“I understand you are speaking on behalf of the residents, Miss Roth?” Carver addresses me.
“I am,” I nod and confirm.
“Very well, proceed.”
“Thank you, Madame President,” I begin. “As you know, the residents of the Atwell Place Apartments have recently been served eviction notices –”
“My understanding is that the residents all received sixty-day notices,” one of the other board members, a snotty looking older man named Richard Jones, interrupts. “Surely, that’s a sufficient amount of time –”
“With all due respect,” I cut him off. “The residents of the Atwell are mostly lower income individuals. Most of them don’t have the resources to simply pick up and move at a moment’s notice.”
“Sixty days is hardly a moment’s notice, Miss Roth,” Jones snaps.
“The point is that most of the apartments in the Atwell are rent-controlled and forcing the residents to move in such a short time frame constitutes an unreasonable hardship,” I explain. “You’re not asking billionaires like the executives at Compass Development to move to their summer homes. You’re asking normal, hard-working people who are on fixed incomes or working low paying jobs to find a new home, in a city as expensive as New York. As I said, it’s an unreasonable hardship to the good people of the Atwell.”
“So what is it you’re asking us to do, Miss Roth?” Carver questions.
“My first choice would be for this borough board to deny the permit to tear down the Atwell at all,” I respond. “Do we really need more luxury condos in this borough?”
“I understand that as the attorney representing the residents you have to ask, but without any legal standing, we can’t deny this permit,” Carver says. “So do you have a reasonable request to make?”
“If quashing the permit isn’t a viable option, I would ask for a delay that would allow the residents ample time to resolve their living situation,” I say.
A low rumbling mutter rises in the audience behind me and a feeling of hopelessness – a greasy, disgusting feeling – saturates the air around me. I don’t even have to turn around and see their faces to know that people are rapidly losing hope – and it feels like a kick to the gut. The bitter tang of failure fills my mouth, and my heart aches painfully. But we’re not done here yet. I need to keep it together and my wits about me.
“And what is your idea of ample time, Miss Roth?” Jones sneers at me.
“I would request a stay of twelve to eighteen months.”
“Twelve to eighteen months?” he retorts. “That sounds like an unreasonable burden for Compass Development. They’ve already secured –”
“That is a very unreasonable burden to place on Compass Development,” Carver chimes in. “And we are not inclined to grant such a stay.”
With every passing second, it feels like more oxygen is being sucked out of the room. I prepared the residents coming in that this was going to be an uphill fight. I did what I could to manage their expectations – which, given how things seem to be playing out, was a wise decision. I’m not the sort of attorney who is going to give somebody false hope. I’m honest about the process and will always give maximum effort, but I refuse to sugarcoat anything.
“With all due respect to the board,” I jump in. “You were all elected to your positions to serve the people of this borough – not Compass Development and not the big corporations –”
“Young lady do not lecture us on our responsibilities,” Jones hisses. “You need not remind us of who we serve –”
“No? Because from where I’m standing, it certainly seems like you need a reminder,” I clap back. “The good, decent, hard-working people of this borough put you in a position to represent them. To serve their interests. But it looks to me like all you’re doing is getting into bed with Compass Development and forgetting your responsibility to the people who put you in those chairs.”
“That’s enough,” Carver rails, banging her gavel on the desk. “I will not tolerate this level of disrespect and lack of decorum in this chamber.”
I take a moment to glare at the borough board, meeting the gazes of each and every one of them – and interestingly, they all look away, as if they still have some degree of shame. Except for Jones and Carver, anyway. I think they sold any sense of shame or decency long ago.
“The disrespect in this chamber is what this board is showing to the hard-working people of this borough – the same people who put you in your positions – and it is appalling,” I snap. “After all, let’s not pretend this is the first time you’ve given Compass Development a sweetheart deal, which makes me wonder what’s on the other side of that quid pro quo.”
“That is quite enough, Miss Roth,” Carver growls. “We will not sit here and tolerate your veiled accusations –”
“I’m not veiling anything. I’m saying it straight up,” I spit. “How much is Compass Development paying you to push the permits through? And how much have you earned on Compass’ payroll since you’ve been sitting on the borough board?”
The board members all flush red and start muttering amongst themselves, outrage on all their faces. The crowd behind me erupts as people shouting some variation of ‘corrupt assholes’ fill the chamber with a cacophony of voices. The sound of President Carver banging her gavel on the desk is lost in the din.
It takes several moments for the commotion to stop. I do my best to get everybody to settle down, but I can’t say I blame them – Carver, Jones, and the rest of the board are the ones
