My Father Lived In My House Rent-free For 9 Years, Then Changed The Locks To Kick Me Out. I Evicted Him And Accidentally Bought His Only Backup Home. Am I The Jerk For Leaving Him Homeless?

The Restraining Order

Dad was released from jail last week. Carmen called to tell me. Said dad wanted to meet to clear the air and start over.

I declined. She asked again if I could help them financially. Told her 9 years of free housing was all the help they were getting from me.

Good thing I didn’t wait around. After Carmen called I filed a restraining order. And it turned out to be the smartest move I made because 2 days after his release he showed up at my workplace.

He stormed into the reception area screaming about ungrateful children and stolen inheritance, demanding to talk to me man to man. My assistant was terrified. Clients were staring and security was scrambling to respond.

“Where is he? Where’s my son? I raised him better than this.”

Dad was completely unhinged, waving his arms around and pointing at random people like they were conspirators. Security called the police while Dad continued his meltdown. He was yelling about how I’d stolen his home and destroyed his life when the cops arrived to arrest him for violating the restraining order.

Watching my father get handcuffed in my office lobby was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Everyone was staring. My phone was ringing with panicked calls from employees and I had to explain to confused clients why my own dad was being arrested.

The restraining order now keeps him 500 ft away from me, all my properties, and my workplace. He’s also prohibited from contacting any of my tenants or business associates. I changed my phone number and gave all my tenants his photo with strict instructions not to let him near any of my buildings.

I also created an LLC for all my real estate holdings, extra legal protection in case dad tries any future schemes.

Moving On

Some nights I lie awake thinking about everything that’s happened. The rational part of my brain knows I did the right thing: protected my property, enforced reasonable boundaries, held people accountable for their actions. And the hardest part is explaining it to people.

When someone asks about my family and I say, “My dad’s in jail for breaking into my property,” the looks I get are brutal, like I’m some heartless monster who destroyed his own father over money. But then I remember finding my stuff in garbage bags ready to be thrown out so some stranger could have my room. I remember 9 years of paying every bill while they acted like they owned the place.

I remember being locked out of my own house because I wouldn’t cave to their demands. The guilt fades pretty quick when I focus on the facts instead of the emotions. While dad was dealing with legal consequences I closed on my ninth property last month, a duplex in an up-and-coming neighborhood that should double in value over the next 5 years.

Every month when I collect rent and review my portfolio I think about how different things could have been. If I’d given in to dad’s demands where would I be now? Probably fighting for space in my own house while supporting three adults who contributed nothing.

The rental income from all my properties is more than most people make at their regular jobs. At 24 I have complete financial freedom because I made hard choices and stuck to my boundaries. I know that Grandpa Rex would be proud.

He taught me that property ownership comes with responsibilities but also with rights that need to be protected. He didn’t tolerate people who thought they were entitled to other people’s property and neither do I.

When I was cleaning out Grandpa’s office after the eviction, something I’d never had the chance to do properly, I found some old documents in a locked drawer. Among them was a letter from Grandpa to his lawyer written just a few months before he died. In it, grandpa explained his disappointment in both his sons and why he planned to leave his estate to me.

He mentioned dad had borrowed over $100,000 from him and never paid back a cent. The letter also revealed that Derek had stolen money from grandpa’s real estate business when he worked there in his 20s. The letter made it crystal clear that grandpa believed neither of his sons was financially responsible or trustworthy.

Reading it made me realize I’d made the right call with both of them.

Final Status

Now Dad’s living in some studio apartment across town, working retail at 55 because his credit is destroyed and he has a criminal record. Carmen moved back to her home state to live with relatives after divorcing him in jail. She actually sent me a message on Messenger a few months later to let me know about the divorce and to apologize for everything that happened.

I blocked her number halfway through the conversation. I don’t want anything to do with that part of my life anymore. Becca disappeared completely once the free housing dried up.

My real estate empire keeps growing. I’m looking at two more properties next month, both with strong rental potential in neighborhoods that are starting to turn around. Derek tried reaching out on social media last month, probably looking for a place to crash now that his creditors have tracked him down.

I blocked him before he could even finish typing his sob story.

9 years of free housing wasn’t enough. Paying every bill, every repair, every tax wasn’t enough. They wanted to give away my personal space to a woman who was lying about a custody battle, then tried to lock me out when I refused.

Every boundary I enforced, every legal document I filed, every hard choice I made, it was all worth it to get where I am now. Complete independence, financial security, and the peace of mind that comes from knowing nobody can manipulate me into giving away what I’ve earned.

The friends who called me heartless, they’re still working paycheck to paycheck while I’m building generational wealth. Even some of my closest friends said I should forgive and forget, but none of them offered to house dad themselves.

This holiday season me and my girlfriend are hosting Thanksgiving at my house. We invited a few close friends who actually supported me through this mess. First holiday in years I’m actually looking forward to.

No drama, no unreasonable demands, no unwelcome guests, just people who respect and care about each other. Guess which one just bought his ninth rental property and which one is working retail with a criminal record.

Basically, don’t mess with people’s boundaries. Don’t lie about custody cases for sympathy. Don’t illegally change locks on property you don’t own.

And definitely don’t assume family relationships give you the right to walk all over someone who’s been supporting you for years.

Game over. I won.