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through the breeder grapevine. A local terrier breeder, Ann Zevnik, told the Wilmington, Delaware, News Journal that she’d known Wolf a decade earlier when he bred Pekingese and Maltese. “He was a wonderful breeder, but he dropped out of showing dogs long ago,” Zevnik said. The SPCA fielded several calls from people defending Wolf. “A man has a right to earn a living” was the gist of their comments. But as information sifted out about the abhorrent condition of his dogs, the criticism faded.
    With the exception of Crystal Messaros, the neighbor who had complained about the foul smell emanating from Wolf’s property, nearby residents professed surprise to learn that Wolf had been housing so many dogs. “In the summer, you can hear dogs barking sometimes, but you can only see a couple at a time,” Harvey Stidham, who operated an auto body shop across the highway, told a reporter. Tom Rickards, who lived across the highway, told the Daily Local News he rarely smelled anything, “though once in a while you would get a whiff.”
    Green was puzzled at how Wolf could come across as intelligent and caring and yet be blind to such squalor. She marveled at his charisma. She could see he had the kind of showbiz personality that could persuade people to spend $2,500 on a puppy. And she was struck by the fact that Wolf had initially allowed Shaw and Siddons to inspect the property—something he didn’t have to do.
    “He had the right to say, ‘No, you’re not allowed to come onto my property,’ but he didn’t. And he allowed us to take pictures,” Green said. “Why did he let them in?”
    Wolf’s defenders argued that he wasn’t a puppy miller, he was a hoarder—a term used to describe people who collect animals, often by the hundreds, and usually keep them in deplorable conditions under the misguided belief that they are saving their lives. The SPCA’s Turnbull didn’t buy it. Wolf was trying to turn a profit by selling his dogs; that was the difference, in her view. By setting aside a relatively clean area in which to meet customers, he was tricking the public into believing that the rest of his kennel was in decent shape.
    Shaw, too, was convinced Wolf knew what he was doing. Not only was he selling dogs, he was producing multiple breeds for profit. There was no question in her mind that he was operating a puppy mill.
    Within days of the raid, Wolf erased any evidence that he and Trottier had been selling dogs on the Internet. Gone were the websites peddling the Havanese, the English Bulldogs, the Papillons, and the Cavaliers. But Shaw was one step ahead of him. She had already downloaded the ads and notified the D.A.’s office about their existence. Months later, when Wolf’s attorney asked Shaw in court if she had proof that the websites existed, she was able to say that she did. “It was right there in black and white,” she testified.
    Wolf’s refusal to relinquish the dogs left the SPCA no choice. Four days after the raid, on February 15, authorities filed a slew of charges again Wolf, Trottier, and Hills. Wolf was charged with 337 counts of animal cruelty, 200 citations for having unlicensed dogs, and 100 citations for having dogs without current rabies vaccinations.
    Trottier was charged with 65 counts of animal cruelty, 50 citations for unlicensed dogs, and 50 citations for dogs without current rabies vaccinations. Hills was charged with 269 counts of animal cruelty.
    The state Bureau of Dog Law Enforcement also charged Wolf and Trottier with operating an unlicensed kennel.
    Turnbull had left for vacation on the actual day of the raid. When she returned a week later, she was struck by how traumatized the staff was from having worked the Mike-Mar case. Green, one of her closest friends on staff, was practically reeling from the experience.
    The dogs were suffering even more. After examining them, Larry Dieter, the SPCA shelter’s veterinarian, compiled a long list of their ailments. The dogs had