Poor Kid Never Stood A Chance

I own a thirty-two-unit facility that houses felons who have finished their sentences and need some help returning to society. Each unit houses two clients. We do stuff like teach them computer skills and help them learn to cook, build a resume, and stuff like that.

At six am, my night manager calls me and tells me there’s a lady pounding on the front door, insisting she needs to talk to whoever is in charge. I tell him to give her my number.

Before I’m even off the phone with him, she’s calling me, and before I can even introduce myself, she goes OFF. She accuses me of kidnapping her son — this man is thirty-four and here 100% of his own free will — and forcing him to work for me. He doesn’t work for me; he works at the recycling center.

Lady: “As his mother, I need to see what kind of conditions he’s living in, but he refuses to let me visit. He would never refuse to see me unless he was under duress. I need you to come to the facility and unlock his door so I can go in and look around.”

Me: “That’s not going to happen. I’m not letting you into someone else’s home. You are not a resident. Your son is not the only person who lives in that space, and I would need permission from both your son and his roommate to let her in. You have no right to be there. Now, please get off of our property or we will have you trespassed.”

Lady: “How dare you?! If I’m not let into the room within ten minutes, I am going to call the cops and have you charged with kidnapping.”

Me: “Go ahead.”

And I hung up.

I wasn’t at the facility, but from the security cam footage, it appears that when the cops — that the lady called — showed up and she explained the situation to them, her son came to the door and told the cops he didn’t want to see her and that we didn’t kidnap him.

She went into a rage and attacked her son. He didn’t get hurt; he just backed up and slammed the door. The cops took her away.