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Remarkably, Angelo had almost no political experience. Before joining the governor’s administration a couple of years earlier, he had owned two highly successful companies and had spent some time in the banking industry. His approach to business and problem solving had been influenced by the lessons he had learned from his father. One simple lesson had come from their many hours of playing chess together. Angelo’s father had helped him see that to succeed in chess you have to execute each move in anticipation of the next two or three moves.

Politics is a lot like chess. And when Angelo sized up the situation in New London, he saw a city council that had focused on only one move: wiping out the NLDC. Angelo called the city’s new mayor, Beth Sabilia, and said the state had real concerns about the city’s plans for the NLDC. Angelo suggested a more cautious approach.

Sabilia said the city council was tired of taking a beating for the NLDC’s methods. Dave Goebel, she said, looked like a hatchet man.

Angelo got all that. The state wasn’t too pleased with Goebel either. Calling Susette a liar and serving eviction notices was pouring salt into open wounds. From the state’s perspective Goebel was the wrong man in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. But blowing up the NLDC wasn’t the right move, at least not before executing some other moves.

Angelo’s message got through. Behind the scenes, the city council modified its approach. Reading between the lines, city officials suspected that the state was sufficiently irritated with Goebel that it wouldn’t protect him. On the other hand, it seemed equally clear that the state wanted Joplin to stay on board to ensure some stability and hands-on experience atop the agency. Desperate to do something to restore its political credibility with the public, the city council decided to focus exclusively on Goebel: either he would go, or the city would follow through on its unanimous vote to disband the agency.

This time Goebel and the NLDC’s board acknowledged they were in check. Ending the feud with the city, Goebel resigned. As soon as he did, the city council reversed its 6–0 vote and agreed to keep the NLDC intact. Joplin stayed on as the president.

45

JUST PRAY

Susette believed in luck. And the four-month period since the Supreme Court decision had come down proved to be the hottest good-luck streak of her life. It seemed like every time her phone rang something else good had happened. The city council was imploding. Dave Goebel got toppled. Eminent-domain-reform legislation was making its way through statehouses across the country. Grassroots movements were active in many of the country’s major cities. Best of all, Susette and her neighbors were still in their homes.

It was late in October when Susette got a call from Von Winkle. “Have you talked to Rich?” he asked her.

She usually didn’t talk with Beyer unless something was up with the city or the NLDC. She figured something must have happened. “No, I haven’t talked to him. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you had talked to Rich,” Von Winkle said before making small talk and hanging up.

A short while later, the phone rang again. It was Beyer calling from Yale–New Haven Hospital.

“Susette?”

She could tell Beyer was crying. She had a feeling the group’s luck had just gone bad. “What’s the matter, Rich?” she asked.

“My little girl,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Rich, what’s the matter?”

Beyer started sobbing.

“Rich, you gotta tell me what’s the matter. What’s the matter?”

“My little girl is dying.”

Attempting to calm him down, Susette asked for more information.

Beyer’s eight-year-old daughter had suffered a deadly asthma attack and had been rushed to the hospital in New London before being transferred to Yale–New Haven on life support. Her brain was no longer functioning due to lack of oxygen.

“What can I do? What can I do?” Beyer pleaded.

Susette knew where