Circuit Court

Mary Ryan is running late again.

Her colleagues cringe as she swoops into the Kansas City, Kansas, meeting room of the city's electric company wearing jeans and swinging a bulky purse.

"What time is it?" Ryan demands, interrupting the Board of Public Utilities meeting.

"Three minutes after six," board President John Petty answers. Ryan jerks her chair from the table, drops the purse and plops into the black leather seat.

"Well, that's three minutes too fast!" the tardy board member barks.

Board member Loretta Colombel attempts to move the meeting along.

"Mr. Petty ..."

"Didn't I say something about synchronizing the clocks in this building?" snaps Ryan. Two weeks earlier, Ryan had insisted at a board meeting that all the clocks in the BPU building read the same time.

"You know, we've all been here since ..." Petty begins.

"I don't care how long you've been here! What time is it?"

"Three minutes after six. I'm going by that clock right there," Petty tells Ryan.

"Well, that clock's wrong!"

As Petty facilitates the meeting, utility General Manager Leon Daggett and four board members study their agendas, and a videotape recorder rolls. Ryan reaches beneath the table and hauls the bulging purse onto her lap. She rummages noisily until she finds a pair of wire-framed John Lennon sunglasses with round lenses. She places the dark spectacles over her eyes.

As the rest of the board discusses budget matters -- a $4.2 million repair expense from a fire at the Nearman Creek power plant last year and $2.4 million in bills from an explosion at the utility's Quindaro plant -- Ryan, who hasn't brought her agenda, faces straight ahead. She drums her fingers relentlessly on the dark wood of the long, walnut conference table. Her microphone broadcasts her impatience: Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

The noise reverberates while others attempt to speak. Colombel, sitting beside Ryan, glances at her. Ryan continues to drum forcefully, occasionally slapping her palm on the table. She turns and glares coldly, silently at Colombel from behind the dark lenses.

The board discusses $3 million in incentives that BPU has promised to Kansas Speedway Corporation. Ryan brings up a $25,000 cash sponsorship payment she says local driver Jennifer Cobb will receive to race a car with the BPU logo at the track's opening day on June 2. In fact, the payments to Cobb totaled $10,000 and came from the BPU's marketing budget (not the racetrack incentive package) to fund several promotional appearances. Still, Ryan expounds on her theory for a minute or two.

"I could drive that race car myself and toot my horn," Ryan proclaims. She leans forward and peers at the others through her Lennon shades, scanning their baffled faces. "Why don't you let medrive that race car? I think I could manage. And I wouldn't charge BPU $25,000 for my services." After several minutes of flamboyant declarations from Ryan, Colombel finally interjects.

"Point of order, Mr. President. Could we continue ..."

"SHUT UP, LORETTA!" Ryan roars.

The Board of Public Utilities of the Unified Government of Kansas City, Kansas, and Wyandotte County maintains the city's municipal waterworks and electrical plants. Only 15 percent of utilities in the United States are government-owned. The BPU's six board members each receive $250 a month to serve.

The board hires the utility's general manager, controls a $230 million budget and sets policies for BPU operations that affect 60,000 electricity and 50,000 water customers. Wyandotte County voters elect the board members to look out for rate payers' interests.

Ryan was elected to the board in 1997 and re-elected on April 3 of this year. She is a sharp critic of Daggett, who was hired as the BPU's general manager in 1995. Ryan has accused Daggett -- without providing substantiation -- of wasting BPU dollars and plotting to sell the BPU to a private utility. After Ryan changed seats and narrowly defeated fellow incumbent John Feeback for the No. 2, at-large position on the board this spring, her efforts to protect BPU rate payers took several odd turns.

She talked at length in meetings, insulting Daggett and prolonging thirty-minute agendas to nearly two hours.

Lately, board member Loretta Colombel claims, Ryan has arrived unannounced in front of her colleague's home, demanding to talk about Daggett, Mayor Carol Marinovich and BPU business. Colombel says Ryan has dropped by Colombel's workplace, minutes after Colombel left, to interrogate staff members about her habits and whereabouts. Sometimes, as Colombel stepped from her car in the driveway at home, she would glimpse Ryan cruising by.

Ryan became preoccupied with Daggett's personal life, telephoning his ex-wife's attorney in Ohio to dig up private information, says Daggett. She also grew suspicious of Colombel, whom she accused of aligning with "an inner circle" of "good old boys." A lawsuit accuses Ryan of falsely declaring that BPU officials "were committing all kinds of crimes and illegal activities."

"She would start with totally false statements," recalls Colombel. "When we voted on something, she'd say, 'Oh, is that a friend of yours? What do you get out of it?'" Ryan accused Colombel, who owns a restaurant in Kansas City, Kansas, of having clandestine catering ties with BPU. "Mary wanted to know how much money I made off BPU catering contracts," says Colombel. "When I became a board member, I didn't want anything to look improper. I don't do any catering for BPU. My word and my personality just wouldn't allow that.