“I don’t know” what to do


NS. Louis (AP) — A door knock that Kristen Bigogno had long feared finally arrived on Friday — two St. Louis lawmakers kicked her out and the other two there to change the keys to the apartment. A man has joined.

The eviction took months, but Bigogno suddenly felt it. The ruling against her was last winter, but thanks to the national moratorium, she received an amnesty that ended in a Supreme Court ruling last month.

She received the final notice on Tuesday. When two lawmakers stood up around noon on Friday, she knew it was over.

Currently, 39-year-old Bigogno doesn’t know where her 16- and 17-year-olds and her son live.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Pray to God that something will happen. I don’t know what else to say or do.”

She is particularly worried about her two cats and one dog. And it will probably end up in a shelter. “Do you want my pet?” She asked the reporter.

Supreme Court of the United States Last month, it blocked the Biden administration from forcing a temporary ban on peasant evictions, essentially ending the month-long moratorium imposed by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The freeze was aimed at helping tenants who couldn’t keep up with their rent due to the coronavirus pandemic and preventing further spread of COVID-19 by people sent to the streets and shelters.

Bigogno began to notice Neighbor who left last year. She said the company, which owns a three-story, six-unit building in southern St. Louis and two adjacent complexes, has begun evictions of tenants with plans to rehabilitate the building and rent it at a higher price.

She was informed in February that she would be kicked out. With the help of an advocacy lawyer, she was able to convince the judge that her case was covered by the CDC Moratorium, and she was allowed to stay.

But no longer.

After the agent entered Bigogno’s apartment, she carried some things (clothes, appliances, bedding) out of the back door and began putting them in the car and a friend’s pickup truck.

Within 30 minutes, a new lock was set. The apartment was no longer hers.

Sheriff Vernon Betts of St. Louis, the agency responsible for facilitating the evacuation, said the pace of the deportation was not as bad as he expected. He believes that some people who knew that the moratorium was nearing its end had prepared before being forced out.

But Mr. Betts said too many people, like Bigogno, would wait until it was too late. When the court ordered the eviction of peasants, he said he had no choice on the matter.

“We worked with compassion and empathy, but when we reach that D-Day, I have to obey the court order myself, or I will look down on the court order. “I will,” said Mr. Betts.

Kenard Williams of St. Louis Action, a non-profit organization that works with people facing peasant evictions, disagreed with Betts’ assessment of the lessor’s climate. Williams said his office was flooded with calls from desperate tenants.

“It’s cruel, man,” Williams said.

Williams is still working on behalf of Bigogno “to keep the roof on her head.” She is currently on the waiting list for public housing.If she could find a place to live, the church offered to pay her first month’s rent, and she started GoFundMe account. For now, she and the boy can sleep in the car.

The problem is that she couldn’t find a new job at the expense of her job all the while in court fighting the eviction of peasants. She said she wouldn’t rent her because she was unemployed.

Bigogno approached him as he was trying to replace the lock on what was a backdoor. Instead of expressing anger, she apologized “for the whole situation.”

The man seemed embarrassed and shrugged.

“We’re just working,” he said. “It has nothing to do with this.”