Tenant Screening

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The site will allow landlords to conduct “Instant” Tenant Screening

An instant tenant screen search can either be:

• National Sex Offender

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• Statewide Eviction Search.

• Statewide Criminal Search

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From the Background Investigator

The existence of a criminal record was not an indicator of housing success

Assessing Criminal History As A Predictor of Future Housing Success

by Daniel K. Malone, M.P.H.

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This study compared the criminal backgrounds and other characteristics of homeless individuals who succeeded in housing (retained housing continuously for two years) and those who failed in housing.

METHODS: The study population consisted of homeless adults with behavioral health disorders who moved into supportive housing between January 1, 2000, and June 30, 2004, regardless of criminal background.

Data about criminal history and other characteristics were extracted from existing records and analyzed for associations with housing success. Chi square tests and logistic regression analysis were used to find characteristics predictive of subsequent housing success or failure.

RESULTS: Data were available for 347 participants. Most (51%) had a criminal record, and 72% achieved housing success. The presence of a criminal background did not predict housing failure.

Younger age at move-in, the presence of a substance abuse problem, and higher numbers of drug crimes and property crimes were separately associated with more housing failure; however, when they were adjusted for each of the other variables, only move-in age remained associated with the outcome.

CONCLUSIONS: The finding that criminal history does not provide good predictive information about the potential for housing success is important because it contradicts the expectations of housing operators and policy makers. The findings suggest that policies and practices that keep homeless people with criminal records out of housing may be unnecessarily restrictive.

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After An Eviction

By Amy Hunter, Media General News Service
Published: March 9, 2009

ABINGDON — The sense of hopelessness is palpable in the peach-colored house trimmed with green where Sunshine Jones and David Black live on White’s Mill Road.

You can see it in the stacks of unmarked cardboard boxes, stuffed haphazardly with things the couple doesn’t know where they’ll put; you can feel it in the drafts of cold air they can’t afford to heat; and you can hear it in their voices, thin and uncertain, even in the tender tones reserved for their 3-year-old son.

“We have no place to go,” Jones said. “I mean, what are we going to do?”

Jones and Black were served an eviction notice on a recent Wednesday, after defaulting on two months of their rent. As of Feb. 25, they had one week to vacate the premises.

“We’ve been looking for two months, and most of them are just ridiculous, $550 to $650 a month, even $1,200,” Black said. “There might be a few for $400, but when you get there they say you can put in an application, but there are eight to 10 ahead of you.”

Black spoke about his struggle in a shade-drawn living room two days after getting the notice. It was the third day he’d taken off work to pack, plan and prepare for the unknowns of his family’s future.

“I can’t afford to take any more time off,” he said.

As he spoke, the sound of gravel crunching underneath rolling tires filled the room. It was a sedan pulling into the driveway.

A blonde woman stepped out of the passenger side, “Is this the place that’s for rent?” she asked.

Meet Shawna Graham, of no address, Abingdon. Like Jones, Graham is a mom, with four kids to Jones’ three. Also like Jones, Graham is 29, unmarried and has little family in the area. She too, must move because she’s being evicted.

“I got the eviction notice in December, and I was told to be moved by Jan. 7,” Graham said. “I guess they’re gonna take me to court. And I don’t know what I’ll do. I guess I’ll have to ask for more time.”

Graham hasn’t paid her $500 monthly rent for her two-bedroom apartment for several months, she said. She’s been evicted, but hasn’t moved because she can’t find anywhere affordable to live.

Increasingly, families are being forced out of their homes in the Tri-Cities — both renters, and homeowners in foreclosed properties. Utility bills have shot up, unemployment is on the rise and salaries, for the lucky, have remained stagnant. For the unlucky but employed, smaller commissions, furloughs and business slowdowns mean they aren’t earning as much as they once did.

As a result, an increasing number of people are unable to make monthly home payments — be they a mortgage or rent, said Peggy Mullins, co-director at the Salvation Army in Bristol Tennessee.

Complicating the problem is a tightening rental market, Mullins said.

Nationwide, the rental market was out of balance before the recession, with 6.2 million affordable properties but 9 million low-income renters who needed them, according to the National Low Income Housing Coalition. That low-income bracket, according to the coalition, is affected first — and worst — in times of economic straits.

The problem began after the housing market spiked in 2005, and has spiraled downward since, said the coalition. Demand is up, supply is down — and that means finding an affordable place has become an almost Sisyphean task.

“Everything I’m looking at is outrageous,” Graham said the day after she pulled into Jones’ driveway. “I’m looking in Abingdon, Bristol, everywhere, the Internet, newspapers. I mean, there is just nothing. I can’t afford $600 or $700 a month. I have four kids.”

The evicted

Louise Carter is on the cusp of homelessness. The 56-year-old and her 62-year-old husband rent an apartment on 6th Street in downtown Bristol, and have lived there for six years, she said. Not long ago, they welcomed their 16-year-old grandson into their home.

In October, two weeks after paying rent on time, “which we always do,” Carter said, the family got a letter from their landlord saying they needed to vacate their home due to renovations he planned to make.

“Honey, I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve gone street to street. And everywhere, rent is just too high,” she said. “We’re on a fixed income, and they all want a deposit and first month’s rent, which is $500 or more, everywhere.”

Carter and her husband, both retired, get $800 a month in benefits, such as Social Security. They have no savings, and little family — Carter has a brother in North Carolina where they can go as a last resort, she said, “but Bristol is home, this is where I live.”

Carter volunteers at the Salvation Army to help those in more need than she is, and that’s how Mullins knows her.

“I tell you, if you drive around the neighborhood, you won’t see any ‘For Rent’ signs,” Mullins said after Carter finished telling her story. “The landlords who advertise in the newspaper can afford ads, and so they’re renting properties that have a higher price.”

But, Mullins said, “I don’t think [Carter’s landlord] is being unfair to them. And I’m not against landlords, or evictions. I know families who move every three months. I say they have champagne taste with a beer budget.”

The Salvation Army assists those in need, Mullins said. They don’t help with deposits on new apartments, or first-month rents, but they do help people before they get evicted.

“We give emergency assistance; shelter, food, financial help for medications and bills,” Mullins said. “There is a cap off, and we only help the same person once in a 12-month period.”

The Salvation Army is being bombarded, she said. They have double the number of cases they’ve helped with utilities and rent than they did this time last year.

“We’re paying out more for electric bills than anything else,” Mullins said. “Anytime you have one thing go up, it’s gonna shortchange you elsewhere.”

The rental market

Gauging precisely how tight the local rental market has become is difficult, because no single government body or organization oversees it. Instead, one can only take a snapshot of what’s available.

A brief skim of the classified section in last Sunday’s newspaper offers some proof of a tightening market for private rentals. Of about 50 listings, only five were $400 a month or less, two were for $450, and the rest were $500 and above. What’s more, all seven listed under $500 were for one-bedroom apartments.

And if you open up the phone book, you’ll see that of about 100 listings for apartment complexes in the Tri-Cities, only 12 are in Bristol.

City-Data.com, a Web site that compiles data on cities, reports that the median gross rent in Bristol Virginia is $561.

Those in extremely low-income brackets, meaning they earn less than 30 percent of the area median household income, might qualify for public housing or the housing choice subsidy program. The median household income in Bristol Virginia is $39,706, so those in this category earn less than about $12,000 a year.

The housing choice program, formerly known as Section 8, subsidizes a percentage of rent based on family size, household income and number of bedrooms needed, said David Baldwin, executive director of the city’s Redevelopment Housing Authority.

But even for those who qualify, getting a place could take up to a year because the program is as overwhelmed as the private market, Baldwin said.

“If someone came in today, it could very likely take a year before we could issue … payments,” he said. “This is pretty unusual for us. It used to be four months, and that number has about tripled.”

Public housing units, of which the city has 411, are at 98 percent occupancy, he said. However, because of high turnover, the waiting period for this program is shorter for qualified applicants, about six months, depending on the circumstances, Baldwin said.

Adding to the problem are skyrocketing utility bills, Baldwin said. In public housing units, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development pays the utilities, and the higher rates have strained the agency’s budget, which is set at the beginning of each year. So far, 2009 cost projections have fallen considerably short.

Landlords: The evictors

The worst payback landlords Charles and Teresa Berg can remember came from a tenant they evicted from a property in Tennessee owned by their children.

The tenant’s weapon of choice: his own feces.

“He smeared it around everywhere, the floor, walls, the bathroom and even the mattress he left behind,” Teresa Berg said. “There’s all kinds of things they can do to the house if they don’t like you.”

The couple, in their early 60s, own several properties in southwest Virginia. Their 32-year-old daughter, Elisha McNeil, owns the peach house on White’s Mill Road where Jones and Black live.

“We’re coming to the conclusion that no, it’s not worth it, in terms of pure investment, cash on cash return,” Charlie Berg said.

His wife added, “It helps if you have a big money cushion, but we just don’t have that; we’re struggling.”

Their daughter, McNeil, bought the home on White’s Mill Road five years ago after a divorce. It was her first home, and a friend was selling it, “so she got a pretty good deal,” Teresa Berg said.

Last Spring, McNeil lost her job after her place of employment closed and she could no longer make the mortgage payments. Facing foreclosure, she moved into an apartment her parents own and put the home up for rent.

That’s when Jones and Black moved in.

Last month, the bank almost foreclosed on McNeil when rent from Jones and Black didn’t arrive, her mother said.

“Sunshine paid $200 in January, and nothing since then,” Teresa Berg said. Her daughter would “like to sell it, but nothing is selling right now.”

McNeil is out more than $2,000 since she began eviction procedures, her mother said: The $395 unpaid January rent, plus February and March, and estimated $500 in repairs and cleaning after Jones and Black vacate, and $90 in court fees.

“They took some stuff from the house, some light fixtures, the receptacle for the dryer, stuff like that,” Teresa Berg said. “And you can’t just rent it immediately, you have to get it ready. That’s when the places are in the worst shape, when the tenant has been evicted. The ones who give notice want their security deposit back, so they have a reason to leave things clean and orderly.”

The elder Bergs have been in the landlord business for six years, they said. Of their six children, three are also involved. Their son, David, 24, and daughter, Sarah, 28, together own almost 20 rental properties. McNeil has only one – the house on White’s Mill Road.

They’ve had to evict at least six renters over the past six years, they said. Their two younger children, who are in business together, are involved with at least one eviction every month.

“They have a nine-unit property that right now only three renters are paying rent,” Teresa Berg said. “And the other units aren’t empty.”

The eviction process is not simple, nor fast.

In Virginia, a landlord is required to notify a tenant with a written statement detailing how they’ve breached the rental agreement. After delivering that statement, tenants have 21 days to remedy the problem, or landlords can file an unlawful detainer summons, which sets a court date and is served by a sheriff’s deputy. In Jones’ case, she and Black were given 30 days to pay the back rent they owed.

“Then it depends on the next court date, and that can take up to a month,” Charles Berg said. “Meanwhile, your financial institution is breathing fire and threatening foreclosure, and your [renters] are enjoying their lodging for free.”

If the tenant fails to show in court, or does and loses, the landlord takes out a writ of possession, or, the eviction notice, which is again served by deputies. This authorizes the landlord to take possession of the property, unpaid rent, late fees, attorney fees and other associated costs, and gives the tenant 72 hours to get out.

“But that doesn’t mean you get your money. Once the judge has decided, his job is done. It’s up to you to chase the money down,” Charles Berg said. “In theory, the laws have ways that if you jump through all the hoops, you can get your money back. But you’re not going to hire a private investigator or anything, and if your tenant lost their job, garnishment’s out. In the end, if you count your time as anything, then no, you don’t get anything back. You just say forget it.”

In Washington County, sheriff’s Lt. Mike Olinger serves the county’s civil papers with the help of two other deputies.

He serves unlawful detainers about 350 times a year, he said. About 25 percent reach the eviction stage. Of that 25 percent, one-fourth are still in the residence on eviction day.

Jones and Black

Working in the medical industry delivering medicines to area nursing homes and similar facilities, Jones earns $660 every two weeks. Black, in the same business, is salaried at $710 bi-weekly and brings home $547 after taxes.

A few months ago, their electric bill was $74, Black said. In February, it skyrocketed to $170. If you add that to their other utility costs, their monthly total came to $294. In addition, Jones pays $253 a month in child support for her two older children.

Tallied, the family earns $1,207 a month, a number that has remained steady. In February, their expenses, excluding food, gas and general items, came to $1,142. That leaves a whopping $65 for everything else.

“It’s just constant worry. My biggest concern is my son right now,” Jones said. “And the move will cost us too. [David] has had to take most of this week off from work to get packed, and we can’t afford to do that. And if we don’t find a place, we’ll have to rent a storage facility for all our stuff. Everything in here is ours.”

Although they’d lived there just four months, Jones and Black have tried to make the place a home. A big, plush couch sits in the living room, along with a television and love seat. There are dressers and bureaus in several rooms and ABC magnets scattered across the refrigerator, one holding up a crayon-drawn picture made by 3-year-old Joey.

The weekend before their mandated vacate date, Jones and Black found a two-bedroom mobile home in Taylor’s Valley for $360 and signed the lease, they said.

“We both came down with the flu. It’s been a crazy weekend,” Jones said. “But we got the place, so we know where we’re going now.”

Their commute will jump from five minutes each way to 35, she said, and their gas expenses will increase accordingly.

“But we’ll be OK. At least we have a place to call home, for now,” she said.

Amy Hunter is a staff writer for the Bristol Herald Courier.