For years, Michael A. Davitt was known for walking the line between public nuisance and something worse. On Monday, he jumped over it.
Davitt, 54, of Garnerville was being held in police custody after a bizarre stunt in which he dangled himself from the Tappan Zee Bridge for hours in a makeshift rope harness with a protest sign before unhooking himself and plunging into the Hudson River.
Davitt was taken Monday night to the state police barracks at Tarrytown before being transferred to Westchester Medical Center in Valhalla for evaluation. Police said Monday evening that Davitt was released back into police custody after it was determined that he had not been injured.
It was not clear whether he would spend the night in police custody or be released on bail.
Officials said Davitt was charged with misdemeanor counts of criminal trespass, reckless endangerment and resisting arrest for his one-man protest, which snarled traffic on the bridge for hours.
Police said the Garnerville man also was charged with a disorderly conduct violation and could face additional charges once the Westchester County District Attorney's Office is contacted, which it likely will be today.
Officials described Devitt as disgruntled former county employee who had previously exhibited signs of strange behavior after losing his job as a substance-abuse counselor with the county's Department of Mental Health in 2008.
After being fired, Davitt began protesting County Executive C. Scott Vanderhoef and the Rockland Legislature, officials said.
He became a frequent sight outside the Allison Parris County Office Building on New Hempstead Road in New City, where he carried a picket sign.
At meetings, he threatened to sue the county if his case was not addressed and he was not reinstated.
On Monday, Devitt took a different tactic.
At 10:37 a.m., Davitt parked his green Dodge Ram in far-right lane of the south side of the bridge, near the center span.
From there, he undertook a series of steps that indicate an almost military level of precision and preparation .
Tying a rope ladder to the vehicle's frame, he draped it over the bridge's outer railing and climbed down about 75 feet, or halfway between the river and the bridge span. A Thruway worker spotted his van and alerted authorities.
As officials shut down traffic on the eastbound side of the bridge, television news helicopters filmed Davitt swaying back and forth in the air in his harness. His blue, homemade sign — unfurled underneath him like a flag — accused Vanderhoef and the Legislature of "cover up" and "retaliation."
Davitt appeared occasionally to move his arms as he periodically swung back and forth. At some point, he removed several items of clothing and stripped down to his undershirt and shorts. He could be seen drinking from a Thermos.
The only verbal communication Davitt, who also came supplied with cigarettes, had with police came when he requested a tobacco pipe, which police denied.
Meanwhile, police and other emergency responders converged onto the center span and plotted to get Davitt down safely.
State police ended up calling in two Special Operations Response Teams, which flew in from upstate.
The elite officers tied their own lines to Davitt's ladder, which they then detached from the van, and lowered him toward the river, where a flotilla of police boats awaited him.
The nearly four-hour-long standoff above the water ended dramatically around 2:15 p.m. when police began lowering Davitt to awaiting officers on a barge.
Davitt jumped off the rope ladder, plunged about 10 feet into the water and began to swim downstream.
He was pulled out of the water up by a Yonkers police boat after refusing to grab hold of two life preservers thrown to him.
"They were lowering him down and he couldn't wait," Rockland Sheriff's Department Capt. William Barbera said. "He jumped and ended up in the water. The officers pulled him out."
Davitt's public beef with the county goes back several years.
Davitt had become a fixture at legislative sessions, often drawing attention to himself for strange and disruptive behavior such as mumbling and staring.
"He'd always come to the meeting and talk about being fired and claim corruption within the administration and the Legislature," Patrick Withers, a former Rockland Legislator and a Ramapo councilman, recalled Monday .
Although no charges were ever pressed against him, Davitt's behavior was considered threatening enough that that county sheriff's deputies began to keep a watch whenever he showed up at meetings.
"There was a concern by the Legislature, and they requested the deputy because they felt threatened by him," Sheriff James Kralik said.
Law enforcement and county officials were quick to condemn Davitt's actions. They cited the cost of the rescue mission and hours-long traffic delays for Westchester-bound drivers.
Vanderhoef spokesman Ron Levine said Monday that Davitt put his life in danger and potentially the lives of others.
"The county exec's concern is he put himself in harm's way," Levine said. "Whatever his message is, he can deliver it in person. Obviously, the man needs to talk to somebody who can give him little better guidance to protest in a safe way."
Dr. Alan Tuckman, who retired as the county's chief forensic psychiatrist and is now in private practice, said that anyone who committed such an act was likely deeply impaired by mental illness.
Such a person was likely prepared to die for his or her cause, he said.
"It's a disturbed way of thinking," Tuckman said, "both desperate and distressed."
Davitt's stunt seemed staged to get maximum publicity .As news helicopters buzzed overhead, residents in Rockland grabbed for their binoculars and tried to catch a glimpse of the tiny figure.
Standing in the parking lot of South Nyack's Salisbury Point apartment complex, Louis Panepinto, of Hillsdale, N.J., wondered what, exactly, Davitt was trying to achieve.
"I don't think he's helping his cause," said the 67-year-old retiree. "There are a lot of people trying to get to the other side of the bridge to make a living. The place to protest is the election booth."
When told Davitt was a former employee of the county's Department of Mental Health, Panepinto shook his head.
"Maybe he should have been a patient," he said.
There was no answer at Davitt's Morton Street home early Monday evening.
Several cars and a motorcycle were parked tightly in the driveway, blocking a large pile of garbage and discarded exercise equipment from the street view.
Davitt's neighbors were shocked when they heard about his actions. Jamal White, a Morton Street resident for 15 years, said Davitt would often keep an eye on the White home when the family vacationed.
"He seems like a cool guy, I've known him for a while. He's into cars," White said, noting that Davitt's protest seemed out of character.
I didn't expect that at all. He seems like a normal type of guy."
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