Hawaiian laulau is fish and pork wrapped in taro or ti leaves. They are usually made in bulk, stored in the freezer, and steamed to reheat.  My tenant was preparing laulau for her large family on the day she burned down the house.

The once beautiful two-story home across from the ocean was being hit with huge streams of water from every direction by the Fire Department when I arrived. I had been managing this house for about ten years so I had an attachment to it. Over the years, I had moved several tenants in and out, and inspected, cleaned, and repaired the home over and over. I know every inch of it and it is painful to watch it burn.  

Handing a new tenant the keys to a home that you have worked so hard to make nice is very rewardingand the best part of my job. The worst part is having to call the homeowner to let them know their property has been destroyed.  

The tenant is talking with the firefighters and after brief introductions, I learn that nobody is hurt. Her husband is not home and I can see the children milling about. I can now turn my attention to the cause of the fire. One of the firefighters says it appears to have started on the stove. Most house fires originate in the kitchen so this is not a shock. What does come as a surprise is the tenant telling the firefighters that the stove had not been working correctly and she had reported it to my office numerous times. I know this is impossible because of the precise systems and procedures we have in place for the maintenance of our properties.  My mouth falls open as I listen to her. She becomes very animated and dramatic but refuses to look at me.

“You know that’s not true,” I finally said while trying not to lose my temper.  

She still wonʻt look at me but tells the firefighters, “I reported it over and over and they didnʻt do anything about it.”

 “How did you report it?  Who did you report it to?” I asked, again trying to stay professional. 

She hesitated for a second and said, “Well, I called the office and I, uh, talked to whoever answered the phone.”

At this point, the firefighters walked away because even they knew now that she was lying. She suddenly began to cry. 

“I forgot  I went upstairs and forgot. I’m sorry,”  she says through sobs which quickly escalated to hysterical crying. 

I hugged her and tried to calm her down. I could see that she was genuinely distraught and remorseful.  “It’s okay,”  I told her. “We all make mistakes. It was just an accident. I will see if I can find another place for you.”

I had another home nearby that I had been trying to rent for several weeks. I decided I needed to call that property owner and let them decide. 

“Yes, I have a prospective tenant for your property. She pays the rent on time and has been no problem for several years. But hereʻs the thing….”

After explaining what happened, the homeowner also understood that it was just an accident and he allowed us to move the tenant into that property. 

A few months after receiving notice that the official cause of the fire had been unattended cooking, the tenant reports that the picture window at her new place has been shattered.  As I survey the damage, she explains that it is a mystery to her how it happened.  Having been the mother of sons myself, I recognized guilt on the face of one of her kids. The one tossing around a baseball.

🔑 A good Property Manager understands that life happens, perhaps to some more than others.