As you can probably imagine, being a surfcaster for more than 25 years, I’ve had my share of run-ins with disgruntled property owners. These encounters have run the gamut from a lady’s tiny dog barking at me after which she smugly quipped, “See, even she knows you’re not supposed to be here.” To an elderly husband and wife trying to lay claim to a stretch of Audubon Society beachfront I was crossing to get to a fishy outflow. They called me every name in the book, including some pretty choice ones, but I repeatedly and calmly insisted that they should call the police and promised that I would leave if an officer told me that I had to. But I also recited the shore access law, which I have committed to memory, and they knew their goose was cooked—no cops were called, but unfortunately, no fish were caught!
Around 2007 I started fishing a choice piece of shoreline ledge that produced some good catches during those years. The memories of slinging eels off those rocks with one of the best friends of my lifetime, Dave Parrillo, will stay with me for all of my days. But there was one landowner there who felt that he not only owned what was shown on the deed but also everything that he could see from his stately home. It bothered him to no end that we were there night after night, being quiet as a pair of housecats, and sparingly using our red headlamps to land a fish or bait a hook. We’d see him every night, storming around on the balcony, shining huge ‘stadium lights’ down on us, making all kinds ruckus in the bushes and brandishing a powerful flashlight around like a light sabre. We just laughed and ignored this, clearly, deeply troubled individual.
Fast-forward to late-September of this year, I was texting with a friend about shore togging and he relayed a story about one of our mutual friends who had been togging a few days earlier. He and a few buddies were met with some shocking resistance measures from a nearby landowner. When he said the name of the spot, I immediately said, “I bet I can tell you which house that guy came from”.
Because of the sensitivity of this issue and an ongoing investigation, I will not be naming my friend or the location. This spot is in Rhode Island and The Ocean State has pretty good shore access laws, of which the basics are this, if you can access the shoreline legally (without crossing private property) the public may use the shoreline for up to 10-feet above the visible high tide line. My friend and his buddies used a legal right of way to access the shoreline and made their way along the water’s edge until they reached their fishing spot.
Not long after setting up to fish, well below the high-tide line, a drone appeared and began ‘buzzing’ the four anglers, zipping by them at high speeds, often mere feet above their heads. I imagine they assumed some kid was playing a prank and chose to ignore the nuisance. That is, until an adult man, appeared on the balcony of the multi-million dollar home on the property behind them and began hitting golf balls in their direction. After the first few shots he began yelling that they were “on his property” (they weren’t) and claiming that, “If they got hit, it wouldn’t be his problem.” My friend and his three companions, bravely kept fishing, probably realizing that this lunatic didn’t have the skill to actually hit them.
It didn’t end there.
Once the 41 year old male, old enough to know better, got bored of that tactic (or ran out of balls), he made his way down to the shoreline and grabbed two sweatshirts they had left on dry rocks behind them and took them onto his property. One of the four fishermen went up to try and reason with the homeowner, but he grew increasingly agitated, screaming obscenities at them and then hurled their sweatshirts over the bushes and back onto the rocks, far from where any of them were standing. And that’s when things went sideways. This 41-year old, father of two, lifted his shirt to show a pistol in his waistband, then pulled the gun and cocked it, pointing it at the ground. The angler who was trying to reason with this madman, found himself fearing for his life, hands in the air, and desperately shouting “Don’t shoot me!”
Unbeknownst to the crazed man, one of the other anglers captured the whole incident from the throwing of the sweatshirts to the brandishing of the weapon on video while another called 9-1-1. When officers arrived, the man told a fabricated story which was proven to be a string of poorly constructed lies thanks to the video. He was arrested on three offenses, Felony Assault, Disorderly Conduct, and Possession of a Large Capacity Magazine which are prohibited by Rhode Island State Law.
Everyone has a bad day now and then and everyone has had a moment in their life where they allowed their anger to take things a step or two, too far. But most of us have enough introspective foresight to realize that, at some point in an escalating situation, certain actions could change the trajectory of your entire life. I have not seen the video, but I imagine that those visions came flooding in when this man pulled the slide back on his Glock and pointed it at the ground. Another human being pleading with his arms raised in front of him. He had a choice in that moment, point the gun at the person or put it away and retreat. Luckily he did the right thing, but not before things escalated to an arrest-able offense, and not before emotional damages were inflicted. This man put his family life and his cushy lifestyle on the line because he didn’t want to see anyone fishing near his house, on property that he doesn’t even own.
What a small and sad existence this man must live. But what is far more depressing is that four young men were threatened with a deadly weapon, for legally accessing the shoreline and exercising their legal right to enjoy the tradition of fishing. A tradition that can be traced back to the very roots of the state. If you’re wondering, yes, I guessed right, the man emerged from the same house. But I don’t harbor any ill will, I hope that this becomes a turning point in his life, for the sake of all the fishermen who might cross his path, and most of all, for the sake of his children.
