I have been trying to tell this story for months. Every time it gets reduced to a court date, an eviction record, a missed deadline, or a balance on a landlord's ledger, the most important part disappears.
On paper, it can look simple: I was named in one eviction case, later entered a mediated agreement in another, missed the agreed move-out date, lost my housing voucher, and was charged money after moving out.
That version is technically recognizable. It is also so incomplete that it changes the meaning of what happened.
The actual story is about two homes managed by the same company. It is about a form I requested because I was trying to do things correctly. It is about a property manager who knew I had moved because his company rented the new home to me. It is about going to court to remove my name from an eviction involving a house where I did not live, then coming home from court to find a termination notice on the door of the home where I did live. It is about complying with what I was told would resolve the first case, including cleaning a house I had already moved out of, only to find that the case and its consequences kept going.
It is also about what happened afterward: the second eviction, the loss of my voucher, months without a home of my own, my grandson believing that “storage” had taken his toys, thousands of dollars in disputed charges, and being forced to pay money I did not believe I owed because the alternative was losing another home.
This is the story that the paperwork does not tell.
Before Pacific Rental Properties
I became a renter with CPM Real Estate Management in July 2018. My first place with them was a small apartment on Trip Street, part of a six-plex like many others around Medford. A family member cosigned for me. I paid the rent on the first of the month, sometimes early, and I was never late during the nearly three years I lived there.
Those were difficult years underneath the ordinary routines. My father died in September 2019. We were close, and I still miss him. The Almeda fire tore through the valley the following year. Like a lot of people here, I watched familiar places disappear and saw how quickly an ordinary life could become unstable.
When I left Trip Street, I left it clean and owing nothing. CPM returned most of my deposit, minus a small repair charge, and rented to me again.
On March 23, 2021, I moved with my family to 820 Taylor Street. My husband at the time and my son, who was Ryn's father, came with me. Taylor was called an apartment on some records, but it was really a small stand-alone house surrounded by duplexes.
About a month after we moved in, the onsite manager, Chris, arrived for an inspection with four men. Two walked toward the back of the house and returned. Another spoke with Chris in the living room as though they knew each other. One remained focused on his phone. They were there only a few minutes. Everyone was cordial, and then they left.
Not long afterward, notices appeared telling the residents that there was a new property management company: Pacific Rental Properties. CPM signs seemed to disappear around town, and PRP signs appeared everywhere. I had not chosen PRP. I had rented from CPM. PRP had simply taken over management of Taylor. From a renter's point of view, it felt like the same office, the same system, and many of the same people continuing under a different name.
For several years, Taylor was our home. We received notices from time to time, including notices to clean up things outside or address a balance. We responded. If something needed to be cleaned, we cleaned it. If something had to be paid, we dealt with it. I did not ignore the landlord or abandon the property.
That is part of what people miss about renting. You can live every day feeling as though someone is looking over your shoulder. You try not to step wrong because a small issue can become a charge, a notice, or the word every renter fears: eviction. You start to believe that if you respond, pay what is asked, take care of the property, and build years of history with the same management system, that history will count for something.
During the pandemic, rental assistance and landlord messaging led many tenants to believe help would catch up missed rent. I relied on that for too long. A large balance accumulated. At one point PRP posted a notice claiming that I owed roughly $11,000.
My family helped me pay it. I went to the FED hearing and sat across from Paul D'Amicis, PRP's agent, for the first time. When he asked what I could do, I told him I needed a short period to pay the balance in full. I was not asking for a long payment plan. He seemed surprised. He waived several hundred dollars in fees, and within days I delivered a cashier's check for almost $10,000.
At the end of that mediation, Paul covered both of my hands with his, looked me in the eye, and thanked me more than once. I left believing we understood each other. I thought that if another problem ever arose, we would sit down, talk about what had happened, and resolve it.
That earlier meeting matters because it explains what I expected years later. When I encountered Paul again in January 2026, I did not walk into mediation expecting an enemy. I assumed I was meeting someone with whom I had previously solved a serious problem.
I was wrong.
Everything changed before I moved to Highland
In December 2023, I lost two members of my family within eleven days of each other. My son died on December 14. He was 29 years old, and his son, Ryn, was not yet two. My dog, who had been with me for almost fifteen years, died on Christmas Day.
By 2025, my marriage had ended. I had taken back my name, Kelly. I had shared custody of my grandson Ryn, who was four years old, and I received a Housing Choice Voucher that could finally make a smaller home possible for the two of us. I was not working full time because I was caring for him mostly on my own.
Raising Ryn was never difficult because of Ryn. It was difficult because I was grieving, physically and mentally exhausted, and carrying most of the responsibility alone. Family helped us financially and in practical ways during that time, and their support mattered.
Finding a landlord that would accept the voucher took almost all the time I had. I was running against the voucher deadline when a unit became available at Highland Drive, part of the Four Seasons complex and also managed by PRP.
PRP knew who I was. PRP knew I lived at Taylor. PRP knew I was moving from Taylor to Highland. Kristin Cordial and other PRP employees helped process the application and were responsive during that process. I met PRP's rental criteria. The Taylor ledger showed a zero balance when I moved. PRP approved me for Highland, and I signed the lease on October 29, 2025, as Tracey Kelly.
By then, CPM and PRP had been my landlords for nearly eight years. They had my rental history. They knew how I cared for their properties and how I responded when a problem arose. They considered me qualified to rent Highland. Then, within months, I was treated as though none of that history meant anything. I still do not understand what changed.
I paid approximately $3,000 in move-in costs, with help from family as we got settled. The voucher made my share of the rent more affordable.
Highland was supposed to be a new beginning. Ryn had his bed and his toys there. I had a home in my own name after my marriage ended. The voucher gave us a chance at stability after years that had already taken enough from our family.
Taylor did not move with me. My former husband remained there. My daughter and her boyfriend were also staying there, although they were not both on the lease. The Taylor rent was $1,505 a month, and the household struggled after I left.
I had moved. PRP knew I had moved. But my name was still on the Taylor lease.
I asked PRP for the correct form
I did not ignore that problem. I tried to fix it.
On December 3, 2025, I used PRP's RentCafe portal to ask for the proper form to remove myself from Taylor. Because portal messages had not always received responses, I also tried to communicate by email. On January 9, 2026, I followed up and asked whether PRP had received the request.
The form PRP provided said it was invalid unless every tenant signed it. My former husband signed because the form required his signature, not because he was giving notice that he intended to move out.
PRP treated those signatures as a notice that everyone was leaving Taylor.
That interpretation made no sense to me. I had already moved to Highland, which PRP knew because PRP had rented Highland to me. My former husband remained at Taylor. I was asking to remove one person from a lease, not to end everyone else's tenancy.
By then the Taylor household had fallen behind. Rent had not been paid in December or January, and PRP filed an eviction case naming both my former husband and me. The papers were posted around January 9 or 10.
There was another incident at Taylor during the same period. My former husband reported hearing a man enter or try doors and open the master bedroom while he remained in his room. Security-camera images showed the same person around the time the eviction papers were posted, although the kitchen entrance sat underneath the camera's view. I believed the person was connected with PRP. Whether or not that incident ultimately became its own legal claim, it added to my concern that events were moving around me without notice or explanation.
On January 26, I emailed PRP and explained the situation directly: the move-out notice was meant to remove only me from Taylor; I had already moved to Highland; my former husband remained at Taylor; and both of us signed because the form said it would be invalid otherwise.
On January 27, PRP responded that it considered the document a notice for everyone to vacate. PRP said the mistake belonged to my former husband and me, while also describing cancellation and roommate-notice forms that could be used to correct it.
That part still matters to me. The problem was understandable. PRP knew what I said I had intended. PRP knew where I actually lived. PRP knew there was a process that could correct the paperwork. Yet the Taylor eviction continued with my name attached.
Also on January 27, PRP posted a 24-hour notice to enter Highland for an inspection the following day.
The following day was January 28, the date of the Taylor mediation.
January 28: the two homes became one threat
I went to court on January 28 to deal with Taylor and Taylor only.
I was not trying to keep possession of Taylor. I was not asking the court to excuse rent that went unpaid after I left. I wanted my name removed from an eviction involving a house where I no longer lived.
I walked into mediation assuming Paul D'Amicis and I would be able to speak as we had years earlier. Instead, I received a cool greeting that felt almost contemptuous. He said PRP was not interested in mediation. He said PRP wanted restitution of Taylor and wanted “the apartment” back too. By “the apartment,” he meant Highland, the home where I was living with my grandson.
I asked why.
He referred to tarps I had placed on the Highland patio for privacy. The unit faced a busy street, and a PRP employee had previously indicated that I could put up something for privacy. When I tried to explain, Paul said he was not going to argue about it.
He then described dates on which he would “allow” me to remain at Highland and told me that if I did not agree to a move-out date in mediation, PRP would have an eviction put on my record.
That was not why I was there. The Highland tenancy was not the Taylor case. PRP had rented Highland to me after I left Taylor with a zero ledger balance. I had not been given a Highland notice alleging unpaid rent, damage, misconduct, or a lease violation.
I refused to agree to his terms. I asked for a trial because I wanted to speak to a judge. I believed the judge would care that I had already moved, that PRP knew I had moved, and that my name remained in the Taylor case because of a form I had requested in an effort to do things properly.
Paul's demeanor changed. He gathered his files and left the room quickly.
When I returned home to Highland, a termination notice was waiting on my door.
The notice was dated January 28. It gave no cause. It did not accuse me of failing to pay rent. It did not say I had damaged the apartment, endangered anyone, committed a crime, or violated a lease provision. It simply told me that PRP wanted the home back.
I was still in the initial term of a voucher-assisted lease. My understanding of the federal voucher rules was that an owner could not end the tenancy during that initial term without a permitted reason, and that the notice was supposed to state the grounds. PRP's notice did not tell me what I had done wrong.
The sequence is impossible for me to separate: I asserted my right to a trial in the Taylor case that morning, after Paul tried to make Highland part of the negotiation. I came home that afternoon and found that PRP was terminating Highland too.
I had gone to court to remove my name from an eviction involving a home where I did not live.
I came home to learn that PRP was taking the home where I did live.
I cleaned a house I had already moved out of
The Taylor case went to trial on February 13, 2026. It was Friday the 13th. Fitting, I suppose.
My position was still simple. I no longer lived there. PRP knew I no longer lived there. I wanted the case against me resolved accordingly.
The judge acknowledged that I was no longer living at Taylor. At the end of the hearing, the court and PRP's attorney discussed what would happen next. My understanding was clear: if Taylor was emptied during the restitution period, left clean and free of trash, and there were no problems with PRP staff, the case would be dismissed as to me.
I relied on that.
A judgment was signed and entered around February 17 and 18, followed by a Notice of Restitution. The notice was posted on February 20 and required the property to be vacated by February 24.
I went back to Taylor even though I had moved out months earlier.
I cleaned a house I had already moved out of.
I cleaned up a household I was no longer part of. I patched holes from things that had been removed. I helped get belongings and trash out. I photographed the condition. I recorded approximately thirty minutes of video. I worked until the house was empty. By dark on February 24, it was done.
I returned the original keys to PRP's drop box and included my forwarding address.
PRP did not need that address to discover where I lived. PRP had rented Highland to me. But leaving it removed any possible doubt that I had returned possession, complied, and could be reached.
I had done all of this because PRP's attorney connected a clean, timely return of Taylor with getting the case against me dismissed.
Let that sit for a moment.
I was already living in another PRP property. PRP knew it. The judge acknowledged it. Yet I had to go back and clean a house I no longer occupied, document the condition as though I were preparing evidence for a future fight, return the keys, and remain polite to the same company that had placed a termination notice on my actual home the day I refused to surrender my right to a trial.
I did it anyway.
Then PRP pursued attorney fees in Taylor.
PRP's attorney sent the fee papers to Taylor even though PRP knew I had moved out and knew exactly where I lived. I had given PRP my forwarding address, and PRP itself had rented Highland to me. Why send papers affecting my rights to a house they knew I had vacated? To me, the answer was obvious: if I did not receive them in time to object, the fee request could move forward without me and become another judgment I would have to fight after the fact.
I filed an objection under ORCP 68 and sought relief from the judgment under ORCP 71. I had to return to court again to prove that I had done what I was told to do.
On April 6, PRP's attorney acknowledged in court that I had complied and said there was nothing left to collect. The judge vacated the Taylor judgment and denied the attorney-fee request.
The Taylor judgment was finally gone.
The work, fear, time, and damage it caused were not.
And by then, Highland had become its own eviction case.
Highland moved on a separate track
PRP filed the Highland case from the January 28 no-cause notice. The first appearance and mediation took place on March 25.
The agreement was straightforward. No judgment of restitution would be entered if I left by 11:59 p.m. on May 31. The agreement contained no money terms. The payment fields were crossed out. It did not say that I had committed a serious lease violation. It did not contain an admission that I had damaged the unit, failed to pay rent, endangered anyone, or engaged in misconduct.
It gave me a date to leave.
Admittedly, I did not make it out by May 31.
But that fact did not exist in isolation. I was trying to dismantle a home, care for Ryn, deal with the Taylor case, preserve the voucher, find another landlord who would accept it, pack our belongings, obtain transportation and help, and figure out where we would go.
On June 3, a PRP representative came to Highland and asked whether the unit was empty. He said he would report back and left. That same day, PRP filed a Declaration of Non-Compliance with the court. I was not notified of a hearing and did not see the declaration then.
During those days I had a U-Haul parked overnight in a neighbor's space with her permission while I packed. A PRP agent walked past the truck and placed a parking violation on it. PRP could see that I was moving.
The court entered a Highland judgment on June 9 after PRP alleged noncompliance with the mediated deadline.
On June 10, a Notice of Restitution appeared on my door with the Declaration of Non-Compliance underneath it. That was the first time I saw the declaration. The notice set June 14 as the final move-out date.
I was out and returned the keys on June 13.
That is the full distinction I have tried repeatedly to make. The original Highland termination was no-cause and was delivered the same day I asserted my trial rights in Taylor. The later Highland judgment resulted from my failure to leave by the mediated May 31 date.
Those are related events, but they are not the same event. Missing the May 31 date explains how the later judgment was entered. It does not explain why PRP terminated Highland in the first place.
No one has ever given me a factual answer to that question.
The judgment reached my voucher
The Highland judgment did not remain inside the courthouse.
The Housing Authority of Jackson County sent notice terminating my Housing Choice Voucher assistance. The notice described the eviction as resulting from a serious violation of the lease.
I kept returning to the same question: what serious lease violation?
The original PRP notice was no-cause. The March 25 agreement did not identify a serious violation. It required me to leave by May 31. I missed that date. I understood that PRP could return to court and allege noncompliance.
What I did not understand was how missing that date became a serious lease violation that could end the voucher itself.
I requested an informal hearing. I tried to explain the difference between the reason PRP originally terminated the tenancy and my later failure to meet the mediated deadline. I tried to explain that I was not disputing the missed date or pretending the Highland judgment did not exist. I was disputing what the record was being made to mean.
I also sought help from my voucher coordinator, Christina, and her supervisor, Jennifer Jennings. They were the people I believed should have been able to help me understand the rules and protect the assistance my grandson and I depended on. I did not receive the help I needed from either of them.
The termination was upheld. I lost the assistance that had made Highland possible and faced a three-year wait before I could apply for a voucher again.
The paperwork had taken two homes and compressed them into one conclusion about me.
It did not show that PRP approved me for Highland with a zero Taylor balance.
It did not show that PRP knew I had moved.
It did not show the form I requested, the signatures it required, or my emails explaining the misunderstanding.
It did not show Paul trying to bring Highland into the Taylor mediation.
It did not show the same-day Highland termination.
It did not show me cleaning Taylor after I had already moved out, relying on the statement that the case against me would be dismissed.
It did not show the Taylor judgment being vacated after PRP acknowledged my compliance.
It showed “eviction.”
That one word began introducing me before I could introduce myself.
“Storage took it”
Court registers, ledgers, and screening reports cannot show what happened to Ryn.
After we lost Highland, our belongings went into storage. We stayed wherever we could. Family was the reason we had any safety net at all.
One day Ryn asked about one of his toys. While we talked about where it might be, I heard him say, “Storage took it.”
He was four years old.
To him, storage was not a building where adults place boxes during a move. It was the thing that had taken his toys. He did not understand why his bed and belongings were no longer in the home he knew. He did not understand why I could not always tell him exactly where we would be staying when I picked him up.
He only understood that his home was gone and his things were somewhere he could not reach them.
That is what an eviction record looks like from the height of a four-year-old child.
For me, it looked like months of applications, fees, denials, explanations, storage payments, moving plans, hotel stays, and the constant fear that the next possibility would disappear as soon as someone saw PRP or the word “eviction.” I paid at least four application fees averaging about $45 each, approximately $180 just for the chance to be considered, before counting the time, transportation, document costs, storage, and emotional toll.
I had lost the voucher. I had no home of my own. Every new landlord wanted a rental reference, and the company giving that reference was the company that had created both cases.
Then PRP charged me for Highland
I photographed Highland's condition when I left because by then I knew that if I did not create my own evidence, the landlord's paperwork would become the only version anyone saw.
PRP's July 9, 2026 move-out accounting did not describe the home I believed I had returned.
The ledger listed:
- $135 for an outlet cover, vertical blinds, drip pans, and light bulbs;
- $25 for trash removal;
- $100 for cleaning; and
- $2,278.80 for “prorated flooring replacement.”
Those four move-out charges totaled $2,538.80.
PRP kept my entire $1,145 security deposit. After credits and other ledger entries were applied, it sent me a letter demanding another $1,256.85. The letter instructed me to pay within thirty days or the damage charges would be sent to collections.
Between the deposit PRP kept and the additional balance it later demanded and I paid, the total taken from me was $2,401.85.
The flooring charge was the most outrageous part. I had lived at Highland for only about seven months. The carpet was clean and undamaged when I left. Yet PRP placed a $2,278.80 “prorated flooring replacement” charge on my ledger.
Proration is supposed to account for the age and remaining useful life of flooring. Instead of charging the full price of brand-new flooring, a landlord calculates what it claims remained of the old flooring's value and charges that amount.
In my case, it looked like a way to shift a major turnover expense onto me.
I was not the person who wanted the tenancy to end. PRP served the no-cause notice only three months after I signed the lease. PRP forced the move and then charged me thousands of dollars for the property I had been forced to leave.
Oregon does not require a landlord to complete a repair before making a claim. That meant PRP could place a “replacement” charge on my accounting without doing the work first or showing me that it had replaced the flooring. That rule does not automatically make this charge valid, reasonable, or my responsibility.
I dispute that I caused $2,278.80 in flooring damage. I dispute the cleaning, trash, and maintenance charges. Calling the largest charge “prorated” does not turn ordinary turnover into damage I caused.
The charges were utter bullshit. The amount was egregious.
They used the disputed balance to corner me
The PRP balance did not remain a private disagreement between a former tenant and a landlord. It followed me into my next housing application.
By September I had been without a home of my own for nearly three months. I was trying to secure a new home. The property manager told me the application could be reconsidered if the PRP balance was resolved and I could provide proof.
Once again, PRP's paperwork stood between me and a home.
I could refuse to pay charges I believed were false and risk losing that home, or I could pay PRP first, obtain a zero-balance letter, secure housing, and fight about the money later.
That was not a meaningful choice.
I paid the demanded $1,256.85.
I did not pay because I agreed that the charges were valid.
I did not pay because PRP proved that I destroyed the carpet or left Highland dirty.
I paid because I needed somewhere to live.
I paid because the alternative was losing my new home again and continuing without anywhere of my own after nearly three months.
I believe PRP stole money from me again and used coercive pressure to make me pay it. The July letter called the amount a balance. In my life, it became the price PRP placed on getting a roof over our heads.
The fact that I paid does not make the charges true.
It shows how much power a landlord's ledger can have, even when the tenant disputes every important part of it.
Where was I supposed to be heard?
After all of this, I kept looking for a place where the entire sequence could be heard by someone with the authority to do something about it.
I wanted to stand before a judge with a lawyer beside me who could explain the case without being cut off by a deadline or reduced to one form at a time.
I wanted someone to say:
Look at the fact that PRP rented Highland to her and knew she had left Taylor.
Look at the form she requested and the signatures it required.
Look at her emails explaining the mistake before the cases escalated.
Look at the January 28 mediation and the Highland notice posted the same day.
Look at the Taylor video.
Look at the house she cleaned after she had already moved out.
Look at PRP's acknowledgment that she complied.
Look at the vacated Taylor judgment.
Look at the no-cause Highland notice and the later mediated deadline as two different events.
Look at the voucher termination.
Look at the Highland photographs.
Look at the $2,278.80 flooring charge.
Look at the payment she made because another home depended on it.
Look at what this did to a grandmother and a four-year-old child.
Instead, everywhere I turned, I received some version of the same answer.
Legal Aid said no.
I did not have the money to retain a private attorney for a long fight.
Attorneys did not call back.
The eviction process moved faster than an ordinary person could learn it.
Each office handled only its own narrow piece.
The court had moved to the next case and the next deadline.
Pay the balance now and sue later.
That is just the way it is.
People describe this kind of fight as David and Goliath. But David at least had a sling.
A property management company has employees, lawyers, ledgers, notices, templates, filing systems, and experience doing this every day. I had grief, a four-year-old grandson I was caring for mostly on my own, a storage unit full of our belongings, no home of my own, and a stack of papers I was expected to understand quickly enough to save us.
It felt like a good-old-boys system in which the same people knew the same process, spoke the same language, and kept moving while the renter stood outside trying to explain what had just happened.
Maybe nobody said the exact words, “There is nothing you can do, kid.”
They did not have to.
That was the message: be quiet, accept it, pay it, and move on.
Why I built Rogue Valley Renters Voices
I kept asking myself what I should have done differently.
I asked PRP for the correct paperwork.
I told PRP where I lived.
I went to court.
I requested a trial.
I complied with what I understood the court and PRP's attorney to require.
I cleaned a house I had already moved out of.
I took photographs and video.
I returned the keys.
I challenged the Taylor fees and judgment.
I attended the Highland mediation.
I acknowledged that I missed the May 31 deadline.
I appealed the voucher termination.
I kept records.
I applied for housing.
I paid the disputed PRP balance because I needed a home.
I kept doing everything I could think of, and the official version of my life still looked like a series of failures detached from everything that caused them.
Then I began to wonder how many other renters had the same problem.
How many lives look terrible in a database and make sense the moment someone hears the whole story?
How many renters lose their homes before they understand the notice taped to the door?
How many people believe that Legal Aid or a housing program will help, only to hear that there is no attorney, no funding, no appointment, no jurisdiction, or no time?
How many parents and grandparents are moving children from couch to hotel to storage unit while a ledger quietly describes them as a balance due?
How many people are told that nothing can be done?
That is what led me to build this website.
Rogue Valley Renters Voices is not a place where I promise to fix somebody else's case. It is not a landlord-review pile-on, a comment fight, or a place for anonymous attacks.
It is a place where a renter can tell the whole story.
The documents matter. Dates matter. Accuracy matters. But the person living through those documents matters too.
I could not find a room where my entire story would be heard, so I built one.
I cannot promise that telling the truth here will repair the damage.
I can promise that the truth will not disappear simply because the paperwork is easier to read than the person.
Ryn matters.
I matter.
The renters whose lives are being compressed into notices, judgments, screening reports, and ledgers matter.
We fucking matter.
This is not where my story ends.
It is where I stopped waiting for someone else to give me permission to tell it.