How Grassroots Opposition to a New Asphalt Plant Was Infiltrated by an Outside Operative

CLEMMONS, N.C.—The man came out of nowhere, but he seemed to be on their side. 

Dozens of residents of Clemmons, a small village south of Winston-Salem, were alarmed about a proposed asphalt plant that could be built in their neighborhood, Rolling Green Village. 

The man, who said his name was Chris Sanderson, told neighbors he too, felt concerned about the potential environmental harms. 

Weeks later, residents learned the truth. He was operating under an alias. 

Public records, photographs, social media accounts and technological fingerprints on his documents showed he was Chris Hopkins, a man who has worked over the past 20 years for consulting firms whose strategies for industrial clients included subterfuge.

Hopkins began spearheading community opposition to the asphalt plant in June. The facility,  

proposed by Maymead, a company based in Mountain City, Tennessee, would lie within two miles of eight elementary schools, several parks and hundreds of residences, including a mobile home community.

Just 1,000 feet away from the site runs Muddy Creek, which is on the federal list of impaired waters and a tributary of the Yadkin River, a drinking water supply for 1 million people.

Posing as Sanderson, Hopkins formed an anti-asphalt plant Facebook group and an online neighborhood discussion list. He visited neighbors in their homes and emailed and spoke with local government officials. He ordered and paid $700 for flyers, stickers and signs, the latter which he pounded into the ground throughout the neighborhood and along Kinnamon Road.

This strategy is not uncommon among some land-use firms. Hopkins worked for at least one company that at times tried to quash projects, not for environmental reasons but to eliminate the competition.

Residents who oppose a project because they’re genuinely concerned about their communities become unwitting foot soldiers in a turf war.

In the hall before a Forsyth County Commissioners meeting Aug. 27, Inside Climate News approached the man neighbors knew as Chris Sanderson and showed him a photo from Hopkins’ LinkedIn page that strongly resembles him: a white man with thin lips, a round nose and a fringe of gray hair framing a balding head. 

“That’s not me,” he replied in a Northern accent. “I’m not even on LinkedIn. I’m retired. I’m 66 years old.” 

He declined to provide identification to prove he was Chris Sanderson.

“No,” he said, as he hurried to an elevator. “That’s rude.”

When Hopkins was operating in Clemmons, he was employed by the consulting firm Land Use Strategies. With three offices across the U.S., it represents mining interests, data centers, landfills and other controversial industries.

Last week, Inside Climate News sent Land Use Strategies documents showing evidence of Hopkins’ other identity and requested an explanation. Two days later, the company replied that Hopkins was no longer with the firm and that it “was not involved with” and had “no knowledge of” the Clemmons project.

Hopkins’ photo was removed from the Land Use Strategies website that day.

Hopkins did not respond to multiple emails and phone calls seeking comment.

Many neighbors say they feel angry and betrayed. 

“I thought, ‘God has blessed us. We finally have help,’” said Lynn Church, who lives near the proposed site and hosted Hopkins, posing as Sanderson, at two community meetings in her home. “Now I feel invaded.” 

Subterfuge and Secrecy

Asphalt plants are a dirty business. In addition to increasing area truck traffic, Maymead’s plant would produce 2,500 tons of asphalt per day, according to its draft air permit application dated July 16. 

The facility would emit seven tons of health-harming particulate matter, 4.8 tons of cancer-causing formaldehyde, a half ton of cancer-causing benzene and many other air pollutants each year.

Neighbors questioned why Forsyth County needs another asphalt plant. There are already four, including a facility operated by APAC Atlantic just five miles from the proposed site.

Few residents knew about the proposal until late June, when Hopkins launched an online neighborhood discussion list, in which dozens of residents received an emailed action alert about the plant from an unknown sender. 

Andrea Vail asked the sender who they were. “I am Chris Sanderson,” he replied from the account noasphaltinclemmons. 

When Vail asked how he obtained residents’ email addresses, he responded, “We were able to get them through a voter list.” 

As Sanderson, Hopkins amped up the pressure. He attended government meetings, spoke with elected officials and urged residents to call Maymead in protest, emails show.

“He presented himself as a neighbor who cared about our community,” Vail recalled. “He said he knew people could help us and that he was familiar with the industry.”

Yet over the summer some neighbors grew suspicious of his motives. While they appreciated his help in organizing the opposition, several residents say, he told conflicting stories about where he lived: an adjacent neighborhood, out of state and in one instance, simply “over there.” 

Both times he visited Church’s home, he parked his car at the entrance of her long driveway and walked. Whenever Church suggested the group hire a lawyer, Hopkins dissuaded her, claiming he had money and resources to stop the plant from being built.

On Aug. 7, an email from Sanderson’s account arrived in Vail’s inbox. Attached was a flyer entitled “We Cannot Let Our Guard Down.” Vail looked at the document’s metadata, which said Christopher Hopkins had created the document.

“It reflects poorly on what this industry will do to advance their game,” Vail told Inside Climate News. 

Hopkins is 66 and lives in Franklin, Tennessee, public records show. He is from Massachusetts, where he worked on political campaigns in the 1980s and 1990s, according to his LinkedIn profile. 

After leaving the world of political campaigns, Hopkins joined the Saint Consulting Group, based in Franklin, where he was senior vice president for aggregate and mining. He worked there with a later founding partner of Land Use Strategies. .

P. Michael Saint, a former newspaper reporter and political press secretary from Massachusetts, started the Saint Consulting Group in the 1990s. It used tactics the company described as “black arts” in fighting Walmart stores on behalf of competitor SuperValu, according to a 2010 exposé in The Wall Street Journal.

A former Saint Consulting employee told Inside Climate News that they worked with Hopkins at the firm. The employee said this type of campaign to kill competing projects is known as “defense work.” 

Subterfuge and secrecy were key, said the employee, who asked not to be named because they now work in a different industry. “There was not a single day that you did not have to lie to somebody. They infiltrate community groups or sometimes even start a community group using fake names.

“It was terrible for me,” the ex-employee said. “Leaving was the best thing I’ve ever done.” 

In 2009, Saint co-wrote a book, “NIMBY Wars: The Politics of Land Use,” that outlined strategies of promoting or stopping projects, such as big-box stores, quarries and oil refineries. 

“When a business interest concludes that defense against unwarranted market intrusion is necessary to defend market share … citizens are hardly likely to pour into the streets to protect the business and a ready-made opposition group is unlikely to be available,” the authors wrote.

That’s where the strategy of defense work comes in. The book also advises consultants to drive locally registered rental cars, use disposable cell phones, stay in motels a few towns away and stay vague about their own background. 

Once the “consultant” has identified opponents, “get them enthused and select a leader,” the authors advised. After collecting names, the consultant should “arrange an informal meeting, perhaps in someone’s living room where similarly minded people can discuss the project privately. Quite often … members of the local opposition are thrilled at the prospect of getting help, administrative as well as financial.”

Hopkins left Saint Consulting, now defunct, and started River Landing Solutions, which describes itself as providing “transparent, concise and transformative services to our clients in order to avoid regulatory denials and delays,” before going to Land Use Strategies. 

Tom Terrell is an attorney with the Fox Rothschild firm in Greensboro who is representing Maymead, the owner of the asphalt plant proposed for Clemmons. He told Inside Climate News that he asked Maymead about Hopkins and Sanderson, and “they’ve never heard of him.”

“I’ve represented the aggregate and construction materials industries for decades,” Terrell said. “I’ve never witnessed someone working for a competitor infiltrating a community group.”

“Incredibly Disrespectful”

Ashley Walkup, who lives in the neighborhood, said Hopkins’ intrusion sullied a legitimate community movement. 

“People in this group are real residents who are volunteering their time,” Walkup said. “We’re neighbors who care about where we live and what happens here. To have someone come into that space deceptively and use the trust of the community for their own purposes feels incredibly disrespectful.”

She added: “What bothers me most is that it creates suspicion where there shouldn’t be any. It makes people wonder who they can trust, what conversations are private and whether something they shared in good faith is going to be taken out of context or used against the group.”

A week earlier, Walkup was among a crowd of people, emotionally spent from an hours-long public hearing about the asphalt plant, who were leaving the Forsyth County Board of Commissioners chambers when a local resident confronted Hopkins in the hallway. 

“What are you doing?” the resident said. “You’re so sick.”

Hopkins’ face tightened. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide. 

“I know who you are,” the resident went on, blocking Hopkins’ way. “You know what we stand to lose in this community? You’re trying to create disruption with this group.”

Neighbors say they have not received emails from Hopkins since. 

“He’s gone dark,” Church said.