In Fisher Island fuel-depot shakedown, Miami-Dade taxpayers are the victims | Opinion
Imagine a small town where a stranger arrives promising to buy and fix the only available water well. Two days after the acquisition, he changes his mind and issues an ultimatum: Either you buy it back at the price I name, or I shut the well down.
In any place with a functioning government, that would be unthinkable. Here, it’s the news of the day. Welcome to Fisher Island. Welcome to Miami.
What is happening on the exclusive island is not a technical dispute over the fuel terminal that serves the Port of Miami and the cruise industry. It is something far dirtier: the greed of the ultra-wealthy colliding with the right to make a living for hundreds of thousands of working families.
It could almost be an episode of Miami Vice: mega-mansions overlooking the Atlantic, county commissioners playing zombie and a bill that, as usual, you — the taxpayer — will foot.
It is worth establishing a fact frequently omitted from this story: the PortMiami fuel depot had been operating on Fisher Island for decades before the island’s first luxury club was built in 1987. The first condominium residents arrived in 1992, with the tanks in plain view. Nobody deceived them.
In May 2024, TransMontaigne Partners put up for sale the land on which the depot sits, a facility capable of storing 700,000 barrels of marine fuel. Sixteen months later, Chicago-based HRP Group, acquired the 9.6 acres for $180 million. HRP signed agreements with the Fisher Island Community Association (FICA): It would demolish the tanks, decontaminate the land and build two ultra-luxury condominium towers valued at $2 billion.
As part of the deal, HRP offered to build a new fuel terminal within the port area at a cost of $200 million — a project that would take five to 10 years.
Caught off guard, county commissioners called an emergency session. The port’s own deputy chief financial officer admitted he had only learned of the sale in 2024.
What was at stake could hardly have been more serious. PortMiami received a record 8.5 million passengers last year, generates $61.4 billion in annual economic activity and supports 340,078 direct and indirect jobs. Disruptions to the fuel supply could prompt Carnival, Norwegian and Royal Caribbean to relocate to Port Everglades or Tampa. No ships, no jobs.
The sale was followed by a battle of arbitrations, lawsuits and expropriation threats — until a decisive turn on May 28: HRP and Miami-Dade had quietly negotiated a $400 million agreement — $200 million upfront plus another $200 million over 20 years, covered by taxpayer money.
The math lands like a punch to the jaw. HRP bought the property for $180 million. The county will pay them $400 million. Net profit: $220 million in a matter of months, without laying a single brick.
FICA has filed a lawsuit to invalidate the agreement, claiming the century-old terminal poses a danger in the event of a hurricane. Its president, James Ferraro, has compared it to “an Exxon Valdez-type disaster waiting to happen.” But his outrage is, at the very least, selective: neither when the sale was announced to build the towers, nor now, has he mentioned the thousands of families whose livelihoods depend on the port, or the taxpayers who will be left holding the bill.
Had the county acted in time, the property would have cost $180 million. The ordinary citizen — entirely removed from these real estate transactions yet held hostage to their outcomes — will now absorb the difference.
At this scale, coincidences don’t exist. The only ones truly affected here are Miami-Dade taxpayers. And for that, there are only three plausible explanations: incompetence, criminal negligence or corruption. Knowing the forces at play in this territory, all three are perfectly possible at the same time.
HRP and its Miami partners — who have made considerable money in this community — executed a textbook operation: they acquired a strategic asset, ignored their contractual commitments, negotiated in secret with the government and now stand to double their investment in under a year without having produced anything of value.
This is a story with no heroes, only villains of different stripes — and one victim that nobody mentions: the ordinary, hardworking people of Miami.
Joe García is a former Democratic congressman. He represented Florida Congressional District 26 from 2013 to 2015.