Fight the Powerless

In the months following, the attorney repeatedly spotted Reiter hanging around the courthouse, and he says the encounters weren’t coincidental. He pleaded with prosecutors to reinstate the assault case and add a stalking charge, but they reminded him that, like the park, the courthouse is open to everyone, including a homeless man like Reiter.

Because his accuser was a lawyer, Reiter became versed in court procedures, studying at law libraries and observing trials at the courthouse. Reiter, a college graduate, figured he had to learn as much as possible about criminal law if he had any chance of fighting the allegations. The self-proclaimed activist also began regularly attending Metro Council meetings to advocate for the homeless, and last year he even made an unsuccessful bid for an at-large seat on the council.

Meanwhile, Longaberger continued to complain about the homeless man, and prosecutors ultimately resurrected the assault case. In addition, he further accused Reiter of stalking and sought a protection order.

A judge eventually threw out the misdemeanor stalking warrant, though, declaring at a hearing last spring: “Mr. Reiter has never done anything that is threatening to Mr. Longaberger. I don’t find that his actions would reasonably cause a person to feel terrorized, threatened or intimidated. I’m dismissing the warrant.”

But it would be another year before Reiter—who had no criminal record before his encounters with Longaberger—was completely cleared of wrongdoing.

In selecting a jury at the start of Reiter’s trial last Monday, defense lawyer Patrick Frogge—who took the case pro bono—questioned prospective jurors about their views on homelessness before launching into an opening argument that at times touched on broader, social issues.

“Mr. Longaberger could not walk out his front door without seeing homeless people. He came to believe homeless people owned the park, and he didn’t like it,” Frogge argued at the start of the trial. He further suggested that Longaberger became obsessed, which is evidenced by the many photographs and hours of videotape he took from his window. “Mr. Reiter is not a shy man,” Frogge said of his client. “When he saw someone crouched down in the bushes taking pictures of homeless people, he wanted to know who that person was.”

Only two witnesses testified at trial: the officer who issued the misdemeanor citation and Longaberger. Neither convinced the jury, which deliberated for 30 minutes before finding the defendant not guilty. In the end, though, Reiter wound up spending 45 days in jail, in part because he couldn’t afford to post bond.

In explaining the jury’s verdict, Longaberger suggests the jurors merely felt sorry for the “poor, pitiful” homeless man.

But Reiter says his accuser is to thank for the outcome: “The jury saw right through him on the stand.... His vindictiveness and mean-spiritedness came shining through.”

During a preliminary hearing last year, Longaberger voiced his concern about homeless advocacy groups running the city’s streets, saying, “We might be safer having al-Qaeda than the Homeless Power Project living in our community.” Despite such comments, he denies having any ill will toward the homeless, but admits he never has been very friendly with them: “If that’s hating somebody, then fine.”

Interestingly, Longaberger may be even more unpopular at the DA’s Office, which has long suffered his persistent and frivolous complaints. On a website chronicling his legal battle—statevreiter.com—Longaberger boldly accuses a prosecutor with close ties to local homeless advocates of using her position to “influence the preparation of a faulty warrant and its ultimate dismissal.”

“There are a lot of allegations Mr. Longaberger has made against our office,” says Susan Niland, spokeswoman for Nashville’s district attorney. “These claims are utterly unfounded and without any support whatsoever.”