Mississippi Today
Where the sheriff is king, these women say he coerced them into sex
In 2012, three months after Eddie Scott became sheriff of Clay County, Miss., a claim by a woman he had helped put behind bars threatened to tarnish his earliest days in office.
The woman said in an April court filing that, while chief deputy less than three years earlier, he had coerced her into a sexual relationship after she was arrested. Promising to use his influence in their rural community to keep her out of prison, she said, the lawman drove her to a hog farm to have sex in his patrol car on at least five occasions.
She laid out her allegations in state circuit court in October 2012 and asked a judge to overturn her prison sentence. To back up her story, the 26-year-old showed suggestive letters with a return address of the Clay County Sheriff’s Office and signed by then-Chief Deputy Scott, who was 47.
“Hey Sexy,” he wrote to her in prison nine months before his election to the top job. “Got my blood pumping hard after reading the last two letters. Can’t stop thinking of how tight it is. I want all of that and more if you can.”
The revelations could have led to an internal investigation, a criminal inquiry or a public reckoning for the newly installed sheriff. Instead, powerful officials in Clay County took no action.
Judge Jim Kitchens ruled against the woman. Sheriff Scott’s predecessor, Laddie Huffman, had known of the allegations before retiring but did not report them to state or federal law enforcement agencies. There is no record of any internal investigation or disciplinary review.
The court file for the woman’s case — the only public record of the allegations — went missing at the Clay County Courthouse, likely for years. It was placed in the wrong filing cabinet, lost among hundreds of cases, until reporters pressed for it this summer while investigating other allegations against Sheriff Scott.
In interviews, Sheriff Scott would not directly answer whether he had ever had sex with the woman. When asked about his relationship with her, he called it a “mistake.” He denied coercing her.
“What she didn’t tell was, she was coming up to the office with her tits hanging out,” he said. “I never put myself in that position anymore.”
But an investigation by The New York Times and the Mississippi Center for Investigative Reporting at Mississippi Today, which included dozens of interviews and a review of court records and exclusively obtained internal documents, found that during his 11 years in office, Sheriff Scott has repeatedly been accused of using the power of his position to harass women, coerce them into sex and retaliate against those who criticize him or allege abuse.
In rural communities like Clay County — dominated by farmland and economic hardship — some sheriffs rule like kings. They can arrest anyone they choose, smear reputations and hand out reprieves and other favors. They have enormous latitude to hold people in jail as long as they please and they answer to no one, typically facing little press or prosecutorial scrutiny.
Three months ago, The Times and Mississippi Today told the story of another sheriff’s office, less than 40 miles away. Former Noxubee County Sheriff Terry Grassaree rose in the ranks of his Mississippi department and kept his elected office for years despite similar accusations of abuse. He was voted out in 2019 and now faces federal charges of bribery.
But in Clay County, Sheriff Scott remains in power even after repeated allegations of misconduct.
A local woman said the sheriff had repeatedly forced her into sex during her eight months in jail starting in 2017. When she began telling people after her release, she said, a sheriff’s deputy arranged to have drugs planted in her car — an allegation corroborated by a secretly recorded conversation with a man who said he had planted them.
In a court filing last year, a man claimed that Sheriff Scott had pursued a sexual relationship with his girlfriend and helped her avoid a lengthy prison sentence when the couple’s child died in 2019 with meth in his system. Prosecutors charged the parents with child neglect. While prosecutors sought only probation in the mother’s case, they offered the father a plea deal that called for 10 years in prison.
Also last year, a woman who once worked for the sheriff sued him, claiming he had subjected her to months of sexual harassment, including texts commenting on her breasts. After she filed her complaint, Sheriff Scott fired her boyfriend, a captain in the office.
At least five people who accused the sheriff of misconduct, or who were potential witnesses in the cases, said he had retaliated against them, efforts they believe were intended to silence them or discredit their allegations.
In 2021, the F.B.I. began investigating allegations against the sheriff. They interviewed nearly a dozen witnesses, including Sheriff Scott and staff members in his office. No charges have been filed.
Officials familiar with the allegations and how they have been investigated, including federal prosecutors, declined to comment. Sheriff Huffman, citing poor health, said he did not remember any of the allegations. Judge Kitchens did not respond to a request for comment.
In multiple interviews, including one on camera with reporters, Sheriff Scott, now 58, has denied harassing women, coercing them into sex or retaliating against anyone. He said he has had to defend his reputation from “con artists” and “drug users” who were inventing accusations to avoid jail time or somehow benefit financially.
The sheriff said he was the victim in all of this, and that he had been under attack. “It was a coordinated hit on me,” he said.
A Popular Figure
Sheriff Scott and his siblings grew up milking cows on their family farm in Montpelier, Miss., a rural crossroads along Highway 46 marked by a single gas station and the Baptist church his family attended.
After high school, he married, had children and worked at Bryan Foods, a meat processing company and one of the area’s biggest employers. Then he was called to serve on a Clay County grand jury and became fascinated with police work, he said.
In 1999, he became a full-time deputy for the Clay County Sheriff’s Office. He fought the drug trade just as meth was emerging as the scourge of rural America and he eventually became an investigator, responsible for solving the county’s occasional murders. He rose to chief deputy, second in command to Sheriff Huffman.
The logical heir when Sheriff Huffman retired, he won his first election in 2011 and took office the next year.
Today, Sheriff Scott is one of Clay County’s most popular figures and the face of area law enforcement. His brother, Terry, is listed as senior investigator on the Clay County Sheriff’s Office website; his son James serves on the Mississippi Highway Patrol’s SWAT team; and his sister, Tanya, has worked as the nurse for the county jail.
On the 137-acre spread where his family once raised cows, Sheriff Scott hosts fish fries and crawfish boils, where he swaps stories and swigs cold beer with fellow law enforcement officers and some of the county’s most powerful officials.
Sheriff Scott has covered his office walls with images of John Wayne, whom the sheriff considers his hero. The actor and the characters he played symbolize everything good and decent in America, Sheriff Scott said. “They don’t build them like him anymore.”
In his office, he keeps a Christmas card from former President Donald J. Trump, whom he has met several times. Beside it is a Bible that, he said, reminds him of his childhood.
“Back when we were kids, we all went to church and learned the difference between right and wrong,” he said. “And we’re not seeing that now.”
A New Allegation
Sheriff Scott’s public persona clashes with what a woman named Amber Jones says she experienced after she failed three drug tests and was arrested for violating probation in May 2017.
That summer, Ms. Jones, then 21, was called down from her cell at the Clay County Detention Center to the sheriff’s office, where Sheriff Scott asked if she would like to help out filing paperwork.
She had spent weeks in a dirty jail cell without seeing the sun, she recalled. She told him yes and became a trusty, an inmate with special privileges, working for the jail records administrator, Patty Stange.
One day in the office, Ms. Jones recalled, Sheriff Scott held out a hand to her and said, “If you take this splinter out of my finger, I’ll give you an eight-hour home pass.”
Desperate to see her family, she agreed, and a few days later, the sheriff himself checked her out of jail to take her home, she said. A mile down the road, the sheriff stopped the car by a small brick house and told her she had to change out of her jail clothes.
Ms. Jones said she felt uneasy as the sheriff led her inside, through a bedroom to a bathroom. He gave her a T-shirt and left her alone to change.
But he eventually returned and came up behind her, Ms. Jones recalled, touching her and commenting on her tattoos. Without another word, the sheriff pulled her to the bed and forced her to have sex, she said.
Ms. Jones said she felt that she had no choice — he was the sheriff. “I felt like I was worthless, like I didn’t have any control over my own body,” she said. “There was nothing I could do to stop it.”
After she visited her brother and returned to jail, she said, the sheriff called her to his office and told her she didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant because he had been “fixed.”
For the rest of Ms. Jones’s eight months in jail, this pattern continued, she said: Sheriff Scott offered her home passes to arrange sexual encounters.
Her accusations were detailed in a federal lawsuit filed last year by a former employee of the Clay County Sheriff’s Office, Caitlyn Wilson. The suit claims that Sheriff Scott sexually harassed Ms. Wilson, and it cites Ms. Jones’s allegations as evidence of the sheriff’s mistreatment of women. In sworn testimony last month, Sheriff Scott declined to say whether he had ever had sex with Ms. Jones, citing his Fifth Amendment right to avoid self-incrimination. The case is set for trial next year.
In interviews for this article, Sheriff Scott denied taking Ms. Jones out of jail or having sexual contact with her. “Amber is a sweet, likable girl on the face,” he said. “But we learned that she’s one of the biggest con artists that ever walked the face of the earth.”
Had he had taken her out of the jail, he said, their exit would have been recorded on surveillance video and sign-out sheets. When reporters asked to review such materials, Sheriff Scott said the computer system that logged inmates’ whereabouts was broken.
Sign-out sheets were kept among thousands of pages of jail records stacked in lopsided piles on an office floor. A review of the only records available revealed that Ms. Jones had received at least one home pass.
Ms. Jones’s description of the house where she said the sheriff took her for sex matches that of a place Sheriff Scott said he used for storage: a one-story brick home about a mile from the jail. Sheriff Scott said it was widely known that he used the house and that lots of people let themselves in and out using a key he kept under the doormat.
Ms. Jones shared account records showing that past midnight on Jan. 25, a week after she left jail, Sheriff Scott sent her a friend request on Snapchat, the disappearing-photo app. She also shared copies of text messages between them.
In the texts, Sheriff Scott asked Ms. Jones for “updates,” his code for nude photographs, she said. She felt forced to send them, she said, because her brother was in jail for drug possession.
In one text exchange from 2019, Ms. Jones asked the sheriff if he had heard anything about her criminal record being expunged. A “good update” would “help me remember,” he replied, adding a smiling emoji. In another exchange, the sheriff wrote that Ms. Jones owed him an “update” and sent her an emoji with a tongue sticking out.
Sheriff Scott said he couldn’t remember what he had meant by “update,” but denied that it involved nude pictures.
The only photos he received from Ms. Jones over Snapchat, he said, were “body shots” that he had requested from her as part of an investigation into jail inmates tattooing one another. Sheriff Scott said he had provided those photos to the F.B.I.
Two women, including another female inmate, had seen her in the house where she said the sheriff took her for sex.
On one occasion, she said, the sheriff drove her and the other jailed woman there, had them remove their clothing and gave them boxer shorts to put on. Ms. Jones’s were Superman-themed, with a cape to cover the otherwise-bare back, she said; the other woman received a “Duck Dynasty” pair.
Sheriff Scott posed the women together and snapped a photo from behind, according to Ms. Jones. The other woman, visibly upset, bolted for the bathroom, she said.
A few minutes later, Ms. Jones said she heard a knock at the door: It was Ms. Stange, the jail records administrator.
Ms. Stange said in a statement that she drove the women back from the house to the jail and they seemed in good spirits. She said she had no knowledge of “any sexual misconduct of Sheriff Scott with any female inmates.”
The second woman declined to comment. But in a Facebook post last year, she appeared to confirm that she had been present for the picture. Replying to a post by Ms. Jones describing the events, the woman recalled that she had said, “Oh, hell no,” and walked out of the room.
When asked about this under oath, Sheriff Scott took the Fifth.
‘I Knew I Was Being Set Up’
For years after her release from jail, Ms. Jones said she tried to put these abuses behind her. She stopped getting messages from the sheriff after blocking his number near the beginning of 2020, she said.
Then, in September 2021, a woman who had worked for the Clay County Sheriff’s Office came forward with new accusations that threatened to bring attention to years of alleged sexual misconduct by Sheriff Scott.
Caitlyn Wilson, a former investigative assistant who alleged sexual harassment, filed an Equal Employment Opportunity Commission complaint that said Sheriff Scott had made sexual advances toward her and threatened to fire her after she rebuked him. She made reference to other women whose similar experiences had not yet been made public.
“My situation has been exacerbated,” her complaint said, citing multiple women either in jail or employed by the county who had “made claims that the Sheriff was having sex with them. It appears to be well-known within the County that the Sheriff suffers from a sexual addiction, and this sexual addiction has affected my work performance and is causing me extreme fear and anxiety.”
The E.E.O.C. did not weigh in on the merits of Ms. Wilson’s complaint, but determined she had the right to sue.
In the lawsuit she filed in May 2022, Ms. Wilson described a group chat in which Sheriff Scott had sent several employees a steady stream of sexually explicit text messages.
His messages, reviewed by reporters, referred to women as “hookers,” “heifers” and “hos.” In one text, the sheriff suggested Ms. Wilson and Ms. Stange should “tag team” to give him oral sex. In others, he called himself a stallion and said women “liked to be hammered.”
Pictures the sheriff sent, which he called “humorous memes on the humor channel” under oath as part of the lawsuit, compared women to dogs that needed to be trained and joked about date rape.
Ms. Wilson said she decided to file her complaint after Sheriff Scott rubbed his crotch against her as he walked past her one day in the office. “I felt very violated,” she said in an interview. “I was just so shocked and surprised because he was my boss.”
Sheriff Scott denied touching Ms. Wilson inappropriately, saying he was running a high fever that day. “I was as sick as a dog,” he said. “Grabbing a woman was the last thing on my mind.”
He told reporters that none of his texts included sexual content and said under oath that anyone in the group chat could have stopped participating at any time.
When Ms. Wilson filed her complaint, Sheriff Scott assigned one of his own deputies to investigate. The final report concluded that the allegations were “unsubstantiated and punitive” and dismissed Sheriff Scott’s texts as adult humor shared among willing participants.
As the deputy investigated, Ms. Wilson said, she found herself increasingly isolated at work. She was barred from carrying her gun at the office and told to eat lunch at her desk. Most of her co-workers stopped talking to her, she said.
In December 2021, three months after Ms. Wilson filed her initial complaint, Sheriff Scott suspended her then-boyfriend, Jeremy Bell, a captain who had worked in the office for five years. According to a personnel report signed by Sheriff Scott, Mr. Bell had violated department policy by driving his patrol car outside of Clay County to visit Ms. Wilson’s house in a neighboring town. He was fired two days after Christmas.
It was around this time that Ms. Jones, who had not heard from Sheriff Scott for months, found herself under the scrutiny of local law enforcement again, she said.
Several weeks after Ms. Wilson submitted her complaint citing allegations that women in the jail had been forced to have sex with Sheriff Scott, Ms. Jones was pulled over by a narcotics officer from West Point, a town of about 10,000 people in Clay County.
The officer discovered a bag of diabetic needles filled with meth under her passenger seat and arrested her. Ms. Jones believes the drugs were planted there.
“I knew I was being set up,” she said. Frustrated and facing time behind bars, Ms. Jones decided two months later to post on a Facebook page called Mississippi Corruption, where she detailed for the first time her allegations against the sheriff.
“I was fixing to go to prison for a really long time for something that I didn’t even do, just because he was mad over his mistakes, over things that he had done,” she said.
A few months later, in April 2022, Ms. Jones received a video from her friend Madison Ray, she said. Ms. Ray said she had secretly recorded a conversation with Joshua Fulgham, a local diabetic man with prior drug arrests, because she suspected someone had planted the drugs while they were all hanging out the night before Ms. Jones’s arrest.
The recording, on Ms. Ray’s cellphone, captures him explaining how and why he placed the drugs in Ms. Jones’s car. “I put dope under that seat like Kyle told me to,” he says. “I didn’t even have to use mine. Kyle gave it to me.”
According to Ms. Wilson’s lawsuit, Mr. Fulgham is referring to Deputy Kyle Eaves, who used to work for Sheriff Scott. “The apparent purpose of Deputy Sheriff Eaves causing drugs to be planted upon Jones is to intimidate Jones or to cause her to be arrested so that she will lack credibility in claiming an involuntary sexual relationship with Defendant Scott,” the complaint states.
After the video spread around town, Mr. Fulgham was arrested on drug possession charges, taken to the jail and made a trusty. About six months later, he made a video at the Clay County jail and had it posted on Facebook. He accused Ms. Jones of being a liar out to get Sheriff Scott, but never recanted his previous statements.
“She needs help and rehab, just like me,” Mr. Fulgham said in the video, “and she needs to leave the sheriff alone.”
The sheriff sent a copy of the video to reporters and pointed to it as proof that Ms. Jones and others were lying. “Seems like their plan [is] coming to light,” he said.
Neither Mr. Fulgham nor Mr. Eaves responded to requests for comment.
About six months after the video was made, another potential witness in Ms. Jones’ case changed his story, too.
Her former boyfriend, Edward Adam Todd, had been arrested by Clay County deputies and was facing up to 50 years in prison for two burglary charges.
After initially backing Ms. Jones’ allegations, Mr. Todd later told investigators that he had lied to get the sheriff in trouble, according to transcripts of his April sentencing hearing.
The court transcript shows that Judge Kitchens praised Mr. Todd for his change of heart, saying his statements “cleared a local member of law enforcement that had been accused of something that probably turns out that was not true.”
At the hearing, the prosecutor suggested a seven-year prison sentence for Mr. Todd, citing his help to law enforcement. Judge Kitchens further reduced his sentence, cutting it to four years.
Instead of being transferred to prison to serve his sentence, Mr. Todd has remained at the Clay County jail, where he could not immediately be reached for comment.
Back on the ballot
Sheriff Scott believes that he will be vindicated and that voters will see through the allegations to re-elect him in the deciding Democratic primary election on Aug. 8.
He has won his previous elections easily. But this time, he faces an unexpected opponent who is an experienced law enforcement officer in Clay County: his own chief deputy, Ramirez Williams.
In February, Chief Deputy Williams announced his run for sheriff. The next month, Sheriff Scott demoted him to work the graveyard shift as a jailer.
When asked if Mr. Williams’s candidacy played a role in his demotion, the sheriff replied, “Not necessarily,” and declined to comment further.
Sheriff Scott insists he will leave office on his own terms, regardless of what becomes of the accusations against him.
He said he believes the federal investigation is over and he cooperated with their review, even voluntarily meeting with federal authorities to answer questions. “I wasn’t going to let a bunch of drugheads run me out of office,” he said.
The sheriff said he had been burned by extending compassion to people behind bars, but had no plans to stop. “You can’t turn your back,” he said. “One of these days, I might be in the same shape.”
He chuckled. “You never know.”
This article was co-reported by The New York Times and the Mississippi Center for Investigative Reporting at Mississippi Today.
Read More: Sex abuse, beatings and an untouchable Mississippi sheriff — Read the first story in this series examining the power of sheriff’s offices in Mississippi.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
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Mississippi Today
They own the house. Why won’t they cut the grass?
Just four doors down from the Medgar and Myrlie Evers Home National Monument in west Jackson, a tangled mass of bushes, trees and vines obscure a house with a caved-in roof at 2300 Margaret Walker Alexander Drive.
Inside the only room left standing, pieces of plaster and foam insulation cover the sunken floor. A radio, an ornate console table and floor-length drapes, still hanging behind steel-frame windows, are the sole indications that someone once cared for this place.
In August, the storied home will go up for auction for the 7th year in a row because of unpaid taxes – joining thousands of properties across Jackson stuck in a complicated loop and for which no one claims responsibility.
Nearly 30 years ago, the home’s original owner, a fashionable woman named Arthurine Wansley, impressed her neighbors with the upgrades she’d made to the ranch-style home, recalled Lee Davis, a retired hospital environmental service technician who lives next door. Ceiling fans, wood-paneled walls and a cheerful lime green facade.
“Anybody would want to have a house like that,” Davis, 69, said.
But ever since Wansley developed dementia and her relatives moved her to California in the early 2000s, Davis bore witness as the home fell into dereliction. Wansley, who is still listed as the property’s owner in county records, died nearly 20 years ago. When the waist-high grass started to encroach on his lawn, Davis called the city of Jackson for help.
Then one day a few months ago, Davis noticed a for-sale sign outside the house. It was red, white and blue and said “Best Properties.” So Davis dialed the number on the sign to ask if they were going to cut the grass.
No, the woman who answered said – though the investment company she represented, also known as Viking Investments, is indeed selling the property for $2,500.
“They said they don’t do that, it’s the city’s responsibility,” Davis said.
2300 Margaret Walker Alexander Drive had been sold for unpaid taxes. But that doesn’t mean the government can force the investor to clean it up.
When a property owner doesn’t pay taxes, Mississippi counties hold an auction called a tax sale. The goal is to collect much-needed local revenue.
But in Jackson, where thousands of parcels go to auction each year, properties stuck in a tax sale loop year after year perpetuate blight. The bidders are often not prospective homeowners but investors who seek to profit from collecting interest on the unpaid taxes.
The scope of the problem is hard to quantify. To complicate matters, when investors come to own the properties they’ve bid on, there is no legal obligation for them to secure the property in their name. The outdated recordkeeping keeps the city of Jackson from knowing who owns these properties, impeding code enforcement efforts.
Investors also don’t have to pay the taxes, punting the property back to a tax sale.
“We’re a lien investment company. We’re not really wanting to acquire property,” said Nick Miller, the owner of Viking, which is based in downtown Jackson. “That’s a byproduct of investing in the tax liens.”
Viking has not paid taxes on 2300 since it acquired the property. So unless someone bids on it during this year’s tax sale in August, it will fall to the state.
The government, then, will be responsible for cleaning it up. To work on a property, the city must send notices to whoever is listed as the owner on the Hinds County landroll.
For two years after Jackson opened a code enforcement case on 2300, Jackson sent repeated notices to Wansley’s last known address in California — even though she was not living and lost the home at the 2021 tax sale.
“You just found the perfect storm,” said Bill Chaney, an assistant secretary of state who oversees tax-forfeited properties that do not sell at auction. “This is an indication of all the cracks in the system.”
Outdated records leave properties dangling
2300 Margaret Walker Alexander Drive went up for auction in the fall of 2019 after someone in Wansley’s family failed to pay the initial $1,764 tax bill, according to Hinds County records. Despite repeated attempts, Mississippi Today could not reach any of Wansley’s relatives in California.
Over the next several years, a series of investment companies – some local, some not – bid on the unpaid taxes: GSRAN-Z LLC, Quicksilver Tax Funding LLC, College Investment Co., and FIG 20 LLC. None of these companies responded to Mississippi Today’s inquiries.
In what’s called the “redemption period,” Wansley’s family had two years to pay the overdue taxes. When that didn’t happen, her property became leverage. The winning bidders gained an opportunity to take her home through a document called a tax deed, which according to state law is “a perfect title with the immediate right of possession to the land sold for taxes.”
But none of the companies filed the tax deed with the Hinds County Chancery Clerk, likely because they could not find anyone to buy it and they did not want to become responsible for the condition of Wansley’s home.
The practice is common. There is no legal requirement to file the tax deed, nor is there a financial incentive. These companies often operate on slim margins, and the tax deed costs money. Plus, they may not want to end up like Wansley – listed as the owner of properties they aren’t responsible for.
“Are we going to be on that landroll record for the next 15 years until they update the record?” Miller said.
Chancery clerks need a deed to update a county’s landrolls, according to Lakeysia Liddell, the manager of Hinds County land division. So when companies don’t file a tax deed, the number of blighted properties in Jackson owned by tax investors remains unknown. People who lost their homes because of unpaid taxes continue to receive notices.
“They come in trying to pay those taxes thinking they can keep their property even though the redemption period has expired,” Liddell said.
Jackson’s code enforcement officers also rely on the landroll to send notices to property owners in violation. Robert Brunson, Jackson’s code enforcement manager, said that ideally, the city would take these companies to environmental court, where a judge can levy fines and even criminal penalties for dilapidated properties like 2300.
That accountability can’t happen if the city doesn’t know who the owner is. Brunson said Viking will come to environmental court if they have an interest in the property, because the city can use county records to find out if that is the case. But that doesn’t always happen: Viking is not listed as an one of the “interested parties” on the code violation notice for 2300.
“This is a business deal to them, to make money off the city of Jackson, off of Hinds County, really,” Brunson said. “We need more teeth, to be honest with you.”
To keep the chain of title clear, the companies will file the tax deed if they find a buyer for the property. But they may just let the property fall back to the tax sale to be dealt with by someone else.
Viking, which also hasn’t filed a tax deed for 2300, acquired the home in 2024 after the last bidder – the Jacksonville, Florida-based FIG 20 LLC – transferred its interest in the property to a Viking affiliate called SDG 20, according to a quitclaim deed filed in Hinds County.
Miller declined to say how much SDG paid FIG for the properties, but all told, he estimates he has sunk about $2,000 into the property on Margaret Walker Alexander Drive. If he sells it, he will make a couple hundred dollars.
The tax sale gamble
Miller, a Jackson resident, views his job as something of a public service, because his bids on Mississippians’ unpaid taxes help fund county services like libraries or police.
Spread across hundreds of parcels a year in Hinds County – thousands across the state – Miller can make a profit. His goal is not to get property, but to make money off the financial penalties owed by the original owner, including 1.5% monthly interest on the unpaid taxes.
When that doesn’t happen, and Miller becomes the owner, it’s as if he lost the bet. Acquiring blighted property is just a risk of the game; the gamble then becomes whether Viking can sell it.
“You’re looking at just returning your investment with interest,” said Andy Hammond, a Young, Wells, Williams attorney who Miller occasionally consults. “You can’t expect to actually get property. That just ends up happening.”
The seemingly accidental way Miller comes to own property in Jackson is why he’s frustrated when Viking is blamed for the city’s blight, which existed before he bid on unpaid taxes.
“How are we the problem if we’re willing to take a risk and invest $2 million in Hinds County a year?” Miller said.
Of course, when Miller acquires a property, he does not usually pay the next year’s taxes, so any property purchase from Viking would also likely come with a hefty tax bill.
If the city wants to hold tax sale investors more accountable for the condition of the properties they own, Mississippi’s tax sale laws need to be changed, according to Miller, Hammond and Sam Martin, a lobbyist who is helping them form a tax lien investor association.
“That gets you to the pickle that all of this has created,” Hammond said. “You have a city that wants certain things done but a law that disincentivizes the tax sale purchaser from doing anything.”
Hammond and his associates said they don’t know yet what the solution is, but one possible idea is to make it easier for the investor to clear title to his or her tax-forfeited properties.
Original owners who’ve lost their homes through tax sales can often get their property back if they can hire an attorney and go to court, especially if they didn’t receive a warning they could lose their property.
The tax sale buyer will lose the money they’ve put into improving the property, Hammond said. That risk means Viking will not work on its properties without going through a court process called a title confirmation suit.
“Let’s say we go in there without confirming the title first and we fix it up and we clean it up,” Miller said. “What do you think is going to happen? That homeowner is going to have a renewed interest in that property.”
But some in government say these investors should be made to take more responsibility for their properties. Last year, the Legislature considered but did not pass a bill that would have required people who gain properties through the tax sale to file the tax deed within 90 days or else cede their interest to the state.
Chaney, from the Secretary of State’s office, said Viking’s defense that it hasn’t confirmed the titles to its properties is tantamount to “legalese for ‘I don’t want to clean it up.’ ‘We own it, but we don’t really own it.’ Well, trust me, they’ll sell it in a heartbeat.”
That’s if they can find a buyer. Most of the time, the properties that Miller’s companies come to own are as blighted as 2300 Margaret Walker Alexander Drive.
2300 over time:
2014
2019
2022
“This property right here is a prime example of what mostly matures to us,” Miller said. “People walk away from it because they don’t want to deal with it.”
Neither does Miller. But he said cleaning it up could be worth it to someone, if they can afford it.
“The neighbor could buy it for $2,500 if he wanted to tear it down and clean it up,” Miller said.
Blight on historic block
If someone wanted to buy 2300 Margaret Walker Alexander Drive, they might look through public records to determine who owns the home – a common process for people who dabble in tax-forfeited parcels called a “title search.”
That search would end at a piece of paper 435 pages into a thick, leather-bound book on the second floor of the Hinds County Chancery Clerk’s Office. This is the proof of ownership that Arthurine Wansley and her husband, Louis Wade Wansley, received when they bought the home in 1956, on a block known back then as Guynes Street.
With three bedrooms, a carport, and central air and heat, it’s likely the house was built just for them. The Lanier High School graduates had joined a special community, the first-of-its-kind in Mississippi: A subdivision built by Black entrepreneurs for Black middle class families.
At that time, the housing options for Black Jacksonians were subpar and relegated to undesirable parts of the city.
“That community, that stability, that landownership, that power would have been really important,” said Robby Luckett, director of Jackson State University’s Margaret Walker Center.
A teacher in Jackson Public Schools, Arthurine Wansley played bridge with Margaret Walker Alexander, the acclaimed writer after whom the street is now named. She helped run neighborhood Spade and Fork Garden club with Myrlie Evers, the wife of civil rights icon Medgar Evers.
The families on the block were known for looking after each other’s kids and trading cucumbers and tomatoes they’d grown in their backyards. Wansley’s grandnephew, Michael Wade Wansley, grew up visiting 2300 for parties or holiday celebrations, when residents competed for the best Christmas decorations.
“We didn’t even think about it being a historic block when I was growing up,” he said. “We just knew that Dr. Margaret Walker Alexander lived on that block. George Harmon lived on that block. He owned Harmon’s Drug Store on Farish Street. So it was, I mean, everybody over there was either involved in politics or educated.”
But the tight-knit community ended on the corner of Ridgeway Street, where a working-class white neighborhood began, said Keena Graham, the superintendent of the Medgar and Myrlie Evers Home National Monument.
“You’re having a great time on this street, but you don’t go over too much, too far afield,” Graham said. “Two streets over, that’s dangerous.”
Much of that history is recounted in a 2013 application to include the Medgar Evers Historic District — which encompasses Margaret Walker Alexander Drive — on the National Register of Historic Places.
As an original home to the block, 2300 is covered by that designation. But that didn’t stop the home from falling into the tax sale loop.
“I knew it all of my life as a middle-class-type neighborhood,” said Frank Figgers, a member of Shady Grove M.B. Church just around the corner from 2300. “When that’s where your teachers lived, where your pharmacist lived, I just don’t think I’ll ever see it as blight.”
In search of a responsible party
Some family members of the original residents of Margaret Walker Alexander Drive still live in their homes. But the block today is mostly retirees like Davis, renter, and empty houses, surrounded by overgrown land, that are falling apart.
In neighborhoods like this, nonprofits, such one run by Jackson-area state Rep. Ronnie Crudup Jr, have used the tax sale to buy homes and rehabilitate them.
“I always tell people it’s good to have a good attorney on hand to do those title searches for you,” Crudup said.
More often, though, the tax sale loop creates a cycle of frustration.
When private individuals can’t or won’t fix up a property, the government must step in. The state owns more than 1,800 tax-forfeited properties in Jackson, according to data from the secretary of state — plots that no one wanted to buy at the tax sale auction.
“We got it in even worse condition than it was when it was in a bad condition,” Chaney said.
Brunson feels similarly. He has a handful of code enforcement officers for the entire city, but some Jacksonians complain his team is nowhere to be found.
“They won’t cut the grass, but they’ll sell it,” Brunson said of tax sale investors. “There should be a law against that, taking these people’s money, saying, ‘Oh well, you didn’t do your title search, thank you for $3,000 down.’”
But if the city started fining tax sale investors for the blight, Miller said some of them may stop bidding.
“People are going to drop out of the system,” Miller said. “If nobody is there to bid on these liens, what’s going to happen to the $19 million deficiency every year – struck to the state?”
It doesn’t seem likely anyone from Wansley’s family will save the property. Michael Wade Wansley, the grandnephew, is retired and lives in Pennsylvania. He said he doesn’t think he has any relatives left in Jackson. He wondered why Davis and his neighbors let the home deteriorate.
“I would think if people were still living over there they wouldn’t have let it go down to that level of poverty,” he said.
Barbara Walker, a retired teacher who lives directly across from 2300, used to go half and half with another neighbor to pay someone to cut the grass.
“To me, it was worth the investment,” she said. “I didn’t want the place looking as bad as it’s looking.”
When her neighbor moved away, Walker couldn’t afford the landscaping on her own. That’s when Davis started calling the city, hoping they’d cut the grass.
Informed that Miller said he could buy the property, Davis seemed puzzled.
“Who, me?” he said.
Every now and then, Davis will ask his lawn guy to mow a patch of grass by Viking’s for-sale sign. But until the overgrowth is addressed, Davis won’t let his 6-year-old granddaughter play outside when she comes to visit. He’s killed too many snakes in his yard.
In November, the city council declared the home a public nuisance, the first step to tear it down. Jackson will have to hire a company to do the demolition, which requires attaching a lien, or a debt that must be repaid, on the property. Whoever buys it next will have to repay that lien.
On a recent Tuesday, Davis looked at the pink and yellow notices – orders condemning the home – that Brunson pinned inside the decaying carport. When he opened the carport closet, he realized the water heater had been stolen. The only items left were glass Coca-Cola bottles, silver tinsel and a Santa Hat.
Walker said she hopes 2300 can become a park once the house is demolished: “It’s already tearing itself down.”
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
The post They own the house. Why won’t they cut the grass? appeared first on mississippitoday.org
Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.
Political Bias Rating: Center-Left
The article presents a detailed examination of systemic issues related to tax-forfeited properties and blight in Jackson, Mississippi, with a focus on the human and community impact. The tone is sympathetic toward residents affected by neglect and highlights failures in local and state policies. While it reports on investors and government actions, the language and framing emphasize social justice concerns and the need for reform. This aligns with a center-left perspective that prioritizes community well-being, accountability, and government responsibility, without overt partisan rhetoric or ideological extremes.
Mississippi Today
Son like father: Vernon Dahmer Jr. was a patriot
The Vernon Dahmer family is one of the most patriotic families in America.
Six of his seven sons served a total of 78 years in the armed forces, and on Wednesday we said goodbye to Air Force Senior Master Sgt. Vernon Dahmer Jr., one of the finest men I’ve ever known.
The first time I met him in 1994, I thought I was gazing at a ghost. He had his father’s distinctive features — a barrel-chested frame, closely cropped hair and a narrowly trimmed mustache across his upper lip.
The more we talked, the more I marveled at the similarities we shared. We had both been named after fathers we admired, and we both had family nicknames. His was “Bo,” and mine was “Boo.”
He led me to a table where he showed me a photograph taken by Chris McNair, whose daughter and three other girls had been killed in 1963 when the Ku Klux Klan bombed a Birmingham church.
The picture showed Vernon Jr., and three brothers, George, Martinez and Alvin. They were dressed in their uniforms, staring at the ashes of what had been their family home.
On Jan. 10, 1966, two carloads of Klansmen launched firebombs into the Forrest County home and the family’s grocery store, where Vernon Sr. had volunteered to let Black Mississippians pay their poll taxes so they could vote. (The state had adopted these taxes in its 1890 Constitution in hopes of barring Black Mississippians from voting.)
Another firebomb hit the family’s 1964 Ford Fairlane, setting it ablaze and causing the horn to stick. Dahmer’s wife, Ellie, stirred to the blare of the car horn, smelling smoke. She yelled out, “Vernon, I believe they got us this time.”
He jumped out of bed and grabbed a shotgun, loaded with double-aught buckshot. He fired back at Klansmen so that his family could escape safely out a back window. Unfortunately, the flames of the fire seared his lungs, and he died later that day.
Vernon Jr. was in the Air Force at the time, defending his country. He flew back home to find his father dead and his family home burned to the ground. “To come home and see what happened was totally devastating,” he said.
He had to handle the horrible details, such as the funeral and finding a new place for the family to live while the curious press swarmed around the cinders. “I didn’t have time to cry,” he told me.
He drove me to the Shady Grove Baptist Church, which his ancestors had started before slavery ended, and led me to a rose-tinted headstone that read, “Vernon Dahmer Sr., March 10, 1908—January 10, 1966.”
“If my dad hadn’t been killed by the Klan, he would have had an opportunity to see his grandkids grow up and enjoy the life that those who killed him are still enjoying,” he said. “He was killed for no reason, no valid reason other than hate.”
Despite that hate, the family had endured. Ellie Dahmer served for a dozen years as election commissioner in a mostly white county, and Vernon Jr. helped found the African American Military History Museum.
Not long after our meeting, he began to get calls from a mystery man who wouldn’t identify himself but said he had information on his father’s case. In 1997, we met that man, Bob Stringer, in a motel room on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
Vernon Jr. asked what prompted him to come forward, and Stringer replied, “I saw you and your family on TV. You were saying how that you were sure there were some people out there who knew something vital that could help get the case reopened.”
Those words resonated with Stringer, who shared how he had overheard Imperial Wizard Sam Bowers give the order to kill Vernon Dahmer Sr. “It’s been a deep, dark secret for 30 years,” he said. “It took me so long to handle it.”
Stringer began cooperating with the Forrest County District Attorney’s office and the Mississippi attorney general’s office, which managed to get a copy of the unredacted FBI file on the case. The more than 40,000 pages enabled authorities to piece the case back together.
They met with the Dahmer family, whose quiet courage inspired them to work even harder. After then-Mississippi Attorney General Mike Moore spent the day with the Dahmer family, he tucked a photograph of the family in his car visor, a reminder that justice had yet to be done.
In spring 1998, authorities arrested Bowers, who went on trial before summer ended. In previous trials, all-white juries refused to convict, but this time would be different. Vernon Jr. was sitting in the balcony, watching the trial unfold when he finally heard the words he longed to hear: “Guilty.”
He covered his face with his fingers, tears streaming behind his calloused hands. He finally had time to cry.
Back at their home, the family gathered on the front lawn beneath the shade of the towering oaks. Friends drove by. They honked their horns and yelled out in victory.
Before darkness fell, he drove to a quiet cemetery and stared at a familiar rose-tinted headstone that read, “Vernon Dahmer Sr. Husband, Father, Community Leader, Voting Rights Activist.” He fell to his knees, telling his daddy that he could rest in peace now because justice had finally come.
On Wednesday, the man I admired and loved so much was buried in the same cemetery with his father.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
The post Son like father: Vernon Dahmer Jr. was a patriot appeared first on mississippitoday.org
Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.
Political Bias Rating: Center-Left
This article presents a respectful and humanizing profile of Vernon Dahmer Jr. and his family, emphasizing their patriotism, military service, and civil rights activism. The tone is empathetic and highlights historical racial violence and ongoing justice efforts, aligning with values typically associated with center-left perspectives focused on social justice and civil rights. However, it primarily reports facts and personal history without overt partisan framing or ideological rhetoric, maintaining a balanced narrative that honors the family’s legacy while documenting the historical context and legal outcomes.
Mississippi Today
GOP leaders make ‘school choice’ a focus at Neshoba County Fair
NESHOBA COUNTY — Two of the state’s political leaders said at the Neshoba County Fair on Thursday that they’re pushing lawmakers to adopt school choice legislation next year, indicating the issue may be one of the most fiercely debated policies during the next legislative session.
House Speaker Jason White, one of the most vocal school choice advocates in the state, said under the pavilion at Founder’s Square that his caucus plans to craft legislation in response to the Republican-controlled federal government’s efforts to incentivize “school choice” or “education freedom” – policies that proponents say empower parents to have more control over their children’s education. Opponents say such policies undermine public schools and exacerbate inequality.
White has said that he favors “universal school choice”, which often refers to policies that allow all households — regardless of income level — to use public education dollars to send their children to private schools or other institutions of their choice, rather than being assigned to public schools based on where they live.
But his own Republican caucus likely doesn’t support some of those efforts. Instead, legislative efforts to expand school choice will likely center on making it easier for students to transfer between public schools, opting into newly created federal tax credits awarding scholarships to private school students and potentially closing some underperforming schools.
Republican Gov. Tate Reeves also told reporters at the fair that he agrees “wholeheartedly” with White’s school choice push and is generally supportive of any policy that allows parents to become more involved with their children’s education.
“He’s on the right track in trying to get more opportunities and more options for students,” said Reeves of White’s plans.
The speeches from the two state leaders set the stage for school choice to be a central priority in the 2026 legislative session. Republican Lt. Gov. Delbert Hosemann and other leaders of the 52-member Senate have expressed support for some school choice policies, but the upper chamber has been reluctant to agree to more sweeping proposals.
Hosemann said at the fair on Wednesday that he personally is in favor of allowing public school students to transfer to other public school districts, a policy commonly called portability. He said he also believes students in F-rated school districts should have the option to transfer to any other district.
But it’s unclear if the Republican-majority Senate would support the measure. Earlier this year, during the legislative session, the Senate Education Committee killed those two measures.
Before the next session, White plans to use a select committee on “education freedom” to build consensus for a “big, beautiful bill” that will include the House’s education priorities.
Last month, White announced that his caucus will propose one sprawling education reform package containing many of the school choice provisions that died last session.
This is a departure from the piecemeal strategy House Republicans undertook last session, where the chamber passed a series of standalone education bills. Many of the House’s bills either died in the Senate or, in the case of a proposal that would have allowed some Mississippi parents to use taxpayer money to pay for private schools, didn’t come up for a vote on the House floor.
In his Thursday speech, White called for Hosemann to adopt his “education freedom” agenda, which he said aligns with President Donald Trump’s agenda just as much as the lieutenant governor’s newly proposed tax rebate plan.
“Yesterday, I heard the lieutenant governor and some of our folks on the other end of the building wanting to maybe copy President Trump with this idea of tax rebates with some of our surplus,” White said. “Maybe we’re all for that in the House. But I certainly hope we find that same copycat agenda when it comes to what President Trump wants to do on education freedom as well.”
Reeves, when asked by reporters whether he supported Hosemann’s tax rebate, said the lieutenant governor spoke to him about the idea before unveiling it publicly and that it highlights Mississippi’s budget surplus.
Aside from education and tax policy, Secretary of State Michael Watson said his office next April will roll out a new website where the public can search campaign finance reports and individual donors online, similar to info available to the public in most other states and how the Federal Election Commission’s website operates.
State law currently allows candidates for state office to file PDFs, or pictures of reports, and handwritten reports on the website. The files are not searchable, and sometimes are illegible, making it difficult for the public to examine who is funding their campaigns. County and municipal candidates are not required to file reports online.
Watson, the chief administrator of state elections, is pushing for the Legislature to adopt a law that requires all candidates running for office, “from dog catcher to governor,” to file reports online.
State Treasurer David McRae said that the treasury will begin accepting cryptocurrency in September. McRae told reporters that the state will only be accepting bitcoin for now.
“This is going to be a great investment opportunity for us,” McRae said to reporters. He’s recently indicated that he’s become more open to crypto due to its decentralized structure.
Attorney General Lynn Fitch announced that recent efforts from her office led to 72 arrests in connection with human trafficking, fentanyl and sex offender crimes.
Several justices on the state Supreme Court in fair speeches called on the Legislature to improve youth courts across the state.
When asked about a recent Mississippi Today investigation unveiling allegations from an ex-state corrections department official alleging widespread medical neglect and mismanagement in Mississippi’s prison system, Reeves said he was “comfortable” with the leadership of Mississippi Department of Corrections Commissioner Burl Cain, but would hold VitalCore, the system’s private medical contractor, accountable if the company fails to meet the terms of its contract.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
The post GOP leaders make 'school choice' a focus at Neshoba County Fair appeared first on mississippitoday.org
Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.
Political Bias Rating: Center-Right
The article primarily reports on the GOP leaders’ push for school choice legislation in Mississippi without overt editorializing, presenting statements from Republican figures and describing the legislative context. While the language remains largely factual, the focus on Republican initiatives and their framing as efforts to expand “education freedom” subtly reflects a center-right perspective aligned with conservative educational policy goals. The article fairly notes opposition views but gives prominence to GOP leadership and their agenda, suggesting a tilt toward conservative policy promotion without strong partisan critique, consistent with center-right coverage.
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