The Ghost of Christmas Present: Death at My Doorstep

One of the properties that I manage is a freaky five-plex next door to me.  One of the units is a little hut that sits in the backyard of an old Victorian era subdivided house. When I took over management from the owners, I made sure to introduce myself to all the tenants.  In the hut, I met Allen, a 60-something veteran.  Our meeting was congenial and polite but could I tell Allen appreciated his privacy.

Joel, one of the other tenants in the neighboring building, was a friend of Allen's and would check in on him from time to time.  Earlier this week, Joel called me saying that he hadn't seen Allen in a few days.  His mail was starting to pile up in the box and he didn't answer his door when he knocked to check in on him.  Given the time of year I told Joel to watch the place for a couple more days in case Allen had gone to visit family.  I typically try to avoid barging in on tenants unless there is an obvious emergency. 

We opened Christmas presents this morning as a family.  After enjoying our family time together I got a call around noon from Joel.  He was very concerned and felt like something was wrong since Allen hadn't shown himself.  Something in my gut told me that this situation wasn't going to end well.  I dressed in my grubbies and headed over.

Joel and I walked to the back hut and knocked on the door.  No answer.  Allen's dog mildly barked...a lot less enthusiastically than the few days prior.  Joel was concerned something had happened to Allen.  I reached for my keys to unlock the door and, as I put the key in the lockset, I caught the smell of death. My heart sank and I stepped back. I didn't open the door but told Joel that I believed that Allen was no longer with us.  I called 911.

The police arrived, and as it turns out, Allen had changed the locks so the only way to access the property was via kicking in the front door.  The officer's legwork got us in the unit.  Sure enough, Allen had expired, probably about seven or eight days prior based on the condition of his body.  He was laying on a futon casually with his legs crossed.  Unfortunately, putrification and the decomposition process had already begun in earnest.  It was quite overwhelming to the senses.  Interestingly, Allen's dog stayed close to protect his body.

The police and CSI began to process the scene and Allen's body was finally removed.  Now we have the exciting chore of cleaning the unit.  Any volunteers?

There is a great take away lesson from this experience for everyone:  Remember how your mother and church leaders told you not to look at naughty magazines or watch naughty movies?  There is a good reason.  You never know when you are going to die.  Your last act on this earth could be watching a naughty movie when your heart fails, and your landlord has to call the police a week later to kick in the door so they can take care of your body, and your naughty movie is still playing on the television that never got turned off because you died.  There are better ways to be found dead.