.

The front steps were cracked and uneven—a tripping hazard that violated city safety codes. The handrail was loose, wobbling under even light pressure. Inside, the hallway lighting was dim and inconsistent, with several bulbs burned out and never replaced.

But the real problems were hidden behind walls and beneath floorboards.

Liam started with his own apartment, documenting everything he'd lived with but never formally complained about. The electrical outlet in his kitchen that sparked when he unplugged appliances. The window that wouldn't close properly, leaving gaps that let in cold air and noise. The bathroom fan that hadn't worked since he'd moved in, creating moisture problems that had warped the floor tiles.

Each issue went into his growing digital file, photographed from multiple angles and cross-referenced with relevant building codes he'd researched online.

But Liam's apartment was just the beginning.

On Friday evening, he knocked on the door of 2A. Mrs. Rodriguez answered—a nervous woman in her sixties who'd lived in the building longer than anyone else.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Liam said, "but I'm having some issues with Mr. Croft, and I'm wondering if you've experienced similar problems."

Mrs. Rodriguez glanced nervously down the hallway before stepping back to let him in. Her apartment was a mirror image of his own, but somehow felt even smaller and more oppressive.

"You're the one who hired the lawyer," she said. It wasn't a question.

"You heard about that?"

"Mr. Croft called all the tenants. Warned us not to talk to you." She wrung her hands, clearly torn between fear and frustration. "But I'm tired of being afraid of him."

Mrs. Rodriguez had been living with problems that made Liam's seem minor by comparison. Her heater hadn't worked properly in two winters, forcing her to rely on space heaters that drove her electric bill sky-high. The pipes in her bathroom leaked constantly, creating a mold problem that aggravated her asthma. Most seriously, her fire escape window was painted shut—a violation that could prove deadly in an emergency.

"Have you reported any of this?" Liam asked.

"To who? Mr. Croft just tells me to fix it myself or move out." She showed him a stack of maintenance requests, all ignored. "I can't afford to move. I'm on a fixed income."

"What if I told you there are laws that require him to fix these problems? And agencies that will force him to comply?"

Mrs. Rodriguez looked at him with a mixture of hope and skepticism. "You really think someone would listen?"

"I think we're about to find out."

Over the next week, Liam systematically documented every violation in the building. He gained access to the basement and found a furnace that looked like it belonged in a museum, with exposed asbestos insulation and a venting system that violated multiple safety codes. The electrical panel was a maze of unlabeled circuits and jury-rigged connections that would make any inspector cringe.

The building's rear exit—required by fire codes—was blocked by Croft's personal storage, making it impossible to use in an emergency. The roof had multiple leaks that had caused water damage throughout the top floor. Even the building's plumbing was a disaster, with the main line showing signs of the same corrosion that had caused Liam's flood.

Each violation was photographed, researched, and cross-referenced with city codes. Liam's graphic design background proved invaluable—he created detailed reports that were both comprehensive and visually compelling, with clear photos and precise measurements.

By the end of the week, he had a dossier that read like an indictment of everything wrong with urban housing. Forty-seven distinct code violations, ranging from minor maintenance issues to serious safety hazards that put lives at risk.

Mrs. Rodriguez wasn't his only ally. Tommy Chen—no relation to his lawyer—lived in 1B and worked nights as a security guard. He'd been dealing with a broken lock on his door for six months, a problem that made him feel unsafe every time he left for work. Sarah Walsh in 3A was a nursing student whose studies were constantly interrupted by her upstairs neighbor's footsteps, made worse by the building's lack of proper sound insulation.

Each tenant had their own horror stories, their own ignored maintenance requests, their own examples of Croft's contempt for basic habitability standards. More importantly, each tenant was willing to provide written statements documenting their experiences.

On Monday morning, exactly two weeks after receiving the eviction notice, Liam made his phone call.

"City Building Inspection Department, this is Janet."

"I'd like to report multiple code violations at a residential building," Liam said, his voice steady despite the magnitude of what he was about to unleash.

"What's the nature of the violations?"

Liam looked at his carefully organized dossier—forty-seven pages of documented negligence and safety hazards.

"I think it would be easier if I email you my report," he said. "This is going to require a comprehensive inspection."

As he hit send on the email that would change everything, Liam felt a cold satisfaction settle in his chest. Croft had spent years treating his tenants like they didn't matter, like their safety and comfort were irrelevant as long as the rent checks cleared.

Now it was time for the city to remind Silas Croft that some things mattered more than profit. And if the inspection went the way Liam expected, those reminders were going to be very, very expensive.

The building inspector was scheduled to arrive Thursday morning. Liam marked the date on his calendar and began planning his move to a new apartment. He'd found a place across town—more expensive, but clean and well-maintained, with a landlord who actually returned phone calls.

But before he left 428 Maple Street forever, he was going to make sure Silas Croft understood the cost of treating people like disposable income streams.

The war was entering its final phase, and Liam had just deployed his most powerful weapon.