With a folder of legal documents under his arm and a baton, handcuffs, taser and handgun on his belt, Constable Scott Blake is ready to leave the Surprise Civic Center near Phoenix, Arizona to take on the day.
Sitting in his Chevrolet Tahoe SUV, he explains he is one of 26 constables working for the more than four million citizens of Maricopa County. His job involves serving warrants, protection orders and eviction notices, and overseeing asset seizures.
Today is an eviction day, and there are four to be done.
“Just calling to see if you still need number 286 evicted,” Blake politely asks down the phone.
“Okay, we’re going to be there in like 15 minutes.”
He says about 7,000 eviction orders are filed in Maricopa every month, with all kinds of people at the sharp end – singles, couples and multigenerational households. Many cases settle, with tenants moving on or paying arrears once a writ is issued, but others repeatedly fall behind and property managers call in the constable when notices are overstayed.
“Typically, the area that I work in really doesn’t have that many evictions, I’ve only seen a small increase,” he says. “Other areas of the county have seen a significant increase. Their constable may be receiving anywhere from 25 to 50 [eviction notices] in a day.”
Property had been moving fast in and around Phoenix, with Maricopa County’s population having increased by about 20 per cent since 2010, making it one of the fastest growing areas in the US. This has been driven by domestic migration, from California in particular, to take advantage of better priced property and warm weather year-round.
The rising population has put pressure on housing, with the average house price in Maricopa County at $470,000 (€433,000). However, rents have stagnated of late and Phoenix area property agent Bruno Arapovic says homes are “not flying off the shelf” as they did earlier in the decade due to high interest rates.
“They are moving but staying on the market quite a bit longer,” he says. “I think people are just cautious and waiting on the sidelines hoping the rates may come down as the election time approaches.”
[ US election explained: What role will the economy play?Opens in new window ]
At the first complex, a property manager and maintenance man greet Blake, who recalls that “the last eviction here was quite contentious”.
This apartment is home to a working family who, between rent, charges and legal costs, owe $2,546. A staff member says they understand that the leaseholder doesn’t usually get home from work until after 3pm, but the man pleaded guilty in court and knew the day was coming.
Blake knocks once. No answer. He knocks again, stating: “Maricopa County Constable, answer the door.” Nobody’s home. He enters behind the maintenance man and does a tour to ensure the place is empty.
The apartment is clearly still being lived in. There’s a pair of Nike Air Jordan’s by the couch, some pink children’s Converse runners by the door, a television and a selection of sauces and cereals in the kitchen – remains of the morning and night before. There are toothbrushes and other products in the bathroom, and toys and clothes scattered in the bedrooms.
While the maintenance man secures the windows and changes the lock, Blake opens his file and takes out the eviction notice and attaches an orange sticker – printed in English and Spanish – explaining what has happened to a front window.
“Pursuant to a court order this property has been seized by the Maricopa County Constable’s Office and the locks have been changed. You have no legal right to be in or about this premises,” it says.
The sticker explains that the leaseholder can contact the management company to arrange to retrieve any property inside, and that there will be storage and removal costs for a maximum of 14 days before their belongings are disposed of.
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Spite is as good a reason as any to do certain things, and it is exactly why Scott Blake finds himself where he does.
Earlier in his life, he operated a carpet cleaning business. He also had a rental property and needed help from the then constable to move a tenant on. He says this “didn’t go well” and getting the situation sorted “took forever” and “all I got was excuses”.
“I told him ‘I’m going to run against you’ and he laughed and said, ‘do you know who I am?’,” Blake says.
Constable is an elected position, with a contest every four years. The then officeholder told him he was only six months into his term. Blake says he is a patient person. He did the groundwork in the community and ultimately “I ran and I won.”
“I did it to take his job from him,” he says. “It was on the basis of a grudge.”
However, he appears to relish his job and says he “always had a desire” to work in law enforcement but feared he was too old to get through the academy. “I didn’t have to jump over a 6ft wall, I didn’t have to do the push-ups and sit-ups, even though I could do that because I was physically fit from cleaning carpets.”
The 59-year-old father of six has been in the position for 10 years. It’s a political post and Blake is a Republican. He has faced challenges only from other Republicans over his three cycles.
The second apartment is in a development of more than 700 homes in Glendale.
“Any threats or any pets?” Blake asks.
“No threats and I think there’s a cat,” replies the property manager.
At the second-storey door, there’s an answer on the first knock from a young man who says he has come to visit his friend who has been arrested.
Asked what he has inside, he replies: “I have a suitcase and there’s a cat.”
A second man then emerges and offers a little more verbal resistance, but he starts packing when Blake says they are on the clock.
“I really need my stuff,” he says.
“Bring your cat and a bag, you have five minutes,” Blake replies.
“I’m taking my stuff. This is my TV ... I’ve been here for two months.”
Another orange sticker is readied to be affixed to a front window as the locks are changed.
“Where are you visiting from?” Blake asks the first man during the awkward wait.
“I don’t speak to cops without a lawyer, but I appreciate your question,” he replies.
The second man emerges with a handful of belongings and a cat, which squawks in disapproval at the situation, while being taken downstairs to a car.
He’s informed that if he is an emergency contact on the tenancy agreement, he can collect property by appointment, or he can be added to the list if his friend calls from custody to arrange it. If not, the items left inside will be disposed of in 14 days.
The property manager says there were two months’ rent owed in this case, about $2,500. He says evicted people sometimes return and break in to retrieve their belongings.
“It will probably happen tonight or tomorrow,” he says. “It always happens.”
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“Oh, 1246,” says property manager Geneva, rubbing her hands with glee as Scott Blake arrives at a development of more than 500 apartments for his next call. “He has an attitude problem.”
“Have there been threats?” Blake asks.
“No, he’s just a bigger dude – 6ft 2in or 6ft 3in. He just runs his mouth,” Geneva adds.
There’s a bit of trepidation as the group leaves the leasing office in golf buggies to get to the apartment in question.
Blake says he does encounter aggression in his job, usually from people who are down on their luck due to work, finances, health or family matters. However, he says he has been punched only once in his decade as a constable.
He says his weapons, which also include a shotgun and an assault rife in the car, very rarely need to be used, though he has had to turn the baton on a few angry dogs.
There are arrears in this case of $318.50, but the issue is that the resident had a crime free lease clause and there was a drink driving incident in which he crashed into and badly damaged a carport, cutting off electricity to part of the complex, and causing damage Geneva estimates it will cost $15,000 to repair.
FBI data suggests violent crime and property crime decreased overall in the United States last year, but presidential election rivals Donald Trump and Kamala Harris have been attempting to establish themselves as the tough-on-crime candidate.
Trump has claimed cities are in decline because of violent crime, with polling by the Pew Research Centre showing the issue is a concern for three quarters of his base, compared with less than half of Harris’s. The Republican candidate has said he intends to crack down on illegal immigration and stop criminals entering the US. Harris, the Democratic candidate, has leaned into her past work as a prosecutor, highlighting that she has defeated violent offenders and drug traffickers.
Blake’s knocks on the front door of the young man’s studio apartment twice go unanswered.
The maintenance man opens up and, after Blake secures the site, there’s no sign of life or furnishings. The place has been stripped bare and cleaned, much to Geneva’s surprise.
“That’s a relief.”
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The final call is the toughest of the day’s four.
Property manager Jacqui explains that apartments in the 123-unit complex are rented to “people nobody else will take, basically”. This includes those just out of prison, in recovery from addiction and moving out of homeless shelters.
The eviction notice is for a woman who, Jacqui says, lives with her teenage son and mother in the two-bed apartment. The leaseholder moved in under a programme that supports people for three to four months while they try to get back on track and find work. She says the tenant has been here for 10 months and has not managed to figure things out, or seek the further financial supports available, so arrears have built up.
“Is there a dog?,” Blake asks while walking up the stairs.
“Just a little one,” Jacqui says.
The constable knocks on the door and an older woman answers. She says her daughter has gone to a storage facility with some of their belongings and her grandson is not at home. She says she is minding a dog for a neighbour as well as their own and has only one leash.
One dog is returned to the neighbour and Blake notes that the clock is ticking. A man emerges from the property and asks “can you give us 45?” Blake says things need to proceed quickly.
The apartment is in a shook state and there’s a strong odour inside.
“Smell that? That’s drugs,” Blake says.
While the older woman stands speaking to Jacqui another woman emerges from inside.
“Who’s that?” the grandmother asks.
“She just came out of your house,” Jacqui replies.
The older woman goes inside to start collecting her belongings as the man moves some of his into a neighbouring unit.
“You get a little jaded,” Jacqui says. “I’ve been here for 10 years. People often move in with other tenants so we say they can only come back by appointment.”
Asked if he ever brings the tougher parts of his job home with him, Blake replies: “Maybe every once in a while.”
He adds: “I try to practice justice and mercy when doing evictions. There has to be justice because the owner, landlord, manager has to get their property back, but there can be mercy.”
As the trio and the dog prepare to leave, the older woman asks Blake can she go back inside as she has left her insulin in the fridge. The constable obliges.
“Welcome to life,” says the man as they set off on their way.
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