It was dark outside and foggy.
John Brannon, a financial adviser, andhis retired schoolteacher wife, Catherine, had gotten up three hoursearlier than normal. They had a bus to catch this Wednesday morning.
They called it the Freedom Bus, and itwas to take roughly 50 people on the two-hour drive to the SouthCarolina Supreme Court in Columbia. Conservative radio personalityRick Driver had announced he wanted to show support for AndersonCounty Councilwoman Cindy Wilson’s two-year legal campaign to openthe county’s financial records.
Wilson sued County Administrator JoeyPreston personally, asking the court through a writ of mandamus toforce him to give her the county’s weekly expense reports andexplanations of millions of dollars in legal contracts.
Technically her employee, Prestonargued she was getting the ledgers, if later than she liked, and thatthe county’s legal work was confidential – even to individualelected officials – so long as the County Council voted to keep itthat way. They had.
Wilson climbed aboard the Ionospherecharter bus, idling on State 8 near Interstate 85 at 7:30 a.m. Itpulled out onto the two-lane highway 15 minutes later.
Conversation on the way up was light -grandkids and the weather.
“Joey Preston’s name was broughtup, in the same sentence as toilet paper,” Driver said.
Some of the people knew each other.Others – Bruce Jerrard and Curtis Humphrey – were neighbors inthe county’s fourth district but had never met before that day.Some said they were members of the original Anderson County TaxpayersAssociation, a loose-knit group of people tied by the belief that thecounty spends too much and goes too unchallenged.
“We’re here to support CindyWilson,” Brannon said. “We’re not being given information aboutmoney spent by the County Council because of Mr. Preston.”
Meanwhile, another vehicle, a blackDenali registered to Anderson County, held two men when it left thecity of Anderson that morning.
Preston was driving. His passenger wasCounty Council Chairman Michael Thompson, a political foe of Wilson’swho had once agreed with her views but was now convinced thatPreston’s protection of information was in the best interest of thecounty. He was the only Council member of the five who supportedPreston to attend the hearing.
“I find the whole process exciting,”said Thompson, adding that he was surprised the other Council membershadn’t shown. “As chairman of Council, I feel being here is partof doing my job.”
When they talked, it was strictly smalltalk. Once, Thompson asked Preston to turn up the Denali’s heater.
The charter bus parked on Sumter Streetnext to the state’s capitol.
The group of 50 chatted and smiled asthey poured out of the bus and waited – Wilson in front – throughthree light cycles to march across Gervais Street to the courthouse,an old post office claimed for the court’s use 36 years ago.
Wilson didn’t know some of the peoplewith her, but her spirits were lifted by the support.
“I think our chances are great,”Driver said.
A guard at the door talked each visitorthrough the security check, a process that would take more than 20minutes as Wilson’s supporters patiently stood among the columns onthe courthouse steps.
The morning’s fog had lifted and theday’s sunshine contrasted mercifully to the preceding week’sfreeze and rain – good omens for a day that would supply few morefor the Wilson supporters.
By 10 a.m. they were gathered in alarge foyer outside the high court’s chambers. A few minutes later,they were joined by Councilman Bob Waldrep, Wilson’s only politicalally. Last came Wilson’s attorney, First Amendment expert JayBender, who rides motorcycles when he’s not defending newspapers orteaching media law to journalism students at the University of SouthCarolina.
It was 10:17 a.m. and he wasn’ttalking to anyone but his partner, Holly Beeson.
“We’re as positive as we can be,”Beeson said.
Wilson’s case was scheduled for 10:30a.m., the third and final case of the day, but wouldn’t get underway until after 11.
At 10:45 a.m., Taxpayer Associationpresident Dan Harvell rushed in, delayed by a state Senate hearing onlocal spending caps.
About 10 people came to supportPreston. He paused briefly and walked into the courtroom, unavailablefor interviews. Three of his county division heads – the planningdepartment’s Jeff Ricketson, community relations head MichelleStrange and economic development director Heather Jones spokequietly, joking about the “dark side,” and looking across thefoyer at the Wilson crowd.
Standing apart and looking out a windowwas another woman, a low-level storm-water official who achievedlocal fame in 2006 when she was identified in a city park withPreston. Kelly Nichols, tall and neatly dressed, her blonde hair cutshort, had sat with Preston on a park bench on that warm Friday nightin March 2006. Claims and counterclaims for why she was there fillednews and gossip columns for over a year.
Betty Casey – her face deeply creasedwith age and her graying hair tied in a bun – squinted at thecounty employees.
“Ask them if they are here on theirown time,” said Casey, a childhood friend of Wilson’s aunt. “Arethey taking vacation? Ask them.”
“I came as a private citizen,” cameJones’ answer a few minutes later, echoed by the other countyemployees who had taken time off. “I have a meeting later at theDepartment of Commerce.”
When the courtroom doors opened for theWilson case, Preston and Thompson sat alone in the first padded pewof the courtroom, an arm’s length from attorney Randy Moody.
Wilson sat down a couple rows behindBender. An Old South picture of gray hair, mustache and bow tie,Bender had been a member of the state bar since his opposingattorney, Moody, was 3. Wilson’s supporters filled three of thecourtroom’s six rows.
All stood as the five justices of thestate’s highest court filed into the room.
Bender spoke first. An appointed countyofficial (Preston) was trying to control Wilson’s access to publicrecords – ledgers printed weekly and typically forwarded to Wilson,an elected official, months after she’d asked for them and onlyafter Preston had reviewed them.
Chief Justice Jean Toal, a 19-yearmember of the court, asked why the court should compel Preston to doanything when he’s already doing his job as defined by a 2006county ordinance. That ordinance, she read, requires theadministrator to carry out his duties as a county executive first andthen any other duties – which include answering Wilson’s requestsfor records – “as time permits.”
“What is the legal basis upon whichto mandamus the county administrator?” Toal said.
Preston was leaning forward. Wilson satrigid, her mother seated next to her and her supporters mumbling.
Wilson’s true grievance was againsther fellow county legislators, Toal said.
“We’re not supposed to involveourselves as a court in legislative squabbles,” she said.
Thompson nodded.
Bender said the weekly reports takeminutes to print and a few more to copy, nothing that shouldinterfere with Preston’s duties as administrator.
“He had never looked at theseaccounts until they were requested by Ms. Wilson,” Bender said.
“So your client received them, butnot in a timely manner?” said Justice James Moore.
With 15 minutes to make his case,Bender was asked to move on to Wilson’s second grievance, that sheought to have access to legal contracts.
“Eleven county employees went throughthe bills to redact everything the attorneys did to get paid,”Bender said. “There’s no discretion being practiced becausePreston redacted everything.”
Toal asked if Bender had proof – ifhe had gotten a ruling about the confidential and privileged legalexpenses, something he could have obtained in closed court.
“That may in fact be a defect,”Bender said.
“The court is going to rule onprivilege that you contend could exist?” Toal said.
Preston settled back in his seat, andhis attorney stepped forward to the rostrum. He repeated the problemsin Bender and Wilson’s case that three of the five justices hadjust outlined.
Justice Donald Beatty disagreed.
“If she’s waiting three months toget information, how is she supposed to discuss it at County Councilmeetings?” he said.
“Yes!” whispered one of Wilson’ssupporters.
“We have a Council member who hasrequested mountains of information,” Moody said, adding that Wilsonhasn’t been responsible with confidential information.
He said that in 2001, the year Wilsonfirst took office, Council members received a summary of attorneys’activities concerning Michelin Boulevard. It listed who they talkedto (certain county officials and a county contractor) and a generaldescription of what they were doing (FOI requests, landnegotiations). Wilson, he said, had shared this information withpolitical allies hostile to the project.
“It creates a mess,” he said.
Toal’s final remarks after Benderreasserted his position seemed to side with Moody.
“If a council has a legitimate claimto privilege and directs the administrator not to reveal informationto one member, what is her recourse?” she said.
The justices did not issue a rulingthat day – that could take a month to two months. They stood, theaudience stood, they filed out, and Preston shook Moody’s hand andsaid he felt good about the justices’ comments.
“I did what I was told by CountyCouncil to do,” Preston said. “It’s an important case to thecouncil-administrator form of government. We work for a body, notindividual Council members.”
Outside the courtroom, Wilson paused tospeak to a few supporters, most of whom walked straight back to thecharter bus and made plans to stop for lunch at Maurice’s, arestaurant that peddles Southern pride alongside fried okra andbarbecue.
“I think we will have to file inother ways,” Wilson said. “Jay Bender felt a writ compelling theadministrator to open up the records was the most appropriate way togo. It looks like they don’t agree.”
Contact Anna B. Mitchell at 356-8183 oramitchell@andersonjournal.com.
