Little Pink House Part 26

The power brokers who had been princ.i.p.als behind the idea to remake the Fort Trumbull area were all fading out of the picture. Claire and Milne were still a.s.sociated with the NLDC, but only from a distance. Both of them had left New London. Claire was teaching at Yale, and Milne had gone off to be a venture capitalist. And Governor John Rowland and his chief of staff, Peter Ellef, were under investigation for their roles in a corruption scandal, so they had more pressing concerns. Even lobbyist Jay Levin had distanced himself from the NLDC, which he had helped revive.

Only Londregan remained to keep the dream alive. And he had succeeded. After the disappointing split decision at the trial stage, the state's highest court had made the victory doubly satisfying by taking away the inst.i.tute's earlier victory.

Better still, Londregan had been vindicated. The Connecticut Supreme Court had put its stamp of approval on what he had been arguing all along: Economic development was a valid public-use purpose for exercising eminent domain. Cities, especially depressed ones, had to be allowed to take private properties to stimulate private development that would ultimately produce jobs and tax revenue. Tom Londregan could not have been happier with the decision.

He also took personal satisfaction in beating the Inst.i.tute for Justice. He didn't like their style. He didn't like their approach. And he didn't like their lawyers.

When he found out the inst.i.tute planned to pet.i.tion the U.S. Supreme Court, Londregan called Wes Horton again. Horton explained that the inst.i.tute had about a one in one hundred chance of having its pet.i.tion granted.

There were other factors that boded well for the city. The U.S. Supreme Court was more inclined to accept appeals when there was a conflict among the lower courts. In other words, if one state Supreme Court had ruled one way and a different state Supreme Court had ruled another way, the U.S. Supreme Court would have a reason to step in and clear up the matter. The Connecticut decision in the Kelo Kelo case didn't seem to conflict with any existing decisions from any other state Supreme Courts. The case that most closely resembled case didn't seem to conflict with any existing decisions from any other state Supreme Courts. The case that most closely resembled Kelo Kelo had been in Michigan many years earlier and the state Supreme Court there had also ruled against the private property owners. had been in Michigan many years earlier and the state Supreme Court there had also ruled against the private property owners.

Londregan asked Horton to walk him through the procedures of the U.S. Supreme Court. Horton explained that once the inst.i.tute filed its pet.i.tion with the Supreme Court, the city would have to file a brief in opposition. If the Court accepted the inst.i.tute's pet.i.tion, then the city would have to file a second brief on the case and prepare an oral argument.

Londregan asked Horton how much he would charge to write the opposition brief. Horton said he'd do it for $10,000. Londregan explained that the city had very little money. It had already spent a lot more than it wanted to on litigation and other issues stemming from the munic.i.p.al-development plan. He asked Horton to come down on his price.

Horton had something else in mind. He proposed that the city should pay the full $10,000 for the opposition brief, and if the Court ended up taking the case, he'd do the second brief and the oral argument at no additional charge.

Londregan laughed. "Wes, you're given' me nothin' here," he said. "The Court only takes 1 percent of the pet.i.tions. There's a 99 percent chance they won't take the case."

Horton chuckled. But his price remained firm. The price he had quoted was already well below his standard fee. He wouldn't go any lower.

Londregan agreed, satisfied that he had just secured one of the finest appellate lawyers in the Northeast.

Susette started questioning herself. Caring for LeBlanc was proving to be a lot more complicated than she had expected. His physical and mental handicaps were one thing. But as his wife, she also a.s.sumed a series of legal obligations that were eating her alive. He owned a house that needed to be sold. It was too far from her work to consider living there. It fell to her to list his house with a real-estate agent. But first she had to repair the place and remove all of LeBlanc's personal property.

Unable to afford construction contractors or professional movers, both tasks fell on her shoulders. It didn't help that LeBlanc was a stonemason and had stored tons of rocks on his property. Worse still, the place was nearly an hour from her house. When she wasn't working one of her two jobs or caring for LeBlanc, she went back and forth between the two houses. The days were all starting to run together.

Despite being physically exhausted, she couldn't sleep. Her anxieties about losing her house kept her mind racing. She felt she had been stupid to think that she could take on City Hall. Where did it get me? Where did it get me? she thought. she thought. Penniless and soon to be homeless Penniless and soon to be homeless.

Both the decision to a.s.sume responsibility for Tim and the decision to fight the City of New London had been made on impulse. Emotion had won out over reason, reflex over caution.

But her hair-trigger tendency was guided by an instinctive sense of right and wrong. Caring for Tim was simply the right thing to do. Taking people's homes was simply the wrong thing to do. And it would have been wrong to just let the NLDC do it. No matter how much she beat herself up for ending up in such a mess, she couldn't change the way she saw the world.

38.

A BEGINNING AND AN END.

Once they made the decision to appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, Bullock and Berliner now had to convince the Connecticut Supreme Court to grant the homeowners permission to remain in their homes during the appeal process. And once they cleared that hurdle, they then had to deal with the city's desire to collect occupancy fees dating back to 2000. The court prevented this. But by the time Bullock and Berliner got that issue resolved, they didn't have much time until the ninety-day deadline arrived for filing pet.i.tions with the Supreme Court.

June 21, 2004 Governor John Rowland wasn't used to being squeezed. But federal prosecutors were ramping up to indict him and his chief of staff, Peter Ellef, on corruption charges. At the same time, state senators were calling for his impeachment and the legislature had subpoenaed him to testify before a committee conducting an inquiry into allegations of graft. If Rowland took the Fifth and refused to testify before the legislature, he'd surely be impeached. On the other hand, if he testified, anything he said could be used against him in the criminal case. Suddenly, fighting for his freedom was more important than fighting for his job.

At 6 p.m., Rowland stepped onto a terrace outside the governor's residence and formally announced his resignation. A year and a half earlier, he had been elected to an unprecedented third term and there had been whispers that he was under consideration for a cabinet position in the Bush administration.

His wife stood beside him as he spoke to the press a.s.sembled outside his residence. "I acknowledge that my poor judgment has brought us here," he said. "Tonight is both a beginning and an end for me."

Over a period of years, the Rowland administration had traded favors with construction contractors doing business with the state. Now it was all coming to a head. Connecticut's lieutenant governor, Jodi Rell, would be sworn in as the new governor on July 1..

For most of June, Bullock and Berliner set aside everything but the Fort Trumbull situation-other clients and cases, personal commitments, even sleeping and eating. The legal research they performed for the pet.i.tion convinced them that their odds of getting a hearing before the Supreme Court were better than average. Nonetheless, they recognized that it had been decades since the Supreme Court had heard an eminent-domain case.

July 19, 2004 Within hours of filing its pet.i.tion with the Supreme Court, the Inst.i.tute for Justice hosted a luncheon at its office for the Supreme Court reporters from the New York Times New York Times, the Washington Post Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times, and other influential national publications. Chip Mellor wanted the inst.i.tute to leave no stone unturned in trying to persuade the Court to hear the homeowners' case. One important ingredient was getting the message out that the case had national implications. Over lunch, Bullock and Berliner briefed the nation's top court reporters on the Kelo Kelo case. case.

A couple of days later, Bullock met with an editor from the Economist Economist to discuss the case. Then he met with Pete Williams, the legal correspondent for the to discuss the case. Then he met with Pete Williams, the legal correspondent for the NBC Nightly News NBC Nightly News. But the inst.i.tute figured the person it needed to get to most was George Will, one of the most influential writers in the country. His syndicated column appeared in the Washington Post Washington Post and in more than four hundred other newspapers across the country in any given week. And the and in more than four hundred other newspapers across the country in any given week. And the Kelo Kelo case presented just the kinds of issues he liked to tackle-a cutting-edge legal dispute with far-reaching legal and political ramifications, not to mention a compelling set of characters. case presented just the kinds of issues he liked to tackle-a cutting-edge legal dispute with far-reaching legal and political ramifications, not to mention a compelling set of characters.

Immediately after the inst.i.tute filed its pet.i.tion with the Supreme Court, it sent a copy to Will, along with a cover letter encouraging him to consider writing about the case. The inst.i.tute was no stranger to Will. He had spoken at an event commemorating the inst.i.tute's ten-year anniversary and had championed the inst.i.tute's cases in his columns on previous occasions.

Shortly after receiving the inst.i.tute's package, Will agreed to meet Scott Bullock and John Kramer at the Four Seasons Hotel in Georgetown. Over breakfast they discussed the case. Well-versed in the Const.i.tution and the Fifth Amendment, Will asked detailed questions about the Kelo Kelo case and its broader implications. Bullock consciously tried not to go too far in his pitch. Will wasn't the kind of guy who needed to be told what he should be writing about. He ended the breakfast meeting cordially and made no promises. case and its broader implications. Bullock consciously tried not to go too far in his pitch. Will wasn't the kind of guy who needed to be told what he should be writing about. He ended the breakfast meeting cordially and made no promises.

As Wes Horton put the finishing touches on his opposition brief to the U.S. Supreme Court on behalf of the City of New London, he felt quite confident that strong legal precedent favored the city. He explained his thinking to Londregan.

A few years earlier Horton had pet.i.tioned the Supreme Court on behalf of the Bugryn family in Bristol, Connecticut, Horton had previously told Londregan. In the Bugryn Bugryn case, Horton figured he had had a compelling argument for a hearing: The city of Bristol had used eminent domain to condemn Bugryn's private land purely to satisfy a private developer. The Connecticut Supreme Court had ruled this was okay. And Horton couldn't persuade the U.S. Supreme Court to even consider the case, which enabled the case, Horton figured he had had a compelling argument for a hearing: The city of Bristol had used eminent domain to condemn Bugryn's private land purely to satisfy a private developer. The Connecticut Supreme Court had ruled this was okay. And Horton couldn't persuade the U.S. Supreme Court to even consider the case, which enabled the Bugryn Bugryn ruling to stand. ruling to stand.

"That puts Ms. Kelo in a very difficult position," said Horton, insisting that the facts in the New London case weren't as egregious as the ones in Bugryn Bugryn had been. "Kelo can't make the argument that the city sold out to the developer," Horton said. had been. "Kelo can't make the argument that the city sold out to the developer," Horton said.

But what about the inst.i.tute's argument that the city had essentially sold out to Pfizer? Horton wasn't worried about that argument either. "The Pfizer argument is weak for Kelo," he said. "It's promising for the city because Pfizer was there first. Pfizer came in and did all this work without knowing whether the city would do anything. And they weren't saying they were going to leave town if the city didn't take this land."

Horton had another reason to be confident. In his legal research he didn't see the state Supreme Courts disagreeing in their opinions about the public-use clause in the Fifth Amendment. And when there was no conflict among the lower courts, the U.S. Supreme Court was less likely to weigh in.

Londregan had to like what he heard.

July 30, 2004 The minute he saw the decision, Wes Horton became concerned. In County of Wayne v. Hathc.o.c.k County of Wayne v. Hathc.o.c.k, the Michigan Supreme Court had just overturned a prior decision allowing the City of Detroit to bulldoze a neighborhood with more than a thousand residents and six hundred businesses to make way for a more lucrative occupant-a General Motors plant. The Michigan justices had ignored decades of precedent and declared it unconst.i.tutional to take private land through eminent domain and then award it to someone else who could generate more tax revenue for the city.

When the Inst.i.tute for Justice had filed its appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court less than two weeks earlier, no state Supreme Court had been in direct conflict with the Connecticut Supreme Court's Kelo Kelo decision. Now one was. And it was a big one. The Michigan court decision unanimously repudiated the Connecticut court's conclusion. decision. Now one was. And it was a big one. The Michigan court decision unanimously repudiated the Connecticut court's conclusion.

Horton couldn't believe the timing. What were the odds that another state Supreme Court would issue a decision in direct conflict with the Connecticut court right as the U.S. Supreme Court was weighing whether to accept the Kelo Kelo case? case?

Horton didn't know the answer. But he figured the chances of the U.S. Supreme Court's taking the Kelo Kelo case had just jumped from 1 percent to about 10 percent. case had just jumped from 1 percent to about 10 percent.

Realizing her days in Fort Trumbull were numbered, Susette figured she'd better find a place to go. With Von Winkle's help, she located a small house in Old Lyme, less than a half hour from New London. It lacked what she had in Fort Trumbull-historic value, great water views, and the surrounding close-knit neighborhood. But her only criterion now was affordability. The house in Old Lyme needed a complete makeover, which drove the price down to within her range. Her sons, most of whom were carpenters and tradesmen, promised to remodel the house at no cost.

Susette couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her cottage at 8 East Street. But Von Winkle a.s.sured her that she'd be foolish not to secure another place, especially with LeBlanc's medical needs. Pinning hope on the Supreme Court was like going to a casino with the expectation of beating the house.

September 17, 2004 "Despotism in New London." Just the headline made Tom Londregan's blood boil. Syndicated columnist George Will had taken up the cause of the Kelo Kelo case. "Soon-perhaps on the first Monday in October-the court will announce whether it will appeal a 4 to 3 ruling last March by Connecticut's Supreme Court," Will wrote. "That ruling effectively repeals a crucial portion of the Bill of Rights. If you think the term 'despotism' exaggerates what this repeal permits, consider the life-shattering power wielded by the government of New London, Conn." case. "Soon-perhaps on the first Monday in October-the court will announce whether it will appeal a 4 to 3 ruling last March by Connecticut's Supreme Court," Will wrote. "That ruling effectively repeals a crucial portion of the Bill of Rights. If you think the term 'despotism' exaggerates what this repeal permits, consider the life-shattering power wielded by the government of New London, Conn."

Londregan couldn't believe his eyes. One of the most influential political commentators in the country had chimed in on the Kelo Kelo case right as the Supreme Court was weighing whether to accept it for review. And besides brutalizing New London for running roughshod over its Fort Trumbull residents, Will brought up the Michigan case, saying the conflicting opinions between state Supreme Courts cried out for clarification from the nation's top court. case right as the Supreme Court was weighing whether to accept it for review. And besides brutalizing New London for running roughshod over its Fort Trumbull residents, Will brought up the Michigan case, saying the conflicting opinions between state Supreme Courts cried out for clarification from the nation's top court.

"In considering whether to take the New London case, the U.S. Supreme Court surely sees, at a minimum, the dangerous emptying of meaning from the Fifth Amendment's 'public use' provision," Will concluded. "If the court refuses to review the Connecticut ruling, its silence will effectively ratify state-level judicial vandalism that is draining the phrase 'public use' of its power to perform the framers' clearly intended function."

Furious, Londregan called Horton, who had also seen Will's column. The timing of Will's piece stymied Horton more than his argument. He couldn't help wondering what had prompted Will to weigh in now. The fact that he had directly called the Supreme Court's attention to the Michigan case in the pages of the Washington Post Washington Post had to have an impact. Now Horton figured that the chances of the had to have an impact. Now Horton figured that the chances of the Kelo Kelo case's getting selected had just jumped to about fifty-fifty. case's getting selected had just jumped to about fifty-fifty.

Londregan wanted to give Will a piece of his mind. He pulled out his notepad and ripped off a scathing letter. "What are you talking about?" Londregan began, ripping Will for the way he had gone after the city and ignored the other side of the argument. "You obviously have never read the Munic.i.p.al Development Plan."

After making all his points, Londregan reviewed what he had written. Satisfied, he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash. What good would it do to send it? Will was just another voice in the media who didn't get it, he figured.

But Will wasn't just another voice. His column caused a major stir and touched off a slew of stories on national television and radio programs. There were so many requests to talk to the Fort Trumbull homeowners that the inst.i.tute's John Kramer had to pick and choose which ones the plaintiffs would meet. He lined up Matt Dery on CNN. He sent Susette to appear on National Public Radio. The question on everyone's mind was simple: would the Supreme Court take the case?

September 28, 2004 Scott Bullock picked up the phone in his Washington office and the caller identified herself as a clerk at the Supreme Court. "I just wanted to tell you that the court accepted cert. today in the Kelo Kelo case," she said. case," she said.

"What?" Bullock shouted, too shocked to believe what he just heard.

"Kelo?" the clerk said, thinking Bullock didn't know what case she was talking about.

"Yes ... Yes," Bullock said. "Thank you."

He dropped the phone and bolted down the hall to Dana Berliner's office.

She was at her desk doing research. Bullock leaned down and gave her a hug. She had no idea what was happening.

"The Court just accepted Kelo Kelo," he whispered in her ear before pulling back to see her reaction.

"Oh ... my ... G.o.d!" she said.

Bullock roared.

They couldn't wait to call the clients.

Susette was on duty at the hospital when Bullock reached her.

"I have some incredible news, Susette. The Court has agreed to hear the case."

"Are you s.h.i.ttin' me?"

He a.s.sured her it was true. And her life was about to change as a result. Hers was the lead name on a historic case before the Supreme Court of the United States.

"I can't believe it," she shouted. "I can't believe it."

As soon as she hung up, Susette started calling the others. The phones were jammed all afternoon. Friends, family, and reporters were trying to reach the plaintiffs for reaction. When her shift ended at 3:30, Susette sped back to her neighborhood. The group had agreed to a.s.semble at the Dery house. It was time to raise the gla.s.s again.

Susette didn't bother stopping home to change out of her nursing whites. She couldn't wait to get to Matt's place.

Von Winkle arrived right after she did.

"We're gonna win, right?" she said.

"I think we got 'em now, Red," Von Winkle said, smiling.

"We gotta win. Why else would they take the case if we weren't going to win?"

Neighbors and friends dropped by to congratulate the group. Some visitors even left gifts. One of Matt Dery's friends, a trucker, called all the way from Jackson, Mississippi, to say he had just heard the news on the radio.

Members of the local press showed up to get reactions.

Susette just beamed.

"It's been like a seven-year prostate exam," Dery told a reporter as a photographer snapped pictures.

Susette laughed. Dery liked comparing the struggle to preserve their homes to a never-ending rectal exam. She agreed. But suddenly it was all worth it.

The news came like a kick in the gut. Tom Londregan had never expected the Supreme Court to take up the property owners' appeal. All he could do now was shake his head. He could hear the inst.i.tute ginning up its press releases now.

But Londregan did see one positive point-the city would get exceptional legal representation at no charge. Wes Horton was on the hook to handle the oral argument and preargument brief at no charge.

Londregan and Ed O'Connell from the NLDC drove up to meet with Horton in his Hartford law office.

"So, Wes," O'Connell said, seated across from him at his desk, "what's it going to be like sitting at counsel table, facing the Supreme Court justices?"

"I don't know," Horton said, smiling. "I've never been there."

Despite having handled hundreds of appeals cases and being admitted to practice before the U.S. Supreme Court since 1975, Horton had never actually argued a case before the highest court.

"Well then, what the h.e.l.l did we hire you for?" Londregan blurted out.

All three men broke into laughter.

"Tom," Horton said, "the last time a civil case from the Connecticut Supreme Court made it to the U.S. Supreme Court was over thirty years ago. We weren't even lawyers back then."

"This place looks like Beirut," Susette told a feature writer from People People magazine as she walked her through the neighborhood, pointing out the rubble of all the homes and businesses that had been demolished by the NLDC's wrecking b.a.l.l.s. magazine as she walked her through the neighborhood, pointing out the rubble of all the homes and businesses that had been demolished by the NLDC's wrecking b.a.l.l.s.

Back when Bullock had first agreed to represent Susette, he had told her she'd have to get used to working with the media. She had never imagined that would mean talking to a celebrity magazine like People People, not to mention reporters from the New York Times New York Times, the Wall Street Journal Wall Street Journal, USA Today USA Today, the Washington Post Washington Post, ABC's World News Tonight World News Tonight, CNN, and NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw. All had called since the Supreme Court took up her case. Some wanted to know more about the woman whose name appeared on the case. The inst.i.tute had arranged for a writer and photographer from People People to spend the day with Susette at her home. On December 13, 2004, the magazine ran pictures of her and her pink house with a story about the case. to spend the day with Susette at her home. On December 13, 2004, the magazine ran pictures of her and her pink house with a story about the case.

Later that week Susette received a personal letter from Steve Forbes, CEO and editor-in-chief of Forbes Forbes magazine. It read, "Dear Ms. Kelo: You might be interested in one of the editorials on page 25 of the enclosed magazine. It read, "Dear Ms. Kelo: You might be interested in one of the editorials on page 25 of the enclosed Forbes Forbes magazine. Best Wishes. Steve Forbes." magazine. Best Wishes. Steve Forbes."

The enclosed editorial, "Don't Junk Property Rights," had been written by Forbes himself and included a photograph of Susette's house. Forbes's essay called on the Supreme Court to do the right thing.

Susette didn't know Forbes's name and she had never read his magazine. But she appreciated his support.

Tom Londregan got almost as many media inquiries as Susette. Only his weren't nearly as flattering. Reporters from around the country were calling his office with questions he felt were unfair, such as, "I hear you're taking an eighty-seven-year-old woman and throwing her out of her house?" which one writer from Texas asked.

Trained to ignore the media and focus on the law, Londregan nevertheless finally agreed to sit down with a television interviewer and tell his side of the case. Tired of sitting back while the Inst.i.tute for Justice framed the case for the media, Londregan spent over an hour being interviewed.

When he watched the news report a few nights later, he discovered that his entire interview had been reduced to a ten-second sound bite. The reporter had completely ignored all the legal arguments Londregan had used to justify the exercise of eminent domain. Instead, the entire segment focused on plaintiff Byron Athenian and the fact that he and his elderly mother were being driven from their home.

"Oh my G.o.d," Londregan said. "This is a nightmare, an absolute nightmare."

Despite all the negative publicity the city faced in the national press, nothing outraged Londregan as much as a short letter-to-the-editor that appeared in his hometown paper, the Day Day. After the NLDC publicly criticized the Inst.i.tute for Justice for its public-relations efforts, Scott Bullock had submitted a five-paragraph letter to the editor. In it he said his clients could hold their heads high knowing they had fought for the rights of every homeowner in America. "In contrast, New London city councilors, NLDC members and their lawyers should hang their heads in shame at what they have done to Fort Trumbull property owners, the citizens of their city and state, and to the Const.i.tution of the United States," Bullock wrote.

The suggestion that he should hang his head in shame pushed Londregan over the edge. He called up Bullock and ripped into him for what he had written. "That is the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire practice of law," Londregan said.

"Are you kidding me?" Bullock asked.

Londregan wasn't kidding. And he let Bullock know he didn't care for his style.

Convinced he was on the right side of the argument and that lawyers shouldn't be immune to criticism, Bullock didn't care what Londregan thought of him.