VOLUSIA

NSB restaurant owner who set 1991 firefighter-killing Stormy's arson out of prison

Tony Holt
tony.holt@news-jrnl.com

A 200-seat New Smyrna Beach seafood restaurant was an albatross for owner Forrest "Biff" Utter, who never could crawl out from underneath a pile of debt.

Things were so dire, he borrowed $3,000 from an employee at the restaurant to pay his liquor bill.

Foreclosure loomed, so he torched the North Causeway dining spot the morning of Sept. 2, 1991, hoping to obtain a lucrative sum from a newly opened insurance policy.

That decision to burn Stormy's Seafood Restaurant cost the lives of two New Smyrna Beach firefighters and cost Utter his freedom for the better part of two decades. He would be convicted in a federal court — twice — of arson and other charges.

Now 74, Utter served his time and was released from federal custody June 8. Utter, who lives Volusia County, didn't return phone messages for this story.

Meanwhile, in the late summer of 1991, the city of New Smyrna Beach mourned the loss of two of its native sons, Mark Wilkes and Doug Sapp, both 28-year-old firefighters.

"To lose two firefighters in a fire like that, it breaks your heart first off," said New Smyrna Beach Mayor Jim Hathaway. "And secondly, it leaves an indelible imprint on each of us here in New Smyrna who were here during that time frame."

[READ MORE: New Smyrna Beach memorial dedicated to firemen two decades after their deaths]

Wilkes and Sapp were best friends. They went to high school together. Wilkes wanted nothing more to become a firefighter from the time he was a boy. Sapp had other interests growing up, but in the end, he became just as intensely devoted to the job as his friend.

Sapp even remodeled the Fire Department's "Old No. 5" engine, which became a fixture during parades.

Hathaway said he still has a photo hanging in the office of him riding that fire engine during a Fourth of July parade years ago.

On Labor Day morning in 1991, a police detective drove by the building at 132 N. Causeway and noticed smoke billowing from the rooftop. It was reported to dispatch at 12:19 a.m. Two fire crews from the nearest station were dispatched, five firefighters in all, including Wilkes and Sapp. It took them two minutes to get there.

At first, the fire wasn't raging. It was more of a smolder. The pair was responsible for ventilating the building to let out some of the heat and smoke, but that became too daunting.

A commander on the scene ordered everyone inside to retreat because the smoke was so thick. A short time later, Wilkes and Sapp lobbied their commander to let them go back inside. They wanted to try again. They were given the green light.

After they re-entered, a "flashover" occurred. That's when a fire spreads rapidly across an empty space due to excessive heat. The entire 4,000-square-foot building ignited in a matter of seconds. Wilkes and Sapp never had a chance. They died from asphyxiation when their air hoses melted. They were cut off from their air packs.

It took more than three hours before firefighters could find their bodies in the main dining area.

Sapp was single, but Wilkes left behind a wife and a 1-year-old daughter.

Funeral services for Wilkes and Sapp were held at First United Methodist Church of New Smyrna Beach. More than 5,000 firefighters who had traveled all over North America were in attendance. They stood and saluted as two fire engines carried their fallen comrades to their grave sites in Edgewater.

At that time, the city of New Smyrna Beach rarely, if ever, was packed with that many people during the course of a single morning.

"The fire community poured into town," said Chase Squires, who was a reporter with The Daytona Beach News-Journal at the time.

"I can remember trucks coming in down (State Road 44) from all over," he said. "From my vantage point ... the street was just filled with mourners from in the town and out of town. (There was) the sound of helicopters above us and you could barely hear the speakers outside the church from just the sea of humanity that was out there. It was a major milestone for the town, for sure."

The old Stormy's lot has remained vacant since the rubble was cleared in 1992.

One week after the fire, on Sept. 9, the city's Fire Marshal announced someone had deliberately set the fire. Investigators looked into Utter's possible involvement. He had owned or leased properties in Kentucky during the 1970s and 1980s that had burned down. Additionally, the Internal Revenue Service had filed liens totaling more than $131,000 against Utter and his silent partner from 1986 through the middle of 1991. They had failed to pay personal income and payroll taxes.

There was also the $150,000 payoff he was expecting to receive from the insurance claim from the fire. However, the insurance company sensed something was wrong and never paid it.

Law enforcement sensed something, too, and in June 1994, almost three years after the fire, federal authorities charged Utter and his then-71-year-old mother, Alice Pauline Duncan, with arson resulting in death, conspiracy to commit arson and using fire to commit conspiracy and arson.

Duncan was acquitted, but Utter was convicted at trial in December 1994 and was later sentenced to 15 years in prison.

In October 1996, Utter's conviction was overturned by a federal appeals court. He was released, but the government decided it would try again.

In January 1999, Utter was found guilty again of the same charges — and this time he was sentenced to 25 years in prison.

"I'm happy with the verdict," Wilkes' widow, Mary, told the media after the trial. "It will help a little, but it won't help raise a daughter." She hugged the prosecutor after it was all over. She chose to move to another county and raise her daughter, who is now 28 years old.

Michelle Utter, the estranged wife of Biff Utter's only son, said the family was crushed after he was sent back to prison.

"Of course, everybody was upset," she said. "I know my husband was, as well. They didn't think it was a fair trial."

Biff Utter sometimes struggled re-acclimating to society after being behind bars for so long, his ex-daughter-in-law said. He had been in prison since before Y2K, so he missed all of the technological breakthroughs of the new millennium — from iTunes to Facebook.

It took some time for him to learn how to operate a smartphone.

"He had to be shown how to use it," Michelle Utter said. "(He) had to call numerous times to ask how to use his phone. It had Google Maps and things like that. ... One of my (sons) had to actually show him how to use the phone."

About the series

This story is one in a series that takes a look back at some of the most notorious crimes that have occurred across Florida. The podcast, Sun Crime State, has new episodes every Monday. To learn more about the 1991 arson of Stormy's Seafood Restaurant, check out episode 54, "Fatal Fire at Stormy's." The podcast is hosted by News-Journal reporter Tony Holt. Guests this week are former News-Journal reporter Chase Squires, New Smyrna Beach Mayor Jim Hathaway and New Smyrna native Michelle Utter. To hear more episodes, go to suncrimestate.com or download from iTunes, Google Play or anywhere you get podcasts.

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