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His friend Judy McConoughey, a substitute librarian and neighbor who learned from Bayliss how to shoot a gun, said he is only likely to get owly when certain aspects of government are the topic, or when he has been isolated for a while.
So when deputies arrived to serve legal papers to confiscate his rural Viola, Wis., home in March, after he had been snowed in for most of the winter, something was bound to happen.
“I like him. He is extremely gentle, kind, thoughtful, respectful,” said McConoughey, who met Bayliss at the library, and who, with her husband, until recently lived on a farm near Bayliss’ home.
“It’s only when he is confronted with what he thinks is illegitimate abuse of the Constitution that he gets very upset.”
Deputies or, as Bayliss describes them, “alleged deputies” from several counties would consider that an understatement.
Bayliss, facing numerous charges, including attempted homicide, after a motorized assault and shoot-out at his 18-acre property more than a month ago, spoke publicly for the first time from the Richland County Jail last week. He can’t make bail, which may be up to $1 million, doesn’t have a lawyer, has no place to live anymore, and the silver he squirreled away for retirement has been sold. The amount less than $12,000 was not enough to pay legal fees.
He described how he came to Wisconsin to find a place to live alone in the country after deciding there were too many “non-countrymen” in Illinois. He would not comment directly on why, or whether, he shot at deputies.
Numerous public statements from the authorities, who were shot at during an extended confrontation, might be best boiled down to one made by Richland County Sheriff Darrell Berglin: “It was Mr. Bayliss who decided how this day was going to begin and how this day was going to end.”
Disenchanted
Bayliss said his growing disenchantment with county government fueled in part by commentary he heard on short-wave radio broadcasts and reflected in slogans he frequently refers to stemmed from two incidents: a road-widening project that resulted in the loss of his well, which forced him to spend the past several years filling big blue plastic barrels with water from springs and friend’s sources; and a visit by Richland County authorities in 2000 to deliver a tax delinquency notice for taxes he said he had already paid.
Bayliss doesn’t trust lawyers, or the government, so the prospect of being defended by a government lawyer sets off alarms. He had hoped to hire one on his own, but his income is nil and savings meager. He dismissed a public defender because he didn’t think such a lawyer would be objective, an act that might be re-visited.
Down and out
“I think I own one black leather boot that’s all,” Bayliss said with a wry smile during a two-hour interview. He thumbed through state law books while explaining his political views and background. Everything he owns was destroyed in a fire at the cabin he built from scratch beginning in 1974 along Hwy. G on a hillside outside Viola.
He said he expects to “be sent to jail for 170 years.” (It is 186.5 years, in the unlikely event the maximum sentence is hand down for each of the nine felonies he has been charged with.)
Which would be unjust, he adds, because the “media event” that brought three armored cars and scores of deputies to his land to help evict him was unnecessary.
“If they had simply paid what they owed me for the initial intrusions on my land, then I would have paid that second installment of that property tax, but they didn’t they violated me again,” he said, explaining why he stopped paying his property taxes seven years ago.
On April 3, it took two approaches by one, then three, armored “rescue” vehicles, a gunfight and tear-gas penetration of a tiny cabin to get Bayliss to crawl through a second floor window and surrender.
The house and its contents were destroyed.
Nine charges
Bayliss faces nine charges stemming from that shootout and an unsuccessful legal paper delivery attempted three days earlier. In that first confrontation, deputies had arrived with “civil process papers” related to non-payment of property taxes from 2000 to 2006. With interest, he owed $6,509.44 in property taxes on his 18-acre parcel, which in 2007 was assessed at $30,500. He bought it unimproved on a land contract in 1974 for about $7,000.
The county has written off the debt and now owns the property, which will be sold at auction. The county has set a minimum bid of $40,000.
The crux of the property tax dispute goes back to 2000, when Bayliss was recorded for nonpayment of property taxes, though he says he did pay the first of two installments to the town treasurer. A mail mix-up resulted in his making the payment late, so deputies arrived with a tax delinquency notice, he said.
They trespassed, he said. He had placed a very clear, large “No Trespassing” sign at the entrance to his driveway after being surprised by census takers. Anyone entering, the sign said, had to pay a $5,000 “land-use fee” and get an entry permit.
He said he does not object to paying property taxes. But when the deputies arrived, they were trespassing and he had already paid those taxes, he claims.
So he sent the department a bill for $5,000.
When the county didn’t pay him, he decided he would not pay the county, either.
Bayliss has read the complaints filed against him, which he claims are “all based on lies and distortions,” and has appeared in court without incident and participated in discussions about how the case will proceed. Judy McConoughey, who has attended those hearings when possible, said Bayliss “has great respect for the judge.”
Fringe beliefs
Bayliss did, however, make frequent references in the interview to oaths and constitutional issues and trespassing laws, all familiar themes in what are commonly known as “sovereign” beliefs. There are recent court cases in Wisconsin involving members of groups who place harassing liens on public officials, or refuse to pay taxes based on obscure or false interpretations of the law.
But Bayliss said and McConoughy confirmed that he is not a member of any groups espousing those generally anti-government views and hasn’t stepped any further into that legal morass than the placing the trespassing signs.
McConoughy said that Bayliss has supporters among his neighbors, “most of whom know him and like him. He is basically a peaceable person, I would take him into my home,” she said.
On his own
Bayliss said he has an older brother, Franklin, who is eight years older.
“Dad’s dead. I don’t know about Mom,” he said.
“I haven’t seen him in 30 years,” said a surprised Franklin Bayliss, who did not know his brother was in jail.
Franklin Bayliss said he and his brother had a somewhat difficult childhood, as their mother was diagnosed paranoid-schizophrenic and frequently neglected her medical needs. “It was hard on all of us,” he said, adding their mother now has Alzheimer’s and is in a nursing home.
“I think he wanted to get away from all that,” he said.
What’s next for Bayliss is legal housekeeping. At his last court hearing, he asked for 90 days to prepare as his own lawyer. Without a lawyer, so far, no bail has been set, though District Attorney William Sharp has said he would ask for $1 million bail. It is also possible Bayliss will have a change of mind about getting a public defender.
His next status conference is set for 9 a.m. Wednesday.
You may reach Wisconsin State Journal reporter George Hesselberg at ghesselberg@madison.com or (608) 252-6140.
