Save the Fishies

For a house of worship brimming with Easter spirit, this stings.

"We're a church — we're supposed to be the good guys," Hughes said. "We're just trying to do the right thing." The church looked into Vanishing Species, the organization that owns and furnishes Judy, "and they do it right," Hughes said. "They have a lot of the same beliefs as PETA, but they believe in educating people along with protecting the animals."

The Church by the Glades is open to discussing all this with PETA, Hughes said. "We thought we were in dialogue about this, actually, but PETA seems to have stepped away from the table."

Meantime, the church went ahead and brought Judy in for her planned appearance.

"God loves everybody. God loves PETA, too," Hughes said, "even if we disagree on this."

Do Not Date

Dwight Johnson might be the worst boyfriend in Broward County. His girlfriend of 2004, Tondelaya McKenzie, is dead — shot in the forehead with a pistol at close range. Whether Johnson had a role in that death depends on whether you believe McKenzie's family or the Plantation Police Homicide Unit. You can read all about it in "Grave Doubts," a June 15, 2006 New Times article by Wyatt Olson.

Johnson was never charged, and McKenzie's death was ruled a suicide.

Last week, McKenzie's family received news from the State Attorney's Office about the fate of Johnson's more recent girlfriend, Crystal Hawkins.

In the early morning hours of October 9, 2006, Johnson arrived at his Fort Lauderdale home, on Northwest 9th Street, to find Hawkins discussing his "infidelities" with a neighbor, Hawkins told the Broward Sheriff's Office. "Johnson punched her in the face with a closed fist, slammed her on the ground, and struck her in the back with a table," injuring her shoulder and bloodying her hand, she said.

Hawkins managed to scurry into the house, grab a cell phone, and alert police. When Johnson fled, Hawkins ran after him, to pinpoint his location for the cops.

By the time officers arrived, Johnson had vanished into the night. Despite her injuries, Hawkins played hostess, inviting cops into Johnson's abode to see an array of what she said were purloined goods — flat screen televisions, digital cameras, DVD players, CD burners, vacuum cleaners, a Presto Griddle, power tools, car stereos, computer equipment, and video game consoles — all of which, Hawkins said, Johnson fenced in exchange for pills and crack.

Johnson, now 45, was charged with aggravated battery with a deadly weapon — that would be the table. He pleaded to a misdemeanor battery charge.

In November 2006, BSO posted an advertisement inviting recent victims of theft to come recover their goods. If you're a victim and you missed that ad, let this be your reminder: Head down to the BSO Evidence Warehouse. 'Pipe hears the Presto Griddle is still up for grabs.

Johnson, who couldn't be located to comment, may also be up for grabs. Don't go there, ladies. Even if you're desperate.

Desperate Times

Tailpipe has knocked on enough doors in his time to pity the solicitors who turn up at his own front door. And he's a curious fellow, always up for a chat. Heck, if somebody's peddling something interesting, he might even fork over a few bucks.

That's what happened one day last spring, when a young man he'd never seen in the neighborhood came knocking. The kid couldn't have been older than 13. He seemed shy and dejected as he plowed into his sales pitch, which went something like this: Buy a few weeks of the Sunday Sun-Sentinel for just $8, and I'll get a chance to win a college scholarship.

'Pipe was skeptical. College seemed many years off for this young man. When 'Pipe asked for more details, the kid said the money could pay for books and "stuff."

Hmm. Still not convincing.

Tailpipe already receives the Sentinel and the Miami Herald, worthy newspapers both, at his office, but the kid sure looked pathetic. 'Pipe decided it was time to support his hometown paper again for a good cause and brighten the young man's day with a sale. 'Pipe wrote the check.

Sure enough, the papers started coming every Sunday. Tailpipe dropped the extras in the recycling bin. But they kept showing up, again and again and again. Wasn't this short trial period over yet?

When someone from the Sun-Sentinel called, asking for a renewal, Tailpipe declined.

Finally, the paper stopped showing up. But the Sun-Sentinel circulation geniuses had forwarded Tailpipe's phone number to a collection agency for payment on the papers it had delivered, unsolicited, for weeks after the trial period. The amount the newspaper says Tailpipe owes: $7.62.

Collection agents have now phoned three times, threatening a black mark on the 'Pipe's credit history. This all smells like extortion. Since when does a newspaper try to shake down the public?

Maybe the collection gambit is an act of desperation by a troubled newspaper. According to the latest figures from the Audit Bureau of Circulations, the Sun-Sentinel's paid subscriptions for its Sunday paper declined 6.3 percent, to 285,559, in the six months leading up to October. It's hard to see how $7.62 will make much of a dent in the Sun-Sentinel's losses, but the 'Pipe figures in times like these, every little bit helps.