EDITOR'S NOTE: Ellen Sugarman is a nationally known investigative reporter. She has given KWTN permission to serialize her new book about environmental terrorism in the Florida Keys. It is a work of fiction. The events and characters portrayed are imaginary. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is coincidental.
In Chapter One, officials from County Code Enforcement, the Sheriff's Office and the Florida Marine Patrol— off duty and in civilian clothes, but armed— pay an unofficial visit to property owners on Little Knockemdown Key. A few days later, the owners were cited, ordering them to tear down unpermitted structures— even though many of those structures had been there prior to the law requiring permitting. In Chapter Two, published here last week, Sugarman used Fantasy Festas a backdrop to introduce us to her cast of characters.
To read previous chapters of The Willing Seller, see our website— www.kwtn.com.
Kate dropped in on Betsy a couple of days later, carrying the obligatory cafe con leches and a `midnight' for them to split. She parked the silver Miata in the lot behind the clinic and let herself in through the back door. June, the nurse practitioner, was sitting in the back room drinking a diet coke and reading a magazine. She greeted Kate and said the doctor was waiting for her in her study. Kate made her way through the rabbit warren of rooms until she came to one marked `private.' She knocked and Betsy called out, "Come in."
Betsy's private office was a disaster. The floor was a mine field, piles of papers, magazines, charts, file folders. Kate could hardly find room to walk. The rest of the place was no better. Whatever the office filing system had once been, it had been reduced to something haphazard. Kate wondered how anyone ever found a piece of relevant paper in this mess. The doctor sat at her desk surrounded by the detritus of her large, unruly practice: medical journals, empty styrofoam cups, plastic gloves, newspapers, patient's files, prescription pads— the desk was covered.
Betsy herself had an absent, neglected look. If it wasn't for the white lab coat and the stethoscope around her neck, you'd never guess she was a doctor. She looked so plain, so unassuming. Short and skinny with mousy brown hair, a tiny pointed chin and clear grey eyes, she paid absolutely no attention to her appearance. Today she looked like she had dressed right off the rack of a thrift store: an old faded skirt, a wrinkled blouse, worn shoes, no makeup. Despite her messiness, though, Betsy Washington was a damn good doctor whose patients were devoted to her— just as she was devoted to them.
Catching sight of the paper bag, Betsy grinned, which gave her face more definition and the spark of innate intelligence.
"Let's eat. I'm famished," she announced, pushing things aside to make a space for Kate to spread out the contents of the bag. As soon as Kate did so, Betsy made a grab for half of the massive sandwich. For a moment, she held it gingerly in front of her face with two hands, looking for a point of attack. The `midnight' fairly dripped with mayo and mustard, layers of cheese, Cuban coldcuts, shredded lettuce, tomatoes and onions. Finally Betsy pounced, took an enormous bite, then settled back in her chair and began to chew with a blissful look on her face.
"Five Bros. Always the best." Kate volunteered before taking a much more ladylike bite of her half.
They ate quietly until not a scrap was left, hardly talking until the sandwich was gone and they had turned their attention to the coffee. The meal was a ritual. They always ate the same thing and followed the same agenda: food first, then the conversation. They had it down so that the visit fit neatly into the lunch hour Betsy occasionally carved out of her otherwise hectic workday.
After some lively chit-chat, a recap of Fantasy Fest, and a little gossip about a mutual friend who was making a fool of herself over her married lover, Betsy suddenly adopted a more serious tone and said, "Wait. Here's something that might interest you. I think you should look into it. I heard it this morning from one of my patients, Sue Marten. You know her?"
Kate shook her head.
"She's really a nice girl, a hippie. Lives with this stoner named Jimmy. He's a real nice guy. I guess you'd say they're two simple people. Live quietly, don't have much money. Sue works in one of the tourist shops on Duval Street. Never bothers anyone. She was in about a cyst on one of her ovaries. I've been giving her Cipro, actually it's responding rather well . . . "
That was Betsy all over, she tended to ramble. Kate gave her a look that said, What about this is supposed to interest me? and Betsy stopped in mid-sentence and shifted gears.
"Anyhow, they have a little fish camp out on one of the Keys, Little Knockemdown. Nothing fancy, an old RV and a shack. They go out there and mostly get stoned, lay around. Look at the stars. Commune with the sea. It's peaceful, like the Garden of Eden. Sue's a gardener, she has orchids. Birds, too, in the trees. It's very idyllic. They took me there once in their boat. It was enchanting. Well, she said that over the weekend some people were out there hasseling them. She's really scared that now they're going to lose the place. Not that it's worth much, but it's all they have and they love it. You know how it is in the Keys these days. Someone official suddenly takes an interest in your property, next thing you know they're making you an offer you can't refuse."
Kate frowned. "Official? Who do you mean?"
"You haven't heard about the stuff that's going on? I know I never read about it in the papers or anything, which is why I thought you should do a story. I hear when things happen because we live on Big Pine and the place is just crawling with eco-nazis. You never know who's going to cite you for what, they're the Gestapo. Seriously. Can't drive over twenty, can't p[put up a fence, can't feed a deer. Better your kids should drown in a canal than a Key Deer have to stop at a fence and go around. But this was the first I'd heard of anything on the out islands."
"Who did you say was there? What'd they do?"
"Code Enforcement. A sheriff's deputy. Marine Patrol. A little gang. This hot-head named Louie Sanchez, you ever hear of him? He's with the Marine Patrol?"
"Uh uh." Kate wasn't quite following.
"Well, first of all, they didn't bother to introduce themselves. Just scared everyone. Let's say it intimidated them. Then they came back a couple days later."
"Scared them how?"
""You have to understand, these are little people. Something they don't understand, someone acts official or threatening. It freaks them. Like being pulled over by a cop, even if you're not doing anything wrong. These guys come onto your property, don't i.d. themselves, don't ask permission or anything, just start snooping around. Like they're looking for something."
"What were they looking for? Drugs?"
"No. Nothing like that. They came back a few days later, all official this time. Wearing uniforms, handing out citations left and right. This time Louis was in black and grey polyester, Sue called it his storm trooper outfit. Everyone on the island got cited."
"Code enforcement citations?"
Betsy nodded. "They have to appear at a Code Enforcement hearing on the fifteenth. Sue is really flipping out. These people don't have any money. An attorney is out of the question."
"What do they need an attorney for? I'm still not following you."
"Someone's trying to drive them off the island. Someone who doesn't want anyone on the out islands, that's the bottom line. They want to turn them into a park without having to pay a cent. Ever hear of Preservation 2000? The land conservation fund? Well, they've targeted these islands. Also Big Pine, by the way." Betsy glanced at her watch and pushed back her chair. "Uh oh, I have an appointment."
She sighed, brushed some crumbs from her lap and stood up. Then she walked around the desk and gave Kate a hug. "Thanks for coming by, Kate. I really needed it. Hey, before you go, you want a vitamin B shot? I've got some extras that have to be used up. It'll make you feel great. Give you a terrific boost of energy and balance everything. I'm going to have one myself." When Kate seemed to hesitate, Betsy added, "Free of charge, of course. I'll provide the dessert."
"Sure, I'll take one," Kate nodded, rolling up her sleeve. "Lord knows I can always use a pick up." Betsy walked over to a shelf and started preparing two syringes. She came back holding one of them out in front of her. "Give me your arm." She administered the shot, then went back and shot herself up. It didn't take long for Kate to feel the rush.
"Now don't forget to think about what I told you," Betsy said as they parted. "Something bad's going on and nobody seems to care." On the drive home, Kate thought about it. An assault on the out islands? Preservation 2000? Targeting people's land? It sounded like there could be a story, but she'd certainly have to find out a little more before she could tell.
It would have to wait, though, because right now she was on deadline with a story for the New York Times Magazine. It was a piece on the mounting middle class financial woes— bankruptcies, credit card debt, foreclosures. She'd gotten into it by riding a few times with a repo man she knew after he pointed out a changing demographic: that he was repossessing more cars from ordinary middle-class people than he ever used to.
To be continued next week.
Ellen Sugarman's writing has appeared in publications such as Newsday, Time, Vogue, Ms., Penthouse, New York Times Magazine, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Chicago Sun Times, and the Miami Herald's Tropic Magazine.
As a freelance television producer, she has worked with ABC, Fox News, A&E and the BBC. Several years ago, she produced a segment on environmental terrorism in the Florida Keys for ABC's 20/20. Although scheduled to run several times, the show was ultimately killed, reportedly because of pressure from the Nature Conservancy.
The program did air in the Keys, however, after activist Peter Anderson was able to obtain a videotape of the show and paid for time to run it on local cable television.
Among a number of shocking revelations, the program documents that State Attorney Kirk Zuelch, while a member of the local Nature Conservancy board, offered to drop charges against property owners accused of environmental crimes if they would sell or give their land to the Nature Conservancy. Zuelch quickly resigned from the Nature Conservancy board after he was interviewed by 20/20.
Anderson encouraged viewers to tape the show when it ran on local TV. If you want to see this show, KWTN has a couple of loaner copies. Info: 292-2108.