I moved to New York City in April 2017, in to this apartment that had been handed down through friends of friends for years. There was no written lease. It was literally steps from the train, and incredibly cheap. Perfect!
Not perfect, actually. There was one roommate who immediately appeared to be kind of strange. The other roommates seemed genuinely afraid of him. He was suspiciously groggy any time I saw him, but I just chalked this up to his night-shift work. That was generous of me, because the truth was much more serious. Let’s call him Roger, and let me explain how his weirdness became scariness as the weeks went by.
Week 1
As I sat in the living room reading, Roger asked me if I wanted to ‘split a stick’ with him. I said no thanks, then Googled what the hell that meant. Okay, Xanax. Not my cup of tea, but whatever floats your boat.
Week 2
I was walking down the hallway to my room when the cat pushed open Roger’s bedroom door, and I glanced in, curious. Rude, I know, but the guy was a complete mystery. On the corner of his bed, just sitting on top of the sheets, was a syringe. Yo. I was pretty sure the dude didn’t have diabetes. I don’t want to sound like an insensitive prude here - drug use certainly wasn’t unfamiliar to me - but I had never lived with someone who was shooting up. So. That was an interesting development.
Week 3
I would now only walk in the apartment with shoes on because I am terrified of needles and I’m also a huge paranoid baby. I felt bad for Roger, honestly. He was obviously having a hard time. I tried to cut him some slack. At least he worked nights so I didn’t see that him much.
Week 4
Roger working nights was actually not that chill for me, it turned out. He would get home from work at 6 or 7 in the morning and almost always brought loud friends with him. The noise of them talking, laughing, and listening to their favorite 17-minute long Phish songs would wake me up, and the apartment would reek of cigarettes. It was summer, and they clearly were chain-smoking cigarettes in his bedroom with the window A/C unit on and running, pushing all of the cigarette smoke right back into the house. When he had friends over they would stay hidden in his room, and if they emerged they were always white people with dreadlocks. Not cute.
Week 5
I had some friends over. We were hanging out in the living room when Roger walked into the apartment with two of his friends. They looked like they had just come in to town on a freight train. One of them was wearing a shirt with Bart Simpson’s face on it, but instead of teeth, his mouth had a giant bar of Xanax in it. The same friend had an actual bull whip attached to his belt. Kinky, yet horrifying.
Week 6
I was eating my second deli sandwich of the day the kitchen when Roger came home. He stumbled up to me and showed me a dirty hand towel. “I found this on the subway, isn’t it cool?” It was not cool. It was a dirty hand towel that thousands of people had stepped over on the floor of the subway. I nodded and went back to my sandwich. He hung the towel up on the handle of the oven. Like, where you put dish towels. That you use on clean dishes. So far, Roger had proven to be strange and off-putting, but it wasn’t until 7 weeks in that I actually got scared.
Week 7
One day, at 6 in the morning, I woke up to the sound of someone entering my room. It was Roger. He was screaming and walking towards my bed. Roger, for the records, was over 6 feet tall and 250 pounds. I'm barely more than 5 feet tall. He kept yelling and moving towards me, asking me what the fuck I was doing. Um…I’m sleeping. In my bed. In my room. Because that's what I'm usually doing at 6 in the morning. I told him he needed to calm down while also trying to cover myself up with my sheets. Not only was I getting screamed at, I was getting screamed at while not wearing pants. He kept yelling and got very close to my face, screaming “I MAKE MORE MONEY THAN YOU DO!” I started to cry, confused and scared, and he didn’t back off. I thought he was going to hit me. I grabbed my bag, ran out of the apartment and went into work three hours early, very shaken.
On my commute to work, literally trembling in an Uber, Roger texted me to ask if I wanted a Xanax to help me calm down. He also offered to help me install a lock on my door later that evening. What?
That was the last straw. He needed to go. You’re probably wondering the same thing I was that day. Can you evict a roommate for acting crazy and scaring the shit out of you? Here’s what I did. It may give you a clearer idea of what it’s like to evict a roommate.
- Collect evidence and support
I didn’t know my landlord too well - he seemed like a nice guy, but I was expecting for his response to the situation to be annoyance. I wasn’t sure if he’d realize how serious it was that a man twice my size had entered my room while I was sleeping and screamed in my face. So I thought about it from his point of view: What had Roger done that would really piss me off if he were renting my property? Easy. He smoked cigarettes inside constantly. I had text messages with him that showed that, more than once, I had asked him to stop and he not only admitted to doing it but said he’d “try to cut back.” I also consulted my roommates and asked if they’d be willing to reach out to the landlord on my behalf if I hit a wall. It made me feel better to know that I had backup ready to assist me.
- Talk to your landlord
This is where it’s really going to work in your favor if you have been a good tenant or at the very least a polite tenant. My landlord works right by my apartment, so I casually popped in, made small talk, then asked if we could talk in private. Not my proudest moment, but I did end up weeping in front of the sweet old man. He was sympathetic, although I had correctly predicted that he would be more enraged by the smoking inside the apartment thing. He asked if I could meet with him and his attorney the next day and I happily obliged. I had done a lot of research into local landlord-tenant law and knew exactly how my landlord would need to move forward, and I think that eased his mind.
- Get the papers served
The attorney was kind of a dick. I made it clear that my job entails thoroughly researching rental law literally every day, and still told me I was wrong and talked over me a lot. He seemed to be trying to convince my landlord that he shouldn’t step in because it wasn't worth his time. It worked in my favor that the attorney’s office was in the same building as my apartment, though, and I was sure to remind the attorney of the time Roger had inexplicably spilled an entire can of black paint in the hallway directly outside his office. He agreed to serve an eviction notice to Roger.
- See what happens
Roger got mad at first. He refused to talk to any of us. He said he would be gone at the end of the month then left that next weekend. We didn’t even have to take any actual legal steps in the eviction process; I think that realizing how uncomfortable he had made me and how little we wanted him around was enough. That doesn’t mean he made it easy for us, though. He refused to let anyone enter his room, so I had to find a replacement roommate for him on very short notice who was willing to commit to the room without ever seeing it. I did, and my home is a happy and safe place now.
Keep in mind: If things had escalated with Roger and become physical, that would have been really scary. But it also would have had greater legal implication for my living situation: In many states, you have the right to break your lease without penalty if you’ve been a victim of violence in the home. If he had hit me in any way and I had filed a police report, I would have been out of there ASAP. If you ever feel unsafe, get help. Filing a police report could come in handy if you need to establish a timeline of events in any court case later.
If you’re lucky, this process will go smoothly for you, too. If you’re not, we have tons of information to help you evict your roommate. We even have specific guides on what steps to take to evict your roommate in New York or California. As always, don’t hesitate to ask us any questions you may have - we’re here to help.
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Rachel Bell