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. Here is a synopsis of previous chapters. For complete chapters, see our website: www.kwtn.com.
In Chapter 1, 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 2, Sugarman used Fantasy Fest as a backdrop to introduce us to her cast of characters. In Chapter 3, investigative reporter Kate Anderson hears about an allegfed conspiracy by multiple government agencies to take over private property in the Keys. In Chapter 4, she starts to look into it.
Chapter 5: Officials "raid" Little Torch Key. Chapter 6: Government officials charge a Sugarloaf resident with environmental infractions and, in Chapter 7, they take his house. Chapters 8 and 9: Kate's review of Code Enforcement records seem to reveal a pattern of deceit. Chapter 10: A lawyer tells a property owner, in jail on seemingly trumped up environmental charges, that he can get him off if he will sell his property cheap to the Conservation League.
In Chapter 11, Kate shares her suspicians with the editor of a local newspaper . Chapter 12: The editor suggests that she take a close look at Rev. Clive Farrell and the Conservation League. Kate and a freind head down to Bahama Village to hear Farrell address a meeting of Last Chance. Chapter 13: Kate meets Clive Farrell and asks for an interview.
After the meeting broke up, Kate tagged along with Sara as she chatted up at least a third of the people in the room, all of whom seemed to know her personally. "Great, great." "Inspirational, yes he is." "I love it." Sara kept repeating the same upbeat phrases over and over. This was her public face, the queen-of-the-not-for-profits. Kate loved to watch her friend work a room. She glanced over her shoulder at Clive, standing in the front of the room, surrounded by admirers. An idea came to her. When she looked back, Sara was deep in conversation with two elderly gays. Queens, their friends would have called them. They were `dishing', she could tell by the naughty looks on their faces. Another thing Sara was noted for, her capacity for merciless gossip. Kate leaned over and got Sara's attention.
"Excuse me, Ms. Deebs? Could I have a word?"
Sara rolled her eyes and whispered something to her friends, then excused herself. "Am I keeping you, Kate? We can go now, if you want. It's just that I'm having so much fun." With a merry, devilish expression in her eyes, she followed Kate's gaze and chuckled. "Did I tell you? Is he a piece of work or what?"
"He certainly is. So, I want to meet him. Introduce us, will you?" Kate replied.
Sara grinned and nodded. "I thought you'd never ask." Then she thought of something and added, "And you are?"
"The truth. A reporter who's interested in the work the League is doing and wants to maybe do a story."
"Cool," Sara said, delighted at the duplicity. The mischief in her eyes increased, but it was gone by the time they made their way to the front of the room. She could not have looked more serious as she called Clive by name and said there was someone she wanted him to meet. The Reverend's tone was hearty as he returned the greeting. Sara introduced Kate as a prominent reporter who was just dying to meet him. Clive took Kate by the hand and assured her he was charmed.
"With all due respect, young lady," he added. "Just who do you write for?"
Kate tossed out the names of a few nationals, starting with the Times, then added a couple of news networks for good measure. That got his attention. Then she told him how much she had enjoyed his talk, how important she thought the work he was doing was, how interesting his story must be.
Clive demurred politely, said he was flattered.
So, could they get together and talk about an article on him and the League? Certainly, if she thought it would be useful. Oh, yes, Kate assured him. And she was sure she could interest one or another of her editors in the piece.
He handed her his card and suggested she drop on by the office anytime, say tomorrow morning? The thing was, he expected to be around the office all morning tomorrow, she didn't even have to call.
Sam finally went home around nine. By then, Lisa was in the second stage of her pique, her mood characterized by a stony silence and determination to act like she hadn't even noticed his tardiness. She was sitting in the living room, reading. She hardly looked up when he came in, just greeted him in a flat tone and went on with the thriller.
She was wearing an apricot colored chenille bathrobe that was almost the color of her hair. It made her look soft, feminine and harmless. They did not look directly at one another.
All right! Sam thought. He could play it that way. The less confrontation the better, denial was his favorite mode. With a studied nonchalance, he debriefed her on his trip, using short cursory declarative sentences designed to fill in the blanks but not provide any hard data she could pounce on. He was especially mindful not to mention what flight he got in on, what time he arrived, how long he was at the office—presumably writing. Nothing about what he had been working on, certainly no hint of when it would appear.
Sam dropped his bag in the bedroom, then backtracked to the kitchen. There he peeked into the refrigerator, even though he wasn't hungry—this was a habitual response of his to coming home.
At the sound of the refrigerator door opening, Lisa called out, in an accusatory tone, "Haven't you even eaten?" The implication being, he'd had plenty of time. He said he had, he was just surfing the fridge. Doing his best to sidestep the minefield of unaccountable hours on the ground, during which he had not bothered to call her and was doing, What?
The line of inquiry Lisa chose not to develop hung between them in the air. Sam strolled back to the bedroom, stripped and dropped his clothes in a heap on a chair, a habit of his that often made Lisa remark how impossible it was to housebreak him. Then he escaped into a long hot steamy shower that had the desired result of buying him time, plus the bonus of truly relaxing his weary bones and dispelling his tension.
Now he had a strategic decision to make. Go in and deal with her and take his chances, or just grab a quick scotch—the booze was in a cupboard in the kitchen—and turn in without a word. He decided to act the insensitive boor, unaware that anything was wrong.
He poured himself a large scotch and ambled into the living room in just his pajama bottoms. He perched on the arm of her chair, sipping his drink and dispensing the king of titillating office small talk that is the purview of any reporter worth his stuff. For some reason, Lisa—a gifted attorney who could have skewered him in minutes—chose to parlay the emotionless tid bits he offered into a genial conversation.
Still afraid to really let his guard down, Sam kept himself ready for a hard and fast volley, should she suddenly attack. But, it turned out to be unnecessary.
His lucky night. Lisa was horny, it was simple as that. They ended up in bed with her leading the charge. The sex was rough and hot, the way Lisa liked it. As though she were making use of his body to quell her overactive libido, but nothing more. Surely nothing personal, no talking, no tenderness. By presenting an agenda of new positions she wanted to try and heightening her demands for his physical prowess, she managed to make Sam feel like a stranger she had picked up and taken to bed—albeit a stud. When she was done with him—she let him know she was sated, turning away from him with a sigh—
Sam couldn't help feeling that one of them should get dressed and go home to their own place. The demonstration was so blatant Sam wouldn't have been surprised if she had kicked him out of their bed. Well, maybe in a way, she had. Good old Lisa, she'd show him she didn't give a damn.
Sam slept all night, he was drained. The next morning, he faked sleep until Lisa had dressed and gone out the door. It wasn't the first time he'd done that. Then he rose, drank the cup of espresso she always left him and got ready for the office.
He left with the overnite bag he hadn't bothered to unpack the night before, having taken out the dirty clothes and added two clean shirts and some fresh socks and shorts. The act was practically unconscious, demonstrating to Sam that he had no intention of returning to the Georgetown apartment.
EDITOR'S NOTE: In a previous chapter, Sam O'Brian was identified as working for NBC News. That was incorrect. He works for the legendary Washington Herald.
At the morning editorial meeting, Sam had a clear personal agenda: to get out of town. He focused on jockeying for an assignment that would take him far from the D.C. area and his icy live-in roommate. He needed time to sort things out; more than that, being a practiced cowardly shit, he needed an escape.
The ticket for him turned out to be a big property rights case in Miami. He had a little competition from one of the other reporters, Janet Shay Bell, who also thought a little time in the sun might be nice. But Sam managed to finesse the assignment, pointing out that he really was the old hand on the environmental wars. Janet pouted when he caught the assignment and, on their way out of the meeting, she sneered and muttered, "Have balls, will travel." Voicing a complaint some of the female reporters had that the men usually were the ones who got to go on the road.
"Oh, well," Sam thought, as he went to his desk and opened his computer to start trolling for background on the case.
The archives were full of the case, Suiteland vs Fl. Dept. of Environmental Regulation. It dealt with interpretations of the Endangered Species Act, specifically the government's use of the concept of `harm' to restrict development on private land. When the Act was drafted, it gave the government authority to rescue endangered species by preventing `takings' of the endangered animal. In the language of the Act, any action that would "harass, harm, pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, capture or collect" the animal was prohibited.
Over time, the Fish and Wildlife Service had broadened that definition to define `harm' as a modification of the animal's habitat and was routinely using the rule to protect threatened animals on private property. In other cases around the country, the courts had upheld this broadened concept—but Suiteland was taking it on yet again. Many saw it as a potent challenge to the Fed's ability to protect endangered species, so it was a very big deal. Sam found it interesting.
The Florida case revolved around a bird called the Florida gnat catcher which lived on thousands of acres of privately owned coastal lands. The defendants, a group of angry property owners in the area, were challenging the F&WS concept of the word `harm'. The case asserted that the term's broadening was being used to effectively turn their property into parks without paying them for it as the Constitution requires.
The issue was complex and the case was not going to get settled overnight—which satisfied one of Sam's requirements. It would probably bounce around the court for weeks and keep him safely out of Lisa's sights. He hoped it would keep him away long enough for her to get fed up and dump him, make a unilateral decision about their relationship. Which was how it would probably work, since of the two of them, she was certainly the pro-active personality. Sam preferred a more covert role.
In any case, the story was right up Sam's alley. He'd done a lot of reporting on these property rights/environmental issues and had written a few pieces about subtle excesses in the land preservation movement. Corruption and corporatization of the land conservation movement; Where is your green dollar really going?; Who is saving the land—and why are they smiling? That kind of thing.
The truth of the matter wasn't lost on Vernon Dexter, Sam's best buddy and bureau chief at the Herald. He strolled into Sam's office and asked, with a big knowing grin on his face, "So, what's up? Lethal Lisa nipping at your heels again? Gotta get outta Dodge to save your ass?"
Dexter was an ex-fullback for the Packers who liked to describe himself as "still big, still black, still bad!" Since retiring from the game twelve years ago, the result of a repeated shoulder injury, he'd put on weight, his hair now had liberal sprinkling of frost and he had redirected his energy into a deadly investigative mania.
Before getting the top post, he was the star of the Herald's I-team. Over the years, he and Sam had shared many a byline. They still shared a zealousness for particular oddball stories, as well as a rowdy good-natured attitude toward their work. Sam had an undying respect for the man.
"No, nothing like that. This is a case I've been keeping an eye on," he lied.
Dexter dropped into a chair across from Sam and gave him a fisheye look. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. We're all friends here, tell the truth."
Sam finally did.
"Say, when you gonna do somethin' smart? Like lose the bitch?" Vern asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, he grew serious and shifted gears. "So, let me see what you got there, bro. This case interests me, too."
To be continued next week.
Willing Seller is a work of fiction. The events and characters portrayed are imaginary. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is coincidental.
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 former 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.