I shouldn't really say it was a knock. Somebody actually rang the doorbell. Before I got up to see who was there, I suddenly thought that something bad was about to happen, like maybe I shouldn't answer the door. And I knew pretty much what was going to happen when I opened that door.
I need to backtrack. You may remember the accident I was involved in when I lived in Denver. The other driver's insurance company was continually trying to sue me. But they had trouble finding me because I kept moving from place to place. I was in one place long enough, so they sent me a letter via registered mail. It ticked me off when I got the notice because there are spaces on the card to write the name of the sender, but the Post Office would never fill that information in. I didn't know if I was getting a package or a check in the mail, so I went in and picked it up like an idiot.
The letter basically said that I owed them around $60,000. After I read the letter, I consulted with my attorney, Mr. T. He told me to write them a reply stating that I wasn't going to consider anything until they provided me with proof of the expenses, including receipts for damages and doctor visits. I did that and I didn't hear anything from them for awhile. Then I got a mysterious letter asking me to call this phone number and ask for a certain extension. It promised it wasn't a collection agency. The number had a Denver area code on it. I called the number. Some guy answered the phone and I knew right away the extension didn't really connect to anything, it was how they would look up my file. From what I could tell from the greeting, the letter did not lie. They were not a collection agency. They would probably just ask to verify my address. I hung up the phone without saying anything. A few weeks later, right before I moved out of the apartment on Idaho Street, I received this huge envelope from the insurance company. Inside was everything I had requested: Statements, receipts, doctors' notes, etc. A lot of it was copies of other statements, receipts and notes that they obviously threw in there to pad out the package. Since I knew I was going to be moving soon, I didn't do anything except ignore it.
I lived in my next apartment for about three months before I had to move again to my present apartment. But during that time, I never saw any evidence that the insurance company was wise to my whereabouts. In April 1994, this was when the doorbell rang. I opened the door. A man about my age asked if I was Fayd Ogolon. I said I was. He said, "I have some legal papers for you." He handed me an envelope and left. I had been served. They finally caught up to me.
I read the letter. It stated that the insurance company was proceeding with a lawsuit and that I was to appear in civil court in Colorado on a certain date at a certain time. If I didn't appear, there were be a default judgement against me for the full amount of $60,000. I immediately called my attorney, Mr. T, in Denver. We discussed the possibility of him representing me in the case, but he didn't feel like I had much of a shot of winning since I had already pleaded guilty to reckless driving. I said that if I lost the case, I could declare bankruptcy. He advised me to just let the judgement default and then declare bankruptcy. I guess he really didn't want to go to court, even though I had paid him the full amount for his services the last time.
(A side note: I realized later that while Mr. T was a decent defense attorney in my criminal case, he didn't seem to know much about civil law. A different attorney would have taken the approach that there were issues with the traffic signaling system at that intersection that could have been considered the cause of the accident. Supposedly, they have changed that traffic light to allow protected left turns from each direction. I could have won, but I still would have probably needed to pay my attorney thousands of dollars. The advice about going ahead and declaring bankruptcy was really the best option. Going to court would have also meant traveling to Denver and losing work and money.)
After receiving the summons, I realized that I could have delayed that a little longer if I had thought about it ahead of time. The original police report described me as a male with brown hair. My hair is actually blond and looked really blond after 2 1/2 years of living in Southern California without having it cut. The person doing the serving may not have realized right away that I was Fayd Ogolon, especially since it it was much longer than the time of the accident.
This was about a week after Kurt Cobain had been found dead in his home after committing suicide. There were stories about a lot of his fans who decided that would be the best way to bring their misery to an end. When the guy asked if I was Fayd Ogolon, I could have started getting misty-eyed and explained that Fayd was my roommate, but he committed suicide after Kurt Cobain had died. The guy probably would have said, "I'm sorry to hear that," and gone away.
But really, he likely would have done enough investigating to see that I was the guy driving Fayd Ogolon's car (especially since I had to park on the street). At any rate, I doubt I would have gotten away with it forever. He would have come back, caught me and the court date would have remained the same.
At any rate, all of this set me on my path to declare bankruptcy. I'll share those details tomorrow.
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