INGLIS, Fla. - The last time an agent of temptation came to this sleepy hamlet near the Gulf Coast, throngs of screaming girls followed his every move. <br>
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Forty-years later, a more pernicious force than Elvis Presley was apparently stalking the town -- Satan. <br>
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Or so the mayor believed. <br>
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Mayor Carolyn Risher began seeing growing examples of what she deemed Satan's work: instances of fathers abusing their children, increased drug use and children wearing devil costumes for Halloween. <br>
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So Risher did what she thought any good public servant would do for the town's 1,400 residents. She wrote a proclamation banning Satan from the town's three square miles. <br>
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"We exercise our authority over the devil in Jesus' name," the Nov. 5-dated proclamation read. "By that authority ... we command all satanic and demonic forces to cease their activities and depart the town of Inglis." <br>
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The mayor ended the proclamation by saying she was taking this action "in accordance with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ." <br>
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What followed was an international uproar that has raised questions about the appropriateness of religion in government. <br>
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Risher has received hundreds of letters, from as far away as Australia and Spain, praising her for taking a stand against evil. She also has been condemned by advocates of church and state separation. <br>
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The town hall now frequently receives phone calls from pranksters claiming to be Satan. Comedy Central's "The Daily Show" sent a correspondent who put a person in a red-devil's costume and had residents chase him out of town for the camera. <br>
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Some residents talked about getting a petition to remove the mayor from office but that effort has been put on hold. <br>
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"She used this for self-glorification, trying to make a name for herself and I can't condone it," said town commissioner Floyd Craig, who plans to run against Risher next year. <br>
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The American Civil Liberties Union considered filing a lawsuit but backed off after town commissioners said the proclamation was not an official town act because it wasn't approved by the commission. <br>
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Risher reimbursed the town more than $13 for the costs of stationery, copying and telephone calls related to the proclamation. <br>
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"It's not like we're on a witch hunt for the mayor, we just want to make sure she's following the Constitution," said Gary Edinger, an ACLU attorney in Gainesville. <br>
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Risher, a 61-year-old Pentecostal who has been mayor for 10 years, said she had no intention of offending anyone and doesn't believe she was violating the Constitution because she wasn't establishing a religion. <br>
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Inglis, located 75 miles north of Tampa, has a handful of churches and just a scattering of businesses. Many residents work at nearby power plants. <br>
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It is a community where the mayor has a painting of "The Last Supper" in her office. A sign behind the receptionist's desk in the police department reads, "Good morning. This is God. I will be handling all your problems today. I will not need your help, so relax and have a good day." <br>
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Some town residents said Risher is a good mayor and a well-meaning, friendly, no-nonsense leader. But many worry that her actions have made the town -- where Presley filmed "Follow That Dream" -- a laughingstock. <br>
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"People think it's kind of a joke in the area," said Sunny Price, owner of River Coast Realty. "She's entitled to believe whatever she believes in but don't do it in the name of the town." <br>
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There has been no decrease in crime since the proclamation, although there wasn't a lot of crime in the first place, said Inglis Police Chief Mitchell Billups. The last murder happened about 20 years ago. <br>
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One crime has even involved the proclamation. Risher ordered rolled-up copies of it inserted into four hollowed-out wooden posts on which were painted "repent, request, resist." The posts were placed at the entrance to the town -- only to be removed by vandals. <br>
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The posts were replaced with reinforced concrete and after the ACLU stepped in, they were moved off a state road to private property. <br>
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Some residents said they wholeheartedly support the mayor and believe that too much of public life is devoid of religion. <br>
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"It's kind of quaint and unique and it kind of harkens back to the 16th century," joked pawn shop owner Steve Baughn, who hung the proclamation in his shop. <br>