WEAR-TV has reported that County Clerk Pam Childers has put the county’s vital tourism industry in turmoil by refusing to pay millions of dollars in invoices. According to reports, Visit Pensacola has nearly tapped out its reserves and may have to take out a bank loan while the organization waits for Childers to cut reimbursement checks for bills, some of which are over six months past due.
-
Pam isn’t the first Childers to wreak havoc in Escambia County.
Twenty-five years ago, we made our name by doing what others wouldn’t dare: investigating the untouchable W.D. Childers.
When W.D. Childers took over as chairman of the Escambia County Commission in June 2001, most people saw a respected elder statesman bringing decades of legislative experience to local government. The former Florida Senate powerhouse, nicknamed the “Banty Rooster” in Tallahassee, had lost his seat due to term limits and returned home to Pensacola with ambitious plans to revolutionize county operations.
- The daily newspaper praised his leadership style. County officials marveled at his effectiveness. But behind the courthouse doors on Palafox Street, a different story was unfolding—one of backroom deals, twisted arms, and fear.
The King of Escambia County
Childers didn’t just win the District 1 commission seat; he orchestrated it. After convincing incumbent Mike Whitehead to step aside, the 5-foot-6-inch former senator swept into office with three decades of political muscle behind him. His reputation preceded him—this was a man who had wielded enormous influence in the state capitol, and he wasn’t about to play small-ball politics in county government.
- From day one, Childers operated like a political boss from another era. Vendors whispered about having their arms twisted. County employees walked on eggshells. As one source told us at the time, “No one crossed the Banty Rooster.”
The transformation was swift and total. Within months, Childers had consolidated power in ways that would have made President Trump and Gov. Ron DeSantis proud. He didn’t just chair meetings—he controlled every aspect of county business, from personnel decisions to million-dollar land deals that happened in the dead of night.
The Unraveling Begins
While the PNJ celebrated Childers’ “efficiency,” we started asking uncomfortable questions. Our news editor, Duwayne Escobedo, began hearing troubling stories from sources too frightened to go on record. The picture that emerged was of a county government operating more like a personal fiefdom than a public institution.
- Our investigation revealed a pattern of questionable land acquisitions worth millions of taxpayer dollars:
- The 48-acre former Pensacola Soccer Complex deal for $3.9 million.
- The Stalnaker Mazda site purchase for $2.3 million.
- Both deals moved through the commission with lightning speed—a stark contrast to the typically glacial pace of government land transactions.
What made these deals particularly suspicious was how they unfolded: late-night meetings, rushed votes, and Childers’ alliance with Commissioner Willie Junior that consistently produced 3-2 majorities. When Commissioner Tom Banjanin emailed his constituents saying, “I smell a rat,” he was voicing what many suspected, but few dared to say publicly.
The Web of Corruption
As our reporting deepened, a more sinister picture emerged. This wasn’t just about questionable land deals—it was about a systematic corruption of the democratic process. Junior, it turned out, was shaking down developers and businessmen with brazen demands for cash payments. Developer Mike Green testified that Junior wanted $5,000 in cash “by Friday” before he could even leave the commission chambers.
- But Childers was the puppet master pulling the strings. Our investigation revealed he had loaned Junior $90,000 in seven payments, complete with a handwritten contract that would give him the Junior Funeral Home building if the debt wasn’t repaid. This wasn’t just influence peddling—it was a carefully constructed system of control.
The most damning evidence came from Junior himself, who later testified that Childers had given him a collard green cooking pot filled with cash, along with a note reading “100” written twice—allegedly meaning they would each receive $100,000.
The Price of Truth-Telling
Our coverage came at a steep cost. The newspaper faced daily threats, both to the business and to us personally. Advertisers were warned of “dire consequences” if they did business with us. Childers himself dismissed our work, telling Escobedo, “That paper is crap. Maybe I’d read it if it had more stories about Elvis.”
- But we pressed on, understanding that someone had to shine light into the dark corners of local government. When a smart publisher might have backed down and tried to make amends, we doubled down on our investigative reporting.
Justice Served
The house of cards finally collapsed when State Attorney Curtis Golden announced a special grand jury investigation. The indictments that followed vindicated our reporting: Childers was ultimately convicted of bribery and unlawful compensation, sentenced to 42 months in state prison. He served nearly three years before his release in 2009.
The broader corruption scandal swept away multiple commissioners and exposed a web of kickbacks, bribes, and backroom deals that had infected county government. Junior, facing the consequences of his testimony against Childers, tragically took his own life by drinking antifreeze rather than face sentencing.
-
Our investigation demonstrated that even the most entrenched political figures weren’t above scrutiny—or above the law.
PODCAST
In March 2015, I sat down with Duwayne Escobedo—who covered the story extensively for Inweekly. He shared insider details about the corruption case that brought down powerful state senator-turned-county commissioner WD Childers and the mysterious death of his co-conspirator Willie Jr.
This episode offers a rare glimpse into one of Northwest Florida’s most significant political corruption cases through the eyes of the journalist who was there every step of the way. Note: This interview was recorded while Escobedo was undergoing cancer treatment, adding a poignant personal dimension to his professional reflections.
