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I repossess the espresso machine my sister-in-law's cafe runs on. So the machine wasn't hers. It was mine. That's the part everybody keeps skipping over when they call me a monster. So let me start there. Two years ago, my brother Mary Dani. She's fine, I guess. What she is mostly is a person who wants things without the boring middle part where you save for them. When she decided she was going to open a cafe, she came to me because I'm the one in the family who has money. And I'm the one who used to run a coffee cart before I got a real job. She wanted a Lamar Zoko. If you don't know coffee, that's the good one. That's the $11,000 one. And she didn't want the entry model. She wanted the double group head with a custom panel. I'll pay you back the second we're profitable, she said, "You know cafes, you know this is a good bet. I did know cafes. That's exactly why I said what I said. I'll buy the machine. I told her, but I'm buying it. It's mine. You lease it from me, 400 a month, and when you've paid it off it's yours. We put it in writing. She laughed like I told a joke. We're family. That's why it's in writing. I said, "So we stay family." She signed it. My brother signed it as a witness. I have the paper. I want that on the record because everyone in the story acts like the paper doesn't exist. For the first eight months, she paid. Late, always. But she paid. Then the payment got smaller. The espresso machine payment turned into things are tight this quarter, can we revisit? I said, "Sure. Take three months, catch up after." She took the three months. She did not catch up after. Month 11, I texted her. She sent back a voice memo that I've now listened to maybe 40 times. Honestly, I feel like at this point the machine's basically ours. Like we're the ones using it every day. You just like wrote a check. I'm the one in here at 5 a.m. I sat with that one for a while. So I drove over, not to fight, to talk. It was a Tuesday, slow, maybe three tables. Danny was behind the counter and my brother was doing the book set the corner table like he does. Year 11 months behind, I said, "That's not a rough quarter. That's a decision. She said, "Not looking up from the milk. When. When we can. And if you can't, she finally looked at me. Then I guess you eat it. It's not like you need the money. And there it was. Not we're struggling. Not please be patient. It was I decided this is mine. And what are you going to do? I asked one more time. Clean and simple. So nobody could say later they didn't understand. Are you going to pay the lease or are you keeping the machine for free? My brother spoke up from the corner. Come on. Don't make this weird. Just let them have it. Let them have it. 11,000 dollars. Let them have it. Okay. I said. And I left. And they thought that was the fight ending. Page 2. I called the guy I used to sub rent equipment from when I ran the cart. He has a van and a dolly and he does exactly this. I paid him $200. I told him bring a helper. Wednesday morning 6am before they opened. I was standing outside the cafe with the two of them and a copy of the lease and my ID. Danny unlocked the door for her opener. And there I was. What is this? She said. This is me recovering my property. I said. Per the agreement you signed. You've got the same copy. Page 2. She stood in the doorway like her body could stop a dolly. You cannot be serious. I asked you three times yesterday. I said, you told me to eat it. I'm not going to eat it. My guy went past her. He stopped because that's a thing you stop for. And I stepped in. Danny. If you put a hand on him again, I call the non-emergency line and this becomes a policing instead of a family thing. You've got about five seconds to decide what kind of morning this is. She let go. They wheeled the llama Zoko out the front door of her cafe. At 10 past six, while her first customer of the day stood on the sidewalk holding the door open for them because he thought he was being polite. My brother followed me to my car. You've destroyed this family. He said. Over a coffee machine. Over $11,000 I said that I offered to let her earn. She didn't want to earn it. She wanted me to disappear so keeping it would feel like a gift instead of a theft. I'm just not disappearing. He said Danny would never speak to me again. I told him that was priced in. The cafe has been closed for six days now. There's a sign in the window that says back soon. I still have the machine. I'll give it back the day she catches up at least, exactly like the paper says. She has my number.