Venezuelan Miscreants Destroy Quality of Life in Edgewater
Please note that I am in no way anti-refugee or anti-immigrant. I have friends all over the globe. Except for my Native American acquaintances, we all come from immigrant families. This is my true story of current turmoil.
I live in the city of Edgewater, an increasingly hip community of 5,005 people bordering Sloans Lake, about 12 minutes west of the center of Denver and 20 minutes from the foothills of the Rockies. Three years ago, I rented a nice apartment, paid a fair amount for the privilege and enjoyed it. The problems began when a new management group, 3Gen Property Management, took over. Repairs began to be neglected and the neighbors (and their dogs!) that I was getting to know moved away. For me, the most atrocious violation at the time was when management arbitrarily decided to charge me an extra $35 a month for internet service though an inferior company than the one I already pay almost double for the luxury of lightning speed and reliable 6G service. That surcharge was never paid. Many apartment vacancies resulted.
I suppose the out-of-town landlord panicked, because practically overnight, the six buildings were filled with Venezuelans who did not speak a word of English. They seemed to have no interest in assimilating in America. They propped the outside doors open, played loud music until after 3 in the morning, dumped their empty beer cans and plastic water bottles all over the property and filled the back yard behind my apartment with children’s toys and bicycles. They let their toddlers scream at the top of their lungs for an hour at a time, which is not conducive to my writing career.
I sometimes refer to them as the “woodpecker people” because they travel from building to building an knock incessantly on the door until somebody answers. Often it is late, after midnight, and wakes me up.
Several of the young men took to repairing cars in the parking lot and left discarded car parts in the driveway. One night, I walked Boru outside. It was about 9:30 and dark. Two men conversed in Spanish, of which I understand just a few words. One, in a braggadocio tone, boasted, “I f***** up mi abuelo. I f***** up mi hermano.” Then he pointed down the sidewalk at me. “I’m going to f*** up that guy.” For a few weeks, I carried a baseball bat with me when I walked the dog at night.
In June, I came home late one night from trivia at the Denver Press Club and after Boru and I crawled into bed, head gunshots outside my window. The following day, I came home from a meeting at the employment office to find four police officers in the hall talking to my Mexican neighbor. A few minutes later, one of the officers knocked on my door. On a cell phone, he displayed a photo of a man, and asked if I had seen him.
“He was across the hall yesterday.”
“We’re looking for him.”
“Does this have anything to do with the gunshots outside the building last night?”
“It does. If you see him again, please call me,” the officer said, handing me his card. I keep it near, but haven’t seen the suspect again. The police have been called to the building three other times in the past month. Perhaps more that I don’t know about.
Last week, I had a knock on the door from a young girl about 12 wearing a Disney “Frozen” princess dress. She demanded, “Google talk. Google talk.” Her message was “We are selling homemade Venezuelan arepas. Will you buy some.”
I said no, because I figured they tasted like the horrible smell coming from across the hall. And more importantly, if I’m going to buy food, it’s going to come from a kitchen licensed for food sales or catering.
Over the weekend, one of my most highly regarded friends heard my tale, and warned me of the dangerous Venezuelan gang that is terrorizing other parts of Denver and Aurora.
Today, 3Gen management sent a young man to my door with an eviction notice. I told him, damn straight I haven’t paid. You haven’t addressed any of the problems here. I refused to sign his verification that I had been served. It’s time for me to move. Again. In 14 years in Colorado, I’ve lived in 13 different places. I’ve toured several other apartment complexes and still have yet to find the right fit. I have 10 days to find one and move out. Please say a prayer for me. The most reprehensible part of this is that these thugs are allowed to flourish. 3Gen brought them in and is complicit in allowing their criminal behavior. I should not have to stay in a place where my personal safety is threatened. But the cowardly property managers are not doing a thing to enforce their leases with the people who have caused the problem.
PS – If anybody can find the fraudsters who hacked and stole my Facebook account to sell cryptocurrency to my friends, I’d love to have that information.
https://kdvr.com/news/local/denver-police-chief-mayor-react-to-south-american-gang-presence-in-city