FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. -- -- FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. -- For years, state crews swept through subdivisions here wielding buzz saws, marching into back yards, destroying cherished family citrus trees.
They were on a mission to eradicate a plant disease, they explained. Sometimes they had to call for police backup.
"I said, 'What if I don't let you in?' " Robert Pearce, 71, a retiree who works as a school crossing guard, testified in court last week. "They said, 'We'll call the police, and they'll let us in.' I said, 'What if I put a lock on the gate?' "They said, 'We'll cut it off . . . and if you have a dog, we'll tranquilize it. But we'll take your trees down.' "
All told, the state crews removed more than 840,000 trees in what Florida agriculture officials described as the largest plant-pest eradication effort ever in the United States.
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In a region in which the orange is not only an icon but a treasured backyard treat, however, the effort provoked widespread anger and, now, five class-action lawsuits. Underlying the court sagas, moreover, are emotionally fraught questions regarding what measures the government can pursue in an emergency and what rights the public might be expected to surrender in those circ*mstances.
The tree-cutting effort was started in 1995 and was meant to eliminate citrus canker, a bacterial disease afflicting orange, grapefruit and other citrus trees, from spreading and damaging one of Florida's preeminent crops. Within years, the crews had orders to destroy not just infected trees but any others within 1,900 feet of an infection.
The issue in the courts is how much homeowners should be compensated for their trees. The state issued $100 Wal-Mart gift cards for the first tree, then $55 in cash for subsequent trees; the homeowners' attorneys meanwhile calculate that the tree value is several times as high, from $350 to $1,000.
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But overshadowing the debate is the fact that the eradication effort did not succeed, and each side blames the other for the failure.
State agriculture officials argue that lawsuits from objecting homeowners imposed critical delays, allowing the canker to spread enough so that when the hurricanes of 2004 and 2005 hit, the bacteria could be spread in the winds.
"Without the lawsuits, we could have finished the eradication before the hurricanes," said Craig Meyer, deputy commissioner of the state's Department of Agriculture.
Homeowners say the science behind the eradication effort was flawed. The program "was doomed to fail from the start," said Robert Gilbert, an attorney for the homeowners. "The Department of Agriculture refused to listen to the countless scientists who said that the canker was already too widespread before they started."
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Citrus canker, which causes the leaves and fruit of citrus trees to drop prematurely, poses no threat to humans.
But it cuts into the profits of one of the state's preeminent industries, reducing yields.
In Brazil, where farmers have long had to deal with citrus canker, a grove could be expected to last 15 years, Meyer said. Before the bacteria became prevalent in Florida, a grove could be expected to last 20 to 40 years, he said.
"It's an insidious disease," Meyer said.
Given the threat, state officials decided in 1999 to expand the eradication program.
Rather than take down infected trees and those within 125 feet, state crews were instructed to remove any trees within 1,900 feet of an infected one.
Authorities said that 95 percent of the time, bacteria from an infected tree traveled less than 1,900 feet. Removing the infected trees and those nearby should have eradicated the disease, they reasoned.
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The idea of cutting down so many trees in people's back yards, not surprisingly, infuriated some here who complained that they were losing their trees for the benefit of the powerful citrus industry.
Sterling Cowart, a Fort Lauderdale fence contractor, was arrested, pepper-sprayed and handcuffed after demanding that the crew provide a search warrant before setting foot on his property.
He spent 18 hours at the Broward County jail.
The charges were dismissed by a judge, and this summer a jury decided his rights had been violated and awarded him $25,000.
For his part, Pearce, a rumpled, genial figure in the courtroom last week, said he did not resist when the crew came -- he just took pictures.
He said he and his wife miss the orange and tangerine trees, which were fruitful enough to supply the firehouse across the street, as well as other neighbors. He said he recognized the importance of the canker effort but felt "violated" by the state's tactics.
"I felt like I was living in a foreign country," Pearce said, testifying Thursday. "It didn't seem like the American thing to do."
