The Clue
In 2022, I licensed photos to the Town of Clayton for web use only. Simple, right? But in Clayton, “web use” somehow meant brochures, banners, glossy plans, utility bills, videos, and social media, all at full resolution, and all without credit.
The Investigation
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When I noticed one of my photos used in print, the Town admitted to being sloppy and ignorant of industry standards.
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They first claimed it was just “one photo.” Then “three.” Then “four,” but only after I pointed out that I had seen another one on a banner in front of the Clayton Center. Before this, they claimed to have done a thorough review.
- After discovering dozens more uses, I sent a February invoice for $11,250, the statutory minimum for the print violations I could document. This was my most reasonable, good-faith ask.
- We then argued about the meaning of “web use.” I explained industry standards. Their Communications Director showed he had no idea what best practices are.
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Their “final offer” was to pay if I signed a release saying all those high-res PDFs were “web use.” No retroactive credit. No corrections to third parties. I declined.
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I then prepared an industry-standard valuation — $91,700 — based on their actual usage, unjust enrichment, and reputational harm. If they were going to force court, they needed to see what it really cost. They then sent a $3,000 check, and later an insulting $25 check for a photo I never licensed at all.
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In July, their attorney took over. That’s when they started with the false claims — that my photos were “work for hire” (they weren’t), that there was no requirement to credit me (there was), and that $3,000 was “fair” (it wasn’t).
- Meanwhile, the Communications Director responsible for all of this? He got a merit raise. And taxpayers are still footing the bill for his endless outsourcing.
The Evidence of a Cover-Up
- In June, six months after they promised to cease using them, when I pointed out that my images were in the Comprehensive Transportation Plan, including the cover, and I had registered with the Copyright office, they quietly removed them.
- The public records folder vanished the day I told people where to find it. My own records request was unusually restricted, while others were normal.
- In August, when I reported this, the Town switched to emailing responses piecemeal instead of posting them, making it harder for citizens to see what’s really going on.
- On September 2, the Town Attorney named me in open session, misrepresented my claim, and denied my petition for a hearing, after the Mayor conveniently forgot to ask for his report until after public comment had ended and most residents had left. The timing was no accident.
The Verdict
The Town has already spent more time and money covering up this mistake — and protecting one staffer’s reputation — than it would have cost to fix it. And the true cost? Still unknown.
Because now, thanks to their choices, a lawsuit is inevitable. The average cost to defend a copyright suit is $270,000, and that’s before damages. And this won’t be the only cover-up. I know it isn’t.
Meanwhile, I’ve lost time, income, and credibility, while the person who caused the problem was rewarded with raises and praise. Instead of spending time with my daughter before kindergarten, I’m dealing with this, because I made the mistake of working with them.
That’s not just government waste. That’s Clayton telling citizens who try to help: we’ll exploit you, erase you, and then make you pay for the cover-up.
And given that my petition for a hearing was denied and citizens in Clayton have no recourse except litigation, it’s not only me paying for this, it’s all of us.
Next up: Case File #4 — The Print & Copy Mystery. How Clayton spent hundreds of thousands on printing while insisting key reports were “not for print.”