Whether the case involved a feckless terrorist plot, a wrongly convicted man's quest for justice, or a wayward Norwegian biker trying to persuade a jury the CIA had set him up, Paula McMahon was there. Over any given year, this Ireland-born Sun Sentinel courts reporter enters hundreds of stories detailing the many zany antics of America's southernmost swamp. Her stories are always smart, well-written, and teeming with her keen sense of absurdity. What's more, in an industry of hubris and bombast, she lends a sense of decency and kindness. An adage of journalism is that to be a good reporter, you first must be a good person. Paula McMahon is both. And she makes good company during long jury deliberations, trust us.

The most erudite politician in our fair county is also the most important one. Under the guidance of Fort Lauderdale Mayor Jack Seiler, Broward County has an unemployment rate of 5.7 percent — substantially lower than the state and national averages. More than 13 million tourists are expected to deluge Broward County this year, which marks an increase of 1 million over last year. And while Seiler doesn't deserve credit for all of this, he leads the most dynamic and biggest city in the county. He also deserves major props for not making a mistake that has bedeviled other politicians: excessive ambition. There was a time when Seiler was considering a run at governor. This would have been a mistake — established state pols like Charlie Crist or Rick Scott would have pummeled him — and he wisely backed out. For now, it looks like Seiler's here to stay. And that's a good thing.

In 2006, Fane Lozman, a Marine pilot who became a millionaire after he invented and patented a financial trading software program, docked his houseboat in Riviera Beach, and the drama began. After he stood up for everyday boaters by blocking big developers from taking over the city marina, city officials retaliated. He was slapped with infractions for walking his ten-pound dog without a muzzle and for disobeying boating regulations. Then came serious vindictiveness. Riviera Beach, with help from U.S. marshals citing federal maritime law, seized and destroyed Lozman's floating home. Lozman wasn't going down like that. "I did not care how much of my personal time it would take or how much it would cost or how long it would take — I vowed that I would get justice," Lozman later explained. He waged a yearslong legal battle against the city, ultimately scoring a major victory in January, when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the city and marshals had been wrong to seize his home by classifying it as a vessel. Wrote Justice Breyer, "Not every floating structure is a 'vessel.' To state the obvious, a wooden washtub, a plastic dishpan, a swimming platform on pontoons, a large fishing net, a door taken off its hinges, or Pinocchio (when inside the whale) are not 'vessels.' " At presstime, Lozman was still looking to recoup the value of his home, his furniture, and his legal bills, but he swore he had more corrupt officials in his sights.

Andre Barbosa isn't interested in fame. He isn't interested in politics. Nor is he interested in rational action. He's interested in music videos and $2.5 million mansions. His nickname, deeply irreverent but somehow iconic, says it all: Loki Boy. Early this year, he infiltrated an emptied Boca Raton palace and then — in straight Loki Boy style — just chilled. No plan. No motive. No contact with reporters. This story hit its strange climax in early February. That was when intrepid CBS12 reporter Josh Repp charged into the mansion to interview Loki but instead discovered two Arabic women who bellowed "Hide yourself!" to each other when Repp and camera approached them. Soon after, Loki vacated the mansion and released a dancy-dance music video of his single "I Don't Wanna Let You Go." He also launched a record label, Monstar Entertainment. It has one client: Loki.

Near the end of 2012, a call went out across the Everglades: Kill 'em all. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission said it would hold a Burmese python hunt to exterminate the breed ravaging the natural fauna of the Everglades. It set forth arguably the strangest — and coolest — publicity stunt in the annals of bureaucracy. Don't ask about catches or caveats. There weren't any. Any hunter could tromp into the Everglades, knife in hand, with minimal training, and try to bag him a snake. But the best part was yet to come. Turns out, pythons are almost impossible to spot and trap. Over one month, only 68 pythons were killed. Even though Florida Fish and Wildlife didn't manage total annihilation, it did bring an incredible amount of attention to the python epidemic writhing in the Everglades. Reporters dispatched hundreds of stories covering the issue.

To traverse our sprawling county at the mercy of a county bus route can cause great anxiety for commuters, but Broward County Transit offers fun and games for the casual visitor. Get on the number four. If you're here from out of town, you can hop a free connection from Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport to the Tri-Rail station. From there, this bus takes you east to the Dania Beach Fishing Pier, where you can hop off and check out the oldest pier in the tricounty area and get a drink at the Beach Watch Restaurant (remember, you're not driving!). Then get back on the bus and relax while the number four takes you south toward Young Circle in Hollywood. If your timing is right, you'll find yourself in the middle of live music or other festivities that break out regularly in the circle. Once you've had your fun there, Route 4 next heads west to the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Hollywood, where you can pretty much say "sayonara" to your day, getting lost in the shopping, eating, drinking (still not driving), playing cards, playing slots — whatever. Do it up. And if you miss the last bus (which on the weekend can be as early as 9 p.m.), you can get a room or call a cab. If you need to make it back to the airport or Tri-Rail station after your Fort Lauderdale adventure, just take the bus full circle. A day pass will cost you just four dollars — cheaper than filling the tank and safer than drinking and driving.

Summer in South Florida: Blockbuster movies, rainy tropical afternoons, and no school. While this teen-friendly combination drives gaggles of 16-year-olds to the local movieplex, you want to enjoy your favorite Marvel superheroes in peace on the big screen without having your seat kicked and while eating something a little more gourmet than stale popcorn. Behold iPic Theaters in Mizner Park, where all ages are welcome, though some might appreciate the iPic angle more than others. Seating is reserved, starting at $14 per leather recliner. For just $10 more, a "Premium Plus" ticket gets you a pillow, a blanket, and gourmet food and beverage service from a full bar. Just push a little button on your armrest and your server hustles on over. iPic Boca Raton has a resident mixologist as well as tasty treats — the flatbreads come highly recommended. Aside from the food, the crowd is quiet, the theaters are clean, and the sound quality can't be beat. Sign up for the free membership program to reap the rewards of upgraded seating and discounts at the snack bar.

Brian Andrews has ridden out a series of wild personal adventures — including playing "El Gringo" on TV in Bogota and escaping a Colombian kidnapping attempt — to find his way back to South Florida on CBS4. For this, we rejoice. Few television reporters in South Florida offer more charisma or insider knowledge of the region than Andrews. The dude is 100 percent élan, and his vibe perfectly fits Miami and Broward. You'll never catch Andrews looking like he's going to a funeral. He pulses with color, just like our wacky state does. And Andrews' stories, whether they detail the latest on a murder or a major storm or some international intrigue, always go further to bring us the news we need now. We can authoritatively say that Bogota's loss is South Florida's gain. Welcome home, Brian Andrews.

Pixie dos aren't exactly common in the ranks of South Florida news anchors. Smart-sexy vamping is usually the standard MO. But the woman now steering WSVN-TV's weeknight newscasts is holding down a niche in the market. After nine years on-air, Belkys Nerey has jumped from reporter to style correspondent to anchor, building up a faithful audience with an on-camera approachability that's the antithesis of frosty and fake. The charm doesn't seem to drop when the cameras turn off. In fact, she's probably the only member of the local anchorati you could approach in public without getting your face chewed off. That genuine vibe is built on hometown credentials. Born in Cuba, the 46-year-old grew up partly in Miami and later studied journalism and communications at Florida International University. Today, Nerey is the informed voice guiding viewers through the daily highs and lows at 5, 6, 10 and 11.

The sidekick always gets overlooked. Be it Robin to Batman, Garfunkel to Simon, Biden to Obama, or Chewbacca to Han Solo, the sidekick is mostly seen as comic relief, with little else to do. But then there's Jonathan Zaslow (Zaz), the venerable Kato to Marc Hochman's Green Hornet of 790/104.3 FM The Ticket's morning drive program, Hochman & Zaslow. Zaz has played several roles for the station, from being a reporter to producing a show to hosting the Miami Heat pregame show (which he still does). What endears us to Zaz is his unapologetic die-hard love for the local teams, his intelligence, and his dry-cut sense of humor that seems like a perfect foil to an otherwise goofy morning show. Zaz delivers his lines straight but with tongue firmly in cheek. He's passionate without being a meathead, and there's no better host to answer trolling opposing teams' fans phone calls than Zaz, who is always ready to cut them down to size with his wit and his sports knowledge. As the man himself would say, "Zaz is your boy!"