Ray Cartwright

He forced the state to finally show its hand on appraisals

The deck is no longer stacked against property owners in Virginia

– By Dennis Hartig

George Washington Highway always had a treacherous reputation as it departed the grimy shipyards around the Elizabeth River and hugged the dark edge of the Dismal Swamp Canal on its way south to Elizabeth City.

Do-it-yourself memorials, small arrangements of flowers and crucifixes, sprouted along its shoulders, grisly reminders of its victims. Ray Cartwright was schooled in its dangers. His older brother, Hersey, was one of its many casualties.

For that reason, Ray was sympathetic to a highway department plan to tame U.S. 17, even though it would forever change his family’s

1500-acre farm. A tide of subdivisions and shopping centers, expanding west from Great Bridge, was creeping into Ray’s world in western Chesapeake in 2002. All he wanted was a fair price for the sacrifices his family would have to make in the interest of public safety.

Ray gave his government the benefit of the doubt as the plans began to turn into action. That changed when the government offers starting coming in on the land it wanted, eight parcels in all affecting one third of his acreage. The prices were way below what he knew his neighboring farmers were getting for developable land like his.

The plan would have the new highway veer from the existing road and make a 1.5 mile arc through his fields, taking 60 acres of soybeans and corn. But that was not all. The new right of way landlocked 400 acres on the other side of the highway. The plan included small tunnels beneath the highway for wildlife to get from one side to the other, but it made no similar accommodation for Ray’s tractors and machinery. In addition, building restrictions that came with the new road prevented him from cashing in — as his neighbors had done — on selling his land for new housing.

The government appraisers estimated the market value of what it wanted was $220,000. Ray was incredulous. He wanted to see for himself how the appraisers could be so far off. Ray turned to the Virginia Freedom of Information Act to request the appraisal data, a public document paid for with public funds. The law required it be turned over in five days.

He was flabbergasted when he got a letter denying his request. This put him at a big disadvantage, keeping him in the dark about the credibility of the offer VDOT made him and the comparable sales on which its numbers were based.

“My neighbor could have called VDOT and they would have sent the documents,” Ray said.”But when I tried to get them, they would not give them to me.”

Because he refused to accept the low ball offers and had hired Waldo & Lyle to fight for what they were worth, the government retaliated.

“This was nothing more than intimidation,” said Joseph Waldo. “Their aim was to run up his costs by forcing him into an expensive and adversarial discovery process and creating frustrating delays in hope he would give in and settle.”

Treating Ray as an enemy had the opposite effect, steeling Ray’s resolve to get the information he was entitled to as a citizen.

Thus began a separate legal battle — apart from the eight court fights to get a fair price for his land — against state government secrecy.

It cost Ray $50,000 and three years to extract from the government the appraisal on his condemned property, a report that a citizen could have had for the asking in less than a week for $30.

By the time, the Virginia Supreme Court unanimously ruled in 2005 that appraisal information — even if prepared for litigation — could not be kept secret, Ray and his Waldo & Lyle attorneys had demonstrated how far off the mark the state had been in its offers. The state put Ray through four separate compensation trials, and gave up on four others when the juries sent a message with awards many times what the government had offered. In total, the awards totaled $3 million, more than 10 times what the state had estimated was a fair price for the eight parcels.

And as if to rub salt in the wounds, the Supreme Court levied a financial penalty on the state. It was meant as a message, too, a rebuke to stop the withholding of appraisal information from any citizen, even if they were fighting the state in court.

The court made the state pay Ray almost $40,000 he had to spend in the exercise of his rights. The money continues to pay a dividend: no Virginian will ever again have to fight this battle.

Before his retirement in 2008, Dennis Hartig spent four decades reporting and editing for The Virginian-Pilot. As managing editor he directed reporting on eminent domain abuses and, later, as editorial page editor he crusaded for reforms.