Part 31 (2/2)
It was 7 a.m., and Susette's appearance on the Fox News channel ten hours earlier had triggered a new round of offers from people around the country who wanted to help protect her home from the city. Some of the callers had scared Susette. A militia group that opposed the government's actions wanted to send men with guns to fend off the city.
”This s.h.i.+t is getting out of control,” Susette said.
”No matter what you do, stay away from those people,” Bullock said.
”For G.o.d's sake, I am,” she said, shaken by the fact that violent fanatics might soon be on her doorstep. ”But if the city doesn't back down they're going to have blood in the streets.”
Bullock had a more immediate problem to address: Governor Rell's letter to the city. He was not surprised that the governor had extended the deadline a couple more weeks and was prepared to pump more money into settlements. But he was furious at her fallback position-allowing the holdouts to maintain lifetime use of their properties-but with the t.i.tles reverting back to the city at death. ”That's completely unacceptable,” Bullock said. ”That's not true owners.h.i.+p.”
”It sounds like Governor Rell is abandoning us,” Susette said. ”Why doesn't she stand up to the city?”
”I don't know,” he said. ”But we're going after the governor.”
By the time she hung up with Bullock, Susette was late for work. Racing out of her neighborhood she spotted Von Winkle working behind the window in his shop. It was the first time she'd seen him since his son's murder.
Eager to talk to him, she telephoned him as soon as she reached her office. She figured she'd begin by asking him about the governor's mediator.
”Albright call you?” she asked.
”No. Did he call you?”
”Nope.”
She told him that Matt Dery and Byron Athenian had settled.
Von Winkle didn't say much. The swagger in his manner had disappeared, the humor in his voice snuffed out by a bullet.
”I probably can't do anything for you,” Susette told him. ”But I feel really bad, Billy. If you're going to stay, I'll stay.”
”You're not going to drive me crazy today, are you, Red?”
She sensed a faint tone of sarcasm. Boy, she missed the old Billy.
Bullock and Kramer worked up a press release that portrayed the governor as a flip-flopping politician who was abandoning the homeowners at the eleventh hour. Bullock then called the capitol building in Hartford and got Representative Bob Ward, one of the ranking Republican legislators. Ward had come out hard against the Supreme Court decision and had previously called the NLDC stupid. More importantly, he had a direct line to the governor.
Bullock read the merciless press release nailing the governor for abandoning the homeowners and mocking her proposal to give the homeowners lifetime use of their properties. ”That's the legal equivalent of being a serf,” Bullock said.
A practical politician who didn't want to see a Republican governor take a hit in the national media, Ward clearly got the picture. ”Give me two hours,” he told Bullock.
Later that afternoon, Governor Rell revised her position. ”I believe strongly that the residents of Fort Trumbull have a right to hold property, to hold the t.i.tle to that property and to pa.s.s that t.i.tle on to their children,” she wrote in a follow-up letter to Mayor Sabilia.
Bullock agreed to quash the press release. The way had been paved for Susette and the Cristofaros to keep their homes. The governor had made clear her intentions. If the last two holdouts didn't want to accept the state's money, their t.i.tles should be returned and the city should move forward with its development plans.
Beth Sabilia had been mayor for less than six months. It had been six of the worst months of her life. The pressure stemming from the standoff had engulfed her administration and her personal life. No matter what she did, const.i.tuents were screaming at her. The acrimony had gotten so out of hand that Sabilia couldn't even shop for groceries without being confronted by someone who was furious over the inability to resolve the dispute in Fort Trumbull.
The heat went up a few more degrees when Sabilia read Governor Rell's second letter in as many days. By going on record with a statement in favor of unconditionally returning the deeds to Susette and the Cristofaros, the governor had sent a clear message to the city: if it didn't compromise with these final two holdouts, it would be all alone to deal with the public scorn that would rain down on the city when marshals tried to pull these last few folks from their homes.
Sabilia got the point, but she didn't appreciate it. She was willing to entertain the possibility of lifetime use of the properties, but not complete owners.h.i.+p. A lawyer by profession, Sabilia had adopted Londregan's view: the city had battled through the courts and had won. She had to stay the course for the city. ”Otherwise,” she said, ”everything was for naught. All the litigation and arguments made to the Supreme Court and all of our policy arguments would be eviscerated.”
She quickly drafted a testy response to the governor. ”The City Council's position has been consistent,” Sabilia wrote. ”The deeds of anything more than life-time possession will not return to the former property owner. The proposal outlined in your letter of today is not consistent with the Munic.i.p.al Development Plan, with the City of New London's Zoning Regulations, nor with the directives set forth in the State of Connecticut's financial endors.e.m.e.nt of the revitalization of the Fort Trumbull area.”
After Londregan reviewed the letter, Sabilia faxed it to Rell.
Sabilia's letter came at the state like a brushback pitch, thrown right at the governor's chin. The state got the hint: if push came to shove, the city would drag Susette and the others out of their homes, no matter what it looked like on the evening news.
To drive the point home, the city turned a deaf ear to overwhelming sentiment from city residents and voted at its next city-council meeting to commence evictions.
All along Governor Rell had thought New London had been wrong in its decision to use eminent domain and had been unreasonable in its unwillingness to reconsider. The city's latest actions confirmed those views. Emboldened, Rell vowed not to let the tensions escalate into a street brawl. She needed someone to get to Susette. Robert Albright wasn't the answer. He had performed valiantly, but the governor needed a closer.
She turned to her deputy Ron Angelo. ”You are going to resolve this thing,” she said.
Rich Beyer had consistently brushed off Bob Albright. Each time Albright offered more money Beyer told him money wasn't the issue. But when Albright called him after the deadline had pa.s.sed, there was a sense of finality in his voice. And the offer was far greater than any number previously tossed out: $500,000. ”I'm told to tell you this is the amount we have to give you,” he said.
Beyer said he'd get back to him. In Beyer's mind, half a million was still not close to what he would have earned off the properties had he simply been permitted to complete the renovations and sell them. But at this point he was simply trying to break even on his investment. And this time he was convinced the game was over.
He called Bullock. ”Scott, this is looking pretty serious,” he told him. ”We're going to have to take the money, or we're going to walk away with a loss on this. There's no fighting this anymore.”
Bullock encouraged him to do what was best for his family and his business.
Loyal to the cause, Beyer didn't do anything until talking it all over with Susette. She agreed he should probably take the money. At this point, even the governor didn't back the idea of returning the deeds for investment properties.
Beyer called Albright back and agreed to settle for $500,000, plus $15,000 in relocation costs.
Right after Beyer settled, the state made a final run at Von Winkle. It agreed to give him $1.8 million for his buildings. The price floored the NLDC, which felt that Von Winkle was getting far more than he deserved. But the state was looking forward, not backward. Von Winkle decided to take the same approach. Besides, what good would it do to hold on to a couple of buildings in an abandoned, demolished neighborhood?
Von Winkle settled.
Only Susette and the Cristofaro family remained.
”What should I do?”
The question was driving Susette mad. Other than a catnap here and there and an occasional snack, she hadn't slept or eaten in days. Other than Michael Cristofaro, all the people she had fought beside for nearly a decade were now bowing out and moving on. She didn't have that luxury. Although she had never asked to be the lead plaintiff and have her name on an infamous Supreme Court decision, that was where she found herself. Whether she liked it or not, no one could take her place as the leader of the movement. There was only one Kelo in Kelo Kelo.
She couldn't help resenting her situation.
Then a friend reminded her that Rosa Parks hadn't set out to become the mother of the modern civil rights movement when she refused a Montgomery bus driver's order to vacate her seat for a white pa.s.senger. Her civil disobedience sparked the Montgomery bus boycott, which elevated Martin Luther King Jr. to national prominence and ushered in a movement that forever changed America. Every so often, an ordinary person has the chance to do an extraordinary thing that alters history. That chance had come to Susette Kelo.
As a former businessman, Ron Angelo understood why Rich Beyer and Billy Von Winkle had settled. But as a homeowner, he also understood why Susette and the Cristofaro family still hadn't. He agreed with the governor-the city had treated these people unjustly for almost a decade.
Angelo called Bullock to establish a dialogue and set some ground rules. ”Let's not bulls.h.i.+t each other,” Angelo began. ”Otherwise, we're wasting our time.”
Bullock couldn't have agreed more.
Personally, Angelo didn't agree with the city's use of eminent domain in Fort Trumbull and he believed that Bullock's clients had been unnecessarily beaten down. Repeated a.s.saults on the fundamental urge to own a home had caused deep wounds and left nasty scars. Angelo knew it would take a lot more than a couple of blank checks to make these people feel whole. It was going to take a fresh approach. He had no intention of trying to force them to do something they didn't want to do. But he wanted to take one last look at whether there was anything besides money that would satisfy Susette and the Cristofaro family.
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