Saving Gracie

by Bradley, Carol

  The victory was short-lived. The defendants had thirty days to appeal the ruling, and Coates announced immediately that Trottier planned to do just that. Asked what he thought would happen to the dogs until then, the attorney shrugged, “I guess they’ll just sit there until the appeal’s heard.”

  Twelve days passed. On May 11, Wolf’s lawyers appealed the case to the Chester County Court of Common Pleas.

  “We think the judge made mistakes,” was Coates’s explanation.

  Finnegan groaned inwardly at the news. She knew all too well how easily summary appeals could get tangled up in the system. It might take anywhere from two to six months for a new trial to get under way. Even then, the decision wasn’t necessarily final. Wolf’s attorneys could appeal that finding to State Superior Court and to the State Supreme Court after that. The case could take years to resolve.

  Almost three months had elapsed since the dogs were rescued. Tens of thousands of dollars had gone into housing them, treating their illnesses and injuries, and helping prepare them for new lives. The dogs were beginning to recover emotionally from their ordeal, but there was a limit to the amount of attention harried shelter workers could give them. For everyone’s sake, the dogs needed to move on to permanent homes, and soon.

  The shelters were braced for summer, the season when their populations tended to swell. Asked by one newspaper if the SPCA’s resources were so depleted the organization might consider reaching a deal with Wolf, McDevitt didn’t rule it out. “I guess that could be a possibility,” he said.

  Unbeknownst to the prosecutors, they had an advocate in Edward Griffith, the common pleas judge who was now in charge of the case. Griffith could have let matters languish. But he was acutely aware of the sprawling support system that had been erected to safeguard Wolf’s dogs. He made it clear he had no intention of letting the case get dragged down any further by delays.

  Griffith got Finnegan, Wright, and Wolf’s attorneys on a conference call. He was clearing his calendar, the judge informed them. They’d better do the same. He’d already picked a date for the trial, June 19, and he insisted the lawyers commit to it. There would be no delays like the kind that had stalled the first trial.

  Wolf’s lawyers appeared chastened. It was obvious the judge wasn’t going to tolerate any tomfoolery. His insistence on moving forward quickly did not bode well for them.

  Five weeks passed. On the day the new trial was scheduled to get under way, the defense team suddenly informed the prosecutors that they were willing to work out a deal. The announcement caught Finnegan and Wright off guard, but they grabbed at the chance to resolve matters once and for all. Now all that was left was to hammer out a settlement.

  The hearing had been moved to the main Chester County courthouse in West Chester, to courtroom number 1, the largest venue available. It had double the seating of any other courtroom, and on this day it was brimming with reporters and spectators.

  Finnegan notified Griffith that a settlement looked possible. Then she and Wright met with the defense team in a nearby conference room to hash out details. They needed to decide the terms of Wolf’s, Trottier’s, and Hills’ convictions, the fate of the dogs, and the conditions by which future inspections of Wolf’s property could take place. The parties also needed to determine the level of fines and the amount of restitution the defendants would pay. Nearly every animal welfare organization that had taken in some of Wolf’s dogs had produced a different tally of room-and-board costs and medical expenses they had incurred; arriving at the total was going to be a task in itself.

  The defense attorneys kept insisting that one of Wolf’s sons be permitted to keep a dog, despite the fact that the breeder himself would be banned from having any. Finnegan and Wright were equally adamant that no dog could be kept in Wolf’s home, period.

  Before signing off on any agreement, Finnegan needed to run it by SPCA executive director Spackman. Spackman was amenable to a settlement of some sort. Her desire to see Wolf punished was tempered by the realization that the sooner the case was resolved, the faster the animals could be adopted out to real homes.

  Finnegan also needed to make certain the terms of the agreement were satisfactory to Joe Carroll, the district attorney. The back-and-forth dragged on for hours. Griffith grew tired of waiting. At one point he called the case to the courtroom. Give us just a little more time, Finnegan asked.

  Around 2 p.m., following a late lunch, the judge invited all of the attorneys into his conference room. He wanted to know the status of the case—whether talk of a settlement was genuine or the defense attorneys were merely pulling his leg. Gamesmanship of that sort had been known to happen.

  The settlement was very real, the parties assured him. If that were the case, Griffith laid down a stipulation of his own: There would be no dogs in Wolf’s house, he said. Period. End of story. If any animals did, in fact, turn up, Wolf would be charged with violating parole.

  The afternoon wore on. Wolf’s attorneys continued to propose changes to the terms. Wright was new to this kind of behind-the-scenes dealing and frustrated by the delays. The prosecution’s case was solid—they had no need to negotiate—and yet Wolf’s attorneys kept trying to call the shots. Late in the day, when the defense team tried to insist on yet another new provision, Wright ripped up a draft agreement in front of them, ready to call it quits. Finnegan stared at her in disbelief. “You can print that again, right?” she asked. If the agreement fell apart, the case would go to trial a second time, something Finnegan wasn’t about to let happen. Wright regained her composure and left to reprint the document.

  In another conference room, managers of the various shelters that were housing Wolf’s dogs were gathered, ready to list by number the dogs who needed to be adopted. Veterinarians waited, having taken off the day in anticipation of being called to testify. The prosecution had arranged for as many as ten of Wolf’s dogs to be brought into the courtroom, if necessary, to help make their case. Shaw waited in the corridor outside, anxious for updates.

  Finally, the prosecutors emerged. A deal had been reached.

  The defendants never showed even the slightest remorse. They acted as if the filth and squalor of Wolf’s kennel represented the typical conditions at large-volume breeders. But Spackman got the sense that Wolf was frightened at the possibility of going to prison and that his trepidation gave prosecutors some negotiating power they might otherwise have lacked.

  Despite the agreement, Finnegan didn’t feel nearly as confident this time around. It was one thing for the attorneys in a case to agree to a settlement. Having the defendants themselves sign off on the terms was another thing entirely.

  She notified Griffith that the two sides had come to terms, and court was reconvened. The courtroom fell silent as the prosecutors strode in, followed by the defense attorneys and Wolf, Trottier, and Hills. Representatives of the SPCA and the other animal welfare groups filed in as well. Finnegan stood before the judge and outlined the terms of the agreement. It was a watered-down version of the sentence Farmer had imposed two months earlier.

  Farmer had held Wolf liable for nearly $360,000 in restitution and court costs, and forbidden him from owning animals ever again. Under the new agreement, Wolf would plead guilty to sixty counts of animal cruelty. He would be fined $6,300 and, within a year’s time, pay $122,157 in restitution to the Chester County SPCA. Wolf would be banned from having contact with animals for fifteen years, during which time he would be subject to investigations by the Pennsylvania dog warden and the Chester County SPCA. His property would be inspected regularly to make certain he had no animals.

  Wolf stood as the judge addressed him. “Mr. Wolf, you’ve heard Ms. Finnegan outline the terms of a plea,” Griffith said. “Do you accept those terms?”

  Finnegan held her breath. Wolf could decide right that minute to back out of the deal. She closed her eyes with relief when he answere
d, simply, “Yes.”

  Trottier and Hills also pleaded guilty to sixty counts each of animal cruelty. Trottier agreed to pay a fine of $3,000 and restitution of $31,304.50 to the SPCA. Hills agreed to pay a fine of $3,000 plus court costs. Each would serve fifteen years of nonreporting probation, during which time they would be banned from having contact with animals.

  Griffith ratified the agreement reluctantly. As diluted as the deal was, it contained two key components: first, that the Chester County SPCA would be reimbursed; and second (and more important) that the dogs were free to be adopted out.

  It was the end of the road for the case. There would be no more appeals.

  Shaw was thrilled by the outcome. Minutes before the hearing, when she learned that Wolf planned to plead guilty, she’d thought, “No, he’s not going to do it.” When she watched him stand before the judge and admit his guilt, she let out a silent, triumphant cheer. Finnegan had done it—she’d gone after Wolf with a passion, and as a result, the dogs were saved. “She was the bright light in this whole thing,” Shaw said later.

  Afterward, Wolf stood on the steps outside the courthouse, unwilling still to take responsibility for his misdeeds. “It’s sad that it has to end this way,” he told reporters. In court, attorney Alice had said Wolf expected to sell his property and would pay the restitution and fines from the proceeds. Outside the courtroom, Wolf said he had no idea how he would come up with the payments.

  Some of the dozens of cards and letters prosecutors Lori Finnegan and Kate Wright received from across the country thanking them for helping convict puppy mill breeder Michael Wolf. (Carol Bradley)

  Finnegan kept her comments brief. She’d never stopped thinking about Wolf’s dogs, she told reporters. Their fate was what mattered most. “I’m happy the animals are going to go home”—to real, permanent homes, she said. “I’m hoping that every one of these puppies can now be treated royally compared to where they’ve been. They’re all really beautiful animals, and they’re going to require a lot of spoiling.”

  Chapter 11: The Soft, Cool Feel of Grass

  For four months, Shaw had watched over nearly 200 of the dogs from Mike-Mar Kennel. She checked on them each morning when she arrived at the Chester County SPCA and again each evening before she left for the day. She sat on the floor with the dogs, petted them, and reassured them, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  Bearing that responsibility had proved to be more stressful than any assignment she’d ever taken on before. But watching the animals blossom emotionally more than made up for it. She would never forget the day a few weeks earlier when she tossed a couple of tennis balls to the Bulldogs. She did it on a whim, not expecting much of a reaction. To her surprise, the dogs went wild for their brightly colored new toys. They nosed them, tossed them around, and chased after them madly. Watching them, Shaw smiled so much her cheeks hurt.

  That evening, after she told her husband, Bobby, about the dogs’ antics, he got on eBay and ordered a thousand tennis balls, enough to shower the dogs with them. Then Shaw went to Kmart and bought a cartful of Christmas toys that had been marked down to twenty-five cents apiece.

  If the Bulldogs preferred the tennis balls, the Cavaliers and the Papillons favored the squeaky Christmas toys. The toys helped bring them around. Now, when Shaw climbed into a kennel to sit, the dogs cuddled in her lap. Their coats still reeked of urine, but the odor didn’t bother her. “Just for them to come out of their shells like that, it was great. It was so great,” she said.

  And now that Wolf and his partners had pleaded guilty, the case was over. Done. Soon the dogs would be leaving the SPCA and all the other shelters they were scattered in, destined for permanent homes at last.

  Animal lovers across southeastern Pennsylvania and Delaware who had followed the case were just waiting for the go-ahead. The dogs had been in custody for 138 days. They deserved good homes, and local residents were more than ready to provide them. It didn’t hurt that instead of going for upward of $2,000, these dogs would be available for just an adoption fee.

  A few issues remained, however. Several breeders had stepped forward to claim some of the Bulldogs and the Havanese. SPCA staff needed to resolve who owned which dogs. They also wanted to screen would-be adopters before sending them home with any of the puppy mill dogs. These animals were going to require patience and work; people looking to adopt them needed to know that. SPCA spokesman McDevitt reminded the public that none of the dogs was housetrained or accustomed to walking on a leash.

  “We’ve had these animals for five months and we want to make sure they go to loving, permanent homes and people are willing to make a lifelong commitment,” he said.

  Finally, the shelters needed to microchip the animals, examine them medically again, and give them each a bon-voyage bath.

  The case had cost the Chester County SPCA $256,000, much of which it managed to recoup through donations. Other shelters asked to be reimbursed for the costs they’d incurred caring for Wolf’s dogs, but the Berks County Animal Rescue League, the shelter that took in Dog 132, refrained from doing so. The Rescue League didn’t even ask to be reimbursed the $1,600 it spent on surgery to repair Babs the Bulldog’s ingrown corkscrew tail. Executive director Harry D. Brown III knew what it was like to have to ask other shelters to house rescued dogs until a case was resolved. A couple of years earlier, his organization had removed fifty-two Pit Bulls from a bad breeder and had to parcel thirty-two of them out to other shelters. He wouldn’t have wanted those shelters calling him up and saying, “You know how much it costs me to keep your dogs?” and he vowed not to do that to the Chester County SPCA.

  Brown had given the SPCA his word that his shelter would help out as long as needed. “Financially sometimes it gets rough,” he acknowledged. “I always look at it this way: As long as we have enough to survive, we’re happy. We’re not looking to have a three-million-dollar bank account. If, by the end of the week, my bills are paid and my employees are paid, even if there’s nothing left, we’re okay.”

  His lone request to Chester County was that, when the time came, the Animal Rescue League be allowed to find homes for the twelve dogs it had taken in. The dogs had been through hell already. He wanted to make certain they had the best chance possible to enjoy what remained of their lives.

  The following week, the West Chester Daily Local announced that on Thursday, June 29, the Chester County SPCA would begin adopting out sixty of Wolf’s Cavalier King Charles Spaniels and twenty-five Papillons. The adoption fee of $100 included an examination by one of more than seventy-five local veterinarians who had stepped up to care for the dogs, and would also pay for vaccinations, deworming, and spaying or neutering. In fact, instead of going home directly with their adopters, the dogs would be taken to a veterinary office, spayed or neutered, and then released.

  On Monday, June 26, the Reading Eagle ran a similar article about the puppy mill dogs being kept at the Animal Rescue League. The newspaper recounted the story of Wolf’s dogs for readers who weren’t familiar with the case. Accompanying the article were three photos of Cavaliers. Two of them showed the dogs getting shampooed. The third showed Pam Bair sitting outside a run, hugging three of the Cavaliers. One of the dogs was in her lap and two more were standing on their hind legs, gazing up at her with soulful eyes. Interested parties were asked to fill out an application, including information about their income, housing, and pet history.

  • • •

  Six weeks earlier, the veterinarian for the Berks County Animal Rescue League, Carl Veltri, had treated the dogs again. At 2:34 p.m. that day, a vet tech carried Dog 132 into the examining room. The paperwork filed that day listed her as Invoice Number 166008. It noted that she was a Spaniel, Cavalier King Charles. Color: Unknown. Female. Weight: 16.8 lbs.

  The Cavalier’s teeth were in sorry shape, rotted down to quarter-moon-shaped stumps. Veltri pulled all
but five of them. The cost of the dental work came to $198.20, but the veterinarian discounted his fee by $99.10. The Cavalier was better off with no teeth than with bad ones. Shelter techs had realized belatedly that she and several of the other dogs were having difficulty chewing their food because of their worn-down teeth. Besides that, all the built-up bacteria on their teeth threatened to work its way into their systems, causing heart and kidney disease.

  After her teeth were pulled, Dog 132 was able to chew her food more easily. The medication and baths eased her itching skin, and the eyedrops curtailed the stinging in her eyes. Physically, she was starting to come around. But Bair was looking for something more intangible in this little dog. A flicker of trust in her new caregivers, perhaps. A recognition, however subtle, that life might, in fact, offer a bit of promise.

  The dogs had their kennelmates, but they needed to socialize with other dogs, too. A few weeks into their stay, the shelter staff decided to spring them from their kennels, two dogs at a time, to explore the rest of the boarding wing. Dog 132 avoided human contact on the days she was let out, but she sniffed noses tentatively with the other dogs as they peered out of their kennels, and after a time she trotted down the aisle in the direction of the kitchen and the laundry room. “Finally,” Bair thought, “she’s acknowledging there’s life beyond her cinderblock cell. We’re making progress.”

  One afternoon Bair placed four of the Cavaliers, Dog 132 included, in one of the larger kennels at the far end of the boarding wing. In no time the dogs seemed delighted to be in one another’s company.

  No one knew what made the difference. They only knew that after two and a half months in their care, Dog 132’s personality finally began to emerge. The efforts of the kennel techs were starting to pay off. Sandy Lambert, one of the techs assigned to the boarding wing, was struck by the difference just five minutes of attention could make in the life of a rescued dog. Once they got over their fear, Wolf’s dogs seemed grateful for everything they’d been given.