Cleaning Up Foreclosed Homes After the Mortgage Crisis

"If the home is clean, that's the anomaly," Clay says. "Most of the time, it's in complete disrepair."

About half of the homes Clay visits are still occupied, and she says lenders have authorized payments of $700 to $1,500 for the occupants to vacate the houses and leave them in good condition.

"A lot of times they're in denial. They don't believe that they have to leave, or they just don't have a place to go," Clay says. "The hope is that [offering the money] can be something positive."

Lang says that her firm has offered "cash for keys" as well. Lenders have been so desperate to get the properties back in decent condition that Lang's workers can write checks on site. A woman in Michigan, Lang says, was paid $8,000 to clean her house and leave.

"Some people leave and the doors are wide open, and that just allows squatters and vagrants and vandals to go in and finish the job," Lang says.

John, who asked that his last name not be used, was offered $900 to leave a house he rented in Bear Creek Meadows after his landlord stopped paying the mortgage.

The foreclosure notice came in January, about two years after John moved in. His landlord said the bank made a mistake. Then a constable served an eviction notice, and John scrambled to find a new place to live.

When a realtor offered him the check to leave the house, John accepted the deal. He took the money and moved to a smaller rent house about a block away, across the street from a vacant property with a foreclosure sign in the yard.

"It's a bum deal, but I didn't want to be left out in the cold," John says. "I think these people here are a whole lot better."

Paying cash for keys, Lang says, can also hopefully reduce the chance of a violent encounter. In October, Harris County constables experienced the extreme side of foreclosures.

When a constable approached a home in Spring to post an eviction notice, the owner came outside with a pistol. The constable retreated, and the man went back inside. The encounter turned into a standoff — with police and SWAT surrounding the house — which lasted nearly 12 hours.

The man started chucking out Molotov cocktails, and police fired tear gas into the house. Still the owner didn't come out. Eventually, police stormed the house and the man shot himself. A gas mask and chemical suit were found inside.

Junk haulers stay away from most of the trouble, but the job isn't risk-free.

Gordon Jefferson has run a small trash-hauling operation for about the last seven years. On one occasion, he was hired to clean a foreclosed property and was told to trash everything.

Jefferson started throwing away clothing, shoes, furniture and a collection of flashlights. The former owner showed up at the property while Jefferson was working and started screaming at Jefferson to leave.

"He's not really angry at you, but he'll take it out on you," Jefferson says. "Sometimes situations like that can be kind of hostile."

Jefferson backed off and called the realtor who hired him. Police came out to the property, Jefferson says, and told the man to leave. Jefferson finished the job and hauled the load to the dump.

Avoiding danger is often a concern for Correa, and when he gets a work order, his first trip to the home is for inspection.

Neighbors have become a resource. Correa tries to find out how long the property has been vacant and whether the previous residents are likely to return. He often learns more.

"[The neighbors] usually get curious and come over," Correa says. "They want to know what we're doing; they've never seen us before. Then they want to tell us what's been going on."

But Correa's main objective is speed. Sometimes, all the junk is piled in the garage and there's little garbage inside the house itself. On a good house, he can be in and out in a couple hours.

Loose trash is what slows him down the most. Paper and food wrappers spread across the floor, bottles and cans left on cabinet tops, dishes in the cupboards or a refrigerator full of food mean a job of tedious work.

Correa has also expanded his services. He'll suggest a mop job topped off with a disinfecting if the house is especially dirty. Sometimes, he'll rip out the carpet.

When the bank is willing to pay, Correa has started hiring laborers to replace cracked drywall or broken tile. But junk hauling has been his mainstay, and after dump fees and supplies, Correa usually pockets between $300 and $1,000 per job.

"Most banks just want a quick sell, and want us for a one-shot deal," Correa says. "I can do that. So far, it's been working out pretty good."
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