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By B.B. Wolf, Senior Building Inspector, Woodland District Code Enforcement Division

Let me set the record straight. After twenty-seven years with the Woodland Building Department (WBD), I’ve seen every construction shortcut and code violation imaginable. But nothing—and I mean nothing—compares to the infamous Three Pigs incident of 2023. The media had a field day with it, of course. “Big Bad Wolf Terrorizes Innocent Homeowners!” Please. I enforced the International Building Code, 2021 Edition, with local woodland amendments.

It all started with an anonymous tip to our department’s compliance hotline. The caller, who I would later discover was a rather fastidious beaver from upstream, reported unauthorized construction activities in the Lower Woods district. Three new structures had appeared virtually overnight, with no posted permits, architectural drawings, and highly questionable materials. As the senior inspector for Zone 4, the case landed on my desk.

I looked over our records first, following the protocol. No building permit applications. No site plans. No structural calculations. No soil testing reports. In a designated high-wind zone with seasonal flooding concerns, this was more than just negligent—it was dangerous.

The preliminary site photos from our code enforcement team were alarming. There were three different buildings. One looked like it was made entirely of straw, which is against IRC Section R301.2.1; another was made of unmilled stick assemblage, which is against at least six different structural integrity codes; and the third was made of brick, which might be okay but still needs to be inspected and certified by a professional mason.

I scheduled the inspections for the following morning. Standard procedure dictates we notify property owners 48 hours in advance, but Municipal Code Section 109.3 allows for immediate inspection in cases of imminent structural failure. Given that our meteorological department had forecast 40mph winds for the coming week, I invoked this clause.

The first house—the straw construction—was a textbook example of what not to build. I approached at exactly 9:00 AM, clipboard in hand, wearing my department-issued khakis and building inspector badge displayed. I knocked on what generously could be called a door.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!” I called out, using our department’s legally mandated greeting (which our legal team should honestly update for professional standards).

“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!” came the reply, which is not an acceptable response in our inspection protocol manual.

I adjusted my hard hat and double-checked that my inspection credentials were visible. “Sir, I am a licensed building inspector with the Woodland Building Department. I need to conduct an immediate safety evaluation of these premises.”

“Go away! We’re not falling for it, wolf!”

This kind of species-based discrimination is unfortunately common in code enforcement. I’ve filed many complaints with HR about it, but that’s a battle for another day.

I pulled out my tablet and began documenting the violations. No footer. No foundation. No structural support members of any kind. The straw wasn’t even properly secured to meet basic wind resistance requirements. One good gust could send the whole structure into the protected owl habitat next door. I sighed and did what any responsible inspector would do: I tested the lateral force resistance.

One huff and puff load test later, and my worst fears were confirmed. The entire house collapsed, failing to meet even the most basic standards of IRC Section R301.2.1. The owner came scrambling out and ran toward the second house before I could even issue a stop-work order. I noted, “inspection refused; structure deemed unsafe” on my form and moved on to the next property.

The stick house was, if possible, even more egregious. Untreated lumber. No hurricane ties. Zero consideration for lateral bracing. The owner of the first house was already inside with the second pig, and they both refused to acknowledge my official capacity.

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!” I tried again, holding up my inspector’s badge.

“Not by the hair of our chinny chin chins!” Two voices this time, equally obstinate.

I pulled out my inspection checklist and began noting violations. No fire stops. No egress windows. No proper load path to the foundation. The list went on and on. Again, I was forced to conduct a lateral stability test. One huff and puff, and... well, you can guess what happened. Both pigs fled to the brick house while I was still writing up the notice of violations.

Now, the brick house—I’ll give credit where it’s due. The masonry work showed promise. But it still needed proper inspection and certification. By this point, all three pigs were inside, and they were becoming increasingly hostile.

“This is your final warning!” I announced. “I am authorized under Building Code Section 104.6 to conduct a thorough inspection of these premises. Failure to comply will result in significant fines and possible criminal charges!”

They responded by barricading the door with what sounded like unpermitted furniture additions. Do you know how many occupancy regulations that violates?

I spent the next hour conducting external measurements and documenting numerous violations: improper setback from the property line, non-conforming roof pitch, missing moisture barrier, and unauthorized decorative fixtures. I could hear them inside the whole time, probably concealing evidence of further violations.

That’s when I noticed the chimney. A major code violation if I ever saw one—no spark arrestor, no proper flashing, not even basic tuck-pointing between the bricks. It was my duty to investigate.

What happened next has been grossly misrepresented in the media. Yes, I attempted to gain entry through the chimney for inspection purposes. Yes, there happened to be a pot of water on the fire below. But it was they who lit the fire when they heard me coming! I have the burn marks on my tail to prove it, and Worker’s Comp is still processing that claim.