No Sympathy for a Burning Wells Fargo Building

As riots burn Minneapolis, I heard folks torched a Wells Fargo building.


Borrowed from Star Tribune.

I realize this is the improper way to behave. Arson is wrong. Arson can kill. Arson lowers me to the level of those I despise. Yet, I am still happy folks torched a Wells Fargo building.

My happiness is personal.  Somewhere around 2005 or 2006, my late mother took out a second mortgage from Wells Fargo.  When she died in 2016, she nearly owed Wells Fargo one hundred and thirty-nine thousand dollars, this for a house my mother bought for around seventy-two thousand dollars in 1998. The life insurance my mom left couldn’t pay off the debt.  So, eventually the house foreclosed.  Last year, after some renovations, that same house sold for over two hundred thousand dollars.

Readers don’t have to agree with my feelings. Yet, I saw the need to explain them. Fuck Wells Fargo!

It wasn’t just my mom, either. Wells Fargo screwed many other African-American homeowners, including Hispanic homeowners.  Bank employees steered African-American and Hispanic homeowners to subprime mortgages. Subprime mortgages are intended for folks with low credit ratings.  Also, such mortgages have a higher interest rate than prime mortgages. Yet, even though they qualified for a prime mortgage, many African-American and Hispanic homeowners were steered towards subprime mortgages, anyway.  Because of the high interest rate, folks couldn’t keep up with the monthly payments, leading to foreclosures.

When she was alive, there was a point my mother almost did lose her home.  This was a few years after she was given a second mortgage. A relative gave my mother the money to save the house.

Still, that proved only a temporary fix. After my mom’s death, the family found out about that huge debt.

After my personal experience, I could give two shits about a burning Wells Fargo bank. I’m not saying it’s right to burn property. Yet, fuck Wells Fargo.

About Patrick Scott Barnes

Most of Central Florida knows Stone Crazy (Patrick Scott Barnes) as a poet. Yet, he also photographs, DJ and blogs. The rest of the time, the now sober blogger guzzles Diet Coke in Central Florida nightspots.
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