Monthly Archives: June 2015

A Moment in Time at Crow Agency …

25 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by in Rare Treasures

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The unzipping sound of a tent flap in the darkness was the first sound of this early morning. I stumbled out into the cool, fresh eastern Montana air. Bumbling around with my flashlight, I managed to get a pot of coffee started on the old propane Coleman stove. Then went off to relieve myself.

We were at Crow Agency, Montana … home of the Crow Indian Tribe, mortal enemies of the Lakota interlopers to their homeland. That is how 6 of them came to be scouts for the 7th U.S. Cavalry, led by General [brevet] George Armstrong Custer, back in 1876. This little campground was just to the east – maybe a little north – of the famous Last Stand Hill where Custer and about 50 of his men were found mutilated … and very dead. But, at that moment, it could have been in my back yard. All was dark & silent, except, for the sound of coffee beginning to percolate. I just sat in silence, absorbing the smell of those brewing coffee grinds.

Poured myself a mug full of the awakening beverage, and then, that zippering sound again. Out rolled my oldest boy, Jesse — then 6 years old. This was 1987. We quietly chatted. Then, the sky began to brighten, ever so slowly. It is very likely that my two other urchins, Adam & Christopher, popped out of the tent about this time.

The day before, we had driven and hiked around the battlefield which stretches some 3 miles along the Little Bighorn River. One of the things that struck me, as we were on foot among the markers – [they are not headstones, though there is a National Cemetery in the Park, but rather markers that denote where bodies,  in some cases specific bodies, where found by the burial parties] – was that you could almost feel the flow of the battle. Those markers make this the most unique National Battlefield in the Park system. Little Bighorn – or, Custer’s Last Stand – is a pristine & peaceful place. Yet, for two days in June it was dusty, loud, violent, and bloody. The dichotomy cannot be ignored.

Little Bighorn sky

courtesy of National Geographic Magazine

The morning sun began to rise. We had a clear view from our campsite up to Last Stand Hill and Battle Ridge beyond. The markers glistened. There was a beautiful orange glow cast upon the site. It was quiet, we had our comforting coffee, it was a glorious sunrise. And we were gazing upon an iconic location where a scene of lifelong interest had taken place. Now, in my reflective mind, it was coming to life.

It was a recipe for our own private nirvana. To this day, those moments were among the most calming I have ever known. Wish I could bottle it: some quiet solitude, a cup of coffee, a dash of children, sprinkle in some sunrise, and a scenic and/or historical site to jump start the imagination. Perfect, to my taste!

Gatherings for the Ages!

18 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by in Mohicans!

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Almost spontaneously, after being innocently suggested by Eric Hurley (Soldier #2) on our Bulletin Board several months ago, the idea of a Mohican Gathering grew out of a love for the film, a desire to see the locations, and, probably most of all, a gnawing craving to meet one another …

So began our first informational page about the Great Mohican Gathering of 1998. In 1999 we saw another Gathering come and go … one that would be very hard to top. Never ones to turn our backs to a challenge, we turned our thoughts to a Third Annual Great Mohican Gathering. Whether it, the 2000 Gathering,  was more successful or not is a matter to be determined by those who came. The 2001 Great Mohican Gathering is behind us, and now the Gathering of 2002 rates as still another smashing success …

2003, unfortunately, had to be “postponed.” And, in 2004 the Gathering continued … the hits kept on coming!

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1998 “We came from Indiana & Illinois. We came from Florida, Texas, California and Oregon. We came from North Carolina and the Alaskan frontier. We came from across the Atlantic. Some came only in Spirit. It didn’t matter, for WE came, and we could almost FEEL the presence of those who had wanted to. We came together without anyone making a profit. We came without really knowing WHO it was we were coming to meet. We came to the unknown. Why? Why would virtual strangers, most of whom knew each other ONLY through that intangible realm known as Cyberspace, send their money to who-knows-where for T-Shirts, CRP Packages & movie tickets, pack their bags, and drive, or FLY, to some non-existant place called MohicanLand? This is a question to ponder, much like “The meaning of life,” but we’ll save that for another time. We imagined a dream. We trusted one another. We put a plan together. We MADE it happen! The lure, the one common thread we knew we all shared, was “The Last of the Mohicans”, in its broadest sense. The mystique of that film, of that cast, of those mountains, of even the novel, and certainly, the history was strong enough to make us put aside any fears and turn an unruly mob of merry Posters into an Event we will long remember. So many, though, who helped to foster that dream, and many others who will stumble upon it after the fact, were not able to attend. And so, as the ever-diligent Program Guide Editors pointed out in the GREAT Program Guide (and, it WAS!), we remember you, and dedicate this page to you (along with, of course, those who actually attended). It probably would never have happened without you! A mighty thanks to Rebecca, Victoria, Lynne, Joy, Neuromancer, Bill, Petra, Heather, Joe, She-Who-Tracks …, Norm, Carmen, Katja, Major Bray, Mike, Gretchen, Kathy, Georgette, Kiki, Juanita, Morwenna, and, of course, the illustrious Dr. Mary! (Did I forget anyone?) This Gathering is behind us now … It was a glorious time, but bittersweet, for it was SAD to have to say good-bye. You know? The Gathering firebar 1999 “Did you ever imagine this when you first started?” That question has been asked of us many times, regarding many different situations. The answer is always, “No.” From gaining inspiration from a movie, to tracking down the film’s locations, to laying out a guide booklet, to finally having it printed, to creating a web site through which to sell it, to seeing that web site expand far beyond our wildest dreams, to all the cast contacts, to all the fine contributions from people we had never before known, to watching as a real live virtual community sprung up before our eyes and called itself MohicanLand – the combined personality of which extends to The Gathering – to seeing the interactive part result, spontaneously, in a Great Mohican Gathering last year that was to become a lifelong memory for 38 lucky people … An amazing odyssey. It’s been creative, fun, challenging … and endearing. We have, with the love and support of so many of you, overcome huge obstacles placed in our path. We have laughed till we’ve cried & cried till we laughed. How could another Great Mohican Gathering, in 1999, be anything but a disappointment, a letdown … With the spontaneity gone, would it, COULD it, ever be a success? Or would the Trail finally run out?

Eric & KidsThe answer, as 52-some odd folks can readily attest to, is that the Trail can be seen disappearing well into the horizon. We have gathered again, we have trekked the trails that crisscross the beautiful greenery, the blue-tinted mountains, the rushing rivers, that make up MohicanLand. We have had, for the SECOND time, a GREAT Mohican Gathering. All the camaraderie, the joking, the poking & retorts … all the shared love of a movie and time … all the creative juices that we can proudly say makes our Board a most very special place … the joy, the scenery, the calm, the music, the wonderful personalities … the totally incongruous mix of people that SOMEHOW fits together to make it all click … it all came together a second time, and it worked! There is a magic about these Gatherings that comes from within each and every individual that attends. That’s what truly makes it all viable. From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you all for making the 1999 Great Mohican Gathering such a grand success …

It was nearly a year in the making. Almost immediately, following the ’98 event, the planning began. The Gathering is NOT a one man, or woman, show. Ilse Maan, our Dutch Trader, took on the work of designing & producing a unique T-shirt to help commemorate the event. Jo Tishler, a hold over from last year’s 3 Little Piggies, teamed with a fourth, Sarah Zentner, to create a beautiful & informative Program Guide to help to orient everyone to the proceedings. The Mighty Mohican Mama, Marcia Meara, set up our splendid Chimney Rock deal, including the infamous Bunkhouse, put together the welcome packets, and handled the organizing of the raffles, among other things. We heartily thank you all for making our job so much easier. It wouldn’t have happened without you. Then, of course, there’s Soldier #2, Eric Hurley, who each year blesses the event with his bubbling personality, good-will, and on the scene perspective of the filming at almost every location that we visit, John Evans with his collection of props from the film, Susan Houck with her Celtic music, John Harkins with his longhunter outfit, Emily McGowan with her 35mm preview of LOTM – donated for future Gatherings – Adrienne Brown and her magnificently sculpted Hawkeye doll … so many things brought to display or donated to raffle. And then, there’s each & every person who attends, bringing their own special charms & personality, that all blend together to create that magic … Yes, it always comes back to those who come … that is, indeed, what it is all about! Group At Linvillefirebar 2000

We could begin the telling of this tale in very much the same way the past two Gathering events were recounted. In fact, we could probably get away with using the same WORDS, practically verbatim … Ahhh, but that would be cheating! And, in fact, this Gathering, in the year 2000, was very much different from previous events. It would seem, that all three Gatherings to date have had their own unique personalities, despite the obvious similarities. The first one was new … and short. The second time around, we expanded to a third day, visited The River Walk, and had a very special guest in Eric Schweig. Then, the third rolled around. The second had been pulled off to near perfection. Could it be matched? Well, the sign up list grew … and grew … and despite a last week shuffling of attendees due to cancellations, near cancellations, and last-minute sign ons, the roster was at an all-time high. Amongst those putting The Gathering together, this was a cause of some trepidation. How in the world would we handle a group of 80, far surpassing either of the past two Gatherings – in fact, nearly equaling both of them COMBINED – on the trails that lead through Mohicanland? How would a 30 or 40 vehicle caravan ever stay together through the twists & turns of Mohicanland’s back roads? And then, even though there were many returnees from the previous groups, there were even MORE newcomers! Would we jell? Would the camaraderie & friendships; the good-humor & good-will still be center stage? Or, instead, would it simply deteriorate into a “tour” of film locations?

We’re glad you asked!

firebar 2001 

In a darkened theater, some 90, or more, pairs of eyes are fixed on their duty … the screen in front of them. On the horizon, for the morrow, is a hike along the Cliff Trail of Chimney Rock Park, but there it is, larger than life, before us right now. Uncas has been killed. One of the most poignant moments of a stirring film is unfolding. A lifeless lover has been tossed from the cliff by a ruthless villain. The remaining partner, dazed and confused by the horrors of frontier warfare, has come to grips with her ever downward spiraling situation and has, finally, taken control. She will plunge over the cliff to join Uncas. That villain, Magua, startled by this development, beckons Alice to come back …

[voice from the theater] “I’m coming honey!”

Funny, I don’t remember THAT particular line … I’ll have to go back and check the script.

The film rolls on … a father violently reaps his revenge. Yes, Chingachgook, father of Uncas, has caught  up with the Huron war party and stands face to face with his adversary … Magua. A brief, but brutal, struggle ensues and Magua collapses, broken & dead, on the rock, as Hickory Nut Falls gushes by. His head smashes to the ground, blood gurgling at his mouth. The audience cheers. After all, he IS the villain!

“Thank you, very much!”

Huh? Surely, THAT line’s not in the film! No, it’s not. But on this night, it is there, clear as day. It is the voice of “Magua,” emanating from right there in the center of the theater, come to life. We found we really were watching the film with Wes Studi …

… And that’s the kind of Gathering this was!

In a darkened theater, some 90, or more, pairs of eyes are fixed on their duty … the screen in front of them. On the horizon, for the morrow, is a hike along the Cliff Trail of Chimney Rock Park, but there it is, larger than life, before us right now. Uncas has been killed. One of the most poignant moments of a stirring film is unfolding. A lifeless lover has been tossed from the cliff by a ruthless villain. The remaining partner, dazed and confused by the horrors of frontier warfare, has come to grips with her ever downward spiraling situation and has, finally, taken control. She will plunge over the cliff to join Uncas. That villain, Magua, startled by this development, beckons Alice to come back …

[voice from the theater] “I’m coming honey!”

Funny, I don’t remember THAT particular line … I’ll have to go back and check the script.

The film rolls on … a father violently reaps his revenge. Yes, Chingachgook, father of Uncas, has caught  up with the Huron war party and stands face to face with his adversary … Magua. A brief, but brutal, struggle ensues and Magua collapses, broken & dead, on the rock, as Hickory Nut Falls gushes by. His head smashes to the ground, blood gurgling at his mouth. The audience cheers. After all, he IS the villain!

“Thank you, very much!”

Huh? Surely, THAT line’s not in the film! No, it’s not. But on this night, it is there, clear as day. It is the voice of “Magua,” emanating from right there in the center of the theater, come to life. We found we really were watching the film with Wes Studi …

… And that’s the kind of Gathering this was!

firebar2002

A  personal reflection ….

Imagine … imagine you are in a company of perhaps 80-100 soldiers. You are sent into battle with comrades you have trained with, laughed with, cried with. Your company suffers very heavy casualties. The next time you muster up, there are perhaps only 50% of you left. You look around. Many friends are gone. Imagine …

I felt very much like that as I planned & prepared for this Gathering. I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing; wasn’t sure I even wanted to proceed. Yet, something kept driving me, and though I was looking forward to “getting it over with” more than anything else, I proceeded forward into what I felt was the unknown. Certainly, I was looking forward to seeing some of the familiar faces I’ve come to know & love, and I definitely felt that I owed it to the “newbies” to show them a good time, but other parts of me felt it probably would have been better to just let it lay, with the Wes Studi-themed Gathering 4 the Grand Finale of it all! The events of September 11, 2001 also played a part … a large part … in the dismal outlook. It took months for me to somewhat shake the horrible feelings of that day and begin to feel like a Mohican Gathering might even remotely seem appropriate. Those feelings aside, I believe that once committed, stay the course … and so the Great Mohican Gathering of 2002, with much assistance from fellow Mohicanites, was allowed to be born.

As the time drew nearer, I had flashes of excitement, periods of the blahs … no matter how hard I tried to just go with the flow & let it be whatever it would turn out to be, it kept coming back to, “well, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.” It seemed, too, that Murphy’s Law was settling in, and just about everything that could go wrong did – delays, unexpected expenses, key cancellations – and all that compounded the gloomy feelings. In one way, it all very much felt like the first Gathering in 1998 – so much was unknown – yet for me it was lacking in that overall sense of euphoric excitement. And it all – or, mostly all – boiled down to so many missing faces as the root cause! It would have been oh-so-very-easy to allow the past dispute & ugliness to pervade & let the Great Mohican Gatherings die a rather unseemly death … tombstone & all … ala the old Mohican WWW Board. But like the old Mohican WWW Board, which has found rejuvenating life & exuberance in a new, revamped format … well, I’ll let the Gathering of 2002 tell its own story … but, before I do, some key moments & unknowing inspirers:

  • Diane Bunch writing an innocent E-mail to me where the unspoiled excitement of a soon-to-be new Gatherer allowed the freshness & enthusiasm of the Gatherings to once again seem possible to attain

  • Jayne Langan stepping forward as a worthy successor to head up Ariel’s Auction, allowing the Gathering to remain something more than simply a good time

  • Ann Colby & her never-dying positive outlook

  • Kate Penman rejoining the cause & helping to push for participation in Ariel’s Auction with an impassioned plea

So, I went on down to the Geneva, in Chimney Rock Village, on Wednesday evening, June 19, carrying with me much consternation, trepidation, a little hope, and a brand-new Gatherer, Ariel Segal who I had just picked up at the Greyhound terminal in Asheville. The hope began to swell, and the fears to subside, as we pulled into Hickory Nut Gorge on a early summer’s late afternoon. The sun drenched cliffs were a welcome, and invigorating sight, the familiar feel of The Gathering Place at the Geneva, filling with raffle items of all descriptions, not to mention folks I really cared about, all began to jell, beginning to create that special mix of Gathering magic that has been the Gathering’s trademark.

I returned home that night feeling a lot better about things, and then …

firebar2004

Dear Rich and the Mohican Group:
 
Russell and I would like to express our appreciation to the Group for your gracious warm welcome at your annual gathering last month.  We had a wonderful time.  The bar-b-que was delicious, many thanks to those that organized and to all that gave us gifts, the bar-b-que sauce, Vermont syrup, apple butter, etc. etc. (and yes, Russell persuaded me [to] carry the left over short bread and ginger snaps on the plane home)!   You can take the man off the rez, but you can’t take the rez out of the man!
 
You are a great family.  May the Great Mystery continue to guide and protect the paths of you and your loved ones.  

… Pearl and Russell Means

firebarMore Gatherings, more photos, more details, at: http://www.mohicanpress.com/mo02000.html

Who Done It?

04 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by in Family Ties

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Didn’t mean for this to end up being my great American novel. It’s a long story!!

Arrest

Just happened to be my day off. Back in those days, we had rotating days off at the Post Office. It was a Thursday, the Thursday after Labor Day weekend – must have been 1998? – and it was my Thursday to be off. Sitting at my computer, hair loose & wet from a shower, I heard a vehicle coming up our long, gravel driveway. Got up, peered out the window. A Sheriff’s Deputy was approaching the house. My eldest son, Jesse, had left for work not very long before, so immediately my thoughts turned to the worst. I opened the door and stepped outside, with much trepidation, to greet the Deputy. “I have a warrant for a Robert …” then he stumbled over and badly mangled my last name. “No Roberts here.” “Can I see your ID?” “Sure.” I went to fetch my wallet and pulled out my driver’s license, handing it over to him. The Deputy studied it for a moment, then handed it back. “Well, I guess this is a bad warrant. Have a nice day.” Back to my PC I went, relieved that it had nothing to do with my son.

Maybe 45 minutes later, I heard the sound of tires on gravel once again. “Jeez Louise!” It was the Deputy’s car again. My house sat in the middle of 16 acres. Our front pasture bordered the road and a neighbor’s house sat across from it, also with a sizeable pasture. The neighbor had watched the Deputy come and go the first time, leaving empty-handed. The gentleman – I’ll call him “Mr. Neighborly” – jumped in his car and chased down the Deputy, returning to the Court House to get a new warrant issued. This time, in MY name. So, the Deputy comes up to the house. I once again greet him.

Deputy: “Richard Federici, I have a warrant for your arrest.”

Me: “What the … ? For what?”

“A dog shooting.”

“WHAT? Oh, I think I know what you’re talking about, but I have never shot anyone’s dog … ever!”

I found it hard to believe that someone could get arrested just on somebody’s say so. I remember thinking, “Can you just pick a name from the phone book and have them arrested?” And I said that to the Deputy. I also asked, “How can you arrest me without even questioning me? What if I was out-of-town the date of the incident?” We were discussing all of this as I sat in the back seat of his vehicle on my way to see the Magistrate. Before all that, he let me dry my hair. He was a nice fellow and sympathetic, but in essence, all he had to say was, “Tell it to the Judge!”

Wild West at the Homestead

Let’s back up to Labor Day, the date of the alleged incident. To the best of my recollection:

A Great Dane

The plan was to take the family out for a hike on Table Rock Mountain on Labor Day. Our dog, a border collie mix, decided it was time to go into heat. So, the night before the hike, our house was under siege by every male dog [aren’t we all] in the neighborhood. There was an all-night ruckus going on right outside my bedroom window … dogs snarling, barking, huffing & puffing, as they jockeyed for male supremacy, and, I guess, first dibs. It all sounded quite lively and downright vicious, and had a very detrimental effect on my sleep turning me into a snarling, barking, huffing and puffing sleep-deprived grump in the morning. Hike canceled! My now estranged wife – I have an estranged wife; she only has a very STRANGE husband – decided to go out and get a take-out breakfast as a little make-up treat for the kids, some of who accompanied her. They slipped out the back door to avoid the restless pack out front, hopped in the van, and drove off. Upon their return, the van was surrounded by the yapping crowd of dogs. The sliding side door of the van was opened, and a huge black Great Dane attempted entry. The dogs were pretty much in a frenzy. Wife & kids escaped through the front and made it safely back in the house. I asked my son, Adam, to see if he could disperse the pack who had now re-gathered out front. His novel approach to that task was to take a folding chair and catapult  it off the front porch into the midst of these barbarian hordes. It actually worked. All dogs took off for cover and disappeared, except for that huge black Great Dane, who just so happened to belong to that neighbor across the road, Mr. Neighborly. This little fella was known to run rampant on our property and on this very day was seen with one of our chickens hanging dead from his gapping mouth.

During all this time, dour old me was laying on the couch with a major headache. Not Daisy BB gunonce during any of these events of the morning did I step outside of the house. The Great Dane was insistent that he was staying put. “Just do whatever you can to get him to go,” I said to no one in particular. My son, Chris, then 12 years old, retrieved his Daisy BB gun and went to face the enemy. From the top of the porch steps he fired a BB down at the pooch’s feet. He backed down the front walk to the driveway, more afraid of the sound than anything else. It should be noted here that because of a line of tall evergreen trees it is impossible to see these events from the road. Chris followed the Great Dane sort of shooing him along until he was out in the pasture in full view of the road and the house he lives in just across it. At a distance of at least 100 feet, Chris fired another shot in his direction and he scampered off toward home. That was the last we saw of him that day, though he was back, rambunctious as always, within a day or two. But, for all intents and purposes, that was that. It was over. No harm, no foul. We never gave it another thought.

Until Thursday …

Get Me Outta Here

Sheriff’s car pulls up to the court House and takes me in to see the Magistrate. She looked over the charge; I reaffirmed my innocence. She responded that I would have to be held — in jail — unless I came up with $500 bond. I was incensed.

Me: “What! You’re going to hold me with bail for something I never did? For something I was never even questioned about? You couldn’t even get the warrant right!”

Magistrate: “Have to hold you.”

“Look, I don’t have the money. I’m not going to flee the Country over this bogus charge.”

“Sorry, we have to hold you.”

“I’m not fleeing, I have a wife & 7 kids back at the house.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m a land owner, I pay my taxes, you have got to be kidding!!”

“Sorry.”

“I have to pay you to get out of here because some guy says so? I didn’t do a thing.”

“Sorry.”

“You think I’m going to run over this BS? I work right at the Post Office …”

“OH! You work at the Post Office? OK, you can are free to go.”

Well dang! Who knew the Post Office held so much sway? I had POWER!

So, I made it to my court date, after a couple of continuances. One was a kicker. The guy accusing me was right there in the court room, yet, the Judge postponed it because of “failure to appear,” or something. I was told, because he didn’t answer to his name, he wasn’t there. I saw him. Sitting right there! At this point, I knew I was in for hell and that something was not right. What the heck just happened?

Court 1

I had hired a lawyer, still practicing today. He had told me that I would have been better off shooting the dog with a .22 and dragging him to a creek. That’s what he would have done, he told me. He also asked me if, as a last resort, he could call Chris as a witness. I agreed, as a last resort. It was crazy. my accuser brought a veterinarian from Hickory in as a witness, complete with X-Rays. They claimed the “bullet” had ruptured this and mangled that … the dog was dying because of his “injuries.” This was just impossible. A blatant, made-up testimonial. The Judge asked the plaintiff if he was sure it was me that shot his dog. “Yes, I am positive it was him. I see him mowing his pasture all the time. I know exactly who it was.” Another, blatant, made up lie! He even claimed, “I” was about 100 YARDS away from his dog when “I” fired. That was roughly 3 times further than Chris actually was. Another blatant, made up lie, but this one actually undermined his case. I guess it was last resort time, as much to my dismay, my lawyer then called my son as a witness. In short, “Who shot the dog?” “I did.” Not only because someone else admitted to the “crime,” but, the Judge, a firearms aficionado, stated at close, “there is no way a BB at 300 feet could do the damage portrayed in that X-Ray to a dog of that size. Case dismissed.”

End of story? Not quite.

Bad Boy or Good Boy?

So, Mr. Neighborly across the street, not satisfied with that result, decided – even though he was absolutely sure that he personally saw me shoot his dog – was going to press charges against Chris. To say I was teed off is a gross understatement. Before charges could be officially levied against my 12 year old, we had to endure an interview with some guy, name and title escapes me, to see if there was reason enough to proceed. Kind of like a Grand Jury – only just him. He had something to do with the schools – a mix between a guidance counselor, truant officer, and parole officer – I don’t know what he was. But, off we went one night for our interrogation. It was at Pleasant Gardens Elementary School, I believe [PG being a part of Marion] and lasted a couple of hours. I made the case that Christopher was an A student, active in sports, had no disciplinary history. I told him that he was only trying to protect his family and following my “orders” – things that should be complimented not punished – and that he had no desire to hurt the dog, nor did he. It was only a case of a young boy trying to find a way to shoo a huge, agitated animal off his property. What if, when the dog attempted entry to the side of the van, he had bitten my youngest child in the face? All for naught. I think we were just going through the motions; that his decision was already made before we walked in — I told you, something wasn’t right. “I find that there is reason to proceed.” Proceed we did.

Court 2

I wasn’t going to mess around this time. Now it wasn’t me, it was my son, and I did feel somewhat guilty for the actions of my lawyer in putting him on the stand. I asked around, “Who is the best lawyer in town?” Pretty much everyone responded with the same name, now deceased. In my limited experience in the McDowell County Courts, it was my observation that most of the lawyers were merely paper pushers. This guy was like a real trial lawyer. He dug up case law, interviewed thoroughly, and had a plan. He was actually going to present a defense. I felt that we were prepared. Still, I was VERY nervous. I had to sit in the courtroom and watch my son go through this. Poor Christopher.

Court date finally came. Mr. Neighborly was, strangely, sitting off to the left in a partitioned section of the Courtroom — WITH the Deputies. As I have said, something was amiss. I was called to testify … and testy I did become! I was appalled that there was no transcript from MY trial, because Mr. Neighborly had, during his time on the stand, contradicted that testimony several times. He claimed a van never went out or in the driveway, that he was on the phone talking and looking out the window the entire time. He claimed he could see Chris … not me … shoot from the porch [not possible], he changed the distance and so on. Our lawyer did ask him if there was any way he could have confused Chris for me [referring to the first trial]. While I was up there, the Judge had to tell me to behave, because I bluntly called the man a liar. Photos of a little puppy Great Dane were presented – how cute; so was one of our dead chicken. Our lawyer presented case precedents. Now, it was time for closing arguments.

The DA pretty much ignored everything and literally spun a yarn about what “really” happened. He went on about how Chris hadn’t actually done it at all. That I had forced my family to lie and that I had snuck out of the house with a gun and shot the dog. It didn’t make sense, was all a figment of his imagination, and I was fuming. On & on it went. He had just finished trying my son for a “crime” and now he was saying that I did it. What ever happened to double jeopardy? I was doing all I could do to contain myself and not blurt out something I’d regret. And, I might have done just that, but no sooner had the last lying word slanderously slithered out of the DA’s mouth when the Judge said emphatically, “Where I come from, if a dog kills your livestock, you shoot it. Case dismissed!”

My rear end must have flown about 3 feet up in the air. This, was finally over!

Addendum

Years later, the scene of the “crime” – Poor old Lassie can be seen, lower right, near the date stamp.

We all felt a great sense of relief. After hugs and thanks, I went to the office where one can file a false arrest counter suit. The clerk was getting me the papers, when who should walk by but, Mr. Neighborly. POP! I lost it. Got right in his face and ran up one side of him and down the other. All the pent up frustration just poured out. So did all the employees in the building it was so loud. We were pulled apart, and I remember someone saying to me in my ear, “You’re going to get yourself arrested.” Talk about creating your very own “Ground Hog Day”!. What a mess that would have been.

Anger & frustration released, I decided that we had won – twice – and the satisfaction of that would suffice. No counter suit filed.

Now, it WAS over!! CASE DISMISSED!

If only we had just gone to Table Rock! But, I have to wonder, where DID those X-Rays come from?

NOTE 1 – Prior to these incidents, there was no animosity of any kind – that I was aware of – between Mr. Neighborly & my family. In fact, I thought he was a good guy!

NOTE 2 – Justice prevailed. Due to the several anomalies recorded above, I had serious doubts that it would. I was getting the feeling that Mr. Neighborly & at least some law enforcement and/or court officials were cohorts. The results were even more rewarding because of that!

Note 3 – The story is recounted to the best of my recollection. Christopher, being younger & sharper, may be able to provide more detail and correct any that I reported incorrectly.