If Only Every Week Were Spring Break Week

Several of the posts on this blog allude to the reality that one week is not nearly enough to make a dent in the havoc that Katrina wrought. It is awesome (in the true sense of the word) that so many students and others with a spring break week to spare spent the past week in New Orleans working on clean up and recovery efforts. See http://www.nola.com/search/index.ssf?/base/news-5/1142581987218460.xml?nola#continue. And helping each "starfish," as Aaron wrote last week, is surely important. I am proud of the work that the succession workgroup was able to do, even if our contributions only helped to push our files a little closer to completion and even if I wish I could have filed papers for at least the one client I worked with whose father had died in the flood.

Still, as I sat in the airport on Friday waiting to leave town along with other spring break travellers, I couldn't help feeling sad. I think the sorrow stemmed from the fact that there were, literally, hundreds of us leaving town -- students on spring break leaving after our five or six or seven days of work and contractors who spend their weeks in New Orleans and surrounding areas, but escape on weekends to go home to Chicago or Saint Louis or other, similar places that are far-removed from the storm -- and, simultaneously, merely a trickle of people coming in to the city. As it had been on Sunday when I arrived, more than half of the gates at the airport were deserted. And I don't just mean that there weren't people travelling; the airlines had pulled out, leaving the information screen behind the gate desk dark and blank, and restaurants in both the gate area and the terminal were shuttered. The contrast became ever more clear on my layover at O'Hare in Chicago, which looked like an airport is supposed to look on a Friday evening -- people everywhere, crowds at the food counters, lines in the bathrooms. How long, I wondered, before New Orleans's Louis Armstrong International Airport -- where ghosts of those who were stuck there for days during Katrina still linger -- will approach even one-tenth or one-fifth of that level of activity?

Spring break comes only once a year. True, there were students in town the week before us, and more are likely on their way this week and next, but a massive and sustained effort is needed to help New Orleans and other Gulf areas get back on their feet. And its not just about the bandaids that we apply retroactively by cleaning up destroyed houses, helping survivors with divorces or successions, or figuring out how to address particular unmet legal needs that have been brought to light by hurricane recovery efforts. The social, economic, and political barriers to true recovery are much larger and require more attention than students on a week of spring break can provide. If only every week were spring break, maybe we could make a larger difference, but even then, the problems are bigger than that, and, frankly, I'm not sure that outsiders are best-equipped to deal with these issues or find workable solutions. As I reflect on my week in New Orleans, I think I agree with Mike Petrusic's blog comment that the most important thing we can do going forward, in lieu of (or in addition to) our continued labor, is to keep the attention of policymakers focused on the deep-seeded problems that were brought into focus so sharply last August and September. The state of the Ninth Ward speaks for itself -- Katrina did a lot of damage but, as Aaron wrote in his blog entry, things clearly were not all that great before Katrina.

Thanks to the UNC Pro Bono Program, Diane Standaert and Dan Harrison for their unbelievable organization of this trip, the New Orleans Pro Bono Project for allowing us to help them with their work, Phelps Dunbar for housing us for the week, and the Donald & Elizabeth Cooke Foundation and the Carolina Center for Public Service for covering part of our expenses. This truly was the capstone of a nearly-concluded law school experience.

Vicki

Succession 101

If you are anything like me, then to hear us say we are working on succession probably doesn’t mean a whole lot. Therefore, I am going to give a brief introductory lesson on what a succession is and how it is achieved.

When someone dies, her land is transferred to her successors. This is called a succession. Depending on the type of property and who was alive at the time the decedent died, the procedure for a succession can get pretty complex.

But before I get too far head of myself, let me explain why an heir needs to establish a succession in the first place. Before an heir can get possession of the property, use it as collateral for loans, or, in the case of the people of New Orleans, receive insurance payout or governmental assistance after the hurricane, he has to open a succession and show that the property is now legally his. To complicate matters even more, sometimes previous generations passed down their property without opening a succession. This means that the new heir has to prove not only his immediate succession, but also that of the previous owner. Let me given an example. Even though a son remained on his parent’s property after their death, title was never transferred to his name. So in order for this son’s daughter to now prove her legal possession of the land to get FEMA assistance, she must first show that the property was legitimately transferred from her grandparents to her father before she can show that it was transferred from her father to her. When someone who is dealing with the death of a loved one is faced with this daunting task, it is easy to lose hope.

Herein steps The Pro Bono Project—and us.

Most of the property we worked with this week was owned by someone who died intestate (or, in other words, they didn’t have a will). The first question to ask is, Was the property was acquired before or after marriage? If it was before marriage, we call this “separate property.” This kind of property first goes to the children, then to the siblings and parents and finally to the spouse. If the property was acquired during marriage, we call this “marital property,” and a slightly different order of inheritance is applied. The only heirs that we consider are those that were alive at the time of the property owner’s death.

The second question we ask is, Is the heir going to accept the property or renounce it? If they accept it, then we make sure they qualify for our assistance. If they renounce it, then we have to send them a letter and a form to secure from them a written renunciation. But wait, you say, why would anyone want to give up free property? There are a few reasons someone would want to renounce their property. First, the process of opening a succession is a hassle, and some people might not want to deal with it. Second, if one heir qualifies for pro bono assistance but another doesn’t, then the two might decide to just let the pro bono office handle it. Finally, the family members might decide that one heir in particular should have the property because they have already been living on it, or because they simply need it the most. Regardless, every eligible heir must be contacted to see whether they want to accept or renounce.

While we are requesting and receiving these renunciations, we are also doing separate research to make sure we have all of the information necessary to complete the documents that must be submitted to the court. For example, we need to know the value of the property and other assets, how much debt the property owner had, and the amount of funeral expenses. We also need to have the property description, any marriage certificates, divorce judgments, birth and death certificates, and adoption papers. Finally, we need to have information on any possible heirs.

Once all of this information is gathered through trips to the court house, city hall, and the convention center, and through numerous phone calls, we can prepare the necessary documents. The first of such documents is the Affidavit of Death, Jurisdiction, and Heirship. This document testifies who the property last belonged to, who the eligible heirs are, and why the petitioner is entitled to possession. Next, we have to write a Petition for Possession. This explains step by step why the property belongs to this particular successor. After the petition, we write the Judgment of Possession, the document that, once signed by the court, actually passes possession to our client. Finally, we have to write the Sworn Detailed Description, which specifies the property and assets in question, as well as any liabilities. Once these documents are completed, the client has to come in and sign them in front a notary public.

The final paperwork to prepare is the tax form. Here we determine whether any inheritance taxes are due. If there are, then the client needs to pay them. Once they are paid, or if there are not any due, this form needs to be taken to the tax office to obtain a receipt. This receipt, along with the affidavit, petition, judgment, and description are all taken to the court house to be signed by the deputy clerk.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how a succession is done.

Coffee Talk

Meredith Says "Thank You"

Anyone who knows me well is aware of my penchant for (okay, "addiction to" might be more accurate) strong, flavorful coffee. As our group walked to work on our first day in New Orleans, I couldn't contain my excitement at seeing that the little, independently owned coffee shop that my other half and I discovered three and a half years ago when we were here on vacation had survived the storm and is open for business. They have the best iced coffee ever.

Lepetit Espresso draws an eclectic mix of locals and, because of its location on Decatur Street, tourists. As I learned today, when I told the baristos how happy I was to see that they were still there, the shop closed for about a month and a half after Katrina. The building, circa 1780, survived intact and the owners of the hotel above the coffehouse even cleaned up the shop, allowing for a smooth reopening. Now, Lepetit Espresso is a gathering place for a cadre of regulars and city residents, as well as for the steady stream of visitors who have come to help New Orleans get back on its feet.

Yesterday morning when I stopped in on my way to work, I sat at the window ledge tables facing Decatur Street and the Riverfront Park next to a woman named Meredith, a local candle designer. We got to talking and, when she heard that I was here from UNC, told me that she had evacuated to Asheville, NC during the hurricane. Without much prompting, she told me the rest of her story:

Meredith evacuated New Orleans with three adults and five cats, not knowing when or if she would come back. She left for three weeks initially, and returned to find that--to her surprise--her Bywater apartment had no damage inside at all. However, because of the lack of power, toxicity in her neighborhood and a dearth of city services, she had to leave again. She came back for good right before Halloween (two full months after the hurricane) and told me about how, upon her return, she had tremendous survivor's guilt at the lack of damage to life and property that she had sustained. Although she told me candidly that she used to cry every single day just thinking about the devastation that Katrina wrought, things are getting better.

Still, life is not anywhere close to what it used to be. For example, access even to basic supplies and grocery stores is limited. Her stop at Lepetit Espresso yesterday was a respite during her trek to the A&P Minimart on Royal Street, a good few miles from her home, where she going to do her grocery shopping; she does not have a car, so this is the only supermarket that is accessible to her at the moment.

Asking about the nature of UNC Law's work here, she said it took a long time to be able to accept the fact that she and others here needed help; at first, she turned away offers of assistance because she just couldn't believe that she had to rely on strangers for support. Eventually, though, she realized that this city and its residents cannot rebuild alone. And, so, she said to tell all of the students here this week that "Meredith says thank you."

I blog about this story because so much of what we have done and seen this week has been one step removed from the people (other than lawyers) who were here and survived the storm. The succession group, in particular, has been cloistered at a posh law firm working with files. Although we've spoken with clients and navigated government bureaucracies, we haven't had much time to talk to people in a more casual way. Also, because we have spent a lot of our free time travelling in a pack, it has been hard to meet "real" people. Sitting alone with my coffee, I debated for a while whether to talk to the woman next to me. I'm glad to have reached out--and glad that Meredith was willing to talk.

Not Quite Normal...But Getting There

Impressions of a Recovering Metropolis

From the window of the airplane, except for the smattering of blue tarps covering rooftops, New Orleans looked the same as I remembered from my last trip here three and a half years ago. Clean swimming pools gleamed in the late afternoon sun; traffic on the streets seemed to flow; streetlights lined the streets. However, as I deplaned and walked into the almost-deserted airport terminal, something definitely seemed off. For 5:30 on a Sunday evening, the airport was--well--empty. Travellers waiting for departing flights were noticeably absent, leaving empty the rows of chairs in the waiting areas; several of the airport stores were dark. I could not help but think that six months before, the airport had been full of desperate, sick people waiting to evacuate the area for places unknown. See http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/09/02/katrina.evacuees/index.html

As Diane drove us from the airport to the hotel (www.hotelprovincial.com), we all commented that the neighborhoods we could see from the freeway looked similar to neighborhoods everywhere/anywhere. In the early evening light, it was hard to tell whether the occasional boarded-up windows we saw indicated hurricaine-related damage or simply urban blight. Except for the pockets of houses without any lights on at all in some of the areas we drove through, we could have been anywhere in post-industrial urban America.

The French Quarter too, our home for the week, didn't seem that different than I remember, except that there were, perhaps, fewer people around. Bourbon Street still has the same, slightly-pukey smell that I remember disliking the other two times I've been to New Orleans. The rest of the Quarter seems pretty much its same charming, if somewhat kitschy self.

The first real sign that things aren't quite right here came as we started to interact with the locals. On Sunday night, the Student Hurricane Network, http://www.studenthurricanenetwork.org/, hosted a welcome reception at the Jones-Walker law firm in the Central Business District for the two hundred-plus law students in town this week. Much like people in New York and Washington after September 11th, everyone who was here for Katrina has a story to tell and the cathartic effect of the re-telling and sharing is clear. We arrived in time to hear a skit performed by Tulane Law School students who had been displaced by the storm. As an outsider, the stories were moving to me in a human interest sort of way, but other listeners were visibly affected by the students' stories--more than a few nodded vigorously, cried, hugged their neighbors, and verbalized their agreement with the student performers to express outrage with the government's response to Katrina. Later, a local lawyer told the crowd about how he had been evacuated by a friend with a helicopter and saw axes, hands and, ultimately, people coming out of rooftops as he left New Orleans; he told us that, as much as he wanted to save the people who had camped out on their roofs waiting for evacuation, he could not help. The guilt he lives with now was obvious and incredibly sad.

At the same time, though, there was something inspriational about the gathering -- people from all over the country have been drawn here to help. As Tracie Washington, a local civil rights lawyer reminded the crowd, each generation has its own civil rights battles to fight and this is ours. The challenges related to housing, the economy, government benefits and services, and political/voting rights here will keep progressive-minded civil rights workers busy for the foreseeable future. The ironic thing is that many of these problems were here before. Its just that now we're focused on them. Which is good.

Taking Care of Business
We reported for work at 9:30 a.m. on Monday morning, all sugared- and caffeined-up after a stop at Cafe DuMonde, http://www.cafedumonde.com/, where several members of our group ate A LOT of beignets (Mike Petrusic even ate the powdered sugar left on his plate with a spoon!) and drank delicious coffee. The sixteen of us from UNC (joined by two students from Case Western Reserve law school and three University of Iowa law students) are working this week out of space generously donated by the law firm of Phelps Dunbar, http://www.phelpsdunbar.com/home_flash.html. They've given us a couple of conference rooms, access to the phone for local calls, and other assorted office-y things. The conference room we were in yesterday looked out on the lake and part of the city. From here we could see an (un)healthy sprinkling of blue tarps covering rooftops and a not-insignificant number of boarded-up windows as a reminder of Katrina's damage. Letters on the nearby Mariott hotel are being replaced this week, as are windows at other neighboring office buildings.

Rachel Piercey, the Executive Director of the New Orleans Pro Bono Project, our host organization for the week, met with us first thing to explain the role that the the Pro Bono Project plays in the greater New Orleans community. Rachel prefaced her discussion of the work we are doing this week by talking about the ways in which Katrina has personally affected the staff members at the Pro Bono Project and the organization itself. The Project has shrunk from six and a half staff members to three and a half as a result of the hurricane while, at the same time, facing an increasing workload. Of the three and a half staff members that are left, three are still living in temporary housing and waiting for repairs to be made to their homes. They are dealing with traumatized pets, sick relatives, long commutes into the city, difficult contractors, and other personal issues, all the while trying to serve the low-income population of New Orleans.

Rachel told us about the Pro Bono Project's major goal for the coming months: continuing to serve their target populations by providing the services the Project has always provided, while assessing the new services that are needed in post-Katrina New Orleans. We're helping the Project with both the old and the new dimensions of its work this week.

Boz, Dan, and Cory are out and about developing a Community Education model, determining how best to utilize law students and lawyers in meeting community needs over the coming months. Rachel mentioned assessing the needs of the Hispanic and Vietnamese communities as being of particular interest, along with identifying the most pressing legal issues in the greater New Orleans area generally. The fearless trio are also identifying the new services the Project could offer, and determining whether other organizations are filling community needs.

Eleven of us (seven UNC folks--Elliot, Emily, Jocelyn, Mike, Rachel, Diane, and I -- the three Iowa students--Deanna, Molly, and Emily -- and Dan Fishbein, a lawyer from Kilpatrick Stockton in Atlanta) are working on succession files. Basically, this means trying to transfer ownership of property from a deceased person to his or her heirs or legatees. The clients (all low-income, i.e., with incomes at 200% of the federal poverty level or less) have come to the Pro Bono Project through outreach efforts. Each of us has real, live clients to help this week; many of us have spoken with these people on the telephone and drafted pleadings and other paperwork that the Project is preparing to file with the local court. Some of the cases involve property that belongs to a person who died long ago, but whose relatives never had reason to file succession papers until the hurricane wiped out or damaged the property; now, these relatives need to gain possession in order to access FEMA or insurance funds to help with rebuilding costs. Other pieces of property belong to a person who died in the storm. For example, my first case involves a man who died in his home in Katrina-related flooding; his children are now trying to take possession of their father's estate. When I realized the circumstances of the father's death, the tragedies suffered by people here became all the more real. And, yet, the client (one of the daughters) could not have sounded more together, calm, and self-assured -- and grateful for the assistance the Project is providing. Hopefully, we'll each be able to move along several files this week to help the clients get their possessory rights clarified soon and assist the Project in clearing its massive docket.

Eight of us (four UNC students -- Aaron, Fang, Jessica, and Vanessa -- one UNC staff member -- Kelly -- the two Case Western students -- Amy and Kathleen -- and Jasa Gitomer from Kilpatrick Stockton in Atlanta) are working on divorce cases. They are preparing pleadings for client seeking an unconstested divorce and preparing for a workshop tomorrow (Wednesday) afternoon; each of the volunteers working on this project is meeting with an individual client tomorrow, as well, to help finalize the paperwork. I know less about this project, so hopefully one of my colleagues will post more about this soon!

* * *
As we end our second day of work, it is clear one week is only enough to make an incredibly small dent in the work that needs to be done. But, as we all sit here in a small, windowless conference room working through the details of the lives of generations of New Orleaneans and their property, its good to know that, at least, we're trying to do some good.