A Baltimore family’s home for 6 decades lost over an $888 tax bill

Aunt Pearl had one request of her great-nephew when she left him her beloved East Baltimore rowhome in the late 1990s: Do not lose it.

Carlos Harris has done his best ever since to make good on the promise. It’s served as a shared asset among family members since he inherited it — his daughter lives there now, and before that, his mother — and he’s made small fixes here and there to keep it up to date.

“Since it’s been in the family,” said Harris, who lives in Rosedale, “it’s never been out of the family.”

Then the unthinkable happened: Harris learned that the family’s Coldstream Homestead Montebello haven had been swallowed up last year by Baltimore’s tangled tax sale system over an $888 bill — a combination of about $519 in unpaid property taxes and about $300 in environmental citations for trash and high grass Harris said he didn’t know about. He is now steps away from losing ownership.

Impossible, he thought at first. The family had set up automatic payments for property taxes after a close call with a tax sale a few years ago.

But unlike last time, the Harris family said they weren’t aware the house had a lien until it was too late because they had missed notifications.

An investor purchased the debt during the 2024 tax sale, and after Harris failed to buy it back with fees and interest, the investor moved to foreclose on the property in early 2025. Over the last year, Harris’ rights to his family home have slowly slipped away. In December, another investor bought it at auction for a winning bid of $45,000.

It’s an all-too-common occurrence in Baltimore, where last month city leaders agreed to pause a federal lawsuit that challenged Baltimore’s tax sale as unconstitutional in exchange for payment plan options for homeowners caught in the web and more generous payouts for those whose homes are sold unnecessarily.

Baltimore’s tax sale system has long been criticized for its treatment of low-income homeowners. A 2023 Banner investigation found that liens on about 41,000 properties were sold at tax sale since 2016, mostly in predominantly Black neighborhoods.

For years, critics warned that homeowners can fall through the system’s cracks too easily — sometimes through no fault of their own.

Proponents of the system argue that it’s an efficient tool for the city to seize control of derelict properties and collect much-needed tax revenue.

The Harrises’ home, just a few blocks south of Lake Montebello, serves as every investor’s dream. In need of a little love, perhaps, but not as expensive to repair as more blighted homes nearby.

While other families have lost their homes to tax sale due to affordability problems, the Harrises’ case revolves around a different set of challenges, including complex bureaucracy and red tape.

The family believes a “perfect storm” of unfortunate errors caused their house to go to tax sale.

Their tax payments, including those made by check, were applied as a credit to their Baltimore County water bill instead. The home was also reclassified to non-owner-occupied in 2020 while Harris’ mother lived there. That meant Mayor Brandon Scott’s office didn’t exclude it from the tax sale list as part of a special effort to protect residents.

Once the tax sale investor moved to foreclose on the home, process servers taped a notice to the front door and sent a certified letter to Harris’ current address in Rosedale, according to court records. Harris’ wife, Natasha C. Pratt-Harris, said that though her signature was recorded on the document, she never signed anything and thinks it could have been forged.

With the legal notice requirements satisfied, a judge approved the investor’s taking of the house this past August.

Harris filed a court motion earlier this month to reverse the judgment, saying attempts to reach him in person were insufficient.

“Defendant did not grant authority to any person to sign documents, accept service, or otherwise act on Defendants behalf in connection with this matter,” the court motion states.

Because Harris himself was never served, the judgment is “void” and should be vacated, the court motion also says.

A representative for the original investor, The 2024 Entity LLC, declined to comment. The company, in a Monday court filing, said there was no legal justification for reversing the outcome.

Representatives from Mayor Brandon Scott’s office said in a statement that the administration recognizes how harmful tax sale can be and is committed to improving it. Jonas Poggi, a spokesperson for the mayor, said the Harrises’ home went to tax sale due to unpaid property tax bills and environmental citations. He did not confirm whether the tax bill was misapplied to the water bill.

Reflecting on the house’s history, Harris broke down. He recalled his great-uncle, Wilbert Burnett, and his great-aunt, Lizzie “Pearl” Burnett, who helped raise him.

The family moved to Baltimore from North Carolina sometime in the mid-20th century in search of work at Bethlehem Steel. Many relatives settled in East Baltimore.

Harris’ daughter Cairo now lives in the home with her young son and feels deeply connected to its proud past. She remembers spending time there with her late grandmother, Sandra “Data” Cooper, who lived there from 2001 until her death in 2022, and Grandma’s little dog, Missy.

“I felt free here,” Cairo said. “I felt this presence over me.”

Then this fall, someone appeared at the door unannounced and said the house was going to be auctioned. Cairo said the visitor looked surprised when she answered the door and said she lived there.

“I thought that was their way of saying it would be questioned,” she said about the auction. But over the following weeks, more unusual activity followed, including someone removing the back doorknob and removing her outdoor furniture.

In December, Ashland Auction Group auctioned the house for $45,000 to another company, Marathon Investments LLC. Its resident agent declined to comment.

The family said they won’t be pushed out easily.

Pratt-Harris, a professor and director of graduate programs at Morgan State University, said she feels their fight has taken on a symbolic meaning.

“They want us to hang our heads low and assume the position,” she said. “Someone needs to take accountability, not just for us.”