Recorded My Landlord’s Dirty Proposal

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Caldwell crushed his cigarette butt on my dining table, looking at me with a lecherous grin.

Juliet, rent's going up 50% starting next month. Unless you don't want it to go up. He leaned close to my ear, his hand landing on my shoulder.

Come to my place this weekend. We'll have a nice little chat.

I pushed him away and grabbed my phone.

"What did you just say? I didn't catch that. Say it again?"

He sneered and pointed at my nose.

"What are you acting so high and mighty for? I've seen plenty of people like you from poor countries."

"Spend one night with me, and I'll waive a year's rent. That's not a bad deal, is it?"

I held up my phone. "Mr. Caldwell, say that again."

Caldwell slapped my phone out of my hand.

He stepped on my phone. "Record this, bitch."

He grabbed my collar and shoved me against the wall. The back of my head hit the tile, making my ears ring.

"Juliet, let me tell you something. I control the rent in this area.

You're just an immigrant working in America, making pennies a month. Without me looking out for you, you would've been kicked out of the country ages ago."

I stared hard at him.

"Mr. Caldwell, the contract says a one-year lease. It's only been four months. You can't unilaterally raise the rent by 50%. That's illegal."

"Illegal?" Caldwell laughed.

He released me and pulled a stack of cash from his bag, throwing it in my face.

"Here's your deposit. Take it and get lost. If you don't move out by tomorrow, I'll have people help you move."

Bills scattered across the floor. I crouched down and picked them up one by one.

"Fine. I'll move." I folded the money and put it in my pocket.

Caldwell patted my face.

"That's more like it. Don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit. If you change your mind, come to my place this weekend. I'll treat you to dinner."

He turned and left. I closed the door and slid down to the floor.

There was a knock on the next door. "Juliet, are you okay?"

It was my roommate, Mary, who worked as a programmer at an internet company.

She saw the red marks on my neck and her eyes went wide.

"That old bastard came again?"

"Yeah."

"Call the police!"

"It won't help. He didn't hit me. There are no cameras, and audio recordings can't directly convict him."

I grabbed her hand.

"Mary, how long have you lived in this complex?"

"Two years."

"Has Caldwell ever harassed you?"

Mary lowered her head and clenched her fists.

"Once. He said he wouldn't raise my rent if I came to his place for dinner on the weekend. I bought pepper spray the next day."

"Anyone else?"

"The nurse on the third floor, Niles. She moved out crying last month. I heard Caldwell knocked on her door in the middle of the night saying he was checking the water meter."

I went back to my room, opened my computer, and created a new WhatsApp group chat.

Group name: Victims of Caldwell Alliance.

I pulled Mary in, then added several other girls who rented from Caldwell.

My phone buzzed. It was Caldwell.

"Juliet, don't take what happened earlier to heart. I was just joking with you. Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll make you something delicious."

I took a screenshot, then replied: "Okay."

The next evening at seven, I stood outside Caldwell's door.

I took a deep breath and knocked.

Caldwell opened the door wearing a robe, reeking of alcohol.

"Oh, Juliet's here. Come in, come in."

His hand went to my waist, guiding me inside. I didn't dodge.

"Mr. Caldwell, I've thought it over. About the rent, can we talk about it some more?"

"Talk? Of course we can talk."

He closed the door and locked it. "Let's eat first. We'll chat while we eat."

The living room table was set with dinner and an open bottle of red wine.

He poured me a glass, then poured one for himself.

"Come on, cheers."

I clinked glasses but didn't drink. He took a big gulp.

"Juliet, you're so pretty. You could've married a rich guy back home. Why come to New York to suffer?"

"Mr. Caldwell, about the rent increase..."

"What's the rush?"

He sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him.

"Come, sit here. Uncle will have a good talk with you."

I didn't move. His expression darkened.

"What? Not giving me face?"

"Mr. Caldwell, I have a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?"

He laughed, stood up, and walked toward me.

"How much does your boyfriend make a month? Can he buy you a house? Can he get you a green card?"

He reached me and lifted my chin with his finger.

"I'm different. If you're with me, you can live in this house however you want, rent-free. I'll give you five thousand a month for spending money."

I took a step back. He followed.

"Don't run away. You came all the way to my place just for this, didn't you? Stop pretending."

I reached into my pocket and pressed the record button on my phone.

"Mr. Caldwell, you've had too much to drink."

"I haven't had too much."

He suddenly grabbed me, his mouth coming toward mine.

I couldn't hold back. I slapped him across the face.

"Smack..."

He froze, then flew into a rage.

"How dare you hit me?!"

He grabbed my hair and slammed me against the wall.

"Ungrateful bitch! You should be honored that I want you!"

The back of my head hit the wall. Everything went dark.

"Caldwell, let me go."

"No! You're not leaving this place tonight unless you sleep with me!"

He tore at my clothes. Buttons scattered everywhere.

Just then, the door was pounded.

"Open up! Police!"

Caldwell froze. I pushed him away and ran to the door, unlocking it.

Two police officers stood outside, along with Mary and the other girls.

They held up their phones, recording everything.

The officer saw the bruises on my neck and my torn clothes. His expression changed.

"What happened here?"

I took a deep breath. Finally, tears fell.

"He tried to rape me."

Caldwell panicked. "No! She seduced me! She came to my place on her own!"

I pulled out my phone and played the recording.

After listening, the officer looked at Caldwell.

"Come with us."

"No! Let me explain!"

"You can explain at the station."

As Caldwell was being taken away, he looked back at me with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Juliet, just you wait. When I get out, I'll kill you."

I leaned against the wall, trembling all over.

Mary hugged me. "It's okay now. It's okay."

I shook my head. "No. This is just the beginning."

My phone buzzed. It was the "Victims of Caldwell Alliance" group.

Someone with the name "Niles" sent a message.

"I just saw Caldwell being taken away downstairs. Do you know? This building of his is illegal."

"Every room's fire safety doesn't meet code at all. I took photos before."

She sent over a dozen photos. Partition walls, illegally wired electricity, sealed fire exits.

Looking at these photos, a thought flashed through my mind.

It wasn't about sending him to jail. It was about bankrupting him.

Caldwell was released from the police station after just one night.

The reason: "Insufficient evidence, does not constitute rape."

"Insufficient evidence." Mary slammed the table in fury.

"He almost raped you! And that's insufficient evidence?!"

I said nothing, because I knew this would happen.

No surveillance, no witnesses. He insisted it was "consensual." The police could only classify it as a "civil dispute."

The first thing Caldwell did after getting out was come curse at my door.

"Juliet! You bitch! How dare you call the police on me?!"

He kicked the door three times. The security door dented inward.

"I'm telling you, you can forget about living in this place! Get out tomorrow!"

"Deposit? Not refunding a penny! Go ahead and sue me! Let's see who wins!"

A neighbor opened their door, took one look, and quickly shut it again.

No one dared speak. I sat inside, listening to his cursing, my hands shaking.

My phone rang. My mom was calling.

"Juliet, did that Caldwell come after you again?"

"Mom, it's fine."

"What do you mean fine! I saw the bruises on your neck in our video call! Just wait, I'm coming to New York next week."

"Mom, you don't need to come. I can handle it myself."

"How will you handle it? You're a twenty-four-year-old girl fighting against a property owner?"

I was silent for three seconds.

"Mom, didn't you teach me? When you strike a snake, strike at its vital point."

"Where's his vital point?"

"His building."

My mom's a lawyer. She's handled many property dispute cases. She knows these property owners' weak spots better than anyone.

"Juliet, have you checked the property rights for his building?"

"I'm checking now."

"After you finish, call me. I'll help you contact a lawyer."

I hung up and opened my computer, logging into the New York City planning and natural resources website.

I searched for records on Caldwell's building.

Ten minutes later, I found it.

This building had no rental registration at all.

Not only that, its designated use was "commercial," not "residential."

Converting a commercial building into partitioned rentals was illegal in itself.

I screenshotted the page and saved it to a folder.

My phone buzzed again. Mary sent a message.

"Juliet, I just saw in the tenants' group that Caldwell's looking for a renovation crew to tear down all the partitions on the third floor."

"Why?"

"Someone said Immigration has been checking illegal immigrants and illegal rentals lately. He might have gotten word."

A lightbulb went off in my head.

This meant he knew his building had problems.

I opened the "Victims Alliance" group. There were seventeen people now, all tenants screwed over by Caldwell.

Girls and guys.

Some had their deposits withheld, some had their rent raised, some were harassed.

I sent a message in the group.

"I found a way to send Caldwell to prison and make him pay up."

"What way?"

"Report him for illegal rentals. Fire code violations, no rental registration."

"Then what?"

"Then we collectively sue him. Those who didn't get deposits back, those who were overcharged rent, those who were harassedeveryone can get back what's rightfully theirs."

The group went silent for ten seconds, then exploded.

"Count me in!"

"I'm suing him too!"

"I have evidence of him taking cash without giving receipts!"

"I have chat records of his sexual harassment!"

Messages came one after another, flooding the screen.

I typed the last line.

"Tomorrow at 2 PM, Starbucks on Highway 1. Let's meet and talk."

Everyone replied: "Got it."

I shut off my phone and looked out the window.

Caldwell's car was still parked downstairs. He sat in it, staring at my window.

I pulled the curtains closed.

Tomorrow would be the real beginning.

The next day at 2 PM, Starbucks on Highway 1.

Seventeen people sat in a corner on the second floor.

The entire "Victims of Caldwell Alliance" was present.

I stood up and looked at them.

Programmers, nurses, delivery drivers, salespeople, receptionists, designers...

All immigrants working in America who'd been screwed over by Caldwell.

"My name is Juliet. I live in 302..."

"I'm Mary, 303..."

One by one, they shared their experiences.

I opened my computer and projected the evidence of Caldwell's building violations onto the screen for everyone to see.

I held up three fingers.

"First, everyone organize your evidencetransfer records, chat screenshots, audio and video recordings. The more detailed, the better."

"Second, collectively report to Immigration and the fire department. The more people, the more seriously they'll take it."

"Third, find a lawyer and collectively sue Caldwell, demanding deposit refunds and compensation for damages."

Niles raised her hand. "Are lawyer fees expensive?"

"My mom's a lawyer. She helped us contact a firm that does public interest litigation. They don't charge upfront. If we win, they take fifteen percent of the compensation."

Wallace said, "I agree. Even if we don't get money back, I want to make him miserable."

Everyone raised their hands in agreement.

After the meeting, I returned to the complex. As soon as I entered the hallway, I smelled paint.

On the door to 302, someone had spray-painted "BITCH" in red.

I took out my phone to photograph it, then went to property management to check the surveillance.

The property manager said, "The cameras are broken."

"When did they break?"

"Yesterday."

Yesterday, the day Caldwell got out of the police station. I smiled.

"Right. The cameras are broken. I'll fix them myself."

I called Mary.

"Mary, do you know how to install cameras?"

"Yeah. I took an elective in electronic engineering in college."

"Do me a favor."

Half an hour later, I installed a pinhole camera in the hallway fire exit.

The angle was aimed right at my door.

That night, Caldwell came again.

He stood outside my door and cursed for ten minutes.

Then he pulled out a key from his pocket. He opened the door and went inside.

I was next door at Mary's place, watching the surveillance footage on my phone.

My hands were shaking, but I didn't move.

Five minutes later, he came out holding my laptop.

That was my work computer. It had all my social media accounts, client information, and unpublished articles.

I held back. Didn't go out. Didn't call the police.

After Caldwell left, I returned to my room.

Drawers had been rifled through, closets opened, cigarette ash on the bedsheets.

My underwear was thrown on the floor.

I crouched down and picked them up one by one.

Mary stood in the doorway, her eyes red.

"Juliet, let's call the police."

"Not yet."

"What do you mean not yet? He took your computer! Your work is on there!"

I looked at Mary and smiled.

"That computerI just replaced the hard drive yesterday. The current hard drive only has one thing on it."

"What?"

"Full video footage of Caldwell breaking into my place and stealing things."

I pulled out a USB drive from my pocket.

"The pinhole camera is connected to this. Him opening the door, entering, taking the computerit's all recorded."