(This is a True San Francisco Horror Story that i’ll be adding photos and details to as I have to stomach and necessity to deal with as I get it ready for publication online and paper. I’m publicly posting it for my own safety because after all these years and after the tragedy of how James ultimately died, my landlord and neighbors are still at harassing me to this day and I want this up now in case something happens to me LATER…)
10 July 2025
Memo to: fellow tenants @ 1379-83 Hampshire Street
cc: Citywide/Lincoln Shaw
From: Erika Lopez 1381B Hampshire Street
Dear fellow and sistren tenants:
This parking situation has gotten out of hand so I’m going to put in writing that I, solely, have had the rights to the garage and driveway since I moved here in 1994. Before any of you dared to step foot in the so-called scary, dangerous Mission, and before Sam and his new live-in boyfriend were likely even born. My apartment was empty nearly a year because no one wanted to move here this deep into The Mission back then.
If the landlord, Lincoln Shaw, has told you other things about the garage history during his illegal personal apartment inspections (which are totally illegal under “Civil Code 1954” and now I understand why), then he is using each of you as an agent of his continuing harassment, which has been going on since he bought this building and Carol and Bill Cosgrove bought Citywide Properties. Look at their Yelp reviews, most all are warnings full of foul play, trickery, and illegal maneuverings by Citywide.
Lincoln Shaw got involved in the games when Sandra Pereira, one of the Brazilian sisters upstairs, resorted to getting the apartment inspected by the city because Citywide refused to fix her leaking problem. Sandra and I already didn’t always get along because she bragged about having two other houses in Brazil—one beachfront—while the two of them upstairs would ruthlessly sublet both of their apartments, leaving us here to deal with the uncertainty of who was ever here, the loudness, mess, trash, smoking, pacing all night, but I didn’t like how every single subletter seemed to flood either my apartment by leaving the water on while doing laundry in sinks or plugged up the main plumbing, flooding the garage and ruining pallets of books that were on the ground.
Sandra doesn’t care about anyone or anything but money so while I tried to get her to stop or work with us around whoever was to be here for months and months at a time, she felt entitled to make our lives hell because of money. Sandra has a sense of entitlement that makes Americans seem shy. And don’t leave anything unattended too long; she’ll steal it. She’s like a magpie that way.
Anyhow, Lincoln Shaw and Andre came here on one of his “annual inspections” and slyly tried to offer me a deal for stalking her guests and taking photos of them. Andre helped him out with the pitch. They’d done this before.
I felt skeeved that they’d even think I’d ever in a million years sell out another tenant to the “suits” and changed the subject. I never thought anyone else would accept his “offers.”
Still, later when Andre, the handyman, told me that Citywide and Lincoln Shaw were trying to evict Sandra now because she’d called the building inspectors to deal with a roof leak they’d never fix, I came to her defense: I wanted her to stop making our lives hell, I didn’t want her to be evicted.
I wrote Lincoln Shaw and Citywide saying I had her back and that we were organizing the tenants.
Lincoln knew how to bust the union up so he pitched a deal to Sandra, who then would dump mop water on my clothes drying on the line below her apartment, and when I’d confront her, she’d call her nephew, Alex, Lazzari who is less than half my age, twice my size, as well as Hector Torres,, Jenaina Pereira’s (Sandra’s sister) partner, who told me he’s a black belt Karate Master when i first met him. I saw how terrified Alex was, three flights up, and I knew that Sandra was willing to sacrifice her nephew for money a deal with the landlord and I was sorry for him. I tried to de-escalate. When Alex tried to talk black and called James a punk ass bitch, it broke the tension for me because they only threatened adn ganged up on me whenever James was at work. / if anyone was a punk ass bitch it was Alex Lazzari who’s almost 30 still living with his mom, playing street tough with me, a middle aged woman with one good leg 3 flights up holding onto a railing for support. Hector also came out and threw a plaster head of Sandra’s down at me and it shattered behind me.
I mention this because when I said I’d have to tell the landlord about all this, Sandra cackled maniacally and told me that Lincoln was the one who told her to get me arrested by the cops so they’d have an official record and could evict me.
So Sandra called the cops but when they came they tried to get ME to have Sandra taken to jail, along with Hector, for throwing that plaster head. I lied and said I threw the plaster head even though it made no sense; because he was a man throwing things at a woman, they were going to take Hector to jail for 4-5 days anyway (it was a Friday, as that’s part of the plot because you’re trapped in jail for many days), but I knew Hector was just trying to be a stand up guy by taking care of his women. Sending him to jail would make everything more horrid.
The cops thought I was being bullied but I hated that and said I was fine, took their battered women literature and said thank you anyhow.
I thought that was the end of that.
But the sociopath, Helen “Simone” Bailey, formerly of 1381A Hampshire Street, had also been visited by Lincoln Shaw, and took his offer. She was more effective at harassing James and me whilst he was quickly dying of cancer. She totaled James’ motorcycle out in front of the garage and drove away and never told us. The meter man gave us her information. She repeatedly banged on our door because the folded wheelchair covered her door moulding by 2 inches. This woman who’d made our lives hell by screwing over enraged subletters, as she made more money keeping their $2k deposits than letting them stay. Locks were often changed because they wanted revenge, and I had one of her tourist subtenants recognize my name on the buzzer, as an author, and drunkenly tried to push through my own apartment door with her boyfriend at 11pm one night.
So after James had a bad immunotherapy visit, he’d gone from walking and riding his bicycle again, to projectile vomiting even water. I couldn’t leave the house for 4-5 days because his brain cancer was swelling and he’d lose his mind and not listen to me when I’d say sit still. He was almost 6’2” and he was so used to being athletic and strong, he’d stand up then fall forward and nearly hit his head on the edge of the tub and almost fell face first down the front stairs of the building. I couldn’t leave him alone because he’d already had brain surgery and a big scar along the back of his skull and neck.
When we were totally out of medication and I had to dash to Walgreen’s, he understood not to move, but as soon as i got on my bicycle and left, Simone banged on our apartment door and James thought it was an emergency and fell on the floor and crawled to answer the door. Simone still asked him to move his bicycle because in my haste to make it to Walgreen’s and back before he hurt himself, i’d forgotten to re-rack my bicycle and had left it leaning against the wall.
He was on the floor, all bruised when I returned and I went to beg Simone over and over to please bother ME if anything’s wrong. She slammed the door in my face and i wedged my barefoot against the door, pleading that James was dying and can barely walk and can’t feed himself, drink, or even make it to the bathroom.
But all she did was start screaming when she opened the door and she pushed me against the wall and went back inside. I went out front in sobs crying because I wasn’t saving James at all.
Moments later I heard wood cracking as they were crowbarring something and heard drilling. Was she barring me inside my apartment? I looked through my peephole and saw Andre Moreno, the handyman, in the hallway right in front of me, working on Simone’s door, destroying the moulding. I thought nothing of it until later when I got the restaining order’s photos saying I’d kicked the door open, with Simone’s detached lock as “evidence.” Me, with the bone-on-bone leg and I couldn’t even hoist myself up into the cop car without help because my hands were behind my back.
From there it was an assembly line system and now I see how men feel when a woman screams and wraps the law around him like a straightjacket. I had no rights, James had no rights. Simone, Citywide, and Lincoln Shaw had pulled it off and James was alone for 5 days while I thought about him in jail, trying to call for wellness checks from a jail phone that cops won’t answer.
That’s why Hector Torres and Sandra’s sister, Jenaina, are saints to me. Citywide, Andre, Rudy, Simone had fun with the drama around “getting” me. / No one else checked on James or followed up, even though I’d operatically tried to beg our neighbor Rudy SanJuan, to intervene as I was outside being dragged on my way to jail. But the angels work in strange ways and it was Jenaina and Hector who came to James’ aid and from their wellness check, James was found face down and unresponsive and taken to the ICU where he never spoke a full sentence again and he was on his way down after being without food or water for all those days.
Simone had been in our apartment, knew the front door was open, and still wouldn’t let the firemen through to get James; she forced them to break in via the back. She was evil. I think that’s why Laura died in that same apartment only a few weeks there. It’s a dark, dark place and needs to be blessed.
So now that Simone didn’t get rid of me and get whatever she wanted out of all this, Lincoln Shaw has set his sights on the miserable team of Sam and his new boyfriend down in 1379A. I’d let Sam use the driveway but asked that when i took time away to see my family and mourn away from this hellish place, I asked, “leave it free for my friend who’s watching the cats.” But Sam didn’t and bullied my friend, Valentine, and got in his face. I’d listened to him talk about his girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend…. Why would Sam not even allow me a moment of graceful peace to mourn???
What kind of people are you all??? Or what kind of people have you all become??? James was a saint. Never wanted trouble with anyone.
Sam used to be nice and talk to me about his crappy girlfriend who cheated on him with his best friend, but now I figure Sam’s on crack or meth because he and his new boyfriend are hostile touchy and kinda hyper mean.
According to Sam last Christmas when Lincoln was just here 6 months ago, they get to use the driveway. And Sam’s boyfriend spewed venom at me while Sam threatened to “get me” away from here, went through my art in the garage, and left threatening notes on my bicycle in the backyard.
I’ve asked Citywide if they’re rescinding my rights to the garage and I have not been told this verbally or notified in writing. If any of you feel you have a right that they gave you, I would appreciate you getting it in writing on their letterhead or signed so that I may use this as I will finally break down and claim a Reduction of Services.
Citywide did have Simone call the Fire Inspector on our bicycles in the hallway but I wouldn’t put them in the garage until they changed the locks from everyone secretly having the keys. Julie Van changed the locks and I put James’ bicycles and expensive gear like kiteboards and kites and tools into the garage, and then Andre changed the locks, giving keys to Simone and Dan, who were moving out.
All that expensive equipment was stolen and Julie wouldn’t give the cops any film footage so that we might see who took it. I’m out thousands of dollars and it makes me cranky as hell because on top of all this, I’m paying for all this evil.
I’m still mourning James, as he was the love of my life and we were together 26 years, but I’m not going to take all this harassing any more.
Sam, if you and your man get in my face and threaten me again, I promise I will pepper spray you and call the police even though you never answer the door. I will file a restraining order now that I know how to do this kind of stuff I hate. I’m almost 60 and come from another era where this is all unnecessary cruel and stupid.
Citywide and Lincoln are not sorry for what they put James through in his last days, and they’re kicking things back up again so I am forced to be big and loud again when I want to be quiet, mourn, and be left alone to be sad. I still break down in sobs and whenever anyone knocks on my inner door I break out into the shakes from all the process servers they threw at me for this crap.
And Sandra Pereira, you’re not shreiking at me with that grating voice anymore out back (out front you’re quiet because you know how you look to others), but you just threw something of mine down the stairs and stole something I was to watch for Laura’s people.
You, Sandra, are a huge reason I got on board Trump and getting rid of foreigners because you have multiple houses where you’re from and this is my ONLY abode and you’re trying to evict and jail me so you can sublet and make more money. That’s crazy and mean and not very nice. I used to champion folks like you. I had your back when they were gunning for you.
Now I could care less. Just leave me be. You have everything. Even Sam and his boyfriend can’t afford to live alone because greedy people like you want everything for yourselves. It’s not going to be a popular stance going forward because low-level apartments are rare for those of us born here.
Things are getting ugly so if you have a beach front home and more properties that you’re making bank on, this is all some of us have and we’re from here. So be kind.
Or not.
Jenaina and Hector, you two are the only ones in this building I’m letting cover the driveway, i just ask that you usually LOOK FOR STREET PARKING FIRST so it’s an emergency left over spot in a pinch. Also, I NEED YOUR TEXT INFO in case I need you to move so I can use the driveway in a pinch. Also, please mostly cover the parking spot and only what you must of the driveway with that white-topped car i recognize, so that I may roll my bicycle through. It’s hard for me to walk further down. I’m not using the cane because it falls off my bicycle on the street, but I’m still struggling to walk even half a block. I also don’t like looking old and feeble, like a victim. I’m vain that way. (smile)
Anyone other than Hector and Jenaina’s white truck car thing I will ticket because I have no idea who’s ever there and cannot reach anyone if I need.
If you want to go with the idea that Lincoln Shaw and Citywide have given you permission that overrides mine, ask them for it in writing, or better yet— tell us all in a mass email.
If they don’t do that, ask why. You’re being used. Ask if it’s worth the tickets and fighting. This stuff is already out of hand with James’ suffering and Sandra trying to get the men upstairs killed. Killed? Yes, because I was here long enough ago that I was here when two women, same building/different times, fell off the railing out back and died.
If Alex had touched me I’d have to push him or if he pushed me, I’d take him with me.
But I’ve seen the God in Alex’s face finally (he was with Bella), and I doubt that’s going to happen. I saw God’s face in Hector’s when I first met him and I know he will fight to the death for Jenaina, and even if he’s not MY friend, I respect that. And I also figure that Jenaina must be a certain kinda good woman to have a man like that. And Hector tries to be a good, stand up man. Even when he assumes I’m the bad one and threatens to attack me with a 325 pound boy.
I see beyond your little gossip stories. I see deep.
So there’s my long memo, letting everyone know what’s up.
I will get restraining orders against anyone who threatens me or touches anything of mine. Got that, Sandra? I’ve got you on tape bitching at me when I was out in the sun minding my own. I used to be a pacifist, too, but now I even consider carrying a proper weapon because of the danger at HOME, when I’ve felt safer dancing in the street.
James is gone and He’s the one who kept me nice and not fighting you all and the landlord and Citywide. James was only ever about peace. He was a prophet and an angel. When he died and breathed his last breath into me hours after being brought back from the hospital, I howled in agony, and so Simone called the cops on me and they were banging outside my door for a couple of hours as I’m sobbing and dying inside.
I have been beaten out on the street for dancing trying to bring joy to this dying city, and i’ve had to run for my life, but I have never ever come face-to-face with this kind of evil perpetrated by Lincoln Shaw and Citywide.
Apparently I was the last one to talk to Laura or see her alive before she died in 1381B (did Citywide tell new tenant she was dead in there 3 days???), and the VERRRY last thing she said to me after recognizing my name and she also knew my books and art from the early 2000s, she said, “did you know our landlord, Lincoln Shaw, belongs to (such and such association)?”
i said, “no. i know he works with whales.”
“they’re worse than satanists!”
I rolled my eyes because I already knew Lincoln Shaw was a flaccidly weak and scared punk ass bitch in dockers and a limp little aging hippie pony tail, so I didn’t wanna know anymore about Lincoln Shaw, I don’t care what evil organization he belonged to, I KNEW he was pathetic and little and misused his power like a passive aggressive woman who poisons people but has the dull eyes of a cow. Only weak scared sad people spend decades and thousands of wasted dollars and trashing their own building, trying to take down a nobody like me. There are sooo many better things to do than try to turn your tenants against one person you wanna “get.” Besides if you live here it’s like standing still and spewing out diarrhea around your own feet. The neighborhood has been traumatized by all the cop cars and drama.
And I used to try and protect him from shoddy workmen taking advantage of him! I was the kind of tenant my mother would’ve loved: I watch this place because it’s got good old San Francisco magic and some wonderful people have been through here. And it’s my Home.
I’m different than the rest of you all here now, too. I’m an artist and I didn’t even want to move here when I was so young, but this is where the artistic action was. Now I’m trapped by rent control, nowhere to move, so I have to make the best of San Francisco while I’m here.
In the meantime, I’m back and Sam I will mace you if you try and bully or scare me again. You too, Sandra. If either of you mess with me or my stuff I will have to get restraining orders. Please. Let’s be adults.
Get Citywide/Lincoln Shaw to draft you up a letter because I sure would love one. Otherwise you’re just tenants who want my spot and I haven’t heard otherwise yet. So forgive me if I need proof.
But if you want to be an agent of Lincoln Shaw’s harassment, then like Simone, you too will have to deal with the legal consequences because now that I know how big and insane this plot was, I’m not playing anymore. James is dead and this is the only apartment I’ve got and I can’t piss off to Brazil and crash in one of my beach front homes and live off of others’ paying rent to me. I’m a trapped American and this is all I’ve got and I’m aggravated there’s nowhere affordable or fun to run off to.
I’m an artist. / That hoarding affordable apartments and ruthlessly AirBnB’ing them until the young ones here are living stacked like cords of wood is not my bag.
Hector and Jenaina, if you want to continue to park in that spot, please give me your numbers (via email as i have 3 phones I hardly ever use: e@erikalopez.com) so I can text if I need the driveway to be cleared and need to reach you.
And please back up as far into the street spot as you can so that I can use the slope to get my bicycle through so I don’t have to walk over by Rudy’s house.
Thank you all. And to the new neighbor in front of me at 1381A Hampshire Street, Welcome! And please do something to your apartment to clear the psychic grime left there by Simone. She was one of the most miserable bitter people I’ve met. And I tried to befriend her and help her in the arts when she moved here. Jealousy failure and a dying culture makes cunts of us all. (smile)
Sincerely, your neighbor who’d love peace in what’s left of this once-amazing fun and interesting town,
Erika Lopez
1381B Hampshire
San Francisco