19/06/2026
Today's episode of Mandy vs. The Legal System was brought to you by the letter "W" for "What in the actual hell?"
For context: when I bought my mom’s house and moved in with her back in October 2025, she had two squatters living in two separate out-buildings in the back yard – both basically taking advantage of the charity of an 87-year old grandma. I was able to get one to leave voluntarily. However the second one, who also happens to be the deadbeat dad of my youngest daughter, has so far, refused to vacate my property. After being told by multiple Sheriff’s deputies that I couldn't have the squatter removed for trespassing and that I had to go through the eviction process, I spent money filing the case, paid to have him served, organized enough evidence to qualify for its own filing cabinet, and showed up to court on time.
The judge dismissed the case.
Why?
Because at some point after officially telling him (in writing) to leave, I accepted money from him. Never mind that his monthly contribution of $75 didn't even cover the electricity he was using. Never mind that in 12 years the loser couldn't be bothered to pay any child support. Never mind that in the time he has given me only $450.00 in ten months in ‘rent’, I have paid him >$3,000 for home improvement projects, most of which are unfinished, un-started and/or just crappy workmanship (Yeah, I know, that just makes me an idiot – I’m self-aware). Apparently that's not the point.
So there I am, sitting at the plaintiff's table, having just debated and lost my case. The hearing is over. The judge has ruled. I'm gathering my things and preparing to leave.
And then... in through the courtroom door strolls The Squatter. An HOUR late. Smiling like the Cheshire Cat and declaring, "I'm here! Sorry, I overslept."
Y'all, the judge didn't even know who he was because he wasn't present for roll call. She looked very confused. I was still facing the bench and the courtroom entrance was directly behind me. So I simply pointed over my shoulder and said: "Judge, THAT'S the defendant in this case."
At which point I started walking out because there was literally nothing left to discuss. Putting it mildly, I was fuming.
The Squatter then decided to walk toward me. Too close. Still smiling. . . Big mistake. So, in a courtroom of people, I demanded . . . loudly . . . through gritted teeth: "Get the f**k away from me!" Not very nice of me. Not very ladylike. Not very Christian. Very peri-menopausal Gen X girl in that I. Do. Not. Care!
Every. Single. Person. Heard it.
I am fairly certain the only reason I didn't end up with a contempt charge is because my case was already over.
As I was heading out the door, I heard the judge say: "Mr. Squatter, sit down please."
I have no idea whether she wanted to lecture him, question him, or simply protect him . . . from ME. The mystery may never be solved.
Anyway, if anyone needs me, I'll be over here researching Round Two of the Eviction Olympics.
Anybody know the producers of the show Snapped. . . tell ‘em to be on stand-by.
