My Landlord Kept $2,200. A Judge Gave Me Back $1,740.
I rented a Madison duplex for 4 years and left it clean. My landlord withheld $2,200 of a $2,400 deposit. His letter charged $950 for paint and $780 for carpet. Wisconsin gives landlords 21 days to itemize. I filed in small claims for $75. The judge awarded $1,740 plus costs.
Docket 2026-SC-04183. That number sat at the top of the hearing notice in my lap at 1:38 on a Friday afternoon in courtroom B of the Dane County Courthouse in Madison, third bench from the back, phone open to a folder of 1,143 timestamped photographs. Two rows ahead, in a green fleece, sat my landlord of four years. He had kept $2,200 of my $2,400 security deposit. I had come for $1,740 of it plus my costs, and I had a spreadsheet to prove the math.
The deposit had been with him since June 2022, $2,400 against $1,495 a month rent, 48 payments, zero late. Move-out was February 1, keys and a signed key receipt at noon, joint walk-through offered and declined, he wanted to do it the next week when the light was better, which I wrote down verbatim in my notes app at 12:04 pm. Wisconsin law gave him 21 days from that hour to return the deposit or mail an itemized letter explaining every dollar he intended to keep.
His letter arrived on day 18, so the deadline was never the fight. The fight was what the letter claimed, and the fact that every number in it fell apart under a rulebook any tenant can read for free: normal wear is not chargeable, and old carpet does not get replaced new on the departing tenant's dime. What decided it in the end was a useful-life table and a cleaning receipt from his cousin.
the walk-through he skipped
The duplex on Waunona Way had been good to me, mostly: 900 square feet upstairs, a garage stall for $75 extra, a landlord who fixed the furnace in 11 hours during the January 2024 cold snap and ignored the bathroom fan for two years. I left the place professionally cleaned, $180 receipt from an actual service, walls wiped, stove scrubbed, fridge pulled and mopped under. The 1,143 photos went up between 10:15 am and 11:50 am on February 1, all timestamped, all in one album. They were paperwork, nothing else.
day 18: the itemized letter
His letter, postmarked February 19, itemized four charges: repainting, $950. Carpet replacement, $780. Nail holes, $210. Cleaning, $260. Total $2,200, refund $200, no receipts, no dates, no contractor names, one paragraph of prose about restoring the unit to superior condition. Superior. I had moved into a unit with 2019 carpet and builder-grade paint, and I had the move-in photos from June 2022 to prove both. That phrase, superior condition, ended up doin' me a favor in front of the judge.
the 21-day rule, met
Credit where the law got satisfied. The letter came in time, it was itemized, and it was mailed to my forwarding address with a real postmark, which put him inside the safe zone on procedure. Plenty of these cases die right there, on a landlord who misses day 21 and forfeits the whole argument. He was sloppy about substance and clean about the calendar, so the fight had to be won on the numbers themselves.
the useful-life table
The state's plain-language consumer fact sheet, the one I read at 2 in the morning when I could not sleep, says deductions must be for damage, unpaid rent, or actual costs, and that normal wear is excluded. It also recognizes useful life: a landlord charging full carpet replacement against a tenant who lived on that carpet for four years has to account for the years it already served somebody else. Seven years old in 2026, installed before I ever signed. My spreadsheet gave the carpet a 10-year life and charged me 30% of $780, or $234. His letter gave it a 10-year life and charged me 100%.
the photo folder
The album told the story in order. Move-in, June 2022: carpet already pale at both bedroom thresholds, paint already scuffed at the same three light switches I was later charged to repaint. Move-out, February 2026: carpet uniformly faded, no stains, no burns, no tears, and 12 drywall anchor holes from shelves and a TV mount, which I had already decided were fair game at a reasonable rate. Every photo timestamped, the album exported twice, one copy on an USB drive in my coat pocket at the hearing. Exhibits A thru whatev count a judge will tolerate.
my 3-page counter, certified
My reply went certified mail on February 25, three pages: the rule, the useful-life math, a photo index, and a demand for $1,740, which was $2,400 minus carpet at $234, minus reasonable drywall patching at $310, minus cleaning at $116 conceded from his own letter, each line shown. The $950 paint charge I disputed in one sentence: four years of tenancy over existing builder-grade paint, normal scuffs at light switches and hallway corners, nothing else. The $260 cleaning charge I disputed in another: the receipt attached came from S and K Cleaning, and the state's business registry had no such registered company, tho a Facebook page under that name listed his cousin as the owner. Ten days, I wrote. He answered in two lines.
filing for $75
The two lines said, in full, that he would see me in court. Slight claims in Dane County cost me $75 to file and $32 to have him served, both recoverable if the judge agreed. Filing took 20 minutes at the clerk's counter with the photo album on that USB drive and three paper copies of everythin', hole-punched, tabbed. The hearing came back for March 13, a Friday, five minutes per side unless the judge lets it run long.
nine minutes in front of the judge
The hearing lasted nine minutes. The judge asked three questions. Age of the paint: four years of my tenancy over his older application, no repaint in between, confirmed by both of us. Age of the carpet: seven years, installed 2019, undisputed. Who owns S and K Cleaning: the cousin, admitted from the witness table. The ruling came from the bench: paint $0, normal wear. Nail holes $0, normal use. Carpet $234, the 30% proration. Drywall $310, matching my own figure. Cleaning $116, the amount I had conceded. Judgment for $1,740 plus $107 in costs, payable within 30 days.
the envelope, March 16
His check was in my mailbox on March 16, drawn on a personal account, $1,847, which is $1,740 plus the $107. I deposited it the same hour. Docket 2026-SC-04183 is closed now, and the folder it came from holds his day-18 letter, my certified reply, the green receipt cards, and a printout of the useful-life fact sheet with a coffee ring on it. The 1,143 photos are backed up in two places, and the next place I rent gets the same album treatment on day one. He held $2,200 on paper for six weeks. It cost him $1,847, a Friday afternoon in courtroom B, and the discovery that his cousin's cleaning company does not exist where it counts.