As a hardwood flooring contractor, you hope to complete a project with the utmost quality and attention to detail, and when all is said and done, you would like to be paid and move on to the next project. Imagine you complete a long and arduous project and the customer is pleased with your craftsmanship and happily pays you, and you move on. And, three weeks later … the home explodes! Fragments that an instant earlier were someone's home now pepper the night sky like shrapnel from an IED. Nothing is salvageable. Then, you get the call. The fire marshall—not the local guy, the one from the state capitol—has launched an investigation and needs you to come in for questioning. This is the true story of a contractor who, with one simple decision, nearly lost everything he had. He's a friend of mine, and he didn't want his name to be used, but he is allowing me to tell his story as a cautionary tale for his fellow contractors.
Out of an act of kindness and professional courtesy, my friend inadvertently took responsibility for something that is not only dangerous, but, in fact, a crime—something that carries a felony charge in the "Live Free or Die" State of New Hampshire. He's an extremely seasoned professional hardwood flooring, tile and carpet contractor, and he had finished installing a great deal of prefinished hardwood in a summer home set high up in thickly wooded hills overlooking a beautiful lake. When he was completing his work at the home, he was asked if he would disconnect a gas stove, as it was in the way and no one was available to do so. To keep the project moving, he obliged, closing the valve and testing it with soapy water to be sure there were no leaks.
Out of an act of kindness and professional courtesy, my friend inadvertently took responsibility for something that is not only dangerous, but, in fact, a crime.
Precisely three weeks to the day later, the sleepy nearby town awoke around 3 a.m. to what many believed to be an earthquake. Twenty-five calls were made to 911. The summer home had exploded. The force was so strong that window fragments and material of all kind were found lodged into trees, and none of the home's framing or structure other than the foundation was recognizable. All that remained was a roaring fire burning in the foundation. Fortunately, no one was home and no neighbors were close enough to be in danger.
A local resident responded to a TV reporter by saying: "I mean ... the explosion, I don't think words can describe how loud it was, how horrific it was. I just sat up in bed and ... I was literally paralyzed ... Thank God nobody was in the house."
What remained as the fire was put out.
That next morning, my friend's wife was watching the news and said he had better take a look at what was on the air. He was shocked to see the explosion was at the very home where he had worked. Then, three days later, he received a call from the fire marshall saying he would have to come to the state capitol for questioning, as it had been reported he had disconnected the gas stove in violation of Amilia's Law H.B. 1711. The law was enacted after Amilia Luhrmann was killed when her parent's lake house—eerily, in the same town—exploded due to an open gas line in the basement. The gas line had been cut and left open by a carpenter. Amilia's Law states: "Only qualified persons can install and maintain gas utilization equipment in the manner they have in the past. By January 1, 2008, all technicians should have a license in their possession and issued by the State of New Hampshire."
My friend agreed to meet but hired an attorney to be present. He was shocked and frightened by the news that the home where he worked had exploded and that he would now answer to charges of violating a law he had never heard of before. He began to recount events and conversations from his time working in the home with his attorney and recalled that he and others had specifically warned the homeowner that they smelled gas. A plumber on site had stated that a utility bathroom in the basement had been left uncapped, and it was just a backflow of methane from the waste disposal system. When asked to move the small wood-stove-style gas heater, my friend noted there was no cap on either connector and that just the valve had been closed.
Fortunately, the resulting investigation showed that there were faulty gas lines in the home, and it was not proved that the stove connection had anything to do with the fire. But that didn't put him entirely at ease. His mind would race: What could have happened if people were in that home?! What if they did press felony charges?! What if I am found guilty?! How was I supposed to know about Amilia's Law?! I am not a gas expert, how would I know?! There were no tags or warnings; to him it was like disconnecting his outdoor grill.
The house after being rebuilt.
The lawyer for one meeting cost well over $1,000. His insurance company dropped his liability coverage, and to this day, the insurance companies have not settled, even though the fire marshall's investigation cleared him of wrongdoing. Even with a new liability policy via a new provider, they are holding a $350,000 reserve on a $1,000,000 policy until the matter is settled. In the event he were to have a claim, only $650,000 could be allotted!
As flooring contractors, we are often asked to move furniture, let the dogs out, lock the cats in, shut off pilot lights … you name it, we've all done just about anything so we can get paid and move on. But now he has adopted a "Definitely Say No" policy regarding any request that could put anyone at risk of harm. He has educated himself on the terms of Amilia's Law and shared that information with fellow tradesmen.
As I wrapped up our conversation about this experience for this article, I could feel how deeply this matter rocked him to the core. Lesson learned: If you are a contractor and think you are a jack of all trades (and you may well be), be safe, consult an expert and be sure not to violate any local or regional laws. Lives and reputations may be at risk.
