FALL RIVER is actually not the first Massachusetts community to tear down state public housing. The precedent was set by Lowell in August 2000, when it gained the state’s permission to raze the 284-unit Julian Steele complex. Unlike Fall River, Lowell had little chance of getting state funds to renovate the project, which would have cost $10 million. But the city had to make other concessions: Lowell agreed to replace the publicly run project with a privately developed neighborhood of 180 one- and two-family homes for low-income residents. The city also promised to relocate Julian Steele tenants to 220 affordable units scattered among various sites.

Not surprisingly, Fall River officials are trying to mirror Lowell’s example. After state legislators last fall effectively nixed the community’s original home-rule petition, city officials went back to the drawing board. On February 20, they filed an amended version, which, as in Lowell, calls for replacing the 100 units that will be lost if Watuppa is leveled. In addition to committing to build 26 low-income homes on the site, the revised petition claims the city will supplement the loss of Watuppa units with 77 rental units under renovation for low-income residents elsewhere in the city. If Watuppa tenants cannot afford these options, the proposal promises to relocate them to another state public-housing project.

City officials believe the amended version will prove more palatable. Robert Correia, a Fall River state representative who backs the proposal, hails it as "fair and well thought out." Correia, whose district includes Watuppa, maintains that the project’s tenants will end up with what he calls "equal or better housing of their own choice."

For officials like Correia, the issue comes down to fairness. Fall River, they argue, remains one of just 23 Massachusetts communities whose affordable housing exceeds the state’s 10 percent benchmark. Most places — from Lincoln to the Berkshires — have failed to adhere to that standard. Why, they reason, should Fall River be forced to shoulder the burden of housing a disproportionate number of the state’s poor? Why shouldn’t the state’s 328 other communities do their share? "As long as we achieve 10 percent and meet our residents’ needs, why should we do more?" asks Lambert. According to the mayor, the city’s lengthy public-housing waiting list is dominated by outsiders, not by local residents. (Of the 3300 currently waiting for housing, 1027 are Fall River residents.)

As far as Lambert’s concerned, whether Fall River is setting a dangerous precedent is beside the point: "Unfortunately, the city is left with no other choice." Legislators need to examine a state housing policy that forces people to relocate to faraway cities, he argues; they need to examine why the burden is distributed so unevenly. Correia even characterizes the petition as "a wake-up call" that could have positive effects by forcing state policy to address the housing crisis. He says, "Tell me that it’s a good and just policy to put poor people in select communities without the resources to care for them."

Donna Haig Friedman, who directs the Center for Social Policy at UMass Boston’s McCormack Institute, recognizes the frustration voiced by Fall River officials: "They’re saying they’ve done their part and cannot adequately meet the needs of families flocking to their communities." Clearly, the state has failed to deal with the housing crunch, she notes. As more and more people migrate from Boston to less expensive cities such as Brockton, New Bedford, and Fall River, these cities’ residents feel, she says, that "there’s a saturation point."

Still, Fall River’s parochial vision is not the solution. It doesn’t follow that tearing down Watuppa will force delinquent communities statewide to build more affordable housing. Moreover, no matter how you spin it, demolishing Watuppa will lead to the loss of permanent low-income housing — at a time when the state’s hot real-estate market ranks the fourth in the country, driving housing prices ever higher.

In the amended petition, Fall River officials present what they call "replacements" for Watuppa’s 100 public-housing units. But what they’re offering is not a true match. Though the 26 homes slated to replace the housing project will be made available to low-income families, not a single current Watuppa resident is likely to be able to buy one. Advocates also argue that the 77 low-income rental units that the petition claims will absorb some of those left homeless by Watuppa’s destruction represent no real gain: they are part of a long-standing revitalization effort. In other words, they’ll be built regardless of Watuppa’s demolition, not because of it.

Judith Liben, a housing attorney at the Massachusetts Law Reform Institute, in Boston, doubts that anybody really thinks these units replace the Watuppa apartments. She points out that Lambert even implies as much. In a February 7 letter to city councilors, he refers to the 77 units virtually as a convenient ruse to help satisfy legislators. Counting them as replacements, Lambert writes, "allows us to accomplish our original goal ... without any effort or commitment beyond what was already in place." Says Liben: "The city’s dressing up the wolf in sheep’s clothing."

Over on Beacon Hill, such sentiments may resonate. Michael Cahill, a Beverly state representative, heads the Joint Committee on Housing and Urban Development (HUD), which will hold a hearing on the Fall River petition this month. Legislators, Cahill says, take the petition seriously because of the state’s "significant housing concerns." They're especially interested in how the petition will ripple statewide. "If this passes," he asks, "what does that mean for our public housing? It’s a fair question." Steven Panagiotakos, the Lowell senator who sponsored Lowell’s home-rule petition in 2000 and who co-chairs the HUD committee, also expects Fall River to face scrutiny. If the Lowell effort shows anything, he says, "it’s that we’re very tough on replication."

But housing advocates believe that home-rule petitions have cachet on Beacon Hill. When lobbying against the Fall River petition thus far, advocates have bumped up against this general response: if I support this, Fall River will support my home-rule petition down the line. Observes Neighbor to Neighbor’s Gruman, "The home-rule petition is one of the most primitive forms of horse-trading at the State House." The problem, of course, is that the Fall River plan is not your run-of-the-mill local issue, such as a land swap. Rather, it has far-reaching implications for statewide housing policy. Still, Gruman notes, "Legislators who you assume would fight this tooth and nail are reluctant." Even Correia admits that the home-rule petition is viewed as "not sacrosanct but close to it." Even so, he thinks legislators will support Fall River based on the proposal’s merits.

For Watuppa residents like Edwards, all this talk about horse-trading leaves her feeling more like a pawn than a person. She has yet to take comfort in her politicians’ promises to relocate her family. Those days of homeless shelters and public-housing waiting lists still linger in her mind. When you’re forced to shuttle your children from temporary place to temporary place, it’s not something you forget. "It feels really bad to be homeless," she says.

Edwards has resolved never to feel that way again. At least, not if she can help it. And so, for the past two months, she has made the 40-mile trek from Watuppa Heights to the State House twice a week to appeal to legislators. All she can do is ask them not to "tear down her stability," as she puts it. That, and keep her fingers crossed. "I know there’s help," she says, with a hint of optimism. "I pray [legislators] see that I’m a person like everybody else."

Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.