HELP! Save our home!

Hello, my name is Paul Jewell. I'm desperately seeking help. My story is long, but I’ll try to sum it up the best I can, and hope you have the time to read it.

It feels like my whole life has been hard ever since I was born, nothing has been easy. Things took a real turn on my 11th birthday. December 25, 1984, was the day I wanted to ride a bicycle with some friends. Fate had other plans that day, as someone had a bomb hooked to the air pump at my local gas station. The explosion blew me up into the air, ripping off my leg and burning a large percentage of my body. I died 7 times on the way to the hospital.

As I was a child, the donations were gathered, and a bank was chosen to manage the account. Only the bank wouldn’t allow me to buy a car or a house with all that money. They barely allowed me to pay for my medical needs like a new prosthetic leg to get around, and a shopping trip to spend a few hundred on school clothes, shoes, and supplies, as long as I was still going to school. Most of my requests were denied and the bank took so many fees that I was left with hardly anything to count on. I had to work 2-3 jobs in my teens.

Thinking back on my childhood is like a blur of confusion that I don’t understand, some might say that’s because of the trauma, the medications, the operations, or the extreme pain. The transitions from a hospital bed to a wheelchair and relearning how to walk with a peg stick for a leg. Kids in school started so many fights and called me names like Freddy Kruger that I couldn’t concentrate, and dropped out.

I was angry for so long. Infuriated at the person that planted the bomb. Mad at some of my family for taking advantage of my situation. Upset at a few of the newspapers for making embellishments to my story to get more traction. Enraged With the kids in school that wouldn’t leave me alone, so I could learn. Frustrated with the bank for holding the money that was supposed to make my life easier. I was a child lost in a world I didn’t understand, surrounded by people that used me, walked on me, took advantage of me, made fun of me, and stole from me until I was left with nothing to call mine.

I struggled into my adult years taking jobs that others didn't want, just to make a little money. Sometimes I would work until my stump was raw and it bled inside my prosthetic, just to buy a part for my old used truck, so I could have a place to sleep or a way to get from one job to the next. I was even homeless more than once. I can honestly say I know what dog food tastes like. I settled for anything that came my way. Not being too proud, with the understanding that this was just the way my life was.

In January 2004, my life changed again. I found someone that had seen me, under all my pain and hurt. The first years had been a blessing. We seemed to have everything we needed and wanted. Our family lived in Florida renting from landlords, and I had a job that I liked working for a place that was supplying steel to Disney. The business was next door to a scrap yard and a forest lot surrounded by trees full of homeless people living in tents that we would often bring food and blankets too. I’d understood their struggles and once wished someone would have help me. I couldn’t do much but it was better than doing nothing.

In, 2008 that scrap yard had an eruption from a smashed propane tank that someone threw out, it rumbled the ground and caused me to loose my footing. I then fell, landed wrong on my neck, and my neck was broken, I was no longer able to work. We had thrived until we didn’t.

Our period of luck had apparently run out. We’ve suffered through and lost much along the way. We survived a house fire, and two hurricanes, in the last 10 years. Rebuilding and losing everything over, and over, and over again. The feeling of defeat forced us to go back to Ohio, to lean on family.

We bounced around from family member to family member, which is hard to do with a big family. My dad had lost his sister and moved out of his house into hers. He decided to rent his home to us, it was only supposed to be for a year, and ending up being 4, we had started to do the paperwork to rent to own the home. Only, he was declining and before he could get the bank to hand the loan over to us, he died. His living sister called and canceled everything in his name before the judge could even read his probate case. Leading to the foreclosure of our current rental home. She gave us a heads-up, about the blow she had just dealt us.

We began to look around for a new home, and a deal fell into our laps you could say. A house with mediocre damage that was raided by cops about 3 years ago was available from another family member. He had more owed taxes than anticipated. We paid a little towards what was owed. Thinking we’d pay more once we could move in. The home had little damage here and there, mostly just holes in walls and drop ceilings that were pulled down by the local police. A few things missing here and there that had to be replaced. The house needed a bit of work. Inflation made the cost of supplies higher, as many know the cost of wood alone almost tripled and made it harder to fix up the home. It has taken over a year to get it almost ready. Our dream of owning the home we live in, with our family was slowly coming true. Only now the city is trying to steal it from us.

This is confusing since we had just learned of the amount and we signed a payment agreement with the treasurer’s office. We have not missed a payment and we were hoping to move into our home this year. We paid to have the case closed, but the prosecutor is still coming for our home.

We recently received papers in the mail telling us that we would have to get a lawyer and go to court. We questioned it and spoke with the treasurer in hopes that it was a mistake, but she replied with “this shouldn’t have happened, I don’t’ know, it is out of my hands, you’ve done all I asked you to do.” This left us with no answers.

We decided to leave copies of our payment agreement with the prosecutor, and we were told he’d call us. It’s been a week, and we can’t get anyone on the phone. We plan to fight and jump through any hoops they throw at us. The cost to fight, the cost to finish the house, and the cost of living, are beginning to add up. I fear we may become homeless before it's all over!

I’m desperately asking for everyone to donate $1 and share my story. Hopefully enough people will read this, share it, and donate. I would love nothing more than to stop moving around, and finally have a place to call my own. A dream that I’ve always had, could be possible for me and my family.

I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this!