The Call That Changed Everything: When 25 Rentals Became Too Much

It was supposed to be a normal evening. Brent, a law enforcement officer and real estate investor, had just gotten home from his full-time job. He was looking forward to dinner with his family, a moment to disconnect from the pressures of work.

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Then, his phone buzzed.

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It was a text from his property manager. Then another from a tenant. The messages told two completely different stories, but they both centered around one terrifying event: a gun had been pulled at one of his rental properties. One text claimed it happened; the other denied it. Moments later, the property manager messaged again: "I've got police coming, lights and sirens, to your house."

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For Brent, standing in his kitchen with his family nearby, the chaos of his rental portfolio had literally arrived at his doorstep. It was a stark collision between the life he was trying to build—one of financial security and family time—and the volatile reality of managing 25 rental properties.

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"I’m done with this," he told himself at that moment. "I’m not trying to manage my regular job, have dinner with my family, and deal with somebody pointing a gun at somebody else."

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This is the story of how one ambitious investor built a massive portfolio from scratch, faced the gritty, unglamorous reality of being a landlord, and finally found a way to preserve his wealth without losing his sanity.

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The Dream: Building Wealth on a Law Enforcement Salary

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Brent’s journey into real estate didn’t happen by accident. It was intentional, strategic, and born out of a desire for stability. Working in law enforcement, he knew he needed an avenue to generate additional income for retirement and estate planning. He wasn't looking for a get-rich-quick scheme; he was looking for a legacy.

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Starting at age 30, Brent bought his first property. Over the next nine years, he aggressively grew his portfolio. He read books, listened to podcasts, and scraped together down payments—sometimes even utilizing credit cards to bridge the gap. It was a labor of grit and determination.

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"We didn't stumble into it," Brent explains. "We intentionally sought out buying as much property as we could."

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And for a while, it worked. The portfolio grew to 25 doors in the Kansas City market. The cash flow was solid, yielding between 4% and 6%. On paper, Brent was living the real estate investor's dream. He was building significant equity and creating a financial safety net for his family.

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The Reality: Sewer Sludge and Birthday Parties

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However, the spreadsheet version of real estate investing rarely accounts for the human element. While the financial returns were positive, the "life experience" returns were becoming increasingly negative.

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Brent was working a demanding W-2 job while trying to self-manage a sprawling portfolio. He didn't have a large team or a turnkey system; for a long time, he was the system. And when you are the system, you are the one who gets the call when things go wrong.

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The horror stories piled up over the years, chipping away at his enthusiasm.

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There was the time a tenant went on vacation and returned to find four inches of sewer sludge flooding their entire unit. This didn't happen on a convenient Tuesday afternoon; it happened on Brent's youngest child's birthday. While he was trying to celebrate with his family, his mind was knee-deep in a biohazard disaster across town.

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Then there was the "DIY nightmare" early in his career. Lacking a reliable contractor network, Brent hired a guy who sounded good on the phone to renovate a bathroom. He paid him, only to visit the property the next day and find water actively leaking from every single fixture the contractor had touched—the sink, the toilet, the shower. The water was pouring into the basement. The contractor ghosted him, leaving Brent to learn plumbing on the fly via YouTube tutorials.

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Perhaps the most visceral memory was the time a sewer line backed up into a bathtub after a tenant vacated. Brent went over himself to fix it, plunging 12 inches of raw sewage back down the drain. "You can imagine splashing all over," he recalls. "So you can imagine that experience."

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The Hidden Cost of Being a "Nice Guy" Landlord

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Beyond the physical messes, there were the emotional and financial tolls of managing people. Brent admits that one of his weaknesses was simply being a "nice guy." He wanted to help people, which sometimes led him to bend his own screening rules.

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He recalls one tenant who applied with a husband who was a veteran. They claimed to have a service dog for PTSD. Despite red flags and knowing they weren't fully qualified, Brent’s heart won out over his head. He let them move in to avoid a vacancy.

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It was a mistake that cost him thousands. The "service dog" turned out to be an untrained pet that chewed holes through the walls into a neighboring unit. The tenants refused to leave, claiming Brent wasn't fixing things, creating a legal and financial nightmare.

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"That was a really hard lesson to learn," Brent admits. "It ended up costing me thousands more dollars than it would have if I let the unit stay vacant."

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The Breaking Point: Reclaiming Sanity

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The accumulation of these events—the sewage, the bad contractors, the manipulative tenants—created a low-level hum of anxiety that never went away. Brent felt glued to his phone. Every ring or vibration triggered a stress response: What is it now?

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"It was the sanity," Brent says, reflecting on what the experience cost him most. "It got to the point where I just hated it when my phone rang. The time and money sucks... but just having to constantly feel like I got to be glued to my phone for the next major crisis."

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The gun incident was the final straw. It crystalized the problem: He had built a second full-time job that was threatening his peace, his safety, and his primary career. He realized he couldn't do it alone anymore. He needed an exit ramp that didn't involve selling off his hard-earned assets and paying a massive tax bill.

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A Strategic Transition to Freedom

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Brent began looking for solutions and found Flock Homes. As a disciplined investor who built his business from the ground up, he was naturally skeptical. He wasn't about to hand over his life's work to just anyone.

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"I built this business with no help from anybody," he says. "If I turn over everything... into one entity, and it goes poorly, I'm not going to be able to forgive myself."

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He started with a measured approach, transferring seven properties to Flock in 2024. He wanted to test the waters, to see if the promise of passive income could actually hold up against the reality he knew so well.

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The results were immediate. The phone stopped ringing. The 3:00 AM panic attacks about leaking roofs or unpaid rent evaporated. He estimates he gained back five to 10 hours a week—time previously spent on bookkeeping, coordination, and crisis management.

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But the real value wasn't just the hours saved; it was the mental bandwidth recovered. "The amount of sanity and time I get back... is way worth the slightly reduced cash flow," Brent notes. Brent shared that while the returns remained largely comparable, the true difference was the positive impact on his family’s overall well-being. In particular, his wife experienced genuine relief and a noticeable reduction in stress after they made the switch. For their family, the real win wasn’t just about numbers—it was about reclaiming peace of mind and improving quality of life.

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The Verdict: Trust and Future Growth

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Brent’s confidence in the Flock model grew quickly. In June, he transferred four more properties, bringing his total with Flock to 11. He still owns properties outside of Flock and is actively buying more, but his strategy has shifted. He now views Flock as a key partner in his long-term wealth preservation plan and recommends that other landlords follow suit.

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For Brent, the transition wasn't about giving up on real estate; it was about graduating from the role of a tired landlord to the role of a sophisticated investor. He realized that you don't have to endure chaos to build wealth.

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Advice for the Burned-Out Landlord

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For other landlords standing where he stood—staring at a phone they are afraid to answer, missing family moments because of plumbing disasters—Brent offers a simple message of hope.

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"It doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to live that way," he urges. "You can join Flock and still achieve some cash flow and some equity appreciation without the constant chaos of managing other people living in your home."

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Brent’s story is a powerful reminder that financial freedom is meaningless if you don't have the personal freedom to enjoy it. By partnering with Flock, he preserved the asset he worked so hard to build, but more importantly, he reclaimed the life he wanted to live.