I debated whether to share this story.

Evictions are one of the most difficult parts of property management—and one of the least understood or perceived as corporate greed. From the outside, it looks simple: the resident doesn’t pay, the landlord kicks them out. Landlord wins, residents lose.

But that’s not how it works. Not really.

This is the story of my first eviction. It doesn’t have any heroes. It is just what happened and what I learned from it.

Before taking on a job as a property manager, I had been in the industry for some time. I was familiar with the eviction process and had even done set-outs before.

After becoming a manager, I knew it was a matter of time before I had to go to the courthouse to file my first-ever eviction.

My peers told me that there was nothing remarkable about the process. Most people would either settle or move out before the deadline.

As we drove to the courthouse, one of the managers in a sister property explained the process. It was simple and easy. We file and get a court date, most likely three weeks out. A magistrate will serve the papers to the residents, who, for the most part, won’t show up in court. The judge gives the orders, and on the following Thursday, if they are not out, we set them out.

“Nothing to worry about,” She told me with incredible confidence. “In a year’s time, you won’t even recall this day.”

For the most part, she was right. Most of my evictions have either been settled or the residents have moved out. But she was wrong about the latter.

In my years working as a manager, I did only one set out. My very first eviction. And I still remember it to this day.

The Court Date

In my first court date, I had only two people on the docket. One was a man in a wheelchair. The previous manager had warned about him. He was a troublemaker. He was constantly breaking property rules. But because of his disabled status, my boss told us to move very carefully.

So, for months, they had built a case against him. He had broken a window and the back patio door. Both were charged in his ledger. Finally, he missed one payment. I was instructed not to take any money from him till after the court.

As I sat in court that day, watching others go before me, my pulse quickened. In most cases, the resident didn’t show up, making it an easy grant from the judge. But every so often, the resident would show up and argue. That’s what I was concerned about.

When the judge finally called my property versus my first resident. I stood and approached the bench. With no answer from the defendant, the judge placed the case on the “approved” stack. He had moved on to the next one. But before we finished, the disabled resident rolled in.

I began sweating with my heart beating out of my chest.

The Argument

Let’s refer to this person as Resident X.

Resident X was prepared for this. A lot better than I was. It seemed like he had done this before. With a manila folder on his lap, he first apologized for taking too long to get to the front.

When the judge asked why he had not paid, he explained that the property had not made any accommodations to address his situation. He claimed a ramp to his back patio had been requested and ignored. Pulling a stack of papers from his folder, he showed the judge his written maintenance requests.

The judge didn’t grant the eviction request and told me that these issues had to be fixed before I could proceed.

The law in South Carolina was clear. A resident couldn’t withhold rent payment due to outstanding maintenance requests.

Standing face-to-face with the judge, I wanted to say that very thing and remind him of that law. Except, I didn’t. I froze.

Then came the final nail in the coffin. From his folder, Resident X pulled an affidavit written by his girlfriend condeming how the property treated him.

The judge filed the information and denied our request.

Defeated, I returned to my seat.

The Surprise

I don’t know Resident X’s full story. I don’t know what led him to that apartment, what challenges he faced beyond the obvious.

What I do know is that the property failed him to some extent. The previous manager seemed to have overlooked the ramp he needed to access his back porch. Whether it was requested or not.

The other side of this coin is that property managers are often villainized for evicting people. Outsiders often fail to understand the challenges that property managers face. Most importantly, eviction is a legal process, and residents signed a contract agreeing to pay.

Anyway, I returned to my office and began to work on the outstanding maintenance requests, which I had no record of.

Halfway through the day, I got a call from the clerk at the courthouse. She mentioned that I had forgotten to pay the eviction fee for Resident X.

Confused, I explained to her that the judge had denied the eviction. She said the eviction was granted.

Then, I remembered that he had placed the paper on the approved stack because Resident X had not responded when he was called. The judge must not have moved the paper to the “settled” or “denied” stack.

I called my boss to share the news with him. He told me to pay the fee and let to courthouse sort out the problem.

Little did I know that this was just the beginning and was a time bomb waiting to explode.

The following week, Resident X called me. He was irate. He had been served with the notice to vacate. I told him those papers didn’t come from me, and he should call the courthouse.

In the meantime, a team was at his apartment fixing the issues he had brought to the judge’s attention, giving him no excuse not to make the rent payment.

Two days later, I received paperwork informing me that Resident X had filed an answer and was requesting a hearing. That was scheduled for the following Thursday.

The real surprise came two days before the hearing. His girlfriend, now ex, came into the office with a new affidavit recanting the original one, emphasizing that the property had done nothing wrong to him.

The Final Hearing

It was 0830 in the morning when my boss, the lawyer, and I pulled into the courthouse parking lot. One last time, the lawyer reviewed the documents I had provided him.

This time, as we walked into the courthouse, I was even more nervous and concerned than I had been last time.

The judge came in at 0900. It was a special courtroom with only us there. Resident X was nowhere to be found. The judge had the clerk call him to verify his location.

Resident X cursed out the clerk and told her that he would not come and that he would not be evicted either.

If it were any other case, where one of the parties didn’t show, the judge would just dismiss it. For some reason, in this situation, he wanted to hear it.

The lawyer called me to the stand and asked a series of questions, which I answered without hesitation.

Within minutes, the judge approved the eviction. And when he heard the paperwork had been done, he said we could do the set out that same day.

The Set Out

It was 11:30 am when the magistrate arrived. He knocked on the door and asked Resident X to leave. The team went in and began to remove his belongings.

This was before viral videos became a thing, but that did not stop Resident X from making a scene. He contacted the local newspaper, which sent a reporter and a photographer to the site.

They interviewed Resident X, who made multiple claims that were not accurate.

I was instructed by the lawyer to stay out of it and not give a statement. When the reporter asked me questions, I followed the lawyer’s demands.

The reporter interviewed a few of his neighbors and left. Ultimately, nothing was ever published.

I personally contacted a non-profit organization that collected his items, which assisted him in relocating.

Conclusion

Looking back, I think some of these issues could have been avoided if the previous manager had been a little more proactive. Or if I were better trained. The truth is, we will never know.

This eviction taught me more than any training ever could.

By the time we have a court hearing, everyone has already lost. The resident loses their home. The property months of rent and legal fees.

I learned that the eviction notices were not enough. When hand-delivering the 5-day notice, I would knock on the door and discuss the resident’s payment with them. I tried to understand what was happening and how or if I could assist in any way.

Also, I documented every interaction with the resident. These logs would come with me to the courthouse. In the event someone showed up, I had documentation of our conversation.

Data can’t solve human problems. But it can prevent them from escalating. Today, I build dashboards that track delinquency trends, flag at-risk residents early, and ensure maintenance requests don’t disappear into manila folders. Not because I want to make evictions easier—but because I want to make them less necessary.