"They shouldn't have been built in the first place," he said.
In 2006, county inspectors began issuing him citations again, he said.
County officials have declined to say exactly why the citations resumed when they did. Nor would they confirm that they failed to cite him during the preceding two decades.
Since then, Fahey says that he has appeared in court more than 50 times as the case advanced toward a criminal trial.
"It would break most people," said Fahey's wife of six years, Pat, who is as proud of Phonehenge West as he is and delights in showing visitors its highlights -- the great view, the double sink, etc.
But Fahey isn't most people.
He is a Santa Claus look-alike, with a long white beard, denim overalls and rapid-fire speech, who can talk your ear off on most any subject, from World War II to giant squid, injecting jokes after almost every phrase. He is a self-taught craftsman who seems to have considerable skill. He constructs detailed miniature replicas of Viking houses, fire stations and Phonehenge West itself.
A political independent who stockpiles food and votes for "peace and freedom," he carries a pocket-size copy of the U.S. Constitution in his jacket.
After graduating from Hart High School in Newhall in 1969, Fahey embarked on a 30-year career as a phone service technician. He has been divorced four times; he and Pat, his fifth wife, have 10 children between them, most of them adults. The youngest, 16, lives with the couple, his bedroom a loft inside the barn. An adult son lives in a separate structure on the property.
Phonehenge West's interior is as eclectic as Fahey's mind. Inside the barn that Fahey calls his temporary home, curio cabinets hold collectibles, including Star Wars toys and dinosaur replicas from the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. More than 20,000 books fill every available shelf that isn't crammed with kitchen utensils or food, including the overhead rafters. There are military memoirs, a biography of Benito Mussolini and the 9/11 Commission Report.
Fahey's own recollections are meticulously scripted in the pages of hardbound journals. The year is printed on each spine -- 1975 to 2011. The library also includes his self-published book, "Hollywood Unlisted," about the many years he worked as a phone man for a host of celebrities.
A 19th century wood-burning stove heats the barn's interior. The couple sleeps on a single-size water bed in an area partitioned off from the kitchen. Pat prepares meals on a compact stove. The kitchen lacks cupboards, so plates and platters are neatly stacked on shelves; pots and mugs hang from hooks. Fahey fashioned the dining table from the frame of an old water bed.
But Phonehenge West isn't just a family pad.
Chickens, turkeys and guinea hens live in an aviary made from a yurt that Fahey said came from a movie set. The yurt's roof is an old satellite dish. Koi and bullfrogs swim in a pond fashioned from a cattle watering trough.
Fahey said he wants to turn one wing of the tower into a museum, and another into a library and gift shop. He has plans for a crafts workshop for disabled children. He welcomes visitors and keeps a guest book. It's full of signatures. Someone once inquired about holding a wedding there.
Lewis, the advocate, said Fahey's openness adds to Phonehenge West's appeal.
"He's not putting up a wall to keep the public out," he said.
Fahey said he plans to fight to the end for his creation.
"I don't care what they do to me," he said.