Colorado bison deaths anger town

Colleen Slevin | The Associated Press

9/11/2008 - 9/12/08

Software executive accused in death of 32 bison who roamed onto his property


FAIRPLAY, Colo. — Jeff Hawn, a software executive who owns a luxury home outside this old Colorado mining town, warned his neighbor, rancher Monte Downare, to keep his bison from roaming onto Hawn's property or risk having them hunted. Hawn later sued Downare, alleging the bison had turned his land in South Park, Colo., into a "feed lot."

Nine days later, shots rang out on the snow-covered plains ringed by mountains. The remains of 32 bison — 20 of them close to delivering calves — were strewn across Hawn's property and nearby land. Deputies learned that 14 hunters from southern Colorado had a letter from Hawn giving them permission to hunt bison on his property.

Now Hawn — the president and chief executive officer of Seattle-based Attachmate who lives in Austin, Texas — finds himself in criminal court, charged with theft and 32 counts of aggravated animal cruelty. The case has outraged many in Fairplay, a town of about 700 founded by gold prospectors in 1859. It's also drawn attention to Colorado's "open range" laws and the local politics of fencing.

Prosecutors on Monday will try to convince a judge there's enough evidence to go to trial. Hawn is represented by Pamela Mackey, the lawyer who defended Kobe Bryant against sexual assault charges at a Vail, Colo.-area resort in 2003 that were later dropped.

Hawn didn't respond to two messages left on his cell phone or another left with a spokeswoman at Attachmate. Mackey didn't return telephone calls or an e-mail seeking comment.

Another Hawn attorney, Steve Csajaghy, said he couldn't discuss the case. But he told the Rocky Mountain News in March that Hawn "had no other choice" but to get rid of the bison to protect himself.

Downare didn't return two telephone messages seeking comment, and District Attorney Molly Chilson said she couldn't discuss the case in advance of the hearing.

Since posting a $15,000 bond in May, Hawn has needed court permission for business travel as well as a Cayman Islands vacation with his wife and four children.

In his Feb. 25 letter inviting the hunters, Hawn said they could hunt animals on his property or remove them live.

Investigators believe the hunters intended to use meat and hides from 10 of the bison slain March 19 — but as many as 16 had been killed and left to rot weeks before. They also believe Hawn may have shot some himself. According to court documents, 10 of the carcasses were in plain view of his house and some of the bullets they recovered were similar to test rounds fired from a rifle found inside the home.

It's hard to find anyone here sympathetic to Hawn. Downare's family is well-established, and people in Fairplay, the county seat, and tiny Hartsel, the closest town to his ranch, are quick to defend him. They bemoan the waste of so much bison meat and talk about one of the feud's central issues — fences.

Miles of barbed-wire fences line area roads and property lines. Unlike rural areas elsewhere in the country, Colorado and most other Western states are "open range," where livestock can roam wherever they wish. If you don't want animals on your property, build a fence to keep them out. Ranchers don't have to fence their animals in.

Given the state's population growth and traffic, Colorado brand commissioner Rich Wahlert, who works to prevent livestock theft and regulates stray livestock, said most ranchers still try to fence their livestock. Since buffalo are stouter than cattle, he said, they can break through the minimal three-barbed-wire fencing required by Colorado law. Many buffalo producers build taller and stronger fences to keep animals in even though they aren't required to.

Wahlert said livestock are bound to escape from any kind of fence, and Downare has a good track record of responding quickly to calls of stray buffalo, which can weigh a ton and jump six feet.

In the civil suit Hawn filed on March 10, he said his barbed-wire fences were sturdy and similar to others in the county. The suit seeks payment for damage caused by Downare's buffalo.

Hawn said the bison knocked his satellite television dishes off-line and left dung, tracks and hair on "pristine pasture on rolling hills." He included a photograph of three bison walking past his deck as evidence.

Park County investigators allege Hawn initially paid one of the hunters $2,000 to build corrals to capture and remove the buffalo live. When he asked for more money, Hawn allegedly said if the hunters didn't remove the animals in one week, he would invite paying hunters to kill the animals. Ranches that raise bison for meat sometimes allow people to hunt them for about $2,000 a head.

In Downare's victim impact statement, he said Hawn's invitation to the hunters was "crazy." When asked on the form if he would like any special conditions imposed on Hawn, besides paying for the lost bison, valued at $77,000, Downare wrote: "I would like him to fence his property good and leave my livestock alone."

Downare's bison were killed during a harsh winter in South Park, an area that lent its name to the animated television series. Resident Cindi Raymer noted that roaming animals are a given and were especially so last winter, when snow covered many fences.

Raymer, a bartender at the Hob Cafe & Saloon, had a simple answer when talking with owner Violet Jacobus about whether the area can stay open range with an influx of retirees and second-home owners.

"Just fence the people out," she said with a laugh.