By Charlie LeDuff
Wayne County Executive Warren C. Evans now lives in leafy Canton Township with his wife after quietly beating it out of Detroit six months ago.
No noisy SMART buses out in Canton! No public transportation taxes levied on homes out there. So long, Comeback City! Hello IKEA superstore!
Now that's leading from the rear.
But here's the thing: Evans did not sign for his own $330,000 mortgage on the luxurious 2,800-square-foot estate on 2.4 acres of wooded, hilly ravine. This palace features four bedrooms, three full baths (with a jetted tub!), a wet bar, a fireplace, a three car garage, a gazebo for outdoor entertaining and a horse barn.
Wayne County Executive Warren Evans
Who needs a bus when you have have horses?
Those mortgage documents, which were signed in December 2017, carry the signature of another man, Evans' personal lawyer, to whom Evans gave power of attorney over his personal affairs.
Weird.
More weird still: Evans' personal attorney is Anthony Adams. Remember him? He was Kwame Kilpatrick's pistol-packing deputy mayor who pleaded guilty to taking a loaded firearm through Metro Airport. He also ran the water department for a spell and you remember how that worked out. Adams was also called out by his ex-wife for living in the suburb of Troy when he was supposed to be living in Detroit as president of the Detroit School Board.
All that aside, BFFs do that kind of thing. Sign for another man's mortgage, that is, because one man might be too busy cutting deals with a billionaire to move the new county courthouse and jail complex next to the garbage dump and trash incinerator. (It was stinking something powerful this morning.)
And more weird still: Just a few months after signing for the new house of Hop-along Evans, Pistol Packing Tony got a big fat $100,000 no-bid contract from Evans for that new courthouse and jail deal; a deal that makes former executive Bob Ficano look like a genius.
It's not exactly a no-bid contract. To be specific, Adam's firm -- Marine Adams Law, PC -- was picked out of a hat of pre-qualified law firms registered to do work for the county. According to county records however, Adams' firm had not been on that list dating back to 2014 and would not appear on that list until after Evans' weird mortgage arrangement. Furthermore, Miller Canfield, a behemoth law firm that specializes in mega-bond deals, was already awarded a contract for the criminal justice complex.
Adams Enters Deal
Adams' firm -- which has only two lawyers and does not carry workers compensation insurance, according to county records -- was nevertheless brought into the deal to lend its "expertise in municipal bond financing matters."
It should also be noted that Adams received a waiver from Evans' 2015 executive order which barred extra contracts, hiring, travel and other expenses because of the county's financial emergency which lead to wage and benefit cuts for employees and retirees.
Anthony Adams (LinkedIn photo)
Multiple calls were made to Jim Martinez, Evans' $116,000 a year spokesman. Martinez returned none of them.
Adams, when reached by phone and asked exactly what expertise he was bringing to the bond deal and whether his cozy relationship with Evans did not present an ethical dilemma, Adams went from zero to 60.
"So you're saying a black man cannot compete with Miller Canfield?" Adams bellowed. "Is that what you're saying?"
"No sir," I answered. "But I'll make sure to include that in the story."
"It's insulting to me as a lawyer," he hollered. "I've been practicing for 35 years. I have done $7 billion in bond financing. I've done more complex commercial transactions than anybody in this town!"
Falling Upwards
Here was a connected guy, I thought, a guy who kept falling upwards despite the public agencies he skippered bottoming out. Here was a man, I thought, who had made a pretty penny in his business dealings with Detroit. Here was a man deep into middle age pulling the race card. It felt so 2008.
Anthony Adams' signature in lieu of Evans'.
Speaking of 2008, I pointed out to Adams the part of his resume he had glossed over. Namely, his time in the Kilpatrick administration and particularly his role in helping broker the $1.4 billion bond and swap pension deal that ultimately paved the way for the city's bankruptcy.
"The bankruptcy came six years after our time," Adams whined. "If you want to make a fall guy of the prior administration, that's perfectly okay then."
Okay then.
When asked why he would sign the mortgage of another man -- namely the county executive for whom he now works -- Adams declined comment, citing attorney client privilege.
Neither Evans nor Adams has enough hairs to be splitting them. Their odd relationship only serves to highlight other Evans friends and family members who have enriched themselves or gone on to enrich themselves after feeding at the county taxpayer trough.
If you looked at it that way, this pony show reeks of the stables.
