Butch Brickell, the laconic owner of the shipyard, sums up his dilemma: "They owed me quite a bit of back rent so I kicked 'em out." In August 1995 a tug (not Winfield's -- he says by then he preferred not to deal with that recurring headache) nudged the freighter just across the river to the vacant property. "We literally woke up one morning and there it was," says J. Raul Cosio, attorney for the property owner, a corporation called Miami Trade Center.
In September 1995 Captain Miller of the Coast Guard issued an order requiring the Rex Bear's owners to submit a lay-up proposal -- a plan describing where the ship would be, for how long, and what it would be doing there -- and to either secure pollution insurance or remove potentially hazardous materials. Thus began an extended and convoluted series of exchanges, mainly in the form of mountains of faxed correspondence, between Carazo and governmental officials all over Florida. After a few months of letter-writing, in which Carazo detailed her numerous efforts to find a home for the ship and promised extensive repairs, local authorities were beginning to lose patience and even once or twice accused her of trying to mislead them. Nothing changed on the Rex Bear, so the Coast Guard told Carazo she'd have to pay a $25,000 fine for not complying with the captain's order (the maximum is $25,000 per day, so they figured they were being lenient).
By then almost everyone on the river knew that the Rex Bear was a big problem for a lot of people. The standoff was discussed at meetings of the Quality Action Team and the Miami River Coordinating Committee, both of which are coalitions of various agencies (nearly 40 different regulatory bodies have jurisdiction over the river), and at meetings of the Miami River Marine Group, which Mike Zapetis derisively calls a "club." And of course the Rex Bear's multiplying troubles came up -- along with other river news, views, and rumors -- during informal gossip sessions. Nobody could quite understand why the government hadn't just nabbed the thing. But even more of a mystery was what exactly could Zapetis be thinking? How were he and Carazo planning to make money off this old crippled ship?
One businessman, speaking on condition of anonymity, speculates: "Mike Zapetis is waiting for some agency to grab it, then sue the shit out of them. He has a plan. He's a smart guy. Way superior to me."
"This happens maybe once or twice in ten, fifteen years," observes Rick Reid of Florida Marine Towing, basing his conclusions on thirty-plus years in the river business. "I don't know the background as far as why it got moved around, but usually when they do, they have legal problems. Sounds like the ship owes money to everybody -- crew, people working on it, dock fees." Reid says his company may have towed the Rex Bear somewhere at some point, but he doesn't have firsthand involvement in the saga.
Nor does Nick Zapetas, who at age 72 can look back on more than 50 years on the river. A long time ago he changed the spelling of his last name to distance himself from his brother, Mike Zapetis. "I don't fool with my brother Mike," Zapetas says. "I haven't for years. I got took over the barrel with him and learned my lesson. Mike don't treat anything according to Hoyle."
Both Zapetis brothers began working as marine mechanics in their teens. They went into business together, and over the years branched out into buying, selling, and building ships, as well as renovating and converting them. Nick went off on his own more than 30 years ago, he says, after losing $300,000. He does consulting work now, and hasn't paid much attention to the Rex Bear other than to shake his head over its tortured history: "That boat used to run to Haiti. I don't know why they shut it down. As far as I'm concerned it's a hopeless situation. It's another promotional thing. It's a game. You can sell a boat over and over again; maybe you've been selling pieces all along and getting money that way. You can find a buyer, make a contract, when [the buyer] don't come up with money in ten days -- shoo, get outta here. This does happen quite frequently with a lot of people."
Because the ship was in such bad shape by late 1995, Carazo couldn't obtain the pollution insurance required by the Coast Guard, at least not from a U.S. firm. A Costa Rican company was willing to insure the Rex Bear, but it wasn't certified to write such policies, so the Coast Guard rejected that plan.
By August 1996, however, all possible pollutants had been removed from the ship. But finding dock space remained a problem. One terminal at the Port of Miami (not on the river) agreed to accept the ship, but the Coast Guard nixed the plan because "dead ships can't lay up at the port during hurricane season," according to Coast Guard Commander Uberti. Then Carazo arranged for a terminal on the river to take the Rex Bear. But right after the Coast Guard agreed to the plan, a freighter rammed the dock and put it out of commission. "Since then [Carazo] hasn't been in compliance," says Commander Uberti. "There are plenty of places on the river they could dock that boat, but they don't want to pay."
