Barry Saunders, Staff Writer
At my house, the roaches scurry away when you turn on a light.
Not at 1201 E. Jones St., they don't. The brazen little suckers running up and down the walls in this joint go about their filthy business as though you, not they, were the unwelcome intruder.
Or else, you'd think they had badges and were the law.
They're not, of course. The owner of the place is the law. It is owned by Sgt. Tommy Newman, a Raleigh police officer.
Newman, a cop for 24 years, filed for bankruptcy recently and is trying to sell the seven blighted homes he owns in Southeast Raleigh and another house he owns in Zebulon.
Attempts to reach Newman were unsuccessful.
Calling the house with its crooked windows, iffy toilet and weak floors a duplex bestows upon it a dignity unwarranted by either its appearance or structural integrity.
Whatever you call it, Cathy Caldwell, Joseph Wilkes and a man who identified himself only as "Pop" pay $400 each per month for the dubious honor of calling it home.
For the next few days, at least. Newman's given them until Friday to split.
It's not just the appearance of the house that causes neighbors and the city -- Newman's employer -- such consternation. Police records show that Newman's 10 Southeast Raleigh properties racked up 86 calls for drugs, prostitution and other offenses in a five-year period.
Wilkes and the man called Pop defended their ever-so-humble home, though. "People get it twisted," Wilkes said. "It's not the house; it's the area."
Most people would shout "Hallelujah!" at being released from a contract requiring them to stay in such digs. Amazingly, Caldwell and Wilkes want to call it home for just a bit longer.
Perhaps it's not so amazing, because anyone who would pay $400 a year, much less a month, to stay at 1201 E. Jones St. probably has few options.
"We're definitely going to move," Caldwell said. "He can have his house. We just need more time."
The sooner Newman gets the tenants out of the house, the sooner -- presumably -- he can unload it on someone else. That's probably why he had its electricity cut off for two weeks earlier this year and last year.
Wilkes complained and, according to a letter he showed me from Legal Aid of North Carolina, even Newman's attorney "agreed that shutting off the power was unlawful ... but you will still need to pay rent."
Caldwell said she lost $200 worth of food while the power was off.
Wilkes, 65, is on disability and said he has been trying to get public housing for years. That's the only reason, he said, he has been at 1201, Room 1, for four months.
"I just need till the 25th, and I'm going back to Edgecombe County," he said.
Caldwell and Wilkes showed me the kitchen, with its fearless roaches and walls soot-stained from a fire. Evidence of that fire makes the nailed-shut back door even more ominous.
"If it's a fire, we better pray we can get out," Caldwell said.
Wilkes walked me to my car after the impromptu tour. "Hey look," he said plaintively. "Do what you can for us."
I've done what I can; now it's time for the city to do what it should: Help these people find a place to stay or let them crash at Sgt. Newman's Wake Forest crib until they do.
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