Five days ago, the owner of the house I have rented in Costa Rica since 2010 told me she had executed a contract with a new tenant. She gave me two days to pack up and leave; since then, I have consulted with a few attorneys about this situation. By all means, I should be evicted by means of a court proceeding; whether this will actually happen remains to be seen, and there is a chance that Fuerza Publica, the national police force of Costa Rica, may get involved.

Author’s Note: I am heeding advice from two attorneys who have recommended that this report should include as little personally identifying information as possible.

This is the second article in a series that explains why I may be evicted. If you wish to get more background on this situation, which includes kicked doors, trespassing, shouting matches in public, dead tomato vines, and unpleasant landlord-tenant relationships, please click here.

 

The Thorny Issue of Eviction in Costa Rica

 

Until the late 20th century, Costa Rica was known as a country of homeowners who mostly kept property in the family so that it could be transferred from one generation to the next. Over the last two decades, however, the number of renters has increased exponentially as families become fragmented and homesteads are being sold.

According to business weekly El Financiero, the rental market in Costa Rica is currently in a boom period. From 2000 to 2010, rental demand grew by 33 percent. Nearly 25 percent of the San Jose province is occupied by renters; Heredia follows with 22.2 percent.

I hope that this series is helpful for expats starting their lives in our country as renters, and also for those who may think about becoming landlords. I believe that the aforementioned figures reported by El Financiero would be higher if not for the exasperating issue of eviction, which clearly favors tenants despite the passage of a new law in recent years to streamline the process of removing unwanted occupants like me.

 

The Laws in Question

 

Two public laws will be discussed in this article: The main one is 7527, Urban Leasing and Tenancy, which dates back to 1995. The other law is 9160, the Court-Supervised Eviction Process, which is in effect until a scheduled major revision on October 9 of 2018. You can read more about this revision (in Spanish) here.

In general, Law 7527 is more favorable to tenants, particularly with regard to evictions. Prior to 2013, when the Court-Supervised Eviction Process was passed, landlords faced uphill battles to remove tenants from their properties in Costa Rica; the reason for this most unpleasant situation is that Law 7527 treats evictions as a summary or ordinary civil process, which in our dearly beloved country means filing of claims, affirmative defenses, motions, pleadings, hearings, evaluation of evidence, and sentencing; all this before we get to the nebulous appeals process, which can turn Kafkaesque before going into full Gordian mode.

In other words, a summary eviction in Costa Rica is not summary at all; for many years, Law 7527 has provided a stage for freeloading tenants and their unethical attorneys to deprive landlords from rental income and to make them spend millions of colones into a legal abyss. If you would like to delve into the world of the late Franz Kafka without the benefit of super elegant literary prose, I invite you to consult case number 1- 000178-0222-CI of the Third Civil Circuit of San Jose. That case has more twists and turns than the highway leading to Cerro de la Muerte, and I believe two judges have retired or passed away since the claim was originally filed. I would not be surprised if the aforementioned eviction is still going past 60 months, perhaps the landlord and tenant settled on a duel instead?

Enter Law 9160, which seeks to emulate the eviction process in some North American jurisdictions. It is a strong ray of hope for landlords in Costa Rica who are afraid that evicting their tenants will start as a Kafka short story before it transforms into Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. If you want the full analysis of Law 9160, I strongly recommend the 2015 UCR thesis by María del Mar López Delgado, a whip-smart law scholar who has my vote for the Constitutional Chamber; she nails the law in just 174 pages, but I will provide a beneficial synopsis for landlords:

With more than 3,000 evictions filed each year in Costa Rica, most of them are due to late rent payments, a break in landlord-tenant relationships, and more than likely a combination of both. A good portion of evictions may also be of a vindictive nature, which is why the Colegio de Abogados, the national bar association of Costa Rica, was fully behind the passing of Law 9160 because it is able to cut down on nasty civil feuds.

The provisions of Law 9160 are clear: landlords may file for an abbreviated process of eviction if rent, payments of public utilities such as water and electricity, or even condominium association fees, are late. Judges are aware of the streamline intention of the law, and thus they are supposed to quickly review the civil claims and notify tenants to appear in a hearing within 15 days. There are no motions or answers to file; evidence must be introduced at the hearing, and the judge may offer a quick mediation round between landlords and tenants. This would also be the time to enter an appeal; nonetheless, the judge can enter a sentence of eviction and set a date for the tenant to leave the property. If the tenant does not obey the order, the landlord can file a request for desalojo administrativo, which is physical removal, to be carried out by their local Fuerza Pública precinct. This is one way the police can get involved with the eviction process in Costa Rica.

Another neat provision of Law 9160 is that landlords can demand that rent payments be made to the court; in fact, the judge can even order an inventory of personal property in the dwelling so that they can be forced as collateral in case the tenant refuses to pay. The court appointed person in charge of making the inventory may be accompanied by Fuerza Pública to guarantee entry into the home. The only downside to this provision is that it may add complexities to the process, which is supposed to last four to six weeks but can still be extended due to the vicissitudes of Law 7527, which has precedence.

 

Back to My Case

 

As of today, I have not received an eviction notification. I have consulted with five attorneys; all of them believe I am still under contract until 2019. Landlords in Costa Rica can break lease agreements at any time with a written intention of doing so; however, they are bound by Article 72 to allow tenants three months to clear out. I have not received such notification; in fact, my landlady -heretofore known as Mrs. B- is in possession of a letter signed and authenticated by an attorney, who is also a notary public, reminding her of the above.

Getting a lawyer to write a letter on my behalf to Mrs. B was not an easy task. I first spoke with two attorneys in San Jose who specialize in real estate law. The first one did not think a letter was necessary; she told me to do nothing for the time being and to call her back when I received a notice of eviction from the court. At that point, she said, she would take action and turn the court-supervised process into an ordinary one so I did not have to pay rent for months. In her words:

“I shine in court. From what you are telling me, Mrs. B does not know about Article 26, 58, 70, 71, 72, and a few others. We can enter our own claim and demand payment of my fees by placing liens on her property.”

Another real estate law specialist was more receptive of my idea of sending a letter:

“Ok, so if you decide to retain me I can make a Notary Statement and will travel to Mrs. B’s home to read it. She has gone over the line with Article 26 (which precludes landlords from disturbing tenants); I know Fuerza Pública section chiefs, so they can take your statement and serve her at the same time I arrive. When the blue uniforms show up, landlords tend to pay attention. This will cost 100,000 colones; I could also talk to her on the phone and mail a transcript of our conversation so that she knows your rights and that I am your attorney. This will cost 75,000 colones.”

I was intrigued by the above and was tempted to retain this law firm. I decided to stick closer to home to see if legal professionals knew about Mrs. B’s family, who is rumored to be very powerful. This would turn into a surprise.

 

Conflicts of Interest

 

I traveled to Grecia to meet with a civil law attorney who initially told me to do nothing:

“It is the landlord’s responsibility to give tenants written notice, not the other way around. Why give her legal ammunition? If she continues to pester you into leaving, talk to Fuerza Pública; otherwise, just wait until she files for eviction.”

I pressed for the letter and the lawyer accepted to draft and authenticate one for me at the cost of 20,000 colones. When I arrived at his office the next morning with the contract, he jumped:

“Sorry, I can’t help you. I know Mrs. B; her father is a major client of this firm. I know she is difficult, but this would be a conflict of interest. Her family does a lot of real estate transactions from here to Alajuela.”

This was a mild surprise for me. As I explained in my previous article, a few of my neighbors do not think it is a good idea for me to “go against” Mrs. B; more than a handful of her former tenants, who used to live near me, have had issues with her, and they just leave (attention, landlords) overnight without making final rent or utility payments. Two of the attorneys I interviewed suggested this method of solving the problem, which happens to be a popular resolution in Costa Rica since there is little recourse for landlords.

I asked the attorney if he could recommend colleagues. He called two, but he first asked if Mrs. B’s family were clients. They were. I was getting nervous at that point, until the lawyer said:

“I know who can help you! His office is only five blocks away. Let me call.”

The five blocks were hills on the way to San Roque. This attorney did not think a letter was a good idea, either; however, I sat in his office for more than an hour while he went over the contract, consulted the laws on his iPad and fired up the speakerphone to call a colleague in Cartago. The guy had the voice, diction and cadence of Seth Gecko from the Robert Rodriguez film “From Dusk Till Dawn.”

“There is no need for this letter you speak of. You do not make the first move. Landlords do. They have pestered you, and you have retaliated in anger. You have trespassed, and you have insulted. As an attorney, I think you could have been arrested, but you are here. You are talking to me, and that is good. This is a free ride for you. You wait and you leave.”

 

“But what can I do if they keep bothering me and my mother, who lives with me?”

 

“The only help I can give you is to call a taxi to take you to the Fuerza Pública precinct down the road. It is a long walk. You have told me enough; if they are a nuisance, let the police know. They don’t like nuisance. You know Mrs. B could do this to you as well. As for her husband, I don’t see his name on this contract. Who is he? He has no part in this. You say he killed your tomato vine; do you sell tomatoes? Is this part of your income? Because we can file a lawsuit to recover damages, but I don’t see how this letter will help. You call me when you receive an eviction notice so I can do my work. I am a professional. I have a stack of evictions I am handling now; all from landlords, but I have represented tenants. I like my job.”

 

“What about the water and electricity? They are in Mrs. B’s name. Can she cut me off out of spite?”

 

“I know where you live. I know where you make your water payments. The lady at the utility, the one who takes your money, knows you are a renter. If Mrs. B cuts you off, you walk up that hill and explain to them that you are still living there. They will reconnect you. As for the electricity; she would have to lie and say the dwelling is not occupied. She would then have to pay all amounts owed to that very day. If she cuts you off, you go to the municipality and make a rent payment as consignment. You show your contract, which I know to be valid until 2019, and you get a receipt. Your electricity will be reconnected. Then you call me and we go to court. If she serves you with an eviction notice and attempts to cut services, God help her, for the court will not like that at all, especially if there are children living with you.”

I still had one more lawyer to interview. Guess what: no, the family is not part of his book of clients, but he is a distant cousin. He had no problem writing the letter on his office letterhead and stamping it as a Notary Public.

“The letter is not the best idea, but I know this family. They are not going to like it, but they have to follow the law. For 10,000 colones, you will buy yourself plenty of time. Be sure to send this letter off via certified mail or EMS messenger service. Let’s not mention all the articles of the law because you are only giving them legal ammunition and making it easier for their attorney to take a position in court, if they ever get a lawyer. To start evicting you, it would cost them at least three times what you are currently paying each month, so that’s 170,000 multiplied by three: 510,000 colones. I don’t think they will do it. You are in a good spot; you can take your time and be out of there in a few weeks.”

I finalized my round of attorney interviews on Friday afternoon. While engaged in these matters, my mom called to say that Mrs. B arrived and asked why the house was still occupied. My mom explained that I was at a law firm, something that Mrs. B did not like, for she said:

“If we are going to play that game, I also have attorneys who can have you out tomorrow. This is my house and I can come tomorrow with my husband and start taking out your furniture.”

The last attorney I met with said the letter would be ready on Saturday morning. I resisted the urge to go to Mrs. B’s hacienda and climb the fence once again, particularly after meeting with the Seth Gecko lawyer. I settled on a phone call:

“Mrs. B, my mom said you visited the house. Law 7527 states that you are allowed to visit once per month. You will not enter again in January. If you attempt to enter or remove my personal property, like you warned my mother earlier today, I will call Fuerza Pública. If your husband attempts to enter the house you own, and that I currently occupy, I will physically remove him from the premises, with force. You may come by on Saturday afternoon, but you will not be allowed to enter. Don’t expect to pick up the keys; I have a copy of a letter from my attorney that I think you should read… that is what you can pick up at this time. Not keys nor rent money; just that letter, of which you will receive an original via EMS on Monday.”

Mrs. B did not get the aforementioned letter until Tuesday. Needless to say, she was not enthused. I will report on her reaction and next steps on the next article of this series, which I hope I don’t have to entitle: “I’m Getting Arrested in Costa Rica: Defendants in Court.”

Part three of this series is now available. Click here to read it.