From the kitchen window of his home in Tõrremäe, Madis Toomsalu looks out over a seven-hectare solar park, much of it built illegally. When Toomsalu, who works in construction, and his partner moved to this remote rural village near Rakvere nine years ago, the old farmhouse they chose felt completely off the grid.

"There was this old farmhouse and we started building our little home here. Next to it was a patch of old forest that bordered a river. It was a really scenic place," Toomsalu said.

The couple also had their eye on the wooded neighboring plot, but the municipality decided to auction off the land and they lost out to a timber buyer. That company cleared the forest and sold the land to Solar Light, which began building a solar park there seven years ago.

"It started in 2018 when a building permit was requested for the solar park. It was completed and in 2019 we issued a use permit. The initial solar park was developed in accordance with regulations," said Rakvere Municipal Mayor Maido Nõlvak.

"We actually made peace with that first solar park. We were even happy — better that we don't get a bunch of new neighbors. It still felt like a quiet, scenic place. But then more construction kept happening from 2019 right up to today," said Toomsalu.

The construction left much to be desired. According to Toomsalu, workers relieved themselves in the bushes near their home and heavy machinery repeatedly tore up their access road, which the family repaired out of pocket each time. It's currently back to being a muddy mess. But more shocking was how the company went on to aggressively expand the solar park far beyond its permitted size — even into a protected water buffer zone where construction is banned — then tried to legalize the expansion retroactively.

"If you look at how many panels there are now, I'd say it's about three times more than originally planned," Toomsalu said.

"There's no way to legalize the location of those panels — they all need to be dismantled. The same goes for the fence, which is also part of the solar infrastructure. That too is built in the water protection zone and can't be legalized," said Nõlvak.

One hallmark of the developer's style is a tall wall of solar panels running along the roadside. It acts as both a territorial fence and a means of maximizing energy production. But the mayor says the fence was installed without permission, creating additional problems: snowplows can't safely pass in winter and loose stones from car tires could damage the panels during other seasons.

"We issued an order to immediately halt all construction and warned them of a coercive fine — €10,000 if the work continued," Nõlvak said.

Solar Light refused to pay and instead took the municipality to court, arguing the fine was excessive. When the court ordered the parties to seek a compromise, the municipality lowered the fine to €2,000, but the company still refused to pay. Meanwhile, the same company was causing trouble elsewhere in the same municipality.

Nõlvak took the "Pealtnägija"crew to the edge of a wooded meadow that is especially beautiful in late autumn.

"One day, they sent in a logging crew and went after Estonia's sacred tree — the oak. When we arrived after a call from concerned locals, they had already cut down seven or eight oak trees," Nõlvak said.

At the time, Solar Light lacked a felling permit, detailed plan or building permit for the solar park. The Estonian Nature Conservation Society named the perpetrator "Environmental Enemy of the Year" and the project was ultimately scrapped.

Few have heard of Solar Light and even fewer have seen its sole owner. There's not a single photo of 44-year-old Heino Hõbeoja online and he avoids public attention like the plague. All of "Pealtnägija's" calls, texts and emails requesting comment went unanswered.

Even the excavator operator working at Hõbeoja's Tõrremäe site grew nervous at the sight of a camera.

"I don't want to be filmed. I don't agree to that," the worker said.

Despite his secrecy, Hõbeoja ranked 78th on business daily Äripäev's wealthiest list last year, with an estimated net worth of €66.5 million, just behind car mogul Viktor Siilats and ahead of Olerex fuel co-owner Antti Moppel. Business records and public filings show Hõbeoja skillfully leveraged state subsidies for renewable energy through a clever loophole that technically followed the rules.

"Unfortunately, when it comes to subsidies, there are always individuals and companies who look for gray areas and often it's not possible to catch everything during the process," said Rein Vaks, head of the Ministry of Climate's energy department.

Until 2020, the state provided higher subsidies for small solar parks under 50 kilowatts. Hõbeoja's three main companies oversaw hundreds of shell companies, each managing fragmented "micro-parks" that qualified for the larger subsidy. Registries show Hõbeoja-linked entities are tied to 57 land plots housing 1,140 separate solar units. Between 2013 and 2022, these entities applied for €27.2 million in subsidies — mostly through transmission system operator Elering — and received €15.2 million.

Vaks acknowledges the legality of the loophole but insists the subsidies delivered societal benefits.

"Thanks to these support schemes, we now have enough solar generation to cover summer electricity consumption entirely with renewable sources. That drives market prices near zero or even negative. So there's a public benefit that must be considered," Vaks said.

Solar parks linked to Hõbeoja have a total capacity of 70 megawatts, about 7 percent of all solar capacity connected to the Elektrilevi grid. That's twice the output of Enefit Green and on par with Sunly. What's remarkable is that Hõbeoja fully owns all of these ventures.

But those who have clashed with him say Estonia's "uncrowned solar king" uses predatory business tactics — building first and seeking legal approval later. "Pealtnägija" uncovered several nearly identical cases across the country.

In the picturesque coastal village of Liu in Pärnu County, Hõbeoja's company bought residential land near a substation five years ago, flattened it with bulldozers and intended to build a solar park. But the local council refused to rezone it for industrial use, halting the project. In central Estonia, however, the same strategy succeeded in Türi-Alliku.

"The greenhouses were bulldozed into piles, trees cut down — it was chaos. We salvaged whatever we could," said local resident Urve Meerits.

"He took down all the trees — tall apple and cherry trees. People had been using this land for years," she added.

Like many residents of the former Soviet-era apartment buildings in Türi-Alliku, Meerits grew carrots and cucumbers nearby, socialized with neighbors and lit bonfires in the summer. After the land was sold to Hõbeoja's firm, all previous informal agreements with the agricultural cooperative were nullified and solar panels went up so close they now reflect sunlight directly into nearby homes.

With hindsight, Türi Deputy Mayor Elar Niglas admitted that although the zoning plan allowed the solar park, local residents were not adequately consulted.

"Personally, I believe it's always wise to listen to neighbors and take their opinions into account when possible. But legally, there was no violation," Niglas said.

Initially, Solar Light wanted to expand the park to a nearby field, but neither the municipality nor the neighbors gave their approval. Hõbeoja's other company then built a new park across the highway. At first, it was legal and had the necessary permits — until the company started altering the project mid-construction.

"Midway through construction, it turned out the company had started replacing the fence with one made of solar panels, which wasn't included in the approved plans and isn't permitted under Türi's comprehensive plan," said Niglas.

The solar fence is too tall and too close to the road, posing a potential hazard by reflecting sunlight into drivers' eyes.

"We sent the company a notice and asked them to address the issue. Unfortunately, they haven't responded or taken action," said Niglas.

According to the deputy mayor, the firm is currently ignoring all inquiries and the municipality hasn't yet decided whether to impose fines. Meanwhile, the Rakvere court case over coercive fines is ongoing. Locals say Hõbeoja's signature move is to sue anyone who stands in his way.

Estonia's public court records show 22 rulings over the past seven years involving Hõbeoja or his companies. He's taken municipalities to court over fines and even sued an excavator rental company for charging him for engine oil. Both local governments and distribution system operator Elektrilevi say they don't have such problems with other solar producers.

Despite the legal wrangling, business is booming. Though the state no longer pays small producers as generously, Hõbeoja's companies reported €6 million in revenue and more than €3 million in profit last year. The kicker? Even illegally built solar parks must be connected to the grid, allowing him to profit from their output.

"We don't have the legal authority to check for valid use permits or to restrict grid access based on that. And honestly, we wouldn't want to take on that role — cutting off access to the grid is an extreme measure," said Rudolf Penu, board member at Elektrilevi.

"It would be simpler if I could just call Elektrilevi and say, 'Cut the power to this illegally built solar park.' If they had the right to do that, it would solve the problem — the panels would stop producing," said Nõlvak.

"Then maybe we could start a conversation about whether municipalities need more authority or whether fine amounts should be increased to give developers a real incentive to play by the rules. But without clear insight, it's hard to say what would be most effective," said Penu.

"All the rules we've agreed on as a society — those set by lawmakers — need to be followed. And if enforcement isn't working, we have to look at whether our tools need to be updated," added Vaks.

Until courts rule and officials find better solutions, ordinary people continue to suffer from the unchecked actions of one businessman.

"What bothers me most is that there's no one, no institution who can actually do something. Everyone just shrugs and says they tried, but nothing changes. And there's still space to expand — maybe they'll squeeze in even more panels," said Toomsalu.

"Pealtnägija" repeatedly contacted Heino Hõbeoja for comment, but received no response.

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