I can’t help but think Sarasota County Commissioners messed with the wrong candidate in Fredd Atkins.

A declared candidate for Sarasota County Commission in District 1 drawn out of a jurisdiction and told to wait two years to run, Atkins just filed a class action lawsuit, along with other Newtown activists, alleging questionable redistricting was racially motivated.

There’s been speculation the new federal case will go nowhere. There’s likely not enough black voters in Newtown to have drawn a majority minority district, one where they would make up more than half of voters. Dan Vicuna of Common Cause tells me that hurts an argument the Voting Rights Act was violated.

But Atkins’ involvement in this case makes things interesting. He happens to be Sarasota’s first black mayor, and got there in the 1980s by successfully advancing a similar argument to this one. Then, black activists sought to end at-large voting and force single-member districts for City Commission elections. The case launched in 1979 took until 1985 to reach a conclusion.

“I think this is very much a similar case,” Atkins said. “It’s based on the same statutes— the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and the 14^th Amendment.”

It's easy to forget the NAACP at the time didn’t really win. Rather, a judge agreed to a settlement proposed by the city that Sarasota adopt the mixed system still in place today. There would be three commissioners decided in district elections and two elected at-large.

Afterward, Atkins became a candidate in a newly-drawn District 1. He’ll remind you that district has never been majority minority either. When he ran in 1985, about 45 percent of voters were black. But that was enough, and every year since, a black commissioner has represented District 1.

Notably, Atkins also thought the most important part of the settlement was allowing commissioners to be elected with a plurality of the vote, but the City Commission eventually took steps to make a runoff system. He’s still bitter at how the ruling has eroded through the years.

Still, the outcome from a historic perspective seems enormously consequential 34 years in the future. And it may actually be a lesson in how even though the NAACP didn’t get all it wanted, it was enough to permanently change city politics. That’s worth thinking about now.

And Vicuna said there’s solid arguments about the redistricting violating equal protections of minority voters. “It does sound like there was a real targeting of that community,” he said. “If the court determines or provides that cutting out the community and moving it to a different cycle, and doing so in defiance of all other reason, then the defendants could be in trouble.”

The old case also showed whatever parties ask for, anything can happen in court. In 1985, every seat on the City Commission had to stand for election, despite the city normally staggering votes. If that happened with this case and voters in District 2 were allowed to vote, Atkins may just get a chance to run there in 2020.

Or new lines could be thrown out. Or a completely new map could surface. Possibilities are endless, which makes this legal venture so risky for the county.

It’s funny to think Atkins in 1985 ran as the young guy without the baggage of NAACP leaders. He’s since made some friends but likely more enemies with his blunt style and willingness to raise the prospect of underlying racial animus. That’s partly what he’s doing right now, but he also knows how to make the case.

Vicuna said if Atkins can argue he was targeted despite being a clear favorite of voters in the previous make-up of the district, that helps his case. But Atkins also argues not just for himself but a substantial chunk of voters in the community who supported him for years.

“All we ever asked for was a chance to win,” Atkins said, of the old case and the new one. “We never asked for a fiat. We just wanted an opportunity to compete.”