Part 28 (1/2)

NPR's Nina Totenberg stepped to her right shoulder and pushed a microphone in front of her. Pete Williams from the NBC Nightly News NBC Nightly News approached her left arm and extended his microphone. approached her left arm and extended his microphone.

”I was very encouraged by today's arguments with the justices,” she began, her voice quivering.

Bullock, Berliner, and the rest of the plaintiffs crowded behind her as she answered questions. By the time the last question came-about the City of New London-the city's attorneys had shown up and were awaiting the chance to tell their side. By then, Susette had found her rhythm.

”They have more than enough room to develop everything that they want to develop,” Susette said. ”We just simply want to keep our homes.”

As she stepped away and the press pool turned toward Wes Horton and Tom Londregan, a print journalist approached Susette. ”Do you really really feel confident that the United States Supreme Court is going to side with the homeowners?” he asked. feel confident that the United States Supreme Court is going to side with the homeowners?” he asked.

”Well, why wouldn't they?” she asked, heading off to find LeBlanc.

He was safe. Her friends from the neighborhood had found him.

40.

FOR THE TAKINGS.

June 23, 2005 Scott Bullock and Dana Berliner hovered over his computer screen, repeatedly hitting the Refresh icon in hope of seeing a new posting about their case on a Supreme Court blog. With only two days remaining in the Court's session, they knew a decision was imminent. Anxious, Bullock had dispatched a paralegal to the Supreme Court to make sure they had a copy of the decision the moment it became available.

Soon after she left, the firm's receptionist informed Bullock that a clerk from the Supreme Court was on the line. Mellor, Kramer, and other staffers rushed into Bullock's office as he took the call.

”I'm calling about the Kelo Kelo case. I just want to let you know that the Court has issued an opinion and the decision was affirmed.” case. I just want to let you know that the Court has issued an opinion and the decision was affirmed.”

”Thank you,” he said faintly, putting the phone down.

He looked up at his colleagues and said, ”We lost.”

No one spoke. No one moved. No one wanted to believe it.

A few minutes later Bullock's paralegal returned from the Court with the published decision.

”We know,” Bullock told her as she entered the room.

”It was 54,” she said.

Bullock and Berliner scanned the opinion. ”Promoting economic development is a traditional and long accepted function of government,” Justice John Paul Stevens had written for the majority. ”Clearly, there is no basis for exempting economic development from our traditionally broad understanding of public purpose.”

No basis for stopping a city from taking private homes to give to a private developer? Disgusted, Bullock flipped to the dissent, written by O'Connor. ”Today the Court abandons this long-held, basic limitation on government power,” she had written. ”Under the banner of economic development, all private property is now vulnerable to being taken and transferred to another private owner, so long as it might be upgraded.” Disgusted, Bullock flipped to the dissent, written by O'Connor. ”Today the Court abandons this long-held, basic limitation on government power,” she had written. ”Under the banner of economic development, all private property is now vulnerable to being taken and transferred to another private owner, so long as it might be upgraded.”

O'Connor was one of the justices with a reputation for supporting governmental power to take property under eminent domain. But her dissenting opinion made clear that the Kelo Kelo decision would go down in history as a breathtaking expansion of the power of eminent domain. ”The specter of condemnation hangs over all property,” the dissent continued. ”Nothing is to prevent the state from replacing any Motel 6 with a Ritz-Carlton, any home with a shopping mall or any farm with a factory.” decision would go down in history as a breathtaking expansion of the power of eminent domain. ”The specter of condemnation hangs over all property,” the dissent continued. ”Nothing is to prevent the state from replacing any Motel 6 with a Ritz-Carlton, any home with a shopping mall or any farm with a factory.”

Her dissent was right out of the inst.i.tute's brief. Bullock shook his head in disbelief. How could the five majority justices possibly vote for a decision that stood for taking a Motel 6 through eminent domain to replace it with a Ritz-Carlton?

Depressed, Bullock telephoned Susette at her home.

”Susette?”

”Yes.”

We lost. The decision was 54.”

Clutching the phone, Susette went silent. Her lips started quivering, and a tear worked its way down her face.

”I'm sorry, Susette,” Bullock said, ”really sorry.”

Without saying a word, she put down the receiver and walked out to her front porch. What would she do now? Moving into the house in Old Lyme was not an option. The work required to remodel the place was much more extensive than she had antic.i.p.ated when she had purchased the house. And although her sons had offered free labor, Susette couldn't afford the building materials. It could be a year or two before the house was habitable.

The sea breeze caused her thirteen-star American flag, which was mounted to the front of the house, to flutter effortlessly. It was the kind of summer day that people in coastal New England live for. Sunlight and perfect blue sky blanketed the neighborhood.

Now her view and the neighborhood were going to disappear. She had consumed eight years of her life trying to hold on to her home. In the final a.n.a.lysis, five strangers in black robes had taken it away-five people who lived in the kinds of neighborhoods where eminent domain would never be a threat.

Anger suddenly overtook her sadness. She had gone to America's ultimate source of justice and found none. Instead, she had been insulted. The city had the power to take her home, and she was powerless to stop it. But if the city thought she was giving up, it was sadly mistaken. ”I know you won, you a.s.sholes,” she said. ”Now come get us out.”

If the courts wouldn't help her, she decided, she'd just take matters into her own hands. She went back inside and called Bullock back.

”If the city wants my home, they are going to have to drag me outta here,” she told him.

She headed up the street to find Von Winkle and Matt Dery. Folks were starting to gather at Dery's house. None of them could believe the Court's decision. And none of them planned on going anywhere.

Dery insisted they had to find out their legal options. His eighty-seven-year-old mother, Wilhelmina, could not bear the thought of moving out. She had waited eight long years for someone to save her and her family from having to abandon the only home she had ever known. ”We may have lost,” Dery said. ”But now come get us. Try.”

Susette insisted she'd press Bullock to come up with a plan.

Von Winkle left to talk to a reporter out on the street. He compared the Supreme Court's decision to getting blindsided in a fight. ”A crazy left hook out of nowhere,” he said. ”It was a hard blow, but it was no knockout. This is the third round of a fifteen-round bout. We're coming out swinging next round. We're not leaving, not by a long shot.”

When Susette got back to her house, she already had voice mails from people from other parts of the country expressing sympathy, support, and fury. A woman from the South thanked her for her courage. Another woman a.s.sured her that the nation was behind her.

The calls kept coming from different area codes and time zones. ”Ms. Kelo,” one caller from Texas said, ”it appears that we have something here in Texas that you folks in New London haven't heard of yet. It's called lock-and-load. If you need us, we'll be there.”

Another guy, from nearby Rhode Island, said he had an Uzi and a boat. He offered to sail his boat down the river in front of her home and protect her place at gunpoint if necessary. ”I'm serious,” he said. ”I'm ready and I'll be there.”

So many calls came in that Susette never broke free to call Bullock back. Soon reporters and photographers were on her doorstep asking for her reaction.

”I'm tough,” she told the reporters, fighting back emotion. Her bottom line was that she wasn't prepared to give up. There was too much at stake. ”This isn't about me keeping my house anymore,” she said. ”It's about people's property rights all over the United States. I've gotten a lot of calls today from people who are disgusted-really disgusted.” She paused. ”I don't know what's going to happen. But I'm not going anywhere!”

A journalist asked what Susette and the others could do. After all, the Supreme Court had ruled.

”We'll fight,” she said. ”I know we will. We can't quit now.”

Vindication. Tom Londregan and the city finally had it. The highest court in the land had endorsed their redevelopment plan and their methods for implementing it, including the use of eminent domain. The margin was razor thin: 54. But a win is a win. Wes Horton had done his job and the city didn't even owe him a legal fee, thanks to the deal Londregan had struck with him earlier on. Could things get any better?

With no more courts left to appeal to, Londregan figured the city could finally get on with its development.

With the mood at his law firm resembling that of a wake, Chip Mellor ducked into his private office and shut the door. For an hour he took no calls and accepted no visitors while he carefully read the decision.