In December 2023, I contacted a realtor to help us find a suitable place to live. After some searching, a promising home in Cambridge became available. The landlord was working with another realtor who happened to be friendly with mine, which made the process feel safe and trustworthy.
We signed the lease in mid-December, setting our move-in date for January 15, 2024. Everything went smoothly during the move. The landlord and her realtor seemed helpful, and we were excited to start a new chapter in our lives. The location was perfect—close to our kids' school and with a park right behind it.
For the first few months, everything seemed fine. I paid the rent and bills on time, and we didn’t encounter any issues. Life felt normal and stable.
Then, one morning in March, everything changed. After working until 4 a.m., I was woken by a sheriff knocking on our door with a writ of possession. He claimed we were squatters and gave us ten minutes to grab our important belongings and leave.
In disbelief, we called the police. However, the sheriff also called them, intending to have us forcibly removed. Soon, four police cars were outside our house as officers tried to understand the situation.
The sheriff screamed at us, threatening to change the locks and remove us by force. My children were crying as the chaos unfolded. I called my realtor, who then contacted the landlord’s realtor—neither could believe this was happening.
When I managed to reach the landlord, her response was chilling: “Oh, this wasn’t supposed to happen until July.”
Ultimately, the police told us we had to leave. With only minutes to act, we packed what we could into our car and left everything else behind. Weeks passed before we were allowed back to retrieve the rest of our belongings.
The home had been foreclosed on by a third-party lender. They refused to let us stay, even when we offered to pay $2,800 for a month’s extension to find another place. Their ruthlessness left us scrambling.
Arrangements with the lender were nearly impossible. We needed days to pack and move, but they only gave us time because our story aired on CTV Kitchener News, and they wanted to avoid further bad press.
When I reviewed the paperwork, the betrayal became clear. The landlord and her family had been living in the home in December when the lender visited. They had already gone to court through the LTB (Landlord and Tenant Board) to foreclose on the property.
The landlord knew she had lost the home before she had us sign the lease. Since the court had already decided she no longer owned the property, our lease was invalid—we didn’t legally exist as tenants.
Adding insult to injury, the landlord still hasn’t returned my $2,800 last month’s rent deposit.
After being forced out, we stayed in hotels over the weekend. Thankfully, a coworker offered her vacant home, and we now rent from her. However, the financial toll has been immense:
We were finally allowed back into the house weeks later to retrieve our belongings, but the emotional and financial damage had already been done.
I’m still searching for a lawyer to take my case to recover the last month’s rent deposit, moving expenses, and other losses. Unfortunately, finding legal help has been challenging due to the lack of case law in similar situations.
If you have any advice or know someone who might take this case, I’d greatly appreciate your suggestions.
The entire experience—from the sheriff’s sudden knock to the prolonged moving process—was a nightmare. It’s heartbreaking to know that this could happen to anyone. I’m sharing my story to raise awareness and, hopefully, to prevent others from enduring the same ordeal.
From,
R.G. through email to Openroom on December 6, 2024