A trooper's comeback; a native's home stand

When Florida Highway Patrol Trooper Deborah Hawkins regained consciousness, she realized that she couldn't move her badly mangled legs, and that somebody would have to let her dog Chewy out.

On Feb. 27, 1997, Hawkins had stopped on the eastbound side of the Howard Frankland Bridge to help divert traffic while a motorist changed a tire. Moments later, a Ford Bronco driven by 19-year-old Christopher Ellsworth slammed into her patrol car, which hit Hawkins and pinned her against the bridge's concrete wall.

In the first weeks after the accident, Hawkins didn't know if she would ever walk, or even keep her legs. By October 1997, she was back at work at the patrol's Orlando barracks.

Hawkins, 36, has endured about 10 surgeries. Some were to put in rods, plates and screws; others were to graft new bone and muscle. She persevered.

Hawkins was able to get rid of her crutches more than a year ago.

"I may not be able to run like I used to," she says, "but I can move quickly if I need to."

Though she is eager to get back on patrol, her doctor and bosses have been reluctant to give approval. For now, she remains a staff duty officer, processing DUI reports and traffic citations, acting as court liaison officer and assisting the evidence custodian.

She lives in Orlando with a roommate and a cocker spaniel, Chewy Jr. Chewy died of cancer in 2000. She golfs and goes to Orlando Miracle basketball games. "I can't afford the Magic games," she says.

She remains committed to someday getting her patrol car back. "I'd love it if I could. No one said yes, no one said no."

Charlie Strickland might see yet another fence go up on what was once his ancestors' land. Progress has claimed another corner of rural Thonotosassa, but the simple, weathered hermit is more determined than ever to stay put.

Developers broke ground three years ago on Pine Ridge Estates. Its outer road is a stone's toss from a 261- by 58-foot plot guarded by chain link fence. Inside, two headstones mark the graves of Strickland's 19th century ancestors.

The tiny patch of land is virtually all that remains of the once sprawling Strickland property, where young Charlie grew up. Now 71 manufactured homes spread out before it.

Strickland, 63, has made himself caretaker of the cemetery. He lives just outside the fence in a camp of sorts that includes a makeshift shed, tools, lawn equipment, boats, furniture, stacks of firewood and two inoperative Datsun pickup trucks. Several pet dogs and chickens keep him company.

Strickland lives off a monthly disability check, sleeps in a camper trailer and gets water from a spigot outside a nearby Circle K.

The developers of Pine Ridge may put a fence between Camp Charlie and an adjoining lot with the development's last vacancies. But Strickland's presence is being tolerated, and he has accepted his new neighbors.

"They wave, I wave back," Strickland said. "Nobody bothers me. I get along with everybody."

Over the years Strickland has earned the nicknames Peanut Charlie and the mayor of Thonotosassa. He used to sell peanuts on the roadside and still holds court at the Circle K with a group of neighborhood regulars to catch up on Thonotosassa gossip. He often arrives on his riding lawn mower.

Locals check on him regularly. With a plastic ankle and hip -- the results of old injuries -- Strickland is not very mobile. He prefers to have folks come to him.

When they do, they see the oak-shaded headstones, facing east. And they still see Strickland, "just takin' it easy. Takin' care of my animals."

- Michael Canning can be reached at (813) 226-3408, or canning@sptimes.com.

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