Somewhere between the moment a decision is made and the moment it appears on your water bill, there is a distance that democratic governance depends on citizens being willing to cross.

Most citizens do not cross it. They pay the bill. They are angry about the bill. They speak at public comment for three minutes about the bill. And then the next bill arrives.

This is understandable. It is also exactly what the people who produce the bills are counting on.

The bill that arrived in Palm Coast in the spring of 2025 was not an accident. It was not the inevitable consequence of inflation, or aging infrastructure, or the general unruliness of Florida's growth. It was the product of a sequence of decisions — each one made by a specific person, in a specific room, at a specific moment — that accumulated over years into the consent decree, the bonds, and the 36 percent rate increase now compounding itself against the household budgets of every Palm Coast water customer.

My colleague Mr. Diamond has written about the men who drove their trucks to City Hall on March 18 — the tradesmen who showed up to oppose a moratorium they had been told would end their livelihoods. He treated them with the fairness they deserved and the precision the story required. I commend that piece to you.

READ: The Convoy — Johnny Diamond

What I wish to address is the bill itself. Not the amount — though the amount is considerable. Not the politics — though the politics are instructive. The decisions. The chain of them. Because the bill did not write itself.

Decision one: for years, the City of Palm Coast issued water and sewer capacity commitments to developers for a system that could not honor them.

This is not an allegation. It is documented in the consent decree issued by the Florida Department of Environmental Protection on July 29, 2024. It is documented in the whistleblower letter filed by Amanda Rees under Florida Statute 112.3187. It is documented in the rate study presented to the city council on March 18, 2025. The city committed 4.0 million gallons per day in water capacity and 3.2 million gallons per day in sewer capacity to future development. Wastewater Treatment Plant 1 was already operating at its permitted limit.

Someone approved those commitments. Permit by permit. Agreement by agreement. The building industry built what it was permitted to build. The commitments preceded the building. The capacity did not exist when the commitments were made.

One does not assert malice. One need not. The practical effect of ignorance and the practical effect of indifference are identical on a water bill.

Decision two: when a utility director identified the problem in the summer of 2024 and attempted to present it to the governing body, accurate data was removed from a public presentation.

The council voted on the 2050 Comprehensive Plan — the authorization for 12,000 acres of westward expansion — on July 23, 2024. On the same morning, the utility director had told the council in the budget session that Wastewater Treatment Plant 1 was near capacity. Later that day, before the Comprehensive Plan presentation, a slide containing accurate capacity data was removed at the direction of staff.

Amanda Rees: "Wastewater treatment plant one is near capacity."

The council voted on the expansion without the accurate data in their public presentation. Six days later the state issued its consent decree.

This is what we have chosen to call a "procedural anomaly." The phrase is deliberately restrained. The reader may supply whatever word seems more precise.

Decision three: the utility director who identified the problem was terminated before she could present a formal resolution to address it.

Amanda Rees prepared a resolution to halt new development agreements directing flow to Wastewater Treatment Plant 1 until its capacity was expanded. The resolution was scheduled for legal review on Friday, November 15, 2024. She was terminated on Thursday, November 14. The resolution was never presented. The agreements continued.

The case — Rees v. City of Palm Coast, Case No. 25-CA-217, Flagler County Circuit Court — has not been to trial. The allegations are hers. These are facts of sequence and timing, drawn from the public record. The reader will draw their own conclusions about sequence and timing.

Decision four: the city council voted to approve a utility rate increase and bonding plan on March 18, 2025, the same morning that an organized show of force by the Flagler County Home Builders Association surrounded City Hall.

The rate ordinance had been revised between its first reading and its second. The second bond had been removed. The rate increase had been modestly adjusted downward. The moratorium proposed by the mayor died for lack of a second at 01:05:46 in the morning session. The applause that greeted its death came primarily from the building industry side of the chamber.

Mayor passes gavel · Motion for moratorium · Motion dies · Applause.

The rate ordinance passed. Charges for service began increasing April 1, 2025. By October 2027, the average Palm Coast household using 4,000 gallons per month will pay $123.46. They were paying $90.73 when this process began. That is a 36 percent increase, compounded over thirty months, against utility bills that were already among the highest in the region.

It is worth pausing here to note something about the sequence.

The council that passed the rate increase on March 18, 2025 did not create the problem they were voting to address. Mayor Mike Norris won election in November 2024, specifically on a platform of concern about growth management and utility infrastructure. Vice Mayor Theresa Pontieri had proposed a moratorium twice before he was sworn in. She had been asking the right questions for a year and a half. She had been answered with silence, procedure, and the routine of a bureaucracy that had learned to outlast elected officials who asked uncomfortable questions.

They inherited a consent decree. They inherited a utility system operating at capacity. They inherited $155 million in existing debt. They inherited 19,000 permitted homes with no infrastructure to support them — a fact confirmed publicly for the first time at a special workshop on March 7, 2025, when the city's own Chief of Staff stood at the podium and answered the mayor's questions.

DeLorenzo: "No, sir."
DeLorenzo: "No, sir."

These were not the answers of a man disclosing something for the first time. These were the answers of a man confirming, in a public forum, what the documents had shown for years to anyone willing to read them.

There is a number that does not appear on your water bill but belongs there in spirit.

Thirty years.

That is the duration of the debt service now underway. The bonds approved on March 18, 2025 will be repaid — with interest — over three decades. A resident of Palm Coast who is forty years old today will be seventy when the debt is retired, assuming no further borrowing is required. The rate study presented to the council noted that a second bond would likely be necessary before 2028.

The bill you are paying today is not the last bill. It is the first installment of a very long bill.

Vice Mayor Pontieri, who has been the most persistent voice on this council for accountability, found the right phrase on the morning of March 7, 2025.

Pontieri: "We have been crop dusted. Period."

The word crop dusted describes what happens when a substance is applied from above, invisibly, across a wide area, with effects that are not immediately visible to those below. You do not see it happening. You see the results later.

The results are on your bill.

They have been accumulating since before most Palm Coast residents knew there was a problem. They will continue accumulating for thirty years.

The decisions that produced them were made in specific rooms by specific people at specific moments that are documented in the public record. The permits that signed away capacity the city did not have. The slide that was removed. The director who was fired. The moratorium that died without a second. The ordinance that passed into the applause of an industry that had organized a convoy outside the door.

Thirty years is a long time to pay for decisions made in a morning.

But that, precisely, is the bill.

— Charles G. Pennyfeather IV, Editor Emeritus
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