Animal Crossing? More Like Animal Eviction

It was a beautiful day in March of 2020, school had been suspended for 2 weeks, and Animal Crossing: New Horizons had just come out on the Nintendo Switch. What I didn’t realize then was that my enjoyment would be short-lived. Fresh on my new island and excited to meet my newest island residents, I was confronted with what I can only describe as the ugliest koala I’ve ever seen. I immediately detested his terrifying smile and annoyingly green fur. He was a beacon of green, and I was constantly afflicted with his presence as I began building my island from the ground up. 14-year-old Louise had a goal for her new tropical paradise, and this marsupial was not a part of it. As Lyman was a tenant on my island, I had little recourse. He caused no disturbances on the island and followed the island’s rules. Despite his annoying singing in the town square and gym-bro-esque home decor, he was seemingly harmless and in good standing financially.

I resorted to a serious campaign of systematic harassment. I surrounded his home with iron fences to trap him inside his abode, repeatedly struck him with a bug-catching net until he was visibly annoyed, and complained to the administrative office about his “inappropriate” catchphrases. It was my island, and 14-year-old me didn’t care much for ethical landlord practices if it meant Lyman left as soon as possible. Eventually, Lyman appeared with his belongings in boxes and told me he was ready to move on to his next adventure. While he technically chose to leave, the issue at hand is whether my actions constituted a lawful exercise of my right to exclude others from my island, or whether I constructively evicted a lawfully residing tenant.

To examine this legal question, we can look to the doctrine of constructive eviction in the case of Fidelity Mutual Life Insurance Co. v. Kaminsky. In Kaminsky, a physician who performed abortions was forced to abandon his office space because the landlord who leased his practice the space failed to remove protesters who physically blocked the entrance of the building and frequently harassed patients. To determine if there was a constructive eviction, the court applied this test: “1) [the landlord] intended that [the tenant] no longer enjoy the premises…; 2) [the landlord] committed a material act or omission which substantially interfered with use and enjoyment of the premises for their leased purpose;… 3) [the landlord’s] act or omission permanently deprived [the tenant] of use and enjoyment of the premises; and 4) [the tenant] abandoned the premises within a reasonable period of time.” In Kaminsky, the court found the landlord’s refusal to dissuade the trespassers and aid the tenant was a material interference of the tenant’s enjoyment, and a breach of the covenant of quiet enjoyment. The court noted that the landlord had the ability to provide aid and chose not to, even failing to provide the extra security promised in the lease. Ultimately, the court found there was a constructive eviction and allowed the tenant to abandon the lease without further obligation.

Applying the rule of constructive eviction in Kaminsky, we can examine the dispute over Lyman’s untimely departure on my Animal Crossing Island. As noted above, the required elements are intent, a material act or omission, substantial interference, permanent deprivation, and abandonment. Regarding intent, we have the rare opportunity of looking into the landlord’s mind in this case. I concede there was nothing but malice in my heart when I embarked upon my torment. When establishing a material act or omission, Lyman can claim there was an iron fence confining his movements and that I may have pestered him with my “inaccurate aim” while bug-catching. I may claim that the fence was an aesthetic alteration on public lands which did not deprive Lyman of access to his house, and that I was within my rights to use common areas and catch bugs on my island. Lyman would argue that being trapped and harassed made the property uninhabitable and substantially interfered with his right to “quiet enjoyment” of his land. I would argue his home itself remained relatively functional and safe. At no time did I neglect to act within my obligations as a landlord, nor did I enter without permission and notice. Lyman could argue that this harassment was permanent deprivation, and given my playtime hours during the first 3 months on my island, he may be within his rights to assert that claim. At the very least, there was no indication my torment would cease, leaving Lyman with a reasonable assumption that the incumbrance would be permanent. Finally, Lyman packed his obscene room decor and left, leaving the element of abandonment clearly satisfied. In all, the sheer frequency of the interference would likely cause the court to rule that a constructive eviction has occurred.

Ultimately, this result helps protect tenants’ rights and discourages landlords from resorting to self-help approaches to conflicts. Unfortunately, it does not matter how green your tenant is; you cannot bypass the formal judicial process, even on a fictional island with no courthouse. On a perfect island, perhaps Lyman would voice his concerns with me before abandoning, instead of acting entirely impassive, to establish notice and give me a right to cure. However, Lyman ultimately abandoned and was undeniably treated horribly during my prolonged reign of terror. In hindsight, 6 years after his tenancy on my island, I have to say I have no regrets; his smile still upsets me.

Louise Vermeil is a law student at American University, Washington College of Law.

Image: cogdogblog, Cute Furry Animal Warning.