Little Pink House_ A True Story of Defiance and Courage - Jeff Benedict [125]
“I saw a six and six digits,” he would later say.
The Hallquists didn’t feel strongly one way or the other about the amount; after all, they hadn’t had to pay anything. But Steve couldn’t help thinking that the case was not that complicated. He had been studying Connecticut Supreme Court decisions handed down in cases that were similar to the suits the conservancy had filed against the city. From his reading, it was clear that all the legal precedents were against them. He couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. He told Sarah the lawsuits were fatally flawed and it was only a matter of time before the suits were dismissed. “You’ll lose,” he said flatly, suggesting they should do what it would take to settle.
Sarah didn’t like the implication that she was throwing her money away. But Steve believed just that. “You are going to lose, plain and simple,” he said. The tension between the couples was obvious.
“Have you read the cases?” Steve pressed. “There’s precedent here. You are going to lose and lose bad.”
Sawyer had a different opinion.
Steve didn’t want to hear it. “Your opinion doesn’t count,” he snapped. “There’s a friggin’ state Supreme Court decision.”
Frustrated with Sawyer, Steve told Sarah, “You’re throwing your money away. If you really want to change the law you better get a lobbyist because a lawyer isn’t going to help you.”
September 5, 2002
Mayor Beachy welcomed representatives from the city, the NLDC, Corcoran Jennison, the State of Connecticut, and the Fort Trumbull Conservancy into the chambers at City Hall. Marty Jones, the president of the development company, sat at one end of the table, an attorney at her side. Sawyer sat opposite her on the other side of the table, flanked by the Hallquists on his right and the Steffians on his left. Beachy, Londregan, Goebel, and city officials filled in the seats along the sides.
Beachy made his pitch: the city would take the remaining homes from Parcel 3 and relocate them to Susette’s block, which would be preserved. This would allow construction of new office complexes on Parcel 3 and hotel and upscale housing along the waterfront.
The NLDC still couldn’t accept the idea that these homes would be permitted to stay. But Jones expressed her opinion that her firm could proceed under Beachy’s concept. “Do you see any problem with this approach?” Jones asked a state official.
“No,” the official said.
Jones looked back across the table. “We can do this,” she said.
Goebel pointed out that the plan didn’t call for these properties to stay. Jones dismissed his concern, saying her firm could work around it. Goebel didn’t say much more.
We’ve got ourselves a deal, Beachy thought. In his mind, the biggest hurdle had been crossed and a settlement was in reach. Even Londregan was convinced a compromise was in reach.
But John Steffian was far from convinced. All along, he and his wife had been pushing for a change in the way the city carried out its municipal-development plan. Among other things, they wanted a guarantee that eminent domain would not be used to take homes, whether that came by way of a city ordinance or some other measure. Also, going into the talks the Steffians had repeatedly asked who was ultimately calling the shots. Was it the state, the city, or the NLDC? They still hadn’t gotten a straight answer. So the idea that this group was on the cusp of reaching a settlement was ridiculously premature, in their view. Besides, John heard a lot of double-talk. Even before the trial the city and the NLDC had been arguing that it had to tear down homes in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood because they were on a flood plain. But that wasn’t true: a seven-story building at the Naval Undersea Warfare Center, known as Building 2, rested on a much lower elevation and was in the flood plain, yet the city had no plans to tear it down. More dishonesty.
John Steffian decided to weigh in. He suggested