How Moore v. Teller County Began
People often assume our lawsuit began with a dispute over a short-term rental. It did not. It began when volunteer firefighters called us because they were afraid.
At the time, Don and I were known in the community primarily through our wildfire mitigation work and our support of the Florissant Fire Protection District. We donated $1,000 annually to the department and worked closely with local volunteers through NoFloCo Fire Mitigation Posse, which had grown to roughly 150 members and volunteers at that time.
In the spring of 2022, several volunteer firefighters contacted us with concerns about what was happening inside the Florissant Fire Protection District. They told us they had been warned that if information about internal problems became public, they could be blackballed and prevented from volunteering locally. They were particularly concerned because they respected and supported Fire Chief Michael Bailey, who had recently been hired by the district.
Chief Bailey had discovered approximately $30,000 in missing funds for which there appeared to be no supporting receipts or documentation. According to what we later learned, Bailey reported the matter to the Board of Directors because he believed transparency required that they know about the issue and understand that the missing funds predated his employment. Rather than welcoming the information and investigating it, the Board's reaction was reportedly hostile.
Concerned by that response, Bailey also reported the matter to the Teller County Sheriff's Office. As we understand it, he simply wanted another governmental entity to be aware of the situation so that the matter could not later be ignored, minimized, or misrepresented. Within approximately twenty-four hours, Chief Bailey was placed on suspension. He was later terminated.
The volunteers who contacted us believed the public should know what was occurring. They wanted transparency and oversight, but they were afraid to speak publicly themselves. They asked for help. In response, Don sent an email to roughly seventy residents within the Florissant Fire Protection District encouraging them to attend an upcoming public board meeting. The reaction was immediate. Board member Alan Applebaum called Don and, in an agitated tone, reportedly said:
"How dare you invite people to our open public meeting! We might have thirty people show up to that meeting!"
That response surprised us. Public meetings exist so the public can attend. Yet the prospect of increased citizen participation appeared to be viewed as a threat rather than a benefit.
That moment changed everything. As more information surfaced, we began asking questions and sharing information with the community. We learned that three of the five board members lived on the same street in the same subdivision. One board member was reportedly a registered voter and resident of Maryland and therefore appeared ineligible to serve. Meetings were not always properly noticed. Elections had not been held for extended periods. Board appointments seemed preferred over competitive elections. Citizens who asked questions were often treated as adversaries.
As we continued speaking publicly, County Commissioner Erik Stone began responding to my posts and comments on social media, often stating that I was wrong, using "my own facts," or did not understand what I was discussing. At approximately the same time, the fire chief hired after Chief Bailey publicly discussed inspecting venues and requiring safety inspections for venues. On social media, he posted a comment directed toward me that stated:
"I don't know why you are so worried about department business. You will soon have problems of your own to worry about."
The statement was troubling. Then, on October 4, 2022, Kim English—a friend of Applebaum, organizer of a competing mitigation effort, and someone who had attempted to recruit NoFloCo members away from our organization—came to our home for what she described as an unofficial conversation. During that meeting she asked:
"What will it take for you to turn your back on what is happening at Florissant Fire and just focus on your business up here? You have upset some very powerful people in the county."
Our answer was simple. We would not turn our backs on wrongdoing. Days later, we received a Notice of Violation dated September 30, 2022. It arrived in our mailbox on October 11, 2022. From that point forward, we repeatedly asked the same questions.
What specific ordinance, regulation, or policy are we violating?
What evidence are you relying upon?
What complaints have been filed?
Who else is being subjected to the same enforcement?
Who else has obtained a Special Use Permit for similar activities?
Those questions were never meaningfully answered.
During one early Zoom meeting, when we again asked what ordinance we were violating, County Administrator Ross Herzog responded in substance:
"It is what we think, what we feel, what we believe."
We repeatedly invited County officials to inspect our property, review our calendars, examine our operating procedures, and see firsthand what we were actually doing. We explained that we limited rentals, rented portable toilets to reduce impacts on our well and septic system, and took extensive measures to minimize impacts on neighbors. County officials refused. We asked whether we could bring photographs, records, calendars, and written procedures to demonstrate our operations. They refused.
Instead, we were told they would meet with us only if we wished to apply for a Special Use Permit. We responded that we did not believe a Special Use Permit was required and noted that dozens of other short-term rental properties in Teller County hosted gatherings and events without such permits. We repeatedly stated that if the County required every similarly situated property owner to obtain a Special Use Permit, we would gladly do the same.
At one point, County officials informed us that we could continue operating our short-term rental business so long as we did not host events. We then asked what constituted an "event." We asked again. And again. And again. Over the course of roughly a year, we requested a definition more than a dozen times. No definition was ever provided.
Faced with uncertain rules, undefined standards, and threats of enforcement, we stopped renting. We stopped family gatherings. We stopped activities that had occurred for years without complaint. We dramatically curtailed use of our property while attempting to understand what the County believed we were doing wrong. That uncertainty, combined with what appeared to be selective enforcement and retaliation for protected speech, eventually led us to file our federal civil rights lawsuit.
The events that followed—including grant interference, burn permit disputes, support-letter denials, public attacks, escalating enforcement actions, and additional retaliation—are documented elsewhere in the record.
But those events were not the beginning. The beginning was simple. Volunteer firefighters asked for public oversight. Citizens attended a public meeting. Questions were asked.
And powerful people became angry that the public was paying attention.