My name is Larry, and I’m fighting to save the home I share with my fiancée and our rescue cat, Clover. This is the home I’ve maintained, cared for, and protected — now threatened by a corporate mortgage giant cutting corners, bending rules, and pushing foreclosure through a system stacked against regular people.

I’ve put everything I have into fighting this. I’ve researched the law, filed my own motions, and even overturned their summary judgment when it was entered without me — a win most people in my situation never get. But the fight is only getting bigger. They served me with a 15-page discovery request, and I spent days crafting a 24-page discovery request of my own. Every hour spent defending myself is an hour I can’t work, and as a freelance/gig worker, that hits hard.

I can keep fighting — but I can’t keep doing it alone.

How It All Started

In January 2020, my fiancée and I moved into this home temporarily — a house owned by my mother and brother. My mother was on both the mortgage and deed, my brother only on the deed, which becomes important later.

Then the pandemic hit, life got chaotic, and we stayed. In late 2021, my brother abruptly walked away — from the house, our family, and every responsibility tied to it — leaving his dog behind, who later passed away from cancer. For nearly a year, my mother tried to get him off the deed so something  could  be done about the house, but he refused. The stress, combined with her age, finally caught up to her. In September 2022, she moved into senior care.

I stayed in the home with every intention of making it my own: maintaining it, securing it, and preparing to fight to remove my brother from the deed so I could eventually buy it and fully take over.

What I didn’t know then was that the mortgage had already fallen behind.

I had entered into a written agreement with my mother to take over the mortgage payments — and immediately ran into a wall of red tape. Because I wasn’t authorized on the account, every attempt to fix that was met with conflicting instructions, delays, or being sent in circles. By the time they finally told me the “correct” process, Flagstar had already pushed the foreclosure forward.

I reached out to multiple attorneys. Most didn’t understand the complexity of the situation. One free-aid attorney even told me I had  no standing  to challenge the foreclosure — something that turned out to be completely false. Had I known then what I know now, I might have stopped this nightmare early.

A Pattern of Irregularities — Not Just Mistakes

Once I finally became authorized on the account and applied for loss mitigation, Flagstar refused to process my application unless my brother signed the paperwork. That requirement wasn’t just questionable — it was flat-out wrong. He wasn’t on the mortgage. He had no legal obligation to sign anything. HUD rules made his signature  optional.

But Flagstar insisted anyway, and my brother refused to sign — stuck in old family tensions instead of reality. That delay cost me valuable time and allowed the foreclosure machine to keep rolling when it should’ve been paused.

And the issues didn’t stop there. This wasn’t random incompetence. It was a pattern:

• They violated HUD procedures during loss mitigation.

• Then they violated HUD’s post-foreclosure rules for occupied properties, which could have provided me with HUD assistance and changed the entire situation.

• They demanded I vacate before they even had legal title, which is a direct violation of Pennsylvania law.

• They sued “John Doe” despite knowing exactly who lived here, after months of communication.

• The court’s e-filing system blocks certain pro se filings, which is how summary judgment was entered against me without my response.

But here’s the part that matters:

I fought back — and I won.

I researched the law, built the argument myself, and got their summary judgment thrown out. That does not happen often. It proves this case is winnable. It proves I’m not flailing — I’m holding my own against a corporation with endless resources.

And now there’s a new twist.

Most recently, I discovered that Flagstar is attempting to auction off the house. Given the ongoing litigation, I question whether that’s even legal. When I sent a cease-and-desist letter to the auction company explaining the pending case and the risks to any potential buyer, they ignored it — and the auction continues weekly until someone bites. I could file motions, schedule emergency hearings, and record notices with the county to warn buyers, but all of that costs money and time. The only small comfort is that they’re asking far more than the house is worth, so a sale is unlikely — but it’s yet another stressor and one more example in a long list of questionable, if not shady, actions by Flagstar.

To keep going, I need help.

The Human Cost

This fight isn’t just legal. It’s personal.

• I’m paying $300 a month for storage because I can’t safely keep everything in the home.

• Every hour spent on motions, research, or discovery is income lost.

• The constant stress impacts my health, my work, and my fiancée.

And then there’s Clover — our shelter cat who’s already been through instability before finding real safety here. Cats are more intuitive than people give them credit for. She feels the tension, senses the stress, and knows something is wrong. Now she’s at risk of losing her home  again, for reasons she’ll never understand.

This isn’t just paperwork. This is our actual life.

What I Need Help With

Your support will go directly toward:

• Hiring or consulting with an attorney for trial

• Appeal-related costs, if needed (filing fees, transcripts, printing)

• Ongoing court expenses  (research tools, evidence printing, discovery preparation)

• Basic living expenses  so I can fight this without losing all income

Every dollar keeps me in the fight.

Why This Fight Matters Beyond Me

This case is bigger than one house.

It’s about whether corporations can ignore federal rules without consequences.
It’s about whether pro se defendants get meaningful access to justice.
It’s about whether regular people — without money, connections, or legal training — stand a chance when a corporation decides to steamroll them.

If they can do this to me, they can do it to anyone.

How You Can Help

• Donate anything you can — even $5 makes a difference.

• Share my story, especially with people who understand how broken the system can be.

• Stand with me  against a process that punishes people simply for not being wealthy.

I’ve pushed this fight as far as grit and sheer determination can take me. But the next stage requires support no one person can shoulder alone.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. And thank you for standing with me in this fight.

— Larry