INGLIS, Fla. — It truly was an ambitious undertaking. But Carolyn Risher, mayor of this coastal hamlet of shrimp fishermen and God-fearing folk, believed that the hour had come to cleanse her town of the giver of evil: Satan himself.
His grip on the community, she'd noticed, had become disturbingly apparent: A father had molested a child; teenagers were dressing in black and powdering their faces white; pot and crystal-meth use was on the uptick.
So she sat at her kitchen table on Halloween night in 2001 and drafted a proclamation. The words flowed from her pen, she recalled later, almost as if God was guiding her hand.
"Be it known from this day forward," she began, "that Satan, ruler of darkness, giver of evil, destroyer of what is good and just, is not now, nor ever again will be, a part of this town of Inglis.... In the past, Satan has caused division, animosity, hate, confusion, ungodly acts on our youth, and discord among our friends and loved ones. NO LONGER!"
And finally:
"We exercise our authority over the devil in Jesus' name. By that authority, and through His Blessed Name, we command all satanic and demonic forces to cease their activities and depart the town of Inglis."
The mayor printed her proclamation on official stationery. She stamped it with a gold seal. She signed it and, along with Sally McCranie, the town clerk, made copies and stuffed them into four, hollowed-out wooden posts on which were painted "repent," "request," "resist."
Then, together with a local pastor, a town commissioner and the chief of police, the mayor went to each of Inglis' four entrances and, in the name of the town's 1,421 residents, fixed those messages of banishment into the ground.
"My main goal was to wake Inglis up," Risher, 62, told a visitor recently. "If the proclamation could get people to wake up and realize that they needed God, then it would be a success -- then Inglis would be saved."
Would it, though? Would banning the Prince of Darkness from the town's three square miles deliver Inglis from drugs, thieves and drunk drivers? Would it ease the fears of a small, isolated community -- frustrated by joblessness and uneasy about war overseas and terrorism at home -- and attract an angel of light?
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