A luxury survivalist community is tearing itself apart

There are 575 of them, gathered in a former munitions depot near the Black Hills of South Dakota and it has been called “the largest survival community on Earth.” The pitch: Foreshadow nuclear war, the next pandemic, or societal collapse in relative comfort.

Yet the dream of many residents has been shattered. The danger comes not from Armageddon, but from friction that resembles a suburban homeowners association fight.

Lawsuits, counter-lawsuits and disputes over septic systems, property taxes, off-leash dogs and a growing list of community rules are increasing. The legal dispute has twice reached the state Supreme Court. The promised facilities, including a restaurant bunker, a pool bunker and a horse stables bunker, have not yet been completed. Guns have been brandished, and offers have been made to settle matters with fists. The developer denies wrongdoing and says the complaints come from a few disgruntled people.

“You get that many people with similar mindsets in such a small place, eventually they’re going to cross each other’s boundaries and you’re going to have conflict,” said Larry Harter, a retired locomotive engineer in nearby Edgemont, population 725. He was recently drinking beer at the Victory Steakhouse & Lounge, where preppers from campus sometimes come for dinner or drinks.

Edgemont Mayor Rita Reagan said she was unsure whether the complex being across the street was a boon for her city. “There are some people who come downtown, but for the most part they don’t,” she said. “They’re just doing their job, whatever their job is. Like I said, I wouldn’t want any part of it.”

‘5 Star Survival Luxury’

The Doomsday Enclave, known as Vivos Expoint, is the brainchild of Los Angeles-based entrepreneur Robert Vicino, who had a vision in 1980: According to the company’s website, he needed to build a large underground structure to protect 1,000 people from an impending “life-extinction event.” Since then they have developed a global network of such communities.

In 2016, Vicino began working with local ranchers to transform a long-abandoned South Dakota property — away from “known nuclear targets” and “high-crime lawlessness areas” (read: cities) — into “a compound for like-minded survivalists to hang out at the ‘event,'” as Vivos puts it. According to his son Dante, director of operations for Vivos Xpoint, Vicino later purchased the property outright.

Vivos offers 99-year leases on the shelters, which have approximately 2,200 square feet of space. Occupants must pay a down payment of up to $55,000, as well as an annual ground rent and service charge. They can construct the raw space themselves or hire Vivos contractors. The company promotes “5-Star Survival Luxury and Comfort” and residents live on streets with names like Bunker Way.

Dante Vicino said, “My vision is to see Xpoint become a thriving community of people who seek security in this increasingly crazy world.” He said about a third of the units were leased and a few dozen were occupied full-time. “The lawsuits have really hurt, but we have not backed down at all,” he said.

Recently retired Los Angeles police detective and former Army reservist Philip Briggs said he paid $25,000 for a 99-year lease on his windowless bunker six or seven years ago. He now lives in Las Vegas and uses it as a vacation spot and potential emergency shelter. “You can fish there, you can hunt, you can go hiking,” he said. “And if I need to, yes, I can use it as a bug out – if I can get there.”

It stores food inside for a year. “Just like rice – the basic food item that you will prepare at the end of the world,” he said, adding that he has no problems with management. “If I had a problem, I would sell my place and leave.”

Not everyone shares Briggs’ experience.

They soon discovered that their septic system was not working. When he inquired about filing a complaint, a Vivos employee warned him off, Streeter testified in court. He said the company would likely try to oust him – as it has done to others. According to the terms of the lease, if evicted, he will lose his lease payments and potentially the value of any improvements he has made.

Vivos has said that no such strategy exists.

Then about five months later, Streeter described harassment by Vivos contractors in court. It ended when one of them drove a front-end loader to Streeter’s bunker and challenged him to a fight. Streeter pulled out his gun and told the man to leave.

“You never killed anyone, right?” the man said, according to video shot by Streeter’s daughter and entered into court records.

“Oh, yes,” replied Streeter, a former prison guard, EMT and Army veteran who served in Bosnia.

“I have it with these hands,” replied the man.

A few moments later, the camera moves out of frame. The sound of gunshot can be heard.

Streeter testified that the man charged him and he fired once, wounding him. Streeter later rendered aid and, along with a friend, carried the man to an ambulance. That man survived. A grand jury declined to indict Streeter, and a judge later granted him immunity under South Dakota’s stand-your-ground law. The state Supreme Court later affirmed the decision.

Vivos decided to oust Streeter for the shooting and for an incident earlier in the day in which he pushed another contractor. Streeter is fighting the proceedings in court.

It’s not quite a zombie apocalypse, but life in litigation is its own kind of dystopia.

Daniel Sindorf, who used to work for the government and has an MBA, paid $35,000 for his 99-year lease in July 2020 and invested $100,000 in improvements, according to legal filings. Two main things irked him: Vivos moved to raise monthly fees to cover property taxes, and a contractor’s dogs roamed freely, the filings show. He complained in a resident text group called xPoint Pioneers.

It reached its peak in July 2023. Sindorf—who had reported three days earlier that a dog had attacked his wife—said he had taken out the gun to protect himself from the animals while riding his motorcycle. The contractor’s girlfriend alleges that he pointed a gun at her.

About six months later, Vivos sought to have her evicted, citing a rule against brandishing firearms – a rule that was added after she signed her lease. Sindorf acknowledged that he had been informed of the change.

Sindorf left in May 2024 but locked the unit behind him, preventing Vivos from taking over. They countersued and initially won: A lower court ruled the lease invalid because its terms could be changed after the fact. However, last month the South Dakota Supreme Court overturned the decision and sent the case back to a lower court.

A massive fight is brewing. A September lawsuit, intended for class-action status, demands refunds for more than 100 tenants and alleges that the Vivos lease violates a state law that requires landlords to provide and maintain habitable housing.

The lawsuit, filed by attorney Matthew Hayes McCoy, accuses Vivos of misrepresenting features. A video on the company’s website shows plans for bunkers fitted out as a gym, a restaurant, a general store, a community center and a medical clinic. No one is complete.

Operations director Dante Vicino said Vivos still planned to deliver the facilities, but would first focus on building individual units in a remote location where workers are difficult to find.

Chris Yellow Thunder, who lived just outside the complex for many years and is a close friend of Streeter, said the controversy has ruined what could have been an ideal place to retire or deal with a disaster. He said of the igloos, “Once you go inside, you have no outside noise, nothing, you know, so, I mean, it’s incredibly peaceful.” “It really could have been a wonderful little oasis there.”

Write to Joe Barrett joseph.barrett@wsj.com