Much like its owner, District Attorney Seth Williams' house in Overbrook Farms has seen better days.
The infamous $45,000 roof -- a gift from a political supporter in 2013 that attracted scrutiny because of the DA's initial failure to report it on his financial disclosure forms -- looks brand-new.
I'm not sure what I expected.
But as I entered the four-bedroom house he hopes to sell for almost a half-million dollars, I wondered about the man who lives there.
I thought about all Williams faces as my eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outside to the relative dimness of the house's interior. To my left, there was a decent-size living room with a fireplace, and to my right a dining room with a small glass table.
I walked farther into the house and found myself in the family room, next to a ginormous sectional that's brown, like the $3,200 custom sofa investigators allege the DA accepted in 2012 from a benefactor who reportedly sought his influence. I touched the fabric, trying to see what it was made of. That's when Anthony F. Patterson Sr., the listing agent for Realty Mark Associates, suddenly loomed.
Moving on, I passed an old Obama campaign poster, went down some stairs, and landed in the basement. Judging from all the stuff pushed against the walls, it looks as if Williams uses the space mainly for storage. On the way to the laundry room, my eyes fixed on a yellowed copy of what appeared to be Williams' diploma from Penn State hanging haphazardly on a wall. What an odd place for it, I thought.
The kitchen, with its gorgeous granite countertops, was immaculate and sunny. There's an island in the center. The refrigerator has the requisite proud-dad school photos and an assortment of other items. From the kitchen, I ventured into the spacious backyard, in need of landscaping.
Next, it was on to the bachelor pad-esque master bedroom with its modern white headboard against a dark, moody wall. The sight of a Catholic rosary lying on a nightstand next to a candle stopped me. Had it been placed there merely for staging purposes? Or had the 50-year-old Williams been lying awake at night, fingering the beads as he prayed for an end to his considerable legal woes?
A large black cat on a white couch stretched as I walked over for a look into a small en-suite bathroom. There wasn't much to see there. I moved on quickly.
Williams, who is divorced, has three daughters with ex-wife Sonita Williams. My heart ached for them as I walked into a pink bedroom, and then one done up in purple. What must his poor girls be going through, with their dad's indictment and now total strangers traipsing through their space?
In another room, there is a bathroom off to the side with a handicapped-adapted toilet. On a wall hangs what appears to be a family portrait of a sweet-faced, grandmotherly-looking person posing with a younger Williams. Was she the woman who adopted the future DA as a toddler, only to have him be accused of stealing more than $20,000 in Social Security and pension income from her?
Heading down the steps, I glanced up at a wooden crucifix hanging overhead. A crucifix!
The house is on the market for $449,900. No doubt, Williams needs any proceeds he can get to offset legal bills.
But if he's really the good guy he wants people to think he is, the DA should put aside some of that money for his 84-year-old mother, who has Parkinson's disease.