John knew that the man in the white jumpsuit was to blame for everything that had gone wrong. Everything had gone wrong from the very beginning, when John was stolen from his Indian mother. That had caused the first internal wound and John had been bleeding ever since, slowly dying and drying, until he was just a husk drifting in a desert wind. John knew who was to blame. If it had been possible, John would have reached out, lifted the visor, and seen the face of that man in the white jumpsuit. John knew he would have recognized the curve of the jaw and the arrogant expression. John had seen it before.
Once more, Boo offered the sandwich to John, who this time shook his head at that smallest kindness. There was no time for kindness. John needed to be saved and John knew exactly which white man had to die for him. He moved to the back of the truck, opened the door, and stumbled to the pavement. He did not look back, afraid of what he might see, and nobody in the truck tried to stop him. Marie watched John go away. Her skin felt hot and dry. She wondered how it felt to kill a white man.
20. Radio Silence
TRUCK SCHULTZ LISTENED TO the police radio scanner. Dozens of calls. Bar fights, domestic assaults, arson. The Seattle Urban Indian Health Center had been firebombed. Two police officers had been ambushed by rock-throwing Indians. Random gunfire. Police were looking for a truck full of white kids who were attacking homeless Indians. After he’d announced that the Indian Killer was responsible for Edward Letterman’s death, all hell had broken loose. Worse than New Year’s Eve. Worse than a full-moon Saturday night. Truck was in awe of his own power. He had to speak. He leaned toward the microphone.
“I don’t think so,” said Officer Randy Peone as he stepped into the studio. He pointed a finger at Truck. “You ain’t got nothing else to say tonight. Not one damn thing.”
21. How It Happened
OUTSIDE THE TULALIP TRIBAL Casino, David Rogers was trembling. He was alone in the dark parking lot and was terrified. He had two thousand dollars in cash in his pocket and suddenly felt very vulnerable. As he tried to open his car door, he dropped his keys. He bent over to pick them up and he felt a hot pain at the back of his head, saw a bright white light, and then saw nothing at all.
When he woke, David was lying facedown on the back seat of an old Chevy Nova. Two white men, Spud and Lyle, first cousins, pulled David out of the Nova and dragged him through the woods to a clearing a hundred feet off the road. Still groggy, suffering from a severe concussion, David could barely focus on the two men. He looked down at the ground and saw a solitary flower. He wondered if it was a lily. He wondered if camas root grew there. He wondered how long it had been growing.
“He’s awake,” said Lyle.
“Holy crow,” said Spud as he counted the money again. “Little bastard was rich.”
“How much?”
“A lot, I think.”
David looked up at the cousins. He tried to think clearly. He wanted to tell them something about Hemingway.
“He’s seen our faces,” said Lyle.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Spud, thinking hard.
“You think anybody saw us take him?”
“Nah, those Indians can’t see for shit.”
Lyle and Spud laughed.
“What should we do with him?” asked Lyle.
“I don’t know. I guess we should shoot him.”
David tried to get to his feet. Spud pushed him backward and David sat down hard, his back against a fallen tree.
“He’s just a kid,” said Lyle.
“A rich kid.”
“That’ll be true.”
Spud pulled out his pistol, a.38 Special, and aimed it at David’s face. Lyle covered his face. Spud’s hand was shaking. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. A startled owl lifted from a nearby tree.
“Holy crow,” said Spud. “I killed him.”
“Yeah, he looks like he’s asleep.”
“Well, what should we do now?”
“I say we get the hell out of here.”
With that, Spud and Lyle climbed into their Chevy Nova, drove north through Canadian customs without incident, and into Vancouver. That same night, they lost the two thousand dollars in an illegal poker game, plus another thousand dollars in promises. When those promises couldn’t be kept, Spud and Lyle were driven to a secluded spot by a river and forced to kneel in the mud. With their hands tied behind their backs. Spud and Lyle pleaded for their lives but only the river listened, and it didn’t care.
Shot once in each eye, Spud and Lyle’s bodies were found by a hiker later that summer. David Rogers’s murder was never solved.
22. Testimony
“COULD YOU TELL US your name, for the record? And where you’re from?”
“Uh, my name is Sean Ward. I’m a student at the University of Washington. I’m from Selkirk, um, Selkirk, Washington. I need to, uh, talk about some things.”
“What do you need to tell us, Sean?”
“Well, this isn’t about just me. Yeah. It’s about my roommates, Aaron and Barry. Uh, that’s Aaron Rogers and Barry Church.”
“Yes?”
“Well, you see, we’re the guys in the masks. The ones who’ve been beating up Indians. We’re the baseball bats. Uh, yeah. We’re the masks.”
“Where are Aaron and Barry now?”
“They’re still out there, I guess. I left them earlier. I tried to get them to stop, but they wouldn’t.”
“Is that why you have that bump on your head?”
“Yeah, Aaron punched me.”
“Why are you telling us this?”
“I’m not sure, you know? I mean, I love those guys. Aaron and Barry. I mean, I think we started doing this for a good reason.”
“A good reason?”
“Well, uh, maybe it’s not a good reason. But people would understand, I think. You know that David Rogers? The guy who disappeared from the casino? He was our other roommate. I mean, David and Aaron were brothers. That’s what started us in, you know. It was for, uh, revenge.”
“How many people did you assault?”
“Well, there was the guy on the Burke-Gilman Trail. Then that couple on Queen Anne Hill. Then some homeless old guy earlier today. Uh, that makes it what, four people? Yeah, four.”
“Three of those people are still in the hospital. You almost killed them.”
“Yeah, I know. But, uh, I know you’re not going to believe me. You shouldn’t believe me. But I didn’t hurt anybody. I carried a bat and stuff but I never used it. It was mostly Aaron. Barry, too. But it was mostly Aaron. I made them quit, you know? I made Aaron stop hitting people. If I hadn’t been there, Aaron might have really killed somebody.”
“You’re in a lot of trouble, Sean.”
“I know.”
“Why’d you do this? What are you going to tell your parents? How are you going to explain this?”
“I don’t know. I mean, uh, it’s like this white-Indian thing has gotten out of control. And the thing with the blacks and Mexicans. Everybody blaming everybody. I mean, it’s like white people get blamed for everything these days. I mean, I know we did some bad stuff. I know it. I know what me and Aaron and Barry did was wrong. But it was anger. Frustration, you know? David disappeared, and we, uh, just lost control. I mean, somebody had to pay for it. Somebody was to blame for it. I don’t know what happened. I can’t explain it all. Just look around at the world. Look at this country. Things just aren’t like they used to be.”