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What makes a historic district "historic"?
You might think it's about preserving buildings of genuine historical significance. Colonial architecture. Antebellum homes. Structures that witnessed important events or housed important people. Places where history actually happened.
You would be wrong—at least in Biloxi.
In Biloxi, "historic" means whatever Jerry Creel decides it means. And Jerry Creel went on television and told you exactly what it means to him.
The Confession
In an August 2019 news segment about the Division Street widening project near Keesler Air Force Base, Jerry Creel—Community Development Director, Building Official, Historic Preservation Director, and Board of Adjustments Secretary—explained why he pushed to expand the West Central Historic District.
His words, on camera:
"As we were doing the acquisition on some of the properties there, it occurred to us that some of these structures that are going to be demolished, once they're demolished, the structures that are immediately behind these existing structures would then become the face of the new Division Street entrance to Keesler."— Jerry Creel, WLOX News, August 2019
So far, so reasonable. The city is widening a road. Buildings will be demolished. Other buildings will become visible.
Then Creel reveals the real purpose:
"So I suggested to the administration that we might want to turn this into a review district so that any proposed changes to the exterior of the buildings would go through the Architectural Historical Review Commission for review and approval."— Jerry Creel, WLOX News, August 2019
He "suggested" it. This was Creel's idea. He wanted oversight over what property owners do with their own buildings.
But here's the confession—the part where Creel says the quiet part out loud:
"This would only be triggered in the event that one of those people that lived in those existing houses came in and wanted to renovate or change the outside appearance."
Read that again.
The "historic" district isn't about preserving history. It's about controlling what property owners do with their own homes. It's triggered when you want to make changes. The history isn't in the buildings—the history is in Creel's authority to tell you no.
"Historic" Without the History
Here's what Creel's expansion actually did: it captured properties that have zero historical significance and subjected them to "historic" review requirements.
These aren't antebellum mansions. These aren't Civil War landmarks. These aren't architecturally significant structures that deserve preservation. These are ordinary homes and businesses that happened to be located behind buildings the city demolished for a road project.
Their "historic" significance? They became visible from the new street.
That's it. That's the criteria. If Jerry Creel can see your house from a road, your house is now "historic"—and you need his permission to paint it.
The word "historic" is doing a lot of work here. It implies legitimacy. It implies preservation of something valuable. It implies public interest in protecting cultural heritage.
What it actually means in Biloxi: Jerry Creel controls your property.
The "Censure" Admission
Elsewhere, Creel has been even more explicit about the purpose. He's admitted that historic district authority serves to "censure property owners."
Not preserve. Not protect. Not honor. Censure.
Censure means to express severe disapproval. Censure means to officially reprimand. Censure is what you do to people who have done something wrong.
In Jerry Creel's Biloxi, wanting to renovate your own home is something wrong. Wanting to change the exterior appearance of your own property is something wrong. Exercising your property rights without Creel's permission is something wrong.
And the "historic" district gives him the authority to censure you for it.
How the Scheme Works
The historic district expansion isn't about history. It's about control. And control feeds the machine.
Step 4: Stop Work Orders generate criminal charges (through Creel's Deputy Clerk). Criminal charges generate legal fees. Legal fees go to Peter Abide at $150/hour.
Step 5: Property owners who fight back face the full weight of the machine—the same machine Creel built, Creel operates, and Creel profits from.
The "historic" designation isn't preservation. It's a trap. And Creel baited it himself, on television, while explaining how clever he was to think of it.
The Aesthetic Fraud
The news segment included another revealing exchange. When asked whether the historic rules would raise property taxes or force changes, the response was clear:
"No, it doesn't work that way. This would only be triggered in the event that one of those people that lived in those existing houses came in and wanted to renovate or change the outside appearance."
Translation: We won't make you do anything. We'll just stop you from doing what you want.
This is the aesthetic fraud at the heart of Biloxi's "historic" district. It doesn't preserve anything. It doesn't protect anything. It doesn't honor anything.
It prevents. It obstructs. It controls.
You can keep your house exactly as it is forever—peeling paint, rotting wood, crumbling foundation. The "historic" district won't require you to fix anything.
But if you want to improve your property? If you want to renovate? If you want to make your home nicer, safer, more valuable?
Then you need Jerry Creel's permission. And Jerry Creel might say no. And if you do it anyway, Jerry Creel will send armed police to deliver a Stop Work Order. And if you keep fighting, Jerry Creel will file criminal charges through his personal Deputy Clerk.
That's not historic preservation. That's extortion with a zoning code.
The Boundaries Nobody Voted For
Creel admitted he "suggested" the expansion. The Planning Commission approved it. The City Council rubber-stamped it.
But nobody asked the property owners who suddenly found themselves inside a "historic" district whether they wanted their property rights restricted.
When the undersigned contacted multiple property owners on Bohn Street—the street that borders the expanded district—not a single one had received mail notification about the historic district expansion. Not one had been told their property rights were being restricted. Not one had been invited to comment before the Planning Commission or City Council votes.
The "public process" was public in name only. The people whose property was being captured had no idea it was happening until it was done.
This is how Biloxi works. Jerry Creel has an idea. Jerry Creel "suggests" it. Jerry Creel implements it. Jerry Creel enforces it. And Jerry Creel profits from the chaos it creates.
A Personal Note: 929 Division Street
The undersigned has a confession to make: I own property in Jerry Creel's fraudulent historic district.
929 Division Street. A cinder block corner building. Nothing architecturally special. Nothing historically significant. No famous person lived there. No important event happened there.
What did happen there? It was a drug den. The warehouse section had a fire. Homeless people invaded the property. It was a blight on the neighborhood—the kind of building cities usually want renovated.
The undersigned acquired it, cleaned it up, fixed the fire damage, removed the drug paraphernalia, secured the property against further invasion. Turned a neighborhood eyesore into a functional building.
And that's when Jerry Creel got interested.
Not interested in code compliance. Not interested in historic preservation. Interested in making a sale.
Creel "insisted" that the property should be sold. He provided the undersigned's phone number—without permission—to a banker who then brought Joel Fields, a businessman connected to Keesler Air Force Base. Fields wanted the property for an IT training facility. The banker stated that Creel had referred a "strong customer" who "needed" the building.
The Building Official of the City of Biloxi, using his office to broker real estate deals, handing out citizens' private contact information to facilitate property transfers for Keesler-connected interests.
When the undersigned declined to sell, the "historic" oversight suddenly became very aggressive. Stop Work Orders. Criminal charges. Armed police. Federal lawsuits.
The ITAR Trespass
And then Creel started showing up personally.
On August 2, 2025—a Sunday, naturally—Jerry Creel entered 929 Division Street without a warrant, without consent, and without any legitimate governmental purpose. He photographed the premises. He questioned the undersigned's wife, who was alone at the facility. The same woman Creel had been surveilling on Sundays at the Beach Boulevard property. The same woman who was forced to become a federal plaintiff because the harassment wouldn't stop.
Three days later, on August 5, 2025, Creel returned. Another unauthorized entry. Another interrogation of the undersigned's wife.
The City issued Creel an official reprimand for this invasion. But what Jerry Creel didn't know—or didn't care about—is what that building contains.
The undersigned works in aerospace. Specifically, astrodynamics and propulsion systems. The kind of work regulated by ITAR—the International Traffic in Arms Regulations. ITAR is administered by the State Department's Directorate of Defense Trade Controls. It governs the export and handling of defense-related articles, technical data, and services. Violations aren't code enforcement matters. Violations are federal crimes.
929 Division Street contains over thirty pieces of machinery originating from defense contractors, used in armaments production. High-technology CNC machines. Precision lathes. Equipment with replacement costs in the millions. All subject to ITAR controls under 22 CFR 120-130.
When a municipal building official—with no security clearance, no authorization, no legitimate purpose—trespasses onto a property containing ITAR-controlled defense articles, photographs that equipment, and interrogates the occupant, that's not a building code matter. That's a potential violation of the Arms Export Control Act, 22 U.S.C. § 2778.
The August 2, 2025 trespass triggered State Department DTCC Case 25-0000782. Federal officials are now investigating why a Biloxi municipal employee entered a facility containing items of national security interest, photographed defense contractor machinery, and interrogated the occupant—all while an open federal investigation was pending.
Jerry Creel received an official reprimand. And then, despite the open State Department case, despite being formally notified of the ITAR investigation, Creel was observed conducting surveillance of 929 Division Street again on November 3, 2025.
For his own safety—and we mean that sincerely—Jerry Creel should stay away from 929 Division Street. The next unauthorized entry may trigger consequences beyond municipal employment.
The Eighteen-Month Fence
929 Division Street is zoned RB—Regional Business. That's the highest commercial zoning classification. It permits the most intensive business uses. Factories. Warehouses. Heavy commercial operations. The zoning exists precisely because the area is not a quaint historic neighborhood requiring aesthetic protection.
Yet for over eighteen months, the undersigned has been unable to get approval for a fence.
A fence. Not a skyscraper. Not a neon billboard. Not a strip club. A fence.
And not a fence on the property line where it might—theoretically—affect the "historic character" of the street. A fence 150 feet inside the property. Invisible from Division Street. Invisible from any public right-of-way. A fence that no pedestrian, no driver, no tourist would ever see.
Eighteen months. For a fence. On the highest commercial zoning. 150 feet from the street. In a "historic" district that was fraudulently expanded to capture properties that have no historic significance whatsoever.
Meanwhile, the undersigned's neighbor built an illegal fence on the public right-of-way. Not on his property—on city property. No permit. No historic review. No architectural commission approval. The neighbor himself admitted that Jerry Creel "allowed him to do it without a permit."
This is what lawyers call "unequal treatment"—when the government applies rules to one person but not another, when enforcement is selective rather than consistent, when the deciding factor isn't the law but who you are and whether you've made enemies in the Building Department.
Unequal treatment violates the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. It's not just unfair—it's unconstitutional.
The Roof Permit Trap
The undersigned obtained an approved building permit for "roof replacement." Those exact words. Roof replacement. Not renovation. Not remodeling. Not exterior modification. Roof replacement—the kind of maintenance every building eventually needs.
Jennifer Polk issued a Stop Work Order. On May 16, 2024—months after the undersigned repeatedly refused to sell to Creel's Keesler-connected contacts—Polk shut down the roof replacement mid-demolition.
How does one "fix" a Stop Work Order on an approved roof replacement permit? In Biloxi, the answer is: you don't fix the roof. You remodel the entire building to their visual specifications.
That's what they demanded. A roof permit became a complete exterior remodeling project—designed not by the property owner, not by an architect, not by an engineer, but by the aesthetic preferences of the Biloxi Building Department.
And after complying with demands that had nothing to do with the original permit? After submitting to requirements that appeared nowhere in the approved plans? After accepting "visual specifications" dictated by officials with no design credentials?
A Stop Work Order remains in place. Over eighteen months later. Still active. Still preventing work.
What does the Stop Work Order say? What violations does it cite? What conditions must be met to resume work?
Nothing. It says nothing. It cites nothing. It explains nothing.
The property has sat exposed to the elements since May 2024. Materials deteriorating. Roof open. Hurricane seasons passing. All because Jennifer Polk issued an order she never had to justify.
This is Jennifer Polk's process. This is IRC R114.2 violated in plain daylight. This is "historic preservation" used as a bludgeon against property owners who won't sell to Jerry Creel's friends.
This is what "censuring property owners" looks like in practice.
The Five-Hat Conflict
Remember: Jerry Creel holds five positions simultaneously.
- Building Official: Issues permits and Stop Work Orders
- Community Development Director: Oversees the entire department
- Code Enforcement Director: Controls the inspectors
- Historic Preservation Director: Decides what's "historic" and what changes are allowed
- Board of Adjustments and Appeals Secretary: Manages appeals of his own decisions
When you apply for a permit in the "historic" district, Creel reviews it as Historic Preservation Director. If he denies it and you appeal, Creel manages the appeal as Board Secretary. If you proceed anyway, Creel issues a Stop Work Order as Building Official. If you fight the order, Creel's code enforcement team documents "violations."
Every step of the process runs through the same man. The man who "suggested" expanding the district in the first place. The man who admitted on television that the purpose is aesthetic control over property owners.
There is no independent review. There is no neutral arbiter. There is only Jerry Creel, wearing whichever hat serves him best at each stage of your destruction.
What "Historic" Really Means
In a legitimate historic district, "historic" means something. It means the building has genuine significance. It means the architecture reflects an important period. It means preservation serves the public interest in maintaining connection to the past.
In Biloxi's fraudulently expanded district, "historic" means: Jerry Creel can see your house from the road.
That's the criteria. Visibility from a street that didn't exist until the city widened it. Buildings that were unremarkable until other buildings were demolished in front of them.
Creel saw an opportunity. Not an opportunity to preserve history—there was no history to preserve. An opportunity to expand his control. An opportunity to subject more property owners to his oversight. An opportunity to feed more disputes into the machine that pays Peter Abide $566,000 a year.
He went on television and explained exactly what he was doing. He used words like "review district" and "Architectural Historical Review Commission" to make it sound legitimate. But the substance was clear: "in the event that one of those people... wanted to renovate or change the outside appearance."
Those people. Your neighbors. You.
The "historic" district exists to control you.
Jerry Creel said so himself.
A Note on Transparency
Before publication, an email was sent to Jerry Creel and his attorneys inviting them to rebut any fact contained in this article.
The quotes attributed to Mr. Creel are from a televised WLOX news segment dated August 19, 2019. They are his own words, recorded and broadcast. We did not put them in his mouth. He said them. On camera. To a reporter.
If Mr. Creel would like to explain how a district created to control "the outside appearance" of buildings that became visible after a road project constitutes genuine historic preservation, we will publish his response in full, unedited.
As of publication, we have received no response.
Documents Referenced
- WLOX News Segment, August 19, 2019
- West Central Historic District Expansion Resolution
- State Department DTCC Case 25-0000782
- 22 CFR 120-130 (ITAR Regulations)
- 22 U.S.C. § 2778 (Arms Export Control Act)
- May 16, 2024 Stop Work Order
- August 2, 2025 Trespass Documentation
- Official Reprimand of Jerry Creel
- Fourteenth Amendment, Equal Protection Clause
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