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Ozzie Winston was a retired harbormaster at the Santa Rosa marina and a native of Camino Island. Brad Shore ran a scuba operation. Their testimony was more of the same: a knowledge of Dark Isle based on years of passing by it, familiarity with its legends and stories, and certainty that there had been zero human activity on the island in their lifetimes.

Monty’s point was simple and effective: Even if Lovely visited her island for years, as she claimed, those visits had stopped long ago.

As the lunch hour approached, he made the decision to rest his case. In preparation for the trial, his strategy had been to attack the credibility of Lovely’s case by casting doubts about her story. However, she had done a marvelous job in holding her own, and Monty was convinced Judge Burch was sympathetic to her.

What else could Tidal Breeze and the state of Florida prove? Dark Isle had in fact been inhabited by former slaves, both before and after statehood. Lovely claimed to be the last of their descendants and her testimony was believable. How could they prove otherwise? The archaeologists had found a real cemetery.

Judge Burch was always ready for lunch, but when he realized the lawyers were winding down he said, “I’ll allow each party to take a few minutes for a recap. But I don’t need to hear much. Mr. Mahon.”

The lawyers were caught off guard, but none had an advantage. Steven stood, without notes, and said, “Sure, Judge. We began this dispute with Tidal Breeze denying everything, the usual tactic. Tidal Breeze denied humans ever inhabited Dark Isle and denied my client ever lived there. We know now that those denials were hogwash. It’s so refreshing to see the state of Florida suddenly have a keen interest in the island. For almost two hundred years the state had nothing to do with it. No schools, no roads, no bridges, no clinics, no electricity, no phone service. Nothing, absolutely nothing, Your Honor. Lovely Jackson and her people lived in poverty on their island. Health care didn’t exist. Diseases were common. The life expectancy was at least twenty years lower than average. But they survived because they had to and because they were proud and treasured their freedom. Now, the state has crawled into bed with a big-time developer, Tidal Breeze, and the state is in this courtroom right now fighting for ownership of Dark Isle.

“And something else to think about, Judge. The state and Tidal Breeze make much of their allegation that Lovely abandoned the island when she was fifteen years old. But did she? Did she really relinquish control? Most of us educated white men scoff at the notion of a curse hexed upon the island over two hundred years ago by a young African witch doctor, or voodoo priestess. We might snicker and whisper that it’s a fantasy no reasonable person could really believe. We’re much too sophisticated for such silliness. Well, if that’s so, then I challenge any of my colleagues on the other side of the courtroom to take a shot. Go down to the marina, rent a boat, take a ride across the bay, and have a stroll around Dark Isle.”

Evan Killebrew had said little during the trial. He wasn’t expected to, not with such high-powered talent in the room. He stepped to the podium and said, “Well, Your Honor, putting aside the rather colorful history that we have enjoyed so far this week, I urge the Court to turn its attention back to the law, the black-and-white language of the statute that clearly says all deserted and abandoned islands in our waters belong to the state of Florida. Beyond that, what the state does with its property is not relevant in this lawsuit. If the state wants to sell the island to Tidal Breeze, or to anyone else, then that is simply not relevant today.”

Killebrew sat down as Monty stepped to the podium. “I’ll be brief.”

“I know you will.”

“Thank you. For sixty-five years, Ms. Jackson did nothing to enforce her legal rights as the owner of the island.”

Judge Burch startled them with “Excuse me, Mr. Martin, but she tried to pay the property taxes for about fifty years.”

“Yes, but since she didn’t own the property, then no taxes were due, Your Honor. No one owed taxes on the island because there was no owner.”

Judge Burch looked away, unconvinced.

“A year ago, the local paper, The Register, ran a front-page story about a proposed development called Panther Cay. Suddenly, after sixty-five years of silence, Ms. Jackson hires a lawyer, Mr. Mahon, a noted environmental litigator, to represent her in a title action. Mr. Mahon, by his own admission, does not do property or title work. In the same newspaper, he was quoted and was, shall we say, rather disdainful of Panther Cay. He promised legal action by his nonprofit.”

“What are you saying, Mr. Martin?” Judge Burch interrupted again.

“I’m saying it looks suspicious.”

“You’re saying Mr. Mahon tracked down Ms. Jackson, solicited her case, and filed it to stop the development?”

“That’s close enough.”

“Big deal. Half the bar now solicits cases. Haven’t you seen the billboards? Please move along.”

Monty kept smiling and said, “Sure, Judge. I agree with Mr. Killebrew that we need to get back to the law, and it’s very simple. To prevail on the grounds of adverse possession, a person must possess the property openly, actually, notoriously, exclusively, and continually for seven uninterrupted years before filing suit to confirm title. Seven years ago was 2014. There’s not one shred of evidence, not even from Ms. Jackson herself, that she has been to Dark Isle, for any reason, in at least ten years. Maybe twenty. Maybe thirty.

“The island has a fascinating history, Your Honor, but it’s just that — history. With a lot of gaps in it. We urge you to stick to the law and award title to the state of Florida.”

Judge Burch closed his notebook and said, “Anything else, gentlemen?”

Nothing.

“All right. Congratulations on a case well tried. As an old judge who’s refereed many cases, I always appreciate good lawyers. Thank you for your professionalism. I’ll have a decision within thirty days.”

Chapter Eleven

A New Foundation

1

The first bombshell landed the following day when The New York Times ran a front-page story about the trial. It was below the fold, and the most startling aspect of it was a large color photograph of Lovely Jackson entering the courthouse the day before. She was wearing one of her standard robes, a bright yellow one that trailed to the ground and seemed to glow, and a baby blue striped turban. She offered a winsome smile at the camera.

The story by Thalia Chan made no pretense of being balanced. The headline was “African Burial Site Thwarts Land Grab by Florida Developer.” For Tidal Breeze, it was all downhill after that. The company was portrayed as another slash-and-burn developer hell-bent on cashing in on the casino craze. An unnamed source said Tidal Breeze coveted the Atlanta gambling market and had found the perfect spot just south of the Georgia state line. Another source (no doubt Gifford Knox) said the company had a dreadful record of environmental problems and would destroy the island and the waters around it. Ms. Chan did a passable job of laying out the facts and describing the trial. The bulk of her story, though, was about African burial grounds and the efforts to find and preserve them. She talked to Dr. Sargent of Howard University, who described the cemetery on Dark Isle as “a major find on one of the most unique places in the history of American slavery.” Marlo Wagner of the African Burial Project was thrilled with the discovery and promised her full cooperation in stopping any development. Florida’s three black congressmen promised a federal investigation into the “desecration of hallowed ground.” The longer the story went, the more race became a factor. The executive director of Florida’s NAACP promised swift action. The chairwoman of the Black Caucus in the Florida legislature vowed that if the Court awarded title to the state, the state would never sell Dark Isle to any developer. It must be preserved. The battle lines were clear, with no room for gray areas. A rich white corporation was attempting to take historically significant land once owned by former slaves.