Police Called Two Dozen Times to James’ Homes Over Criminal Incidents
The two Virginia homes owned by New York Attorney General Letitia James, both now at the center of her federal bank fraud indictment, have drawn repeated police visits — more than two dozen calls in five years — since being occupied by family members with long criminal histories, according to Norfolk Police Department records reviewed by the New York Post.
Police were called 12 times to the first home James purchased in August 2020 for $137,000, often multiple times on the same day, for incidents described as vandalism, domestic disputes, and suspicious persons. Many of the calls came after James’ grandniece Nakia Thompson, 36, moved into the property with her three children.
Thompson, who once told a grand jury she was living rent-free, has a criminal record spanning North Carolina and Virginia, including arrests for larceny, assault on a government official, possession of burglary tools, and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. She is also wanted in Forsyth County, NC, for violating probation linked to felony convictions. Thus, James may be guilty of harboring a fugitive of the law.
Police records show that six of the 12 calls to the Peronne Avenue property came within the first two weeks of October 2025, just after James was charged in a sweeping federal bank fraud case alleging that she lied on mortgage documents to obtain favorable loan terms. Prosecutors say James falsely claimed that she would occupy the home herself, despite working in New York and allowing relatives to live there instead.
The second Norfolk property, purchased in 2023 with a $219,780 mortgage, has also become a magnet for police calls. That home, occupied by another grandniece, 21-year-old Cayla Thompson-Hairston, and two other relatives, was the site of 10 police visits between April 2024 and April 2025.
Thompson-Hairston, who promotes herself on OnlyFans, was arrested in 2024 for lying on a federal firearms form when attempting to buy a gun despite being legally barred from ownership due to a prior felony malicious wounding charge. She was previously arrested alongside her sister Nakia in a 2019 shoplifting case and convicted again in 2024 for grand larceny after stealing $1,600 worth of merchandise from a Norfolk Walmart.
Court records show Thompson-Hairston pleaded guilty to misdemeanor petit larceny and received a suspended 12-month sentence.
Both homes — one on Peronne Avenue and the other in the Berkley section of Norfolk — have drawn calls for warrant service, subpoenas, domestic disturbances, and reported assaults. Police sources told the Post that officers have become familiar with both addresses due to “repeat issues involving the same family.”
James’ 2020 property is directly tied to her ongoing indictment, which alleges that she misrepresented the home as her “principal residence” to qualify for a homeowner mortgage rate while using it as an investment and allowing relatives to live there rent-free. Federal investigators are also reviewing whether similar misrepresentations were made on her 2023 loan application.
The 65-year-old Democrat, who built her career on prosecuting financial crimes and investigating former President Donald Trump’s real estate empire, is now accused of committing the same kind of fraud she once promised to stop.
Thompson’s social media posts have only fueled controversy. Hours after her criminal record was revealed, she lashed out on Facebook, dismissing her rap sheet as “old as hell” and “fabricated.” Weeks later, she was charged again with using “profane, threatening, or indecent language over public airways” after allegedly threatening to punch her child’s assistant principal, calling her a “bald-headed” expletive.
As James awaits trial, her properties remain under scrutiny by both federal prosecutors and local law enforcement. Neighbors told reporters that frequent police visits have become routine.
“Every few weeks you’d see flashing lights,” one resident said. “We didn’t even know it was the attorney general’s family until recently.”
If convicted, James would be the first sitting New York attorney general in modern history to face a federal prison sentence — a dramatic fall for the prosecutor who once vowed to hold others accountable for “abuse of public trust.”
James, who has denied wrongdoing, potentially faces up to 60 years in prison.
"""My husband brought his mistress to our daughter’s wedding—and then asked me to give her my seat beside him.
"""My husband brought his mistress to our daughter’s wedding—and then asked me to give her my seat beside him. For a few seconds, I honestly thought I was looking at the wrong table, because my name card had vanished and Melissa’s was sitting exactly where mine had been on every seating chart. She wore a pale blue silk dress, lifted her champagne as if she belonged there, and avoided my eyes when I stopped beside the chair. David stood up, pointed to an empty seat at the next table, and quietly said, “For tonight, why don’t you sit over there?”
I had spent fourteen months helping our daughter, Emily, plan that wedding, from dress fittings and florist meetings to late-night calls over napkins and seating charts. That morning, while I fastened the pearl buttons on her gown, she made me promise I would enjoy the day and not let anything between her father and me touch it. I meant that promise, because whatever was left of my marriage, I would not make my daughter’s wedding the battlefield where it died. But David had apparently made a different plan, and he expected me to cooperate with it in silence.
When I asked what Melissa was doing there, David’s face showed guilt for only a second before he hid it behind irritation. He acted as though I were creating the problem simply by noticing that his mistress was seated at the family table in the place reserved for the bride’s mother. Then Melissa looked at me and said, “Honey, today really isn’t the day to make Emily uncomfortable.” I almost laughed, because the woman who had been sleeping with my husband for nearly a year was now warning me not to embarrass my own daughter.
I could feel people settling into nearby seats, laughing and talking, unaware that my marriage was being quietly rearranged in front of them. David kept his voice low and told me we should not “do this here,” as if the humiliation belonged to me because I refused to disappear politely. I looked at the empty chair he had chosen for me between a cousin and someone from the groom’s side, and I realized something colder than anger. This was not spontaneous; he had thought about where Melissa would sit, and he had assumed I would move.
For twenty-eight years, I had been the woman who adjusted, explained, forgave, and made excuses when David forgot anniversaries, missed dinners, or put work ahead of family. When he became distant, I learned to expect less instead of asking for more, and somewhere along the way he mistook that patience for permission. Even now, part of me considered taking the other chair, smiling for photographs, swallowing the humiliation, and telling myself it was all for Emily. I actually reached for the chair because protecting my daughter still mattered more to me than winning a public fight.
Then I heard one word behind me: “Mom?” Emily was walking toward us in her wedding dress, still glowing from the ceremony, and at first she looked confused rather than angry. Her eyes moved from me, to the empty chair, to Melissa, then back to the family table where she had personally placed me months ago. David quickly stepped in and announced that he had “rearranged a few things,” as if changing the bride’s seating chart without permission were no more serious than moving a centerpiece.
Emily asked why I was not sitting in my seat, and David casually pointed to the neighboring table and said I would be sitting “right there.” Her smile disappeared, and her eyes dropped to the place card in front of Melissa. I watched my daughter’s expression go completely still as she picked up that card and turned it over in her hand. In that instant, I understood the worst part: Emily had not approved this, and David had brought his mistress into our daughter’s wedding believing he could force everyone to accept what he wanted once it was already done.
What Emily did not know was that six months earlier, I had discovered David’s affair through a message that appeared on his phone while he was in the shower. Melissa had written, “I hate pretending I don’t miss you when she’s around,” followed by another message asking whether Friday was still theirs. When I confronted him, David spent eleven minutes calling me paranoid, insecure, dramatic, suspicious, and unfair before I repeated Melissa’s words exactly. The silence that followed ended our marriage long before either of us ever said the word divorce.
We had kept the details quiet because Emily was planning her wedding, and I refused to turn her happiest season into a crisis about us. David told me he was “confused,” that what he had with Melissa was “more complicated than an affair,” and that he needed time before making decisions. I agreed only that Emily’s wedding came first, so we slept in separate rooms, spoke carefully, and tried to appear functional while our marriage quietly collapsed. I believed David understood that one day required restraint, but he had apparently used that silence to prepare something else.
Three weeks before the wedding, he had casually asked whether Emily had finalized the family table and whether every seat had been assigned. At the time, I thought it was harmless conversation, but standing there with Melissa’s card in my daughter’s hand, I finally understood why he had asked. He had been checking whether there would be room, and when there was not, he simply removed me. Emily looked up at her father and asked, very quietly, “Where is Mom’s place card?”—and for the first time that night, David had no easy answer.
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