My Family Tried to Evict Me from the Craftsman House My Grandparents Left Me
“I have not been to Los Angeles County this year,” I said.
Martha looked at me, her eyes softening behind her glasses as she saw my expression. “If you believe this document is fraudulent, you will need to file a formal dispute, but legally, this is the current deed on file.”
“How much for a certified copy of this filing?” I asked.
“Twelve dollars,” she said.
I pulled a ten-dollar bill and two ones from my wallet, my hands steady only because I forced myself to focus on the physical bills. She printed the document, stamped it with a red seal of certification, and handed it to me in a plain manila envelope.
The weight of the paper felt like a physical barrier between me and the home I loved.
Richard Morrison’s law office on Third Street was quiet when I arrived without an appointment. His assistant, an older woman named Clara, smiled from behind her desk and told me he had ten minutes between telephone consultations if I did not mind waiting.
