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: The meeting. Chapter 14: Kate meets Clive Farrell and asks for an interview. Chapters 15 and 16: The interview.
Chapter 17: Another government raid. Chapter 18: Kate does her homework.
Chapter 19
The meeting of the Monroe County Code Enforcement Board was scheduled for 4:00 at the County Office Building in Marathon. In the morning, Kate drove out to Stock Island and picked up an agenda at the Code office. When she arrived at the seat of County government that afternoon, she had in her briefcase all the pertinent documents for the agenda items she was tracking: #9, the Warrens; #15, Sue and Jimmy; #21, a fellow named Billy Ray Johnson who owned some property on Little Torch and had the questionable distinction of being the first person Kate had ever heard of to be jailed for environmental crimes, at least in Monroe County. Ever since she'd read a small piece in the Citizen crime report a week ago, Kate's interest in Billy Ray was growing.
The meeting was held in a large, well-lit meeting room. Uncomfortable metal folding chairs for the audience, a long table in front for the Board and staff, a dais with a microphone down in front for the citizens who were appearing before them. Kate was a half hour early. She sat studying her notes until people began filing in around 3:45, none of them looking happy to be there. They wore somber expressions, didn't smile when they greeted one another, and spoke in hushed tones if they spoke at all. For the most part, they just sat down and stared off into space, looking worried. From what Kate knew, most of them had good reason to worry.
Kate spotted Bubba Mason in a nicely cut beige linen suit, his signature gray pony tail the only jarring note in an otherwise businesslike demeanor. She knew Bubba by sight, but didn't really know him, even though they may have met once or twice at some function they both attended.
What she did know, what everyone knew, was that he represented Mel Fisher's Treasure Salvers and had successfully beaten back the Feds everytime they tried to snag one of Mel's wrecks. He'd even fought one case, successfully, all the way to the Supreme Court. Despite his carefully honed slow Southern ways, Bubba was no slouch. With him was a slight mousy-looking brunette wearing a navy dress with a matching jacket and little navy flats that looked like they were new. That must be Sue Marten. Kate imagined her out at the shopping center culling the appropriate conservative outfit off Three Sister's racks.
In typical Keys' fashion, the meeting didn't start until nearly 4:25. The board— four men, two women— ambled in about 4:15 and people who'd been mulling about took seats and started shuffling through papers.
Then Ricky Pindar and a young woman with a strawberry blond shag came and sat down at the table. This must be the Code secretary, Kate decided. She placed a tape recorder beside her and opened up a notebook; apparently she was the person responsible for all the minutes Kate had read.
In front of each Board member was a nameplate, so after pouring over three years of minutes, Kate was finally able to put faces to the now familiar names. She felt like she knew each one of them, their alliances, their attitudes, their arrogance and style.
Mack Turner, whose look matched his gentlemanly style at meetings, turned out to be an older man with salt and pepper hair, bushy black eyebrows, a thin angular face and the weathered look of someone who'd spent a lot of time out on the water. He had horn-rimmed glasses and was wearing a gray Guyaberra shirt over neatly pressed blue pants.
Mack was the only Board member who routinely challenged Ricky Pindar. Sometimes, but not always, Betty Wright, a middle-aged woman with the demeanor of a school marm, backed him up. Otherwise, the majority rubber-stamped whatever staff recommended, from what Kate had seen. Which didn't suggest any thing untoward about Bob Russel, Sheralynn Tracy, Harvey Collins Baker or ex-councilman David Sterne.
This was typical of most Monroe County agencies. If there happened to be a civilian board, it was mere formality. The staff made decisions, in or out of the public eye. This was just the Keys way, bid-ness as usual. From her research, Kate knew this one generally succumbed to the moods, temper and alliances—hidden or otherwise—of the Director. Ricky Pindar usually got his way, and today's proceeding were no exception. With one exception: people who brought along attorneys had a lot more clout.
When the meeting started, Kate moved up to a seat nearer the front. Even though she was here to observe three particular cases, out of habit and discipline, she paid attention to each and every agenda item, taking notes. When #9, the Warrens, was called, a Middle Keys attorney named Justin Grebe appeared for them. Grebe was a tall, skinny man with a prominent Adams apple, brown longish hair, gray eyes and a sunburned nose. He wore a rumpled blue suit and loafers, no socks.
Grebe explained that the Warrens, his clients, were at their home in Detroit, but he was there to file an appeal for them. Ricky Pindar told him that appeals were heard once a month, at the Code office before an appeals judge. Grebe made his motion a matter or record and was given a date and time to appear. Before he turned around to exit the meeting, the attorney expressed his annoyance that he had appeared at three other meetings in this matter and this was the first he'd heard of a special judge for appeals.
The cases rolled on, slowly, inscrutably. Kate had the feeling she just might be the best informed person in the audience, not counting the attorneys. So many of the names and scenarios were by now familiar to her. She sat quietly, taking it all in, enjoying the anonymity she knew would disappear once her name and her interest became known.
After the meeting, she planned to introduce herself to some of the players, interview them a bit, maybe set up meetings with them.
Just before #15 was called, a scrawny young man with long blond hair and a tan took a seat right behind Sue and Bubba. He had on freshly ironed white pants and a faded blue shirt. As he leaned forward to whisper something to Sue, she turned and patted him on the arm. The gesture, combined with his fresh-scrubbed look, made him seem oddly vulnerable.
That must be Jimmy Nichols, Kate thought. She'd been wondering where he was— both of them were named on the complaints and the Little Knockemdown property was in both their names. Kate knew this because she'd checked each of the properties at the county clerk's office, with an eye to learning their histories, in case that somehow applied.
The secretary read off "Number 15, Sue Martens and Jimmy Nichols, parcel 24D, Little Knockemdown Key." Then she rattled off a litany of violations: non-permitted repairs to a catwalk, derelict shed, pier of an illegal length, altering mangroves and buttonwoods, cultivating non-indigenous plants. Sue's orchids? Kate wondered. Keeping domestic fowl. Her birds?
Bubba rose and walked to the front of the room with Sue. Jimmy lagged behind, then joined them before the Board table, saying nothing. He stood there with his eyes downcast, seemed to sag as the officials, spoke.
Sue, on the other hand, suddenly looked quite perky, although she left the talking to Bubba. Bubba smiled, called the Board by their first names, and responded to the charges glibly and effectively. In about six minutes, he got all of them dropped.
Kate watched as the trio filed out of the room. This time Jimmy led. She couldn't help wondering if the thing had been rigged, it had gone so smoothly. Probably not, she decided. More likely the charges were bogus and any competent attorney could easily demolish them by staying within the letter of the law.
Kate left her papers on the seat and hurried after them. She caught up with them in the parking lot and called Bubba by name. She went over and introduced herself, saying that Betsy had sent her. He shook her hand, said he was glad to meet her.
It turned out Betsy had told him to look for her, so he knew what she was about. That was Betsy all over, a facilitator. Bubba introduced her to Sue and Jimmy, who didn't have much to say.
"I'm familiar with your case," Kate told them. "Things like this seem to be rife around the Keys these days."
"You can sure as hell say that again," Bubba agreed.
Still getting no response from Sue or Jimmy, Kate ventured that Little Knockemdown was on the Carl List, Hammocks of the Lower Keys. Bubba's expression changed when she said it, impressed that she had done her homework. "Say, could I stop by your office sometime soon? Maybe you could help with what I'm trying to do?" she asked, now that she had his attention.
"Absolutely," Bubba said, handing Kate a card. "Uh, why don't you make it sometime this week? Next week, I'll be in Tallahassee with Mel."
Kate turned to Sue and reached out to shake her hand. "Congratulations are in order, you certainly beat `em." Somehow, the woman didn't look properly celebratory. "Aren't you relieved? Now you life can go back to normal."
"Well, I don't think so," Sue muttered, looking away.
"What do you mean? It's over, you won. Doesn't it feel good?"
Jimmy spoke up, an angry set to his face. It was the first Kate had heard him speak. "She means, it's over. Everything's been ruined. We're not happy there anymore." He put an arm around Sue and she leaned against him.
"We never go there anymore," Sue said quietly. "It's like, you lose your spirit when you've been violated like that. You feel like it isn't yours anymore."