I had just listed my condo for rent and was sorting through a few prospective tenants when Cirano called.

He was an older gentleman who explained that he was moving from Peru so his two adult children could attend a nearby university. Because he had just arrived in the country, he had no credit history and no local rental references. A traditional background check wasn’t going to tell me much.

But Cirano had a workaround. He provided solid bank statements and offered to pay an entire year’s rent upfront, along with the security deposit.

Still uncertain, I called my mom for advice. Her take was simple:

“If he’s willing to pay a full year upfront, take it.”

So I did.

At first, Cirano appeared to be the model tenant. But I never could have predicted what was coming.

The Leak

During his tenancy, the shower valve developed a leak. Cirano noticed it, but instead of telling me, he said nothing. He waited until after we had already signed a six-month lease renewal to finally disclose it.

When I saw the condition of the bathroom floor and the water-damaged materials around it, I asked how long the valve had been leaking.

His answer?

Two months.

Two months!  Why wouldn’t you say something?  Why let a minor leak turn into a major disaster?

Cirano claimed he didn’t realize it was a big deal, even though he had watched water pool day after day.

Then came another twist.

When Cirano first applied, he told me he was an engineer. Naturally, I assumed he understood at least something about structural integrity and basic maintenance.  But when I pressed him about the leak, his story suddenly changed.  He admitted he wasn’t actually an engineer. Back home, he explained, he had worked with “brick and mortar.”

Wait…what?  The man who had presented himself as a qualified engineer was actually a construction day laborer. There is absolutely nothing wrong with honest construction work. But, wow.

Welcome to the Jungle

As if the leaking shower wasn’t enough, the condo sat directly across from a nature preserve.

In South Florida’s relentless heat and humidity, that meant the exterior walls and screen enclosure were constantly exposed to moisture, pollen, and organic debris. Mold and mildew were already standard enemies outside.

Inside, the central air conditioning was supposed to be our first line of defense. Cirano apparently had other ideas.  He simply stopped running it.  Instead, he kept the windows and rear slider open, practically inviting South Florida’s suffocating humidity inside.

When I walked into the condo, it felt like entering a hazard zone.  Surface mold was blooming across the kitchen ceiling. Water had seeped in through the open windows and caused the master-bedroom floor to buckle.

At this point, I had to wonder:

Was Cirano simply a mind-bogglingly bad tenant, or had I been played from day one?

That was when the “Cirano Conspiracy” really began to take shape.

My brother and I stood outside in the warm Florida air, staring back at the condo and trying to figure out what on earth we were going to do with this guy.

The Exit Plan

Realizing the condo had become a health concern, we decided to offer Cirano a way out.  We would give him a free month to find another place and return his entire security deposit.  We’d make do with whatever insurance covered. At this point, I was more interested in getting him out of the condo before he could do more damage. Sometimes, it better to cut your losses!

When I went back inside and pointed out the mold spreading across the ceiling, Cirano looked at me and asked:

“Do you think that’s why my wife has been sick?”

OMG. What? Yes. Of course it is.

Yet astonishingly, he didn’t seem particularly concerned.  In fact, he practically begged us to let them stay.

Standing in the driveway, I did the math in my head. Cirano still had six months remaining on the new lease. The damage had already been done, and there was no way I could put another tenant in the condo in that condition anyway.

Fortunately, the mold on the ceilings was still primarily on the surface. It hadn’t completely infiltrated the core of the drywall. The damage was salvageable—but only if we acted quickly.  So we called a professional mold-remediation company.  The ceilings were treated and then coated with KILZ mold-and-mildew primer and paint.

My brother and I rolled up our sleeves and got to work on the rest.  We removed the saturated drywall in the closet backing the bathroom, called a plumber to replace the leaking shower valve, and installed fresh drywall, tape, and spackle.  Then we ripped out the mold-infested flooring ourselves.

Not only did Cirano insist on staying, he wanted us and the workers out!

Fine.

Once the basic repairs were finished, we laid down the law.  We looked Cirano in the eye and gave him one final ultimatum:  He had to run the central air conditioning, or he would forfeit his security deposit.

We left the condo exactly as it was: bare subfloors, patched drywall, and no frills.

If he wanted to live in a half-finished construction zone rather than move, that was his choice. But we weren’t putting another dime into making the place pretty until I knew for certain he wasn’t going to destroy it again.

Six Months Later

Six long months passed.  Finally, the lease was up.

When we walked into the condo for the final inspection, we searched for evidence that Cirano had actually followed our instructions.

And sure enough, we found it.  He had used the air conditioner. How did we know?  The AC filter was practically caked with a thick, furry layer of dust and humidity-baked grime. It looked like it had been through a war.

When Cirano originally signed the lease, we showed him where the filters were and how to replace them, and there were three air filters in the unit with my brother’s name on the mailing address.  When we took possession of the condo, the same three perfectly pristine filters were sitting in the pantry.

Lord have mercy.

Then came the final punchline. As Cirano packed up his last belongings and handed over the keys, he looked around the condo, scoffed, and declared with a straight face:

“This place is a dump.”

A dump?

I stood there in utter disbelief.  Then I started laughing.  He was the one who had turned off the AC, ignored a leaking shower valve for two months, allowed surface mold to spread across the ceilings, and apparently ran a single air filter into the ground.

He had literally created the dump, insisted on staying in the dump, and then lived in the dump for six months.

The Restoration

With Cirano finally gone, we took matters into our own hands and restored the condo.  The patched drywall in the closet and bedroom needed to blend seamlessly with the rest of the unit, so I applied the knockdown texture myself. Getting the texture just right takes patience. But after applying the compound and knocking it down, you couldn’t even tell where the moisture damage had been. Next, we painted the walls, transforming the rooms from a battle-tested memory into something bright and clean.  Finally, we replaced the laminate flooring with vinyl throughout the master bedroom and master closet, replacing the bare subfloors Cirano had stubbornly insisted on living with.  We also had to replace a bathroom vanity and repair the bathtub.

After accounting for the insurance payment, and our out-of-pocket expenses Cirano did not get his full security deposit back.

Standing in the doorway when everything was finally finished, looking at the pristine floors and the smooth, hand-textured walls we had rebuilt with our own hands, it was almost hard to believe what had happened in that condo.

The “Cirano Conspiracy” was officially over.

And the condo was back within two weeks—better than ever—ready for a tenant who actually knew how an AC filter worked.