DUNEDIN — After three weeks of telephoned threats, the disc jockeys could take no more.
Nick Van Cleeve and John Moore of WXGL 107.3 feared for their safety and that of their families. The station called police.
The arrest of Patricia Ann Immendorf, 50, of Dunedin not only calmed fears at the radio station, it put an entire neighborhood at ease.
For the first time in years, residents of a Dunedin waterfront community said they could open blinds, go for walks, sleep soundly.
This small-framed woman with dark hair and wide, expressive eyes has sent fear pulsing through her community. She has been accused of spray-painting homes, firing guns and beaming stadium-strength floodlights from her roof into nearby houses in the dead of night.
Some residents, afraid nothing ever would be done, packed up and left. Others called police, over and over. Another bought a gun.
"Let me tell you," neighbor Bill Honeycutt Sr. said. "It's no way to live your life."
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At first, everything seemed perfect: a quiet neighborhood, a picturesque view of the gulf across the street, grandchildren just up the road.
But it didn't last long.
Honeycutt, 72, and wife Carolyn, 69, said their grandkids no longer visit. The couple stopped taking walks. They no longer sit in their back yard. One time, they slept on the floor in case bullets flew through a window.
They're terrified of the woman next door. "We're hostages in our own home," said Bill Honeycutt.
In the past six years, the Honeycutts have filed countless complaints, appealed to the code enforcement board nearly 30 times and spent about $14,000 in legal fees trying to stop Immendorf's "dangerous" behavior.
In 2005, perhaps the worst single year, the problems ranged from nighttime gunshots and blaring rock 'n' roll music to the letters KKK spray-painted on the Honeycutts' home. Once, Immendorf beamed floodlights from her roof directly into the Honeycutt house for hours, they said.
An order of protection filed against Immendorf in 2008 forced her to stay away from the Honeycutts. But only for a year.
In 2010, Immendorf was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct. In February of this year, she was charged with possession of medication without a prescription. And in April, she was accused of stalking the Honeycutts' son, William Honeycutt, 45, of Palm Harbor.
"This woman is nuts. She won't stop," said Roger Hildebrant, 65, who lives down the street. "I don't know how the Honeycutts have put up with it for so long."
Hildebrant, a retired corrections officer from New Jersey, said he and many of his neighbors have tried to keep their distance, even though they've heard the music, the gunshots and the sirens. They just wanted to stay out of it, he said.
Until they had no choice.
For Hildebrant, that was earlier this year, when music blasting from Immendorf's house woke him up. He called authorities and was told deputies already were on their way.
The next morning, Immendorf phoned. A couple of nights later, she came to his house. Within a month, she was back. Horn blaring, she flashed her high-beam headlights at his home as she sat in a car, "hollering, screaming, cursing, saying she's going to kill me, this and that," he said.
The incident inspired other neighbors to act.
For the first time in his life, Hildebrant bought a gun.
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Like many radio stations, 107.3 "the Eagle" encourages listeners to call in. They take song requests, comments, even banter with callers. Immendorf, who likes the station's classic rock music, said she was just doing what they wanted.
But when they said "call us," DJs Van Cleeve and Moore didn't mean hundreds of times.
In radio station recordings of Immendorf's calls, she said she would kill the DJs and threatened to do unimaginable things to their children.
"When you have a case like this, the safety of our staff is our utmost concern," spokesman Keith Lawless said.
Immendorf was arrested Aug. 1 on two charges of stalking Moore and Van Cleeve.
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Patricia Immendorf says she knows why she's in jail: because her neighbors want her house and the city wants her money.
"I come from a totally innocent and clear background, and then one day I was turned into the biggest criminal in the world," she said in a jailhouse interview.
"I don't understand why no one is considering I have a life too, and that's my neighborhood as well," said Immendorf, her eyes misting. "They're all trying to get me out."
A former flight attendant for U.S. Airways, Immendorf won a large medical malpractice settlement in 2004 that she said spurred threats from neighbors and the city.
Dunedin attorney Jay Daigneault dismissed her claims, saying the city "has no need or desire" for her property.
Immendorf was diagnosed this month by a court-appointed psychiatrist, who said she displays signs of bipolar disorder with psychotic features.
Immendorf said she sees a psychiatrist regularly. She said she has been prescribed medication for mood disorders in the past. But Judge Philip J. Federico said she also seems to "self-medicate."
That's where the music comes in, Immendorf said. It connects her to the past and helps her remember better times.
Felicia Cohen, 52, who would occasionally invite Immendorf to her home next door, said Immendorf, a divorcee, has few friends and doesn't talk to her family.
"In a way she's very sweet. … But it just makes you wonder why no one sticks around," said Cohen, who moved away after tiring of the neighborhood ordeal.
Immendorf has been called the "neighbor from hell," and not just by those who live nearby.
After hearing a case on false police reports filed by Immendorf, County Judge John D. Carballo said: "You have these people at their wits' end. And I don't know what I would do if I was them."
Immendorf is a danger to society and should be kept in the state hospital, said Christopher LaBruzzo of the Pinellas-Pasco State Attorney's Office, who is prosecuting Immendorf on the DJ stalking case.
Even the city of Dunedin has deemed her a "hazard" to others.
City officials have recordings of Immendorf's threats to neighbors and their relatives.
In a rare move cities usually reserve for curbing violent gang behavior, the city of Dunedin has filed a lawsuit against Immendorf, asking a judge to bar her from driving down certain roads, playing loud music and engaging in disruptive behavior.
Immendorf, who grew up in North Pinellas, said she just wants neighbors to leave her alone: "It's like a girl has a little too much fun and it's a crime," she said.
Immendorf, who declined to say whether she owns a firearm, said she won't be forced from her home by neighbors.
Some say this "horror movie" would not end even if she left.
"She'd come back," the junior Honeycutt said.
Dunedin residents fear a more sinister conclusion. "When someone is dragged out of here in a coffin it's not going to matter whether she was charged with violating a city code, misdemeanor or a felony," Hildebrant said. "It's going to be too late."