Since I last posted in Late-April, I wanted to give you all an update on the situation. Here is a link to the original post for more details: https://www.reddit.com/r/relationship_advice/s/khBs8LirC5

Tl;Dr of previous post: A couple from church left their 18 year-old son (18M, “Fred”) in my (30M) and my wife’s (30F) care. He legally was a tenant, but he was devoid of most life-skills. My wife and I took him in, renting a room in our house for $200 (when that room could have been rented for over $1,200 in our area), provided him with home cooked meals nightly, and tried to teach him how to “adult”. He utterly trashed the room “hoarder-style”.

This is a long update.

So, without further ado, the update is not a good one. After I posted, I took Fred to a local fair (Earth Day) where we could get junk food and watch some remote control boat racing, look at some plants, and talk. I sat him down and discussed that there needs to be significant changes. I explained that he was damaging my property and it was hurting me emotionally to watch him suffer in clutter and filth. I told him that, within the next two weeks, he needs to seek out a therapist to talk to. Due to his perceived paranoia about his mom and dad learning what he tells the therapist, I explained to him that the therapist would not legally be able to discuss anything with me, his parents, or anyone on Earth. Furthermore, I told him that he does this, I would be willing to completely waive rent. Fred agreed to seek therapy. Three days later, he got into a car crash while texting and driving.

Luckily, no one was hurt. Fred’s car, however, was not as fortunate.

Initially, I thought this may be good for him. He was working one day per week at a large chain grocery store that was located 1.5 hours away from the house. Fred showed zero initiative to transfer stores, so I thought this would force him to get a local job. I also thought that, without the car, he can focus on himself. This thesis would be proven to be incorrect.

Three weeks pass and the situation has gotten far worse. He doesn’t leave his room, he hasn’t gotten a therapist, no job, and he has stopped bathing. He only leaves the house to pick up fast food, where he will sit in the store for hours, simply watching people. There was a noticeable smell beginning to emanate from that wing of the house. To address this with him and further assess what I can do for him, I invite him out to lunch.

As we get into my car to drive to lunch, Fred informs me that he has to go clean out his totaled vehicle within the next two hours or they are sending it to the scrap yard. I learn that the shop has been threatening this for the past week, but Fred didn’t think that the repair shop was serious and stopped taking their calls. We change course, get to the repair shop, and I drop him off near his car to let him gather his belongings. I spend about 30-minutes looking at the new car offerings, text him to see if he needs help; “No, I am almost done”. I walk back to my car, watch a documentary for another half hour, and text him again; “Almost done”. I turn on another YouTube documentary, it concludes, and I text him again; “You can pull around so we can load the trunk”. I pull into the repair parking lot and do not immediately see him by his car. I park only to find a group of mechanics talking with each other. I asked to see if they had seen Fred, they pointed over to the curb where there Fred was, in a fetal position, sobbing hysterically. I Fred asked if he was okay, thinking he was hurt, no response. I asked Fred if he needed help, he asked me to move his belongings from his car to mine. What I found in his car was shocking.

Food debris, half eaten chicken nuggets, drinks, burgers, and other fast food items piled in his car to an extent that showed me exactly how severe the situation inside of his head is. The food was piled from floor to the seats in the passenger seat and the rear seats (SUV). The mess continued into the trunk. The smell is what I image Hell to be. Remember, these food items, most of which are months old, have now been baking in a car under the May Florida sun. I dug through the filth to find his belongings; Clothes, a tool box, anime porn, and the like. He was still in hysterics. After gathering what I could find, I asked him to double check my work. He then approached the front of the car and took off one of the windshield wipers to “remember the car”. Fred then asked me to get him his socket wrench set so that he could take the spare tire. I put my foot down explaining that the spare probably won’t fit his next car and that I would not allow a tire to be stored in my house. He sobbed more, I called my wife so that she could confirm I wasn’t being an asshole, which she did, and I told him it was time to leave. We left and went to lunch in silence after the four hour ordeal.

After picking up food and returning home, I sat Fred down and explained that he isn’t healthy. He hasn’t found a job, he hasn’t sought out therapy as he agreed to (even after I found a therapist for him and sent him the intake forms two weeks prior), and that I suspected his room was in the same disarray as his car. He denied this. I notified him that I would be inspecting his room in 48 hours per the lease.

What I found in Fred’s room was horrifying. It was, as I suspected, trashed. Food containers piled up over his bed, a small path so he could get to the door. I told him he has a week to clean it up as well as drafted up a formal notice of the situation.

Fred did not clean his room within the week and I informed him that I would be reaching out to his parents and evicting him if he did not move out by the end of the month (May). He cried in response.

His parents were “shocked”. I put quotes around this because I fail to believe they were not aware of his mental health and tendencies prior to leaving Fred to live here especially when the issues are so substantial. As his father was coming down, Fred ran away. He took an Uber, and was missing for 24 hours. Fred eventually came home, two hours prior to his father’s arrival and, as anticipated, his room was barely packed, so his father and I cleaned out his room. As it turns out, I was only seeing about half of the debris in his room. His dresser, nightstand, under the bed, the closet, all were packed with food.

I will never eat Popeye’s chicken ever again. The four month old barely consumed chicken bucket in the dresser is too much of an experience for me to handle.

There were 2L bottles of urine. My wife had purchased Vera Bradley towels for the bathroom he was using; I didn’t have the heart to tell her that a few were just thrown away as they were covered in… biological waste. The carpet, new to the room, crunched under the feet and was covered in pizza toppings, sauce, and similar drippings. His father cried through the process. I puked twice. Fred frantically packed his belongings including had a secretive box he didn’t want us to touch or lift to the van; A mystery I will never know the answer to.

Eviction was successful. I offered to pay for his college if Fred begins therapy. His parent’s kicked him out soon after he returned home and he is living alone in a trailer in the rural Ohio woods that his parent’s bought for him. College started a few weeks ago; I didn’t have to pay as he still has not attended therapy.

We have since cleaned up the room, replaced the bed and much of the furniture. The carpet had to be specially treated and probably would have been better if replaced entirely. Thousands of dollars, emotional trauma, lots of learning, and an absolute repulsion to fast food are my takeaways. He doesn’t respond to my texts and, I can only assume, that I am now a “bad guy” in his life story. I really wish him the best and my heart breaks for him when I think about the situation.

Early this month we received a misaddressed Amazon package for him: A massive package of sauce concentrate for restaurants.