In a bustling hallway on the sixth floor of a downtown courthouse, Alcira Ayala sat on a bench with her husband and daughter, anxiously waiting for her eviction case to be called. She held a black cloth bag filled with neatly organized records that she hoped would help her win her case and stay in the apartment that she and her family have lived in for nearly two decades.
Since learning this summer that her landlord wanted to evict them, Ayala had spent days calling and showing up at the offices of local nonprofit groups to ask for help.
She had hoped to get a free lawyer, but quickly learned that there aren’t enough in the city to represent everyone who needs help. To try to defend herself, she went to the L.A. Law Library to ask for guidance filing the legally required response to the notice. Then, she attended hours of online training hosted by the nonprofit Eviction Defense Network, which teaches tenants without lawyers how to prepare for court.
Still, she was worried she would misunderstand something or say the wrong thing. And she tried to steel herself for the hearing.
“I can’t let myself be intimidated,” she said. “I’m fighting for my family.”
Each year, thousands of tenants across the city show up in court and face eviction proceedings without the help of a lawyer. For years, advocates have urged the city to change that, arguing that ensuring lawyers for low-income renters would correct a power imbalance that occurs in eviction court, where landlords almost always have attorneys while tenants do not. Now, the city is moving toward making that change.
This month, the City Council voted 11 to 0 in favor of directing the city attorney to draft an ordinance that would establish a city-funded program to provide lawyers for low-income tenants. The program would be phased in over five years, starting with high-need ZIP Codes.
It would be funded through Measure ULA, also known as the “mansion tax,” which requires that 10% of funds be allocated to offering legal services to low-income tenants threatened with eviction. The tax has collected $375 million in revenue since going into effect last year.
Earlier this year, the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors voted in favor of a right to counsel program for low-income renters in unincorporated parts of the county. That program is set to launch in January.
Some have criticized such efforts, saying they allocate money to lawyers when residents might be better off getting direct assistance so they don’t fall behind on rent and face eviction in the first place.
“It’s a waste of money to spend what limited ULA funds the city is getting on private attorneys,” said Daniel Yukelson, executive director of the Apartment Assn. of Greater Los Angeles. “The city should help tenants pay their rent so they can stay housed.”
But advocates say the experience of other cities shows that providing tenants with lawyers helps them stay in their homes and preserve affordable housing.
In New York City, which in 2017 became the first city in the nation to guarantee lawyers for low-income renters facing eviction, the Department of Social Services reported that in 2023, 84% of households represented by lawyers in court managed to stay in their homes.
In 2018, Los Angeles began exploring its own right to counsel program and eventually approved funding to start a limited eviction defense program. In 2021, with the pandemic raging and residents falling far behind on rent, the city partnered with the county and local community and legal services providers to create Stay Housed L.A., which offers support for tenants facing eviction, including connecting them to free lawyers in a limited number of cases.
But requests for assistance have far outpaced available help. Last year, for example, 7,446 tenants in the city applied for legal representation. The program was able to provide lawyers to represent 997 tenants in court.
One of the biggest challenges has been a shortage of attorneys who are available to take eviction cases. Those who do provide free services for low-income clients are often stretched thin. So organizations started working to teach residents how to navigate the court system to try to defend themselves.
“We walk them through their rights and how to create their own package of evidence and use the right language to go in front of a judge,” said Sergio Vargas, co-director of the Los Angeles chapter of the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment, or ACCE. “We’ve been able to be successful at that. But it’s not sustainable.”
Ayala’s landlord served her with a three-day notice in June, accusing her of blocking workers from removing plants and doing other renovations, impeding access to the garage and failing to provide a copy of her keys to the landlord.
Ayala says she believes he was looking for pretexts to evict her.
In court, the judge called Ayala’s case shortly after 9 a.m. She and her husband sat together at the counsel table, with a translator behind them, whispering Spanish translations into a microphone. Her landlord, an older man, sat on the other side of the table. His lawyer wasn’t in court that day but was on the phone.
The hearing was over in a few minutes. With help at the law library, Ayala had filed a request for a jury trial before the hearing, hoping a trial would allow her to present evidence in her defense.
The judge granted her request and set a date for trial in early October. She had managed to delay the case for three weeks and as she walked out of the courtroom she said she was happy with the outcome — but knew it wasn’t over.
She planned to continue calling and showing up to as many legal organizations as she could find, trying to get a lawyer to take the case. Maybe, now that her trial was fast approaching, someone would agree to help her on a payment plan, she said.
