I’ve spent the last year putting documentation together, learning law, reading case law, and preparing for this. I have a binder that holds the 12 page lawsuit I wrote myself but have yet to file, and a paper trail long enough to wrap around the earth.
This is my story of small town corruption, the systems in place that are meant to protect my rights that completely failed me, a greedy, fraudulent nonprofit, and fraudulent insurance companies. If you grew up in a small town, live in a small town, or just have a special place in your heart for small towns, you will want to read about why this “do good” nonprofit ignored every attempt I made at communicating with them leading up to my wrongful eviction, and for the same reason every person and entity in their pocket contributed to what #smalltownamerica fights every day.
RUPCO, the judge who presided over my case, my dirtbag bully of an attorney Mike Bruno, Erie Insurance, and Ryan and Ryan Insurance have all gotten away with fraud, breaking the law, not following proper court procedures, malpractice, breach of contract, breach of lease, neglect, breaking into my store, lies lies lies, and so much more.
The only person who has suffered consequences of any kind is me. I am the person who did everything right, everything I was supposed to, have always been an excellent tenant at every single place I have lived or operated a business out of, always paid rent on time or early, communicated with my landlords when necessary, I am honest, and I have integrity. Up until I had my store I never had anything that I felt proud of or that gave me purpose. I hid in shame of who I was.
My store changed my life. I have fought for one thing my entire life: independence. Independence, autonomy, agency, and my own money so that no one could control me. I wanted to build something I could be proud of and gave me a sense of purpose. It was not just a store to me. It was my home.I did not have to deal with an abusive man controlling every single fucking thing I did. I went home to my apartment and it was mine. My sanctuary. Paid for by me. Everything in it was paid for by me. Everything in my store was paid for by me. It was mine, and no one could threaten me with it, use it against me, throw it in my face, or take it from me. I didn’t have to live someone else’s life just to have a roof over my fucking head. Gone were the days of checking myself into a hospital at the end of a relationship because I was so fucked up I couldn’t take care of myself, I couldn’t hold down a job or keep a roof over my head. I wouldn’t ever have to run away again. I could finally put down roots and build something for myself. I finally had things that I have never had in my entire life: safety and stability. Provided by me. And I have tried so hard throughout my life to have those things. I didn’t even have a chance to truly get my business off the ground. I was faced with one hardship after another, and on top of the emotional fallout of each hardship, it cost me an ungodly amount of money. I took out loans and ran up credit card debt that I otherwise would never have had to do.
Power and money. Money and power. Those two things, if abused and/or had in abundance, make a person think, feel, and act as though they are above everyone else and that they are untouchable — because the world has taught them that they are.
Here’s a quick glimpse into what my day is: I don’t leave my apartment during the day anymore. I don’t go anywhere or do anything unless it’s dark out and I stay up until the sun comes up. Every day at about 5 PM when I stop doing work on my computer and I no longer have a distraction, I start ruminating about what every single person who had a hand in this did to me. And I get angry. I start ruminating about the fact that every single space that I rented in Saugerties created hardship for me. From the very beginning. 2 MONTHS after I opened my store at 190 Main st. in December of 2018 I was constructively evicted. The landlord at 110 Partition St. wrote me a back check for my security deposit, which took me 8 months and a court date — where I was told by the judge that I was “not to speak”, also traumatic. The landlord for my apartment stalked, harassed, and intimidated me to the point that my attorney told him if he stepped foot in my store again I would get a restraining order against him. Did that stop him? No. And the final nail in the coffin, what happened at 86 Partition St. with RUPCO.
Before signing a lease, I had a conversation with my initial point of contact at RUPCO about the previous experiences I had with landlords in Saugerties. I wanted to make it clear that I was not interested in going through that again; what I was interested in was building a robust and long lasting business relationship in which there was a healthy level of communication, transparency, mutual trust, and respect. After that conversation took place, I believed that’s what I would have. I believed it was ok for me to let my guard down and let myself finally be excited. I felt like I was renting a space from the type of organization that actually cared whether or not I succeeded. I felt like I was finally going to be able to begin to put roots down and build my business.
RUPCO and RUPCO’s insurance companies did me dirtier than any of the others.
They had to get me out of that space.
They weren’t going to risk losing the 1.125 million dollar sale on a property they paid less than $110,000 for, making a million dollar profit - but failing to report it - and everything else - to the IRS for the last 3 consecutive years as well as year 2020, in total, missing 4 years of tax filings. A sale that went through right after I got the boot. A sale that they cited the housing crisis as being its cause, while at the same time putting me in the position of being homeless. A sale after which the CEO went and bought himself a shiny new car. Coincidence? Possibly. But probably not. All I have ever wanted in my life was to be able to take care of myself and be independent. To most people those things don’t seem all that special, and plenty of people are happy having a spouse or partner foot the bill. I have never been that person. (No judgement at all if that’s your thing.) The thing is, when someone gives you money, you give them power and control. You are at their mercy. For that matter, any time anyone has anything that you want or need they have the ability to control you, manipulate you, exploit you and anything else they choose to do.
I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I didn’t get a chance to look at it again. I couldn’t. It was far too painful. My apartment is 10 feet from where it was and I have not even looked down the street it was on; I have all the blinds in my apartment on that side of the street drawn. I have no children, no family, no romantic relationship; the store was it and it fulfilled me plenty. I had dreams and goals and I was well on track for reaching them.
There have been many times in my life when I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I have ALWAYS been able to figure it out and land on my feet. Not this time. The damage is too severe, and complex trauma really screws up your executive functioning abilities.
I couldn’t make sense of why RUPCO ignored me throughout this entire nightmare, or why someone helped themselves to my store on December 16th, setting off my alarm, and when the police got there whoever was hiding in the back room told them that he was my “landlord looking for an apartment”. I watched the entire thing on surveillance, and told whoever was in the store that the police were on their way. Whoever it was did not show their face or speak to me, but one of the many questions I asked in a letter I sent to RUPCOs CEO, COO and senior property manager after I was wrongfully evicted, was the name of that person. I didn’t get an answer to a single question that I asked. Instead? I was low key bribed and instead I got a letter from RUPCO’s insurance agency requesting I submit documentation for the claim that had recently been submitted on my behalf.
Thank you for finally admitting fault, RUPCO.
All of the questions I asked are questions that my useless bully of an attorney should have asked but instead partook in some ex parte communication with the judge before I had even sat down when I got to court, after which he said, “That judge isn’t going to side with you”, and when I asked WHY he said, “We’re not going to get into that right now”. I would have challenged him but he was so unstable that I was afraid that if I did his teeny tiny head would explode and he would get up and leave. I was already unimpressed by him because he complained that I sent him too much information/evidence, that he made painfully obvious he didn’t bother to look at before coming to court. His ego made him shit at his job, and he completely failed me. It felt as though he was on RUPCO’s side, not mine. He told me I have no rights and RUPCO owes me nothing, even though HE pointed out that the clause in the lease that RUPCO was basing their entire eviction on was against public policy and could not be enforced. He pointed this out to me in court, yet he did not argue it. He did not argue any of the multitude of things that would have gotten the case tossed. I paid him $1000 to drive to court and literally do nothing except agree to something - after I had left that - I said under no circumstances would I agree to, which was me being tossed on my ass with a $47,000 judgment.
If the judge who presided over this had his way I would have been tossed on my ass from my apartment and my store within 4 months of each other. He has sent the message that it is ok for landlords to not follow through on what they say they are going to do so that your (very expensive) apartment is livable and you are happy and comfortable in your home. If I didn’t have the over $10,000 in rent to pay my landlord for my apartment I would have been out on my ass. Rent that I was fully within my rights to withhold, and finally did so after a YEAR of him telling me he’s “researching” and and countless complaints, but that’s another very long nightmare of a story. A small town judge did not allow a resident and business owner in the town that he presides over, a town in which he was a police officer for 4 years, to present her defense on 2 separate occasions, ignored 3 orders to show cause, and ignored a letter I hand delivered that revealed personal information that he has a moral and ethical obligation to act on.
Women like to think that we’re equals but we’re not. Men in positions of power do not like intelligent women who speak their mind. It threatens the status quo, and if the status quo is corrupt, then it really makes them squirm.
I have complex PTSD from what I have gone through in Saugerties. I feel like someone took over my body and my mind and I don’t know who I am. Every unheard word further feeds this rage I have and triggers horrific anxiety. My mind isn’t functioning; it’s unlike anything I have ever experienced. I have had depression and depressive episodes throughout my entire life; this has far surpassed any of the worst depressive episodes I have ever had. I walk around in a fog, shaking, with swollen eyes, a dry mouth, barely able to process my thoughts or what’s going on around me. I have no appetite. I am so sleep deprived that I doze off driving on the Thruway; I don’t feel tired when I get in the car, but all of a sudden it’s like I’ve been drugged and I can’t keep my eyes open — sometimes a sign that another migraine is coming. I've ended up sleeping at rest stops at least 2 dozen times in the last two years. I've slept at the rest stop that's only a few miles from my exit because I am unable to keep my eyes open and I don't want to risk hurting my dogs or other people on the road. My stomach hurts all the time which has been going on for so long I’m fairly certain that on top of gastritis, IBS, and colitis I have something more serious and possibly irreversible going on. My joints ache. The cold makes my hands hurt so bad that I scream. The chronic stress → trauma has triggered autoimmune issues. Trauma does that. The only thing I have going for me is self awareness, and I suppose that's not nothing.
Do unto others is bullshit. You won't see your behavior mirrored in other people by behaving a certain way yourself. Your kindness, generosity, goodness, empathy, reliability won't be reciprocated by others simply because you are those things. Anything that you do, your virtues, your principles and morals, the core of who you are as a person, be those things because those are the standards you set for yourself, not because you expect the same from others in return. You won’t get it, and you'll end up angry and resentful. In fact, the more honest you are, the kinder, the more empathetic and generous - the more vulnerable you are to narcissists, sociopaths, and assholes.
The presence of one person’s pain, regardless of the reason(s), does not diminish someone else’s. A story that one person chooses to share is not meant to be compared with another person’s.
"It could be worse" is on my list of "THE TOP 5 WORST PHRASES IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE". "It could be worse" is meant to offer perspective. But that's not what it does. It's dismissive. It minimize what you're going through. It makes you feel stupid for thinking that whatever it is you're going through is bad enough to talk about, think about, or care about. Could it be worse? Maybe. Maybe not. But in that moment, there may not be anything that could be worse to the person going through it. The next time someone says that to you? Ask them how it could be worse. If they say you could be missing an arm or a leg, cut them out of your life.
When someone chooses to allow themselves to be vulnerable and share their story, their pain is not meant to be compared or quantified. People share their stories for many reasons. Sometimes it’s just to get it out so it doesn’t poison their bodies. Sometimes it’s to raise awareness. Sometimes it’s for attention - which isn't always a bad thing; attention doesn't always = "thirsty" in the way that it's talked about on social media. People need attention for a lot of different reasons, and you could be offering a huge kindness by giving your's to someone. And sometimes people share their story because they have run out of options and they feel they have lost the battle that they have been fighting - both with other people and within themselves; they are exhausted, they are overwhelmed, and they don’t know what else to do. They tell their story with the hope that the right person will see it and help them.
I’m telling my story knowing that, if it gets the attention it deserves, there will be people who say stupid shit just to say stupid shit. There will be people who will question what I've said. There will be people who make idiotic, ignorant comments. And I do not, in any way shape or form, have the patience or desire to deal with it. I don't want to have to deal with any of this bullshit, but I wasn't given a choice. So here I am, and even if I throw up or have 27 panic attacks in the process, which is entirely plausible, I'm telling my story. If it gives just one person the strength to do the same or makes someone feel less alone, it will be entirely worth it.
I hope that you will follow along as I tell my story, look at the pictures and read the documents I post, watch the videos I share, and help me fight the fight.
I’ve spent the last year putting documentation together, learning law, reading case law, and preparing for this. I have a binder that holds the 12 page lawsuit I wrote myself but have yet to file, and a paper trail long enough to wrap around the earth.
This is my story of small town corruption, the systems in place that are meant to protect my rights that completely failed me, a greedy, fraudulent nonprofit, and fraudulent insurance companies. If you grew up in a small town, live in a small town, or just have a special place in your heart for small towns, you will want to read about why this “do good” nonprofit ignored every attempt I made at communicating with them leading up to my wrongful eviction, and for the same reason every person and entity in their pocket contributed to what #smalltownamerica fights every day.
RUPCO, the judge who presided over my case, my dirtbag bully of an attorney Mike Bruno, Erie Insurance, and Ryan and Ryan Insurance have all gotten away with fraud, breaking the law, not following proper court procedures, malpractice, breach of contract, breach of lease, neglect, breaking into my store, lies lies lies, and so much more.
The only person who has suffered consequences of any kind is me. I am the person who did everything right, everything I was supposed to, have always been an excellent tenant at every single place I have lived or operated a business out of, always paid rent on time or early, communicated with my landlords when necessary, I am honest, and I have integrity. Up until I had my store I never had anything that I felt proud of or that gave me purpose. I hid in shame of who I was.
My store changed my life.
I have fought for one thing my entire life: independence. Independence, autonomy, agency, and my own money so that no one could control me. I wanted to build something I could be proud of and gave me a sense of purpose. It was not just a store to me. It was my home. I did not have to deal with an abusive man controlling every single fucking thing I did. I went home to my apartment and it was mine. My sanctuary. Paid for by me. Everything in it was paid for by me. Everything in my store was paid for by me. It was mine, and no one could threaten me with it, use it against me, throw it in my face, or take it from me. I didn’t have to live someone else’s life just to have a roof over my fucking head. Gone were the days of checking myself into a hospital at the end of a relationship because I was so fucked up I couldn’t take care of myself, I couldn’t hold down a job or keep a roof over my head. I wouldn’t ever have to run away again. I could finally put down roots and build something for myself. I finally had things that I have never had in my entire life: safety and stability. Provided by me. And I have tried so hard throughout my life to have those things. I didn’t even have a chance to truly get my business off the ground. I was faced with one hardship after another, and on top of the emotional fallout of each hardship, it cost me an ungodly amount of money. I took out loans and ran up credit card debt that I otherwise would never have had to do.
Power and money. Money and power. Those two things, if abused and/or had in abundance, make a person think, feel, and act as though they are above everyone else and that they are untouchable — because the world has taught them that they are.
Here’s a quick glimpse into what my day is: I don’t leave my apartment during the day anymore. I don’t go anywhere or do anything unless it’s dark out and I stay up until the sun comes up. Every day at about 5 PM when I stop doing work on my computer and I no longer have a distraction, I start ruminating about what every single person who had a hand in this did to me. And I get angry. I start ruminating about the fact that every single space that I rented in Saugerties created hardship for me. From the very beginning. 2 MONTHS after I opened my store at 190 Main st. in December of 2018 I was constructively evicted. The landlord at 110 Partition St. wrote me a back check for my security deposit, which took me 8 months and a court date — where I was told by the judge that I was “not to speak”, also traumatic. The landlord for my apartment stalked, harassed, and intimidated me to the point that my attorney told him if he stepped foot in my store again I would get a restraining order against him. Did that stop him? No.
The final nail in the coffin was at 86 Partition St. with RUPCO.
Before signing a lease, I had a conversation with my initial point of contact at RUPCO about the previous experiences I had with landlords in Saugerties. I wanted to make it clear that I was not interested in going through that again; what I was interested in was building a robust and long lasting business relationship in which there was a healthy level of communication, transparency, mutual trust, and respect. After that conversation took place, I believed that’s what I would have. I believed it was ok for me to let my guard down and let myself finally be excited. I felt like I was renting a space from the type of organization that actually cared whether or not I succeeded. I felt like I was finally going to be able to begin to put roots down and build my business.
RUPCO and RUPCO’s insurance companies did me dirtier than any of the others.
They had to get me out of that space.
They weren’t going to risk losing the 1.125 million dollar sale on a property they paid less than $110,000 for, making a million dollar profit - but failing to report it - and everything else - to the IRS for the last 3 consecutive years as well as year 2020, in total, missing 4 years of tax filings. A sale that went through right after I got the boot. A sale that they cited the housing crisis as being its cause, while at the same time putting me in the position of being homeless. A sale after which the CEO went and bought himself a shiny new car. Coincidence? Possibly. But probably not. All I have ever wanted in my life was to be able to take care of myself and be independent. To most people those things don’t seem all that special, and plenty of people are happy having a spouse or partner foot the bill. I have never been that person. (No judgement at all if that’s your thing.) The thing is, when someone gives you money, you give them power and control. You are at their mercy. For that matter, any time anyone has anything that you want or need they have the ability to control you, manipulate you, exploit you and anything else they choose to do.
I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I didn’t get a chance to look at it again. I couldn’t. It was far too painful. My apartment is 10 feet from where it was and I have not even looked down the street it was on; I have all the blinds in my apartment on that side of the street drawn. I have no children, no family, no romantic relationship; the store was it and it fulfilled me plenty. I had dreams and goals and I was well on track for reaching them.
There have been many times in my life when I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I have ALWAYS been able to figure it out and land on my feet. Not this time. The damage is too severe, and complex trauma really screws up your executive functioning abilities.
I couldn’t make sense of why RUPCO ignored me throughout this entire nightmare, or why someone helped themselves to my store on December 16th, setting off my alarm, and when the police got there whoever was hiding in the back room told them that he was my “landlord looking for an apartment”. I watched the entire thing on surveillance, and told whoever was in the store that the police were on their way. Whoever it was did not show their face or speak to me, but one of the many questions I asked in a letter I sent to RUPCOs CEO, COO and senior property manager after I was wrongfully evicted, was the name of that person. I didn’t get an answer to a single question that I asked. Instead? I was low key bribed and instead I got a letter from RUPCO’s insurance agency requesting I submit documentation for the claim that had recently been submitted on my behalf.
Thank you for finally admitting fault, RUPCO.
All of the questions I asked are questions that my useless bully of an attorney should have asked but instead partook in some ex parte communication with the judge before I had even sat down when I got to court, after which he said, “That judge isn’t going to side with you”, and when I asked WHY he said, “We’re not going to get into that right now”. I would have challenged him but he was so unstable that I was afraid that if I did his teeny tiny head would explode and he would get up and leave. I was already unimpressed by him because he complained that I sent him too much information/evidence, that he made painfully obvious he didn’t bother to look at before coming to court. His ego made him shit at his job, and he completely failed me. It felt as though he was on RUPCO’s side, not mine. He told me I have no rights and RUPCO owes me nothing, even though HE pointed out that the clause in the lease that RUPCO was basing their entire eviction on was against public policy and could not be enforced. He pointed this out to me in court, yet he did not argue it. He did not argue any of the multitude of things that would have gotten the case tossed. I paid him $1000 to drive to court and literally do nothing except agree to something - after I had left that - I said under no circumstances would I agree to, which was me being tossed on my ass with a $47,000 judgment.
If the judge who presided over this had his way I would have been tossed on my ass from my apartment and my store within 4 months of each other. He has sent the message that it is ok for landlords to not follow through on what they say they are going to do so that your (very expensive) apartment is livable and you are happy and comfortable in your home. If I didn’t have the over $10,000 in rent to pay my landlord for my apartment I would have been out on my ass. Rent that I was fully within my rights to withhold, and finally did so after a YEAR of him telling me he’s “researching” and and countless complaints, but that’s another very long nightmare of a story. A small town judge did not allow a resident and business owner in the town that he presides over, a town in which he was a police officer for 4 years, to present her defense on 2 separate occasions, ignored 3 orders to show cause, and ignored a letter I hand delivered that revealed personal information that he has a moral and ethical obligation to act on.
Women like to think that we’re equals but we’re not. Men in positions of power do not like women who challenge them.
I have complex PTSD from what I have gone through in Saugerties. I feel like someone took over my body and my mind and I don’t know who I am. Every unheard word further feeds this rage I have and triggers horrific anxiety. My mind isn’t functioning; it’s unlike anything I have ever experienced. I have had depression and depressive episodes throughout my entire life; this has far surpassed any of the worst depressive episodes I have ever had. I walk around in a fog, shaking, with swollen eyes, a dry mouth, barely able to process my thoughts or what’s going on around me. I have no appetite. I am so sleep deprived that I doze off driving on the Thruway; I don’t feel tired when I get in the car, but all of a sudden it’s like I’ve been drugged and I can’t keep my eyes open — sometimes a sign that another migraine is coming. My stomach hurts all of the time which has been going on for so long I’m fairly certain that on top of gastritis, IBS, and colitis I have something more serious and possibly irreversible going on. My joints ache. The cold makes my hands hurt so bad that I scream. The chronic stress → trauma has triggered autoimmune issues. Trauma does that. The only thing I have going for me is self awareness, and I suppose that's not nothing.
If you think that being generous, kind, empathetic, sympathetic, reliable, or goodhearted is enough for people to reciprocate the same - you’re wrong. If you are any of those things, be those things because those are the standards you set for yourself, not because you expect the same from others in return. You won’t get it, and you will end up feeling angry and resentful. In fact, the more you are any of those things, the more vulnerable you are to narcissists, sociopaths, and assholes.
The presence of one person’s pain, regardless of the reason(s), does not diminish someone else’s. A story that one person chooses to share is not meant to be compared with another person’s. When someone chooses to allow themselves to be vulnerable and share their story, their pain is not meant to be quantified. People share their stories for many reasons. Sometimes it’s just to get it out so it doesn’t turn into poison. Sometimes it’s to raise awareness. Sometimes it’s for attention. And sometimes it’s because they feel they have lost the battle that they have been fighting, both with other people and within themselves; they are exhausted, they are overwhelmed, and they don’t know what else to do. They tell their story with the hope that the right person will see it and help them.
I’m not hiding in shame anymore. I’m telling my story even if I throw up or have 27 panic attacks in the process, which is entirely plausible. I hope that you will follow along as I tell my story, look at the pictures and read the documents I post, watch the videos I share, and help me fight the fight.
