My husband and I lived in a nice, well-maintained apartment complex when I was pregnant. Despite appearances, that apartment was doomed.
Within months of moving in, an international family of about 8 moved into the two bedroom below us. They brought wave after wave of cockroaches zooming upwards into our kitchen. We were treated three times for roaches, and each time they came back within weeks. Our downstairs neighbors refused treatment because opening their doors would reveal the illegal overcrowding within their apartment. On top of that, they had loud domestic fights. I would bang on the floor with a broom, and scream, "Shut up!" I finally went to their apartment, and threatened to call the cops. The next day, I turned them in for overcrowding to the landlord. They were evicted within the month.
A few months after that, I came home to about 6 cop cars parked in front of my building. The landlord had "no comment" so I googled the news for my apartment complex. The "no comment" was a heroin dealer living in our building. Lovely. At least he was caught.
And just yesterday, as I was sipping morning coffee in the luxury of my own house (which we are now selling, ugh), I saw my old complex on the news again. This time in flames. Eight apartments were burnt to a crisp. I'm so glad I'm out of there!