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I’ll never forget the first time that I saw some of Paul McKee’s properties in North St. Louis.

It was March 2008, more than a decade ago. Back then, McKee's name wasn't familiar to many St. Louisans. He was just the developer behind Winghaven, a place I only knew about because a new highway exit had popped up along Highway 40 during my time at Truman State University in the late '90s. It was apparently some sort of ideal, planned suburban community, and it was a real coup that MasterCard had opened an office there. It seemed like a million miles from that sad, devastated block of Wright Street in St. Louis Place.

At the time, I could have easily stood out in the middle of the desolate street while walking alongside my tour guide, a resident of Old North who'd been following the mysterious buying-up of houses in neighborhoods east of Grand Boulevard. We'd nicknamed the entity Blairmont, after one of the LLCs that was anonymously buying up properties. Despite the popular myth that these houses were already empty and neglected, many were still occupied; some residents said their first realization that their homes had been sold was when eviction notices arrived.

By the time I saw Wright Street, many of the vacant houses had been hit by brick thieves. I frequently talked to the remaining residents, and they told me what it was like to live with empty, unsecured houses nearby. First, there were the brick thieves; it happened to so many houses, someone coined the term "dollhousing" to describe how passersby could see right into the rooms, many with wallpaper and appliances still intact, after one side of the building was dismantled. Then, in 2008, there was a series of arsons. Even today, some of those burned-out husks remain.

Look at the photo above, taken in 2008, of a beautiful building on Wright Street. In less than a year, it would be destroyed. I think about the people who lived in it, the people who could have lived in it, and the loss to our shared cultural fabric. Some people said we cared more about buildings than people, and that's just not true. People live in buildings, including those beautiful homes on Wright Street. When I lament the loss of these houses, I do so because they are tangible reminders of the people who are now gone.

In the same vein, the worst part of the McKee-owned, unsecured Clemens Mansion burning down last year was not so much the loss of a historic building (something that also troubled nearby residents), but the fact that red-hot embers showered a neighborhood filled with innocent people at night.

Fast forward to this week, when the city cut ties with McKee just one day before Missouri Attorney General Josh Hawley filed a civil lawsuit against the developer for alleged “tax credit fraud, breach of a tax credit application, and unjust enrichment.”

McKee likely had help along the way, though. There are some people talking a good game in public who quietly hoped to benefit from McKee’s grand scheme. There are also people who supported McKee’s plans who might have changed their minds if they'd talked to residents of North St. Louis.

For now, this whole ugly affair is far from over. McKee still owns myriad parcels across North St. Louis, many with dilapidated buildings. Numerous lives have been dramatically impacted over the years.

Will there be justice?

Chris Naffziger writes about architecture at St. Louis Patina. Contact him via email at naffziger@gmail.com.