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“So, should the residents of this county say they want the land to be used as it was intended, for conservation and preservation efforts, the Court would agree?”
“We would take it up in chambers.”
“Texas has open meeting laws, Judge Johnson. Would the citizens of this county be permitted access to those proceedings?”
“Not all discussion warrants or allows public access.”
“True. But the only provision for Commissioner’s Courts throughout the state to have their meetings closed to the public is emergency or disaster issues. Is this either?”
“This Court is not on trial.” His eyes go hard, while Crane shifts in his seat and looks for validation from the developer’s side of the gallery. “Watch your tone.”
My hackles want to rise, but I know his have, and that’s satisfaction enough.
“Let me ask it a different way. Is there anything about the discussion around the Veramendi Conservancy that is an emergency or requires a disaster declaration?”
The Commissioner for Precinct One, Ryan Harding, who has the most to gain or lose from these proceedings interjects. “You keep calling it that. It was not established that way. We’re not going to fight for statutory protections of property that was not legally established.” His face is red, and his eyes are hard.
“So, Mr. Harding, this has nothing to do with the eight-million-dollar property that was placed in trust with your name on it in the last ninety days?”
He stands from his chair and leans over the table; his fists are knuckles down on the dark wood surface. “You’re out of order!” He lifts one fist to point a finger in my face.
“I rescind the statement.” I lift my hands in a don’t shoot gesture and take a step backward. “Let me be more direct. Is this solely on the table because of the legalities of the creation of the conservancy?”
“It wasn’t legal!” He shouts, another commissioner places a hand on his forearm to remind him where he is. He slowly lowers to his seat. His face is heated and the line of his mouth is firm.
“So, it’s solely about legal creation?”
“Yes,” the Judge replies, crossing his arms. “Obviously, you’re passionate about this, Mr. Finchley, but it really boils down to the fact that we have no legal leg to stand on to protect that parcel.” He nods. The move is condescending as is his tone.
Smythe faces me and lifts his paper coffee cup in a toast before taking another sip.
“Well, that’s bad news.” I shake my head and turn to the developer. “For you. Because that parcel is legally bordered and protected by four individual and four joint conservation easements. All have been filed with the State of Texas and the U.S. government.”
I turn to the area behind me and begin pointing to friends sitting strategically throughout the gallery. “Mr. Kimpton Ranger owns a full acre across the six-point-four miles bordering the property to the South. Mr. Manuel Gutierrez owns an acre on the west five-point-two mile measurement. Mr. Schmidt owns the acreage that borders to the north, and Ms. Thimm owns an acre on the east side inside the state highway right-of-way.”
Each acknowledges me in turn.
I turn back to the table with the Judge and Commissioners. “All are excited to hear that the legalities of these conservation easements will be upheld by the county and the Court. Development of any type on the Veramendi Conservancy land would require access. Mr. Gutierrez, Mr. Schmidt, Mr. Ranger, and Ms. Thimm deny any and all access across their protected properties due to environmental concerns.”
The Judge’s face is ice cold, but Harding looks stricken.
“Additionally, the state’s Department of Environmental Quality and the U.S. Department of Fish and Wildlife will be pleased they don’t have a legal battle over one of Texas’ Zone-Tailed Hawk migratory sites. Since the Veramendi Conservancy and the Veramendi Conservation Zone—as their joint trusts are called—has one of the few Zone-Tailed Hawk breeding sites in North America. The U.S. government and the State of Texas stand ready to protect and preserve this endangered aviary environment.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” I make eye contact with each of the members of the Court. “Commissioners. Judge Johnson. Thank you for allowing citizens the right to be heard.”
“We renege, Harding!” One of the developers springs from his seat and yells, face mottled with rage, throwing an arm out while being restrained by two others. “You’re a lying sack of shit and—” A hand clamps over his mouth as someone leans in to whisper in his ear.
Behind him, Jon has a small glint in his eyes. He stretches out his arms, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves under his suit jacket, and checking his watch.
Just to have fun with it, I say, louder than necessary from my seat, “Bribing a public official is a felony. Receiving a bribe as an elected official is also a felony. You’ll have plenty of time to discuss your frustrations with one another during your prison sentences. No need to hash it out with all these witnesses.”
Evil eyes greet mine and are met with my smile. The meeting has become a kangaroo court, and the Judge has lost all control. His screams of “Order” fall on deaf ears as the gallery participants’ hushed tones become louder and louder. The team from Enterprise Land Development turns on each other, with one exiting the room in a huff.
“There will be order. I will have order.” The booming voice is interrupted with the slamming of a gavel, but no one seems to care. He can’t hold us in contempt. Judge Johnson won’t risk trying to arrest the townspeople for protecting the future of the county. Not when he’s hidden something from them during a contentious election season.
“Order,” he shouts again, the gavel slamming surprises Crane and causes him to cringe.
“This Court has no other business before it today. We are adjourned. Our next meeting will be the first Monday in February at ten a.m. in these chambers.” He looks to the Commissioners as if he’s a father cleaning up their mess. Annoyance is written all over his face as he slams the gavel one last time and stands, exiting the chamber through the back door.
