Landlord forged an arborist report to evict me over a lemon tree

The letter came on a Tuesday, slipped under my door like a threat. Geoffrey Walsh, my landlord, had served me with a formal eviction notice under the Residential Tenancies Act. The grounds? My lemon tree—that gnarled old thing in the backyard, maybe fifteen feet tall, covered in fruit every winter—was supposedly destroying the house foundation. He’d attached an arborist report. Signed by someone called Dr. Alan Briggs. It said the roots had compromised the footings and the property was unsafe.

I sat on the floor of my rental cottage in Brunswick and stared at the page. The tree had been there for decades. The landlord’s father had planted it, according to Priya next door. And me? I’d watered it, pruned it, picked lemons for my neighbours. It was the only thing about the place that felt like mine. Now Geoffrey wanted me out so he could flog the lot to a developer. I knew it. Everyone knew it.

I called Priya. She came over with a pot of tea and a steady hand. “Let’s look at this properly,” she said. “Who is this neighbour who complained about overhanging branches?” The notice mentioned a complaint from someone named Susan at number 17. That didn’t make sense. My next-door neighbour was Priya. Number 17 was three doors down, on the other side of the street. A woman named Susan lived there, but her garden faced the opposite direction. She had no line of sight to my tree.

Something was rotten.

Priya phoned the number on the arborist’s letterhead. Dr. Briggs answered on the first ring. She explained the situation—the report, the eviction, the tree. There was a long pause. Then he said, “I’ve never inspected that property. I’ve never heard of Geoffrey Walsh. That report is a forgery.”

My stomach dropped. I wanted to cry. But Priya just nodded, made notes, and said we’d take this to VCAT.

Geoffrey must have heard I was fighting back. Two days later, another letter arrived. This one claimed I was running an illegal home business—my graphic design work—in a residential zone. He threatened to sue for damages, said I’d violated the lease, told me to vacate within fourteen days or he’d escalate. The tone was vicious. He was trying to crush me with paperwork.

That’s when the violence crept in. Not fists or weapons, but the kind that leaves you breathless—the violence of a landlord who bullies a tenant into homelessness. Geoffrey had manufactured evidence. He’d lied to the tribunal. He’d used the law as a weapon. And now he was doubling down.

Priya helped me compile everything. Photos of the tree, the foundation, the untouched soil around the base. The forged report. The neighbour mix-up. The second notice. We took it all to VCAT. I sat in the hearing room with my hands shaking, and Priya sat beside me, calm as stone.

The tribunal member read the evidence. She asked Geoffrey to explain the discrepancy in the arborist’s statement. He stammered. Said there must have been a mix-up. That he’d hired someone else. The lies unravelled like old thread.

In the end, the tribunal ruled in my favour. Geoffrey was ordered to pay my legal costs. And I was granted a twelve-month protected tenancy. The lemon tree stayed. So did I.

I still pick fruit every winter. And every Tuesday, when the mail comes, I think about how close I came to losing everything because one man decided the truth was optional.