SPC Michael (Mike) Darby and I had been friends for almost six years, almost the entire time that I had been assigned to Ft. Stewart, GA. I had helped him out with several situations, as friends are wont to do. I had given him a place to live, a place to crash when he HAD his own place to live, money when he didn't have any and food for him to eat. I should have suspected something when any time we were not deployed, he moved around a lot. But I never asked questions, I just helped him move his stuff. That's just the way Army friends are. We deployed in the same unit when the war first broke out... He even gave me one of his cigars for when we first crossed the boarder into Iraq. Buddies, you know? I never asked a dime in return or anything else for that matter. Just respect me and my possessions. That's not too hard, is it?
After a few years he got sent to a different unit but we still saw each other, and I still gave him a place to stay, money in his pocket, and food when he needed it. He ended up dating one of my soldiers, until she got knocked up by another guy. I listened to his drunken rants and vows of revenge. When it came around for the third deployment, he had left sooner that I did, so he was going to get back to Ft. Stewart before I did. During this deployment, I had kept my rental home, as I wanted somewhere to live when I returned. A very nice three bedroom-two bath home with a large backyard, fireplace, the whole load. Nice... A home, you know? He was going to be sent to another assignment before I returned home, so I let him stay in my house until he had to leave, as it was just sitting there. I had turned the power off by the breaker box and was paying all the bills online, so I wouldn't have any trouble when I got home... Just flip a switch and I have power, cable, internet, everything. While it wasn't left in showroom-like cleanliness, I did make sure things were neat and tidy, and had even made arrangement for an exterminator for the whole time I was gone to come each month and spray. So he stays there for 2 1/2 to 3 months, and then goes to his next assignment. I get home about a month after he left and. OH MY GOD!!!
There were spit-bottles all over the house. Garbage left everywhere. Food left to rot in the fridge (he turned the power back off when he left). Half-full cups of God knows what left on every available flat surface. Used condoms left on the floor near my bed. Porn DVD's left in the DVD player. Bugs and other vermin nesting in the garbage he left. Boxes of some of his stuff, mail and other crap in boxes in almost every room of the house. I could hardly get past the stench of the fridge and nudging the rats out of the way to open a window. It looked like my house had been used for a frat party. I can't even describe it. I had a pretty good realtor and she had been checking on the property while I had been deployed, and she know that I had given permission for Mike to stay in the house. I just could not figure out what the hell had happened.
So I'm looking through all this crap for my truck keys so I can drive myself to get some cleaning stuff. No where to be found. I have my buddy drive me to get a rental car, as we had formations to attend and I needed transportation. After a few days of cleaning, I did finally get it somewhat manageable. After one of my classes I call Mike on the phone to see what had happened and to see where he had left my keys. I was already a little pissed that he had taken my truck to Texas when he first got back and didn't tell me until later, but I wasn't going to blow a gasket over that. I was more pissed about the condition he had left my house in. I told him I needed my keys and he nonchalantly told me they had been packed up in his stuff and that he would send them to me when he found them. I told him I NEEDED my keys, as the cost of the rental was a bit high for what I wanted to spend (about $350.00 per week). He said he'd get them, and asked, "Is this your new number?" I told him it was, and to please Fed-Ex those keys to me. He said OK, then we hung up. Well, you can guess the rest...
A few days go by... No keys. I'm perplexed, but not pissed. Hell, we're busy with reintergration. A week goes by. Now I'm getting upset. I try to call him, and the SOB has blocked my number!!! I mean, it's not like I've called him every 15 minutes or something. ANOTHER week goes by, and still no keys. I'm calling him about every 3 days and I'm still blocked. So I figure, just eat it and call a locksmith to re-key the truck. Another $150.00 I shouldn't have had to spend. I keep calling for about another week, but just finally give up. What can you do?
Well, all his stuff he left, I went through. I found the paperwork for his new car that he bought. I found lots of papers with his SSN on them. I found stuff that I'm not going to mention in this post, some papers that paint a very unflattering light on my "friend". So what do I do with it? I gather (almost) everything up, and trash it. Everything into the dumpster at the Liberty County dump. I did not make any effort to secure his personal information; as a matter of fact, I made SURE a lot of those papers made it to the side of the road on my trip throughout town. His 32" TV did make a somewhat satisfying crash when it hit the bottom. And I assembled a little packet of papers and other things together.
So, MICHAEL E. DARBY, if you are reading this... I think it would behoove you to get in contact with me very soon. I still have the same email address I have always had. I figure that you owe me about $1,000.00 for the wreck of my house, rental car fees, and the re-keying of my truck. I have things in my possession that can make you a very sorry man in the near future (not that you aren't a sorry-ass man anyway). I will trade what I have for the money you owe me. It is not unreasonable, considering all I did for you over those 6 years.
And if there's anyone who knows Mike or is involved with him... Now you know the truth, and you can make your own decisions. I wish I had had the information before I ever became his "friend".
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