I asked my son-in-law to turn the music down because it was driving me crazy, and in front of his friends he said to me, “This is my house, you crazy old woman. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” My daughter looked down. So did I. But instead of crying, I opened my purse, took out a piece of paper that had been folded for 23 days, and laid it on the table…

I realized that I had allowed this disrespect to continue because I was terrified of losing my relationship with my daughter or being left alone in my old age. I picked up the phone and called my nephew, Derrick, who was a successful attorney living in the upscale part of the city.

We had not spoken in a long time, but he listened to my story with a patient silence that made me feel like I was finally being heard by someone who cared. “Aunt Joanne, you need to understand that legally that man has absolutely no right to step foot on your property if you do not want him there,” he said firmly.

We met two days later at his office where I presented him with the original deed to the house, my bank statements, and the ledger where I had recorded every loan. Derrick reviewed the paperwork and told me that the best way to handle the situation was to serve Tyson with a formal thirty day notice of voluntary eviction.