Vernon’s emotions teetered between anger and helplessness. Frustrated yet cautious, he stepped outside to collect his thoughts. Noticing that the squatters were absent, he resolved to find a temporary place to stay, planning to return later and confront them when they were back.
He contacted his parents, who graciously offered him refuge. Their support provided a small comfort amidst the chaos. Sitting in their living room, Vernon allowed himself a moment to process the gravity of the situation. He needed a plan to reclaim his home—calmly, without getting drawn into a physical altercation, given his recent return from active duty.
At the crack of dawn the next day, Vernon drove back to his house. As he entered the backyard, he found a couple in tattered clothes sitting on the deck, casually having breakfast as if they owned the place.
Vernon’s anger flared, but he forced himself to stay calm. Moving closer, he took a deep breath and addressed them firmly, “Excuse me, I don’t know who you are, but I am the rightful owner of this house, and I need you to leave immediately.”
The man looked up, unfazed, smirking. “Your home? Looks like we’re living here now, buddy. Finders keepers.”
Vernon’s frustration grew, yet he maintained composure. “I’ve just returned from serving my country, and this house is legally mine. Please, leave peacefully.”
The woman leaned back in her chair, arms crossed defiantly. “We have nowhere else to go. We’re staying.”
Clenching his fists, Vernon kept his voice steady. “You can’t just take someone’s home. This isn’t right.”
The man stood, stepping closer, his smirk widening. “Listen, soldier boy. We’re not going anywhere. We have as much right to be here as you do.”
Patience wearing thin, Vernon retorted, “This is my property. You’re trespassing. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.”