Range's countersuit, Lipsky claimed, was intended to do nothing more than "bludgeon the Lipskys into silence, to punish the Lipskys and others for exercising their right to engage in free speech in public statements..."
The court, they wrote, was now Range's "weapon of choice."
Mark Graham
A Texas Railroad commissioner called for the firing of EPA Regional Administrator Al Armendariz.
Jay Barker
Alisa Rich cruises backroads, armed with a camcorder, looking for oil-field leaks and spills.
Details
Related Content
More About
To allow it to proceed, they argued, Loftin risked violating a law passed during the 82nd Texas Legislature known as the Anti-SLAPP (Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation) Act, designed to protect whistleblowers against bogus litigation.
"The counterclaim is one that falls within the definition of the SLAPP statute, because it deals with a citizen who is petitioning the government for a redress of grievances," says Laura Prather, the Austin First Amendment attorney who led the legislative charge for the bill. "In this particular instance, the citizen was reaching out to the federal agency that governs this environmental issue, then got sued for doing so."
The law does not, she warned, give Texans carte blanche to defame. The 2nd Court of Appeals of Texas in Fort Worth is considering Lipsky's claim under the Anti-SLAPP Act.
But Range wasn't just alleging defamation. The company accused Lipsky of fraudulently crying contamination to reduce his property taxes. Indeed, just days after he filed suit against Range, Lipsky petitioned the Parker County Appraisal District for a reduction in his taxable valuation, citing unusable water. "You know, we have three kids," Lipsky told the appraisal board. "After what happened ... it's kind of tainted. And if we could just simply get our money back that we put into it, we would leave."
A board member asked if that was what he hoped his lawsuit against Range would accomplish. "Yeah. Yeah," Lipsky replied. That day, the board agreed to reduce the value of Lipsky's property and home from approximately $800,000 to $300,000.
Range saw motive, and to prove Lipsky was badmouthing the company to the press, it went after any reporter he had ever spoken to, and almost anyone who'd ever written about his water well. Subpoenas crisscrossed North Texas, on their way to WFAA Channel 8, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, CBS 11 and anti-fracking activist Wilson.
If the Lipskys had any doubts about how rough Range was willing to play in order to protect its interests, they were soon dispelled. This was the company whose spokesman, Matt Pitzarella, Wilson caught on tape at an oil and gas convention in Houston saying Range employed former military "psy ops" personnel.
Range was the first company to realize the Marcellus Shale, a massive gas-bearing formation sprawling across the Northeast, was a driller's playground. When Range ran into stiff local resistance in the small town of Mount Pleasant, Pennsylvania, the company sent a letter to residents without drilling leases, laying out the advantages of the company's proposed drilling ordinance. It closed on a conciliatory note by stating that Range was confident it and the township could work hand in hand.
A second letter, to residents with leases, who stood to gain from gas royalties, had an altogether different tone. In it, Range claimed that its attempts to work with the township had been rejected, and it would be moving on to friendlier environs. In the meantime, it said, the company was considering legal action against the township. Unlike the other letter, this one advised the lease-holding residents to attend a townhall meeting Range was hosting.
In online videos of the meeting, a folksy, cotton-topped octogenarian woman railed spitefully against the town managers. Few of the residents would have recognized her, though, because she wasn't from Mount Pleasant, according to local news reports. She was from Cecil, about an hour's drive west. She can be found in one of Range's gauzy, Marcellus Shale testimonials, where she says she'll use her royalties to put her grandchildren through college.
In Parker County, Range was spoiling to prove that it and fracking were without blame. If the company could win again, the victory would represent another shiv driven into the popular perception that the industry's underground alchemy was poisoning drinking water.
Late last month, a surprising turnabout by the EPA — the agency that had been Lipsky's sole ally and the weight behind his claims — helped Range drive home its blade.
_____________________
After spending more than a year in a federal court battle with Range to force the company to comply with its endangerment order, on March 30, the EPA made a stunning announcement: It was dropping its order against the company.
"Resolving the lawsuits with Range allows EPA to shift the Agency in this particular case away from litigation and towards a joint effort on the science and safety of energy extraction," an EPA statement read. "EPA and Range will share scientific data and conduct further well monitoring in the area, and Range will also provide useful information and access to EPA in support of EPA's inquiry into the potential impacts of energy extraction on drinking water."
In exchange for EPA dropping the order, Range agreed to sample 20 private water wells surrounding its pad site every three months for a year. Neither the agency nor the U.S. Department of Justice would elaborate further.
In a letter from Range's attorney to the EPA, the language makes it clear that a deal was cut. Company spokesman Matt Pitzarella, however, insists that the agency's move wasn't the result of a quid pro quo. More testing, he claims, is simply the right thing to do. "The EPA's decision to withdraw only underscores that this is not an issue involving Range Resources," he said.