Little Pink House_ A True Story of Defiance and Courage - Jeff Benedict [122]
The NLDC’s board emerged from a two-hour, closed-door meeting with a proposal: it would not appeal Judge Corradino’s decision if the property owners also agreed not to appeal.
One day after celebrating their victory, Susette joined Von Winkle at the Dery residence for a conference call with Bullock. Bullock advised rejecting the NLDC’s offer.
Susette felt they couldn’t leave Rich Beyer, Byron Athenian, and the Cristofaros hanging out to dry.
Von Winkle and Dery agreed that the group should show solidarity and back their neighbors up. “All for one and one for all,” they said.
Bullock liked what he heard. The winners seemed more determined than ever to fight for those who had lost.
“They are trying to pit us against each other,” Susette said. “I don’t trust those sons of bitches for a minute.”
Von Winkle and Dery felt there was no reason to believe the NLDC’s statements anyway. Bullock agreed. The same day the NLDC had come out with its promise to withhold appeals if the institute did the same, Dave Goebel had told a newspaper columnist: “Yes, we still intend to implement the MDP, and parcel 4-A is part of that plan.” He’d also said that if friendly acquisitions couldn’t be achieved, eminent domain remained a possibility in the future. “That’s not what we want to do,” he had told the columnist. “It’s never what we wanted to do. But we need to get the plan done.” Goebel’s statement had convinced Bullock that the NLDC’s promise was worthless.
The decision was easy—appeal. “We’re either all staying … or we’re all going,” Susette said.
Two weeks later, on April 1, 2002, the Institute for Justice filed its appeal, challenging Judge Corradino’s decision that the city could lawfully take the properties of Rich Beyer, Byron Athenian, and the Cristofaro family through eminent domain.
Tom Londregan had a lot on his plate. In addition to challenging the institute’s appeal, he intended to file a separate appeal on behalf of the city. Procedurally, the city had a lot of i’s to dot and t’s to cross before filing anything with the State Supreme Court. For guidance, Londregan turned to Wesley W. Horton, the state’s premiere appellate lawyer.
Horton had practically grown up in the state Supreme Court. After graduating from the University of Connecticut’s law school, Horton clerked for the Chief Justice of the Connecticut Supreme Court in the early 1970s. Then he signed on with one of the state’s top appellate law firms. Over his thirty-year career he had handled hundreds of appeals and argued more than a hundred cases before the state Supreme Court. He had even written the only published book on the Connecticut Constitution and established himself as the state’s resident expert on appellate procedure.
Londregan called Horton and told him about the Kelo case. “I need you to consult with the city in helping prepare our brief,” he said.
Horton told Londregan he needed to disclose something. In 2001 he had worked on an eminent-domain case involving another Connecticut city, Bristol. In that case, Frank Bugryn and his family had owned about thirty acres that the city had wanted for an industrial park. Bugryn, an elderly man, had refused to sell. The land had been in his family since the 1930s and he had personally planted about five hundred trees on the property. In an effort to satisfy a private developer, the city had used eminent domain to condemn Bugryn’s property. Bugryn had fought the city and hired Horton to handle his appeal before the Connecticut Supreme Court.
Londregan hadn’t realized Horton had previously argued against eminent domain, but this made him want Horton even more. The two lawyers discussed whether there were any ethical constraints prohibiting Horton from consulting for the city, and they concluded there were none. First, the Kelo case didn’t involve any of the parties or the same