Читать книгу Imprisoned by Fear - Kathy Lange - Страница 10

Chapter 3

Learning More

As I was getting ready to leave for work on Valentine’s Day, I noticed a small wrapped box on the kitchen counter with my name neatly written across it. I knew it wasn’t from John as he didn’t write that neatly. It was oddly wrapped in two pieces of colored printing paper. I opened the box carefully, and inside a paper towel was a leaf pin exactly like that from the Lord of the Rings movie. The hobbits wore these pins on their cloaks. I had noticed them when Byron and I were watching the series of movies as they seemed too glamorous for a hobbit who roamed the earth with hairy, bare feet. I was touched that Byron was so thoughtful to leave me a gift on Valentine’s Day. When I got home, I thanked him in person for the lovely gift and told him that it made my day. He said that it took him a while to find it. He had gone into his home to retrieve some personal items but hadn’t remembered exactly where he had put it. Byron had vacationed in New Zealand not long ago and spent several days touring the area where Lord of the Rings was filmed. We had watched the three movies over the last couple of weeks. Typically, they were not movies that I would go to, but I actually enjoyed the photography and the captivating story. Dilan, too, enjoyed the movies. We felt it important to take an interest in something Byron enjoyed so much and had even made the long journey to where they were filmed.

Our lives had taken on a different routine since Byron moved in. Friday night was our go-out-to-eat night. Byron came along but preferred we always go out of town so we would be unnoticed. I think it was easier that way for all of us. He didn’t want to be pointed at and whispered about. To prevent being noticed, he would get in our car while it was still in the garage, and not until then would I lift the door up and we back out. I called him Mr. President sometimes as it seemed like we were protecting the president of the United States. When someone came to our home unannounced, he would go to his bedroom and shut the door and didn’t come out until they were gone. I guess they say you don’t really know someone until you live with them, so some positive, interesting things became apparent as new conversations were held over this time. One important factor being that Byron had received several war medals from his service during Vietnam: a medal of commendation from the United States Air Force and another medal for twenty-seven combat missions in Vietnam. A medal was awarded for the completion of twenty-five missions, but he went beyond the twenty-five. (A sidenote here was that the prosecutor, Pete Orput, had stated to the jury during trial that these medals were merely ribbons acknowledged for service.) Byron didn’t talk about that part of his life much, but he was proud that he served four years in the Air Force. With his sixteen years of service with the State Department, that allowed him to receive a full government pension that fulfilled the requirement of twenty years. He talked most about this college life in San Luis Obispo, where he graduated from Cal Poly. He was the member of the ski club and they went on different trips and partied as college kids do. He was telling me one day that they ordered beer by the palette for these trips. He had a California ID that showed his age as ten years younger than he actually was. It made him fit in better, and no one was the wiser. It was actually the DMV’s fault anyway. They had typed the year of his birthdate wrong, and it went uncorrected until the next time he renewed his license. Most young people would want to have an ID to be older, but he had one to be younger. He was in his thirties when he attended this California college, so by being twenty instead of thirty made him feel better. He also attended college at the University of Minnesota and then later decided to finish his degree at Cal Poly. His degree was actually in physical science, but his minor was electrical engineering, and his love of electronics got him the job with the State Department. He was proud of the fact that he had paid for his own education without the assistance of his parents. He talked fondly of his college days and his friend and roommate, Greg. He talked of going back to California and spending next winter there at his friend Mark’s cabin in the mountains of California. Mark was a good friend from Cal Poly, and his father was a forensic psychologist. Byron was amused by the fact that he had two good friendships with forensic psychologists as he was a small-town boy from Little Falls whom no one would ever think would have those connections. He dated a couple of times but didn’t have an interest in any one woman. He did tell me once that he had always wanted to get married, but it just never happened. Since his work demanded he live in a new country every three years, it made long-lasting relationships challenging. It’s too bad, because he would have made a great dad and things would have turned out very different for him. Byron volunteered for military service in 1968 and was inducted on April 21. He attended basic training in Amarillo for eight weeks and was transferred to Denver to technical training. He qualified for a forty-eight-week course in one of the most complicated and critical systems—the bombing and navigation systems of the B-52. Airman Smith worked at Fairchild AFB for one year and then volunteered for duty in Vietnam. There Sergeant Smith volunteered for combat mission in-flight support. His work was comprised of in-flight repairs on older, heavily used equipment. Most bombing flights occurred at thirty-five thousand feet, where SAM missiles and MIG fighters were encountered and could not be replicated on the ground. Half of the men who tried out to be a launch technician dropped out due to failure or stress of the flight or not making the minimum number of flights to qualify. Sergeant Smith volunteered to extend his combat duty from twelve to eighteen months. He made twenty-seven flights, exceeding the required minimum of twenty-five to be awarded the Air Combat Medal. He was also awarded the Personal Commendation Medal.

He is an easy houseguest. He is very quiet, does his own laundry, and spends very little time in the bathroom. (As a woman fighting for bathroom time, this is a great attribute.) He combs his hair quickly, brushes teeth, and is done, with no fussing about his look. I made a comment one day on how he should strive to look his best, always, and he commented, “For who?” When he first moved in, he wore the same green shirt for days until I bought him a new one for a Christmas gift. Then he wore that one for a few days. He prefers no scents, perfumes, or aftershave colognes. One day he received his credit report in the mail and asked me what he thought his credit score was. I really had no idea, but I assumed it was a high number. The score was 820. He received a report because he had applied for a credit line for his rental property just in case he needed the extra money. He has moved into our extra bedroom and keeps his files with his mail and court papers in a file chest. He spends much time on paperwork: gathering receipts for insurance claims from all the things that has been stolen from his home. He makes and sends copies of news articles of interest to his attorney or investigator. He studies Minnesota statutes as he is desperately trying to catch the neighbors who own the adjacent property to him, breaking as many laws as possible—even videotaping the Stop sign and speeding violations. He stated one day that their three vehicles have run the Stop sign on Elm Street more than ten times each. He makes his bed neatly every day. He has everything neatly folded and organized. He does not usually get up in the morning until after I have already gone to work. He eats rather light, but has a huge sweet tooth. Just as I was getting into the habit of not eating so many sweets, he likes dessert after every meal. He said they usually had dessert as he was growing up. I am amazed that he doesn’t weigh more because of his huge sweet tooth. John has been gone most nights now that it is ice-fishing season. I was a little uncomfortable with this arrangement and told John that he should stay home due to our new houseguest. But John’s reason for existence is ice fishing! He considers Byron the new protector for his family. (Last year we didn’t have a protector, so this is a new concept.) One night, shortly after he moved in, I suddenly awoke to hear Byron talking to someone in the middle of the night, possibly on the phone, I wasn’t sure. I heard him open his bedroom door, which he always closes for the night, and was talking with someone. I couldn’t understand some of his words, but what I did hear alarmed me. I heard him say, “Have you come to apologize for breaking my window?” He wasn’t talking upset or angry, but saying this in a quiet tone, like he normally talks. After that I heard his door close again and couldn’t understand the rest of his words, but he was still talking to someone in his usual tone of voice, not an angry or upset voice, but a kind, mentor-type voice. This incident startled me because I wasn’t aware that he was a sleepwalker, but the words I heard made it very clear that he was dreaming about the break-in. Finally, it became quiet, but I had trouble falling back to sleep, wondering if he would wake again or what other dreams or even nightmares would occur. When morning came, he was up before I left, so I asked him if he was a sleepwalker. He said he didn’t think so and quickly changed the subject. I never brought it up again and it never happened again.

The next Friday I took the day off from work to go to Minneapolis. Byron had mentioned that he wanted to take a day trip to go to Trader Joe’s and a tool shop. He thought John might appreciate this huge tool store near Plymouth.

The first stop was Acme Tools. I was actually the only person that bought anything. I had been looking for something to cut slabs of candlewax with and they had the perfect tool there. The next stop was a woodworking place where I purchased new guides for dresser drawers. Byron had been using this dresser and the drawers had broken guides, so we found some nice replacements so the drawers will slide smoothly. I needed an hour of mall time, so we headed to Ridgedale Mall. I needed to find a gift for my daughter’s birthday and my mom’s birthday, which are two days apart. Byron wanted to purchase a new cell phone, so he would go to the T-Mobile store while Dilan and I did a little shopping. Next, we headed to lunch. He wanted to go to the Mexican area in South St. Paul. He had taken us down there before to eat authentic Mexican cuisine at one of his favorite restaurants. When Dilan’s band had played at Station 4, Byron had driven down that day to hear them, so we all went out to dinner after they played. Although authentic Mexican is not my first preference, it was very good. We were the only non-Mexicans in the whole restaurant. John and Byron ordered the buffet and it looked like food I had never seen before: cow stomach lining, etc. I played it safe and ordered fajitas, and Dilan ordered tacos. John, who typically can eat anyone under the table at a buffet, ate two bowls of the soup and decided the food wasn’t for him. Working our way back toward home, we stopped at the Sportsman’s Guide store. It is a sporting goods / clothing store with discounted prices. Byron bought a beautiful stained glass Tiffany lamp for about $100, and I purchased some mixing bowls that matched my kitchen. It was the type of store that you had to dig around to find a treasure. As we proceeded on, I took over the wheel and mentioned to Byron that I had never been to Burlington Coat Factory and had always wanted to go there. I asked him if he knew where one was located as he seemed to know the cities like the back of his hand. He said there was one right next to the Micro Store where we were headed. He wanted to pick up some printer supplies and had visited the store as it had good prices. I purchased a new coat and called it a great shopping day. We had one more stop left to Trader Joe’s in Maple Grove. Byron loves to go to Trader Joe’s for the unique foods that you can’t find in any grocery store in a small town. As we headed to the cashier, the lady behind me commented on what a gorgeous coat I was wearing. Byron made small conversation with the young cashier, who seemed interested in his work as an electrical engineer. When we left the store, I was headed for a cup of coffee for the ride home. Dilan, Byron, and I walked into Caribou, and I told them to order as it was my treat. After I came out from the restroom, Byron was having an interesting conversation with the barista, and in the process our drinks became mixed up. After figuring out who ordered what, he looked at the barista and said, “And I have to eat her cooking!” I smiled back at the barista as we left, thankful for the light conversation. Byron always seemed to be making conversations with everyone he encountered.

The next Monday, February 18, I got home from work, and Byron was not there. I was home late as I had attended our annual employee awards event. I was receiving my 15-year award certificate so wanted to attend. I knew that Byron must have gone to his house and he went alone. I was always worried when he went there alone as I knew it bothered him to be there. Maybe he needed to work on things and come to terms with what happened so he can move on to some normalcy. I finally saw him walking back to our house around 7:00. I could tell when he walked in the door that it was a hard day for him. He talked about needing to get his license plates for his car and the correct tabs got on the wrong plate. His face was all red, and it might have been from the very cold walk back to our house, but I think it was from the stress of spending a few hours in his house. He seemed irritated the whole evening and finally went to bed a couple of hours later.

The next evening, he was in a much happier mood. Other than the fact that his neighbor, Bill, had been spouting off about how his attorney and the private investigator weren’t doing their jobs, he was laughing at the jokes on the Big Bang Theory. Byron had never seen that show before. I told him once that he would remember living with us because we got him hooked on watching the Big Bang Theory. Byron didn’t have cable TV in his home because he thought it too expensive. He got irritated about the bill and had it disconnected. Upon first moving in with us, he seemed irritated with the fact that we have TVs everywhere in the house. He is very conservative and had been raised that way. He even drinks day-old coffee because he doesn’t want it to go to waste. He will eat moldy food so it doesn’t go to waste, removing the mold first. The Big Bang Theory is a show about intelligent, nerdy guys with few social graces, especially the main character, Sheldon. One night as we were watching an episode, Byron spoke out the exact words right before Sheldon delivered the same line. I looked at him and he looked at me and we both started laughing hysterically! It was the episode where Penny was down on her luck, standing at her apartment door, locked out, and carrying groceries when one of the paper bags falls apart and the groceries fall to the floor. Sheldon comes out of his apartment to a crying Penny, and she is sobbing and telling him about how everything is going wrong and that last, but not least, she just swallowed a fly. Byron said, “That’s okay, flies are all protein and good for you.” Two seconds later, Sheldon delivered the same line! It was one of his first times watching the sitcom!

At times, when I looked out our living room window and down Elm Street, I felt sad and somewhat eerie. It was a tragedy for everyone. Misguided kids lost their lives, and a neighbor and friend’s life would never be the same. This should be the prime of his life enjoying retirement, but instead he was facing murder charges. The neighbors living on Elm Street had reported that he liked to scare the neighbors with gun shots. They complained of his shooting. It was actually to keep the beavers from destroying the trees along his river property. At one point, beavers had eaten thirty-five trees that he and his dad planted, so Byron needed to thin out the beaver population on his property. He had suspected the neighbor’s daughter of coming on his property as he came home one day to find the garage had been broken into with boxes opened and glass broken all over the floor. He had purchased a collection of German beer steins, and many were missing and broken. There was a trail of clothing back to that neighbor’s property. Since our front room window faced Elm Street, Byron, now living with us, had a perfect view of the traffic going down to his property and the neighbor’s. Vehicles would stop at their house for a few minutes or so and come back out. It was so unusual and so consistent that he started filming the cars and logging dates and license numbers. My sister-in-law told me once that she and a friend were driving together and her friend said she had to make a stop at that house and it was that very neighbor living next to Byron. Her friend came out with a small brown paper bag, but my sister-in-law never questioned the contents. Byron had also heard stories while he was in the county jail awaiting a bail hearing about drug activity in the family living next door to him. Byron mentioned this to one of the deputies, and he was told that the DEA had to deal with that. It is very suspicious yet timely. Thursday seemed to be the day the supplier drops off the product in a small maroon truck, and then the parade of activity started with about twelve to fifteen cars. They would stop in for a few minutes and leave. Some of the vehicles are very predictable and scheduled. He spent several hours each day writing all the license plate numbers down and recording the type of vehicle and how long they stayed at this home. Their daughter was also a babysitter for Dilan after school when he was in kindergarten. One day my jeweled calculator was gone, too, along with some makeup. I called her mom to ask if she happened to have taken it by mistake. Her mom looked, and it was in her backpack. She said she would return it to me. Byron was told from another inmate while in the Morrison County Jail that the neighbor girl was referred to as the Pill Queen. Byron had wanted to try to capture some documentation on their unusual traffic for a long time but couldn’t get it. Living in our house had given him a golden opportunity to keep track of all the traffic going down his street. License plates were recorded along with timelines. All was turned over to the local police. Eventually, he was told that no license plates matched the known drug dealers in town, and nothing was ever heard after that. Also notable is that after Byron reported this activity, the unusual traffic ceased down Elm Street.

John came home after talking with some people downtown that a Little Falls business owner had an encounter with Nick Brady about two months before the shooting. John had run into Scott at the courthouse while attending Cody Kasper’s hearing on aiding and abetting theft at the Smith residence. Scott said that Nick Brady had driven to his house in September (2012) at fifty miles per hour demanding to see his son, who had been talking with Nick’s girlfriend at the time. Now Scott weighs 275 pounds, and Nick came to the door demanding to see him right away and stated that he “was going to kill the kid.” Scott, of course, told him to leave immediately. Nick would not leave and started calling Scott an old man and told him to get out of the way. During this time, Scott’s wife called 911. When the deputy arrived, he assumed for some reason that Scott was the one causing trouble, but when his wife explained it was Nick and company (there was another carload of kids with him in another vehicle), the sheriff’s deputy told Nick, “You are lucky to be alive. The homeowner could have shot you for coming onto his property like a maniac, and I wouldn’t have so much as issued a citation to him.”

Scott and his wife were reluctant to get involved in Byron’s trial because his wife was afraid that their son would encounter retaliation from certain friends of Nick Brady. After giving it some thought, Scott wanted to help Byron and asked for the incident report of his encounter with Nick Brady. He was told by the sheriff’s department that there was no record of this incident ever occurring. Other incidences of calls with threats to Byron by friends of Nick Brady when he was out on bail were also requested, but records were not available. The incidences occurred, and law enforcement intervened, but records of those incidences involving Nick Brady and friends were never presented.

Byron and I often looked at information on Facebook. He didn’t have an account, so I did searches through mine. One night he requested to look at Cody Kasper’s page. Chase Fortier was listed as one of his friends. It was verified in an investigative report that Chase was in possession of one of the guns stolen from Byron’s home in October. In fact, we also heard a rumor that Chase Fortier had a garage full of stolen goods from other burglaries that he and his friends had committed. One day, allegedly, a van came to his home and emptied the garage. It was also rumored and later proven that he had disposed of one of the guns by burying it near the river by his home. He finally took the sheriff to that location after his mother found out and made him call Sheriff Wetzel. Chase’s mother was a close relative of the sheriff.

So far, Byron had not received a letter that they were prosecuting him. It could possibly be the fact that he was related to Sheriff Wetzel. The county attorney promised that all those involved in the burglary of October 27 at the Byron Smith residence would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. To date, no one has been prosecuted for stealing about fifty thousand dollars’ worth of gold and valuables on that day. On Cody’s Facebook page, we find that he had a girlfriend who had posted comments on his page about how she loved him and that he was so sweet to her. Classmates overheard her one day talking about how she hoped Cody wouldn’t get into any more trouble because she needed a prom date. This was during the time he had been issued a summons to appear at Byron’s trial. His name was splashed all over the front page of the local newspaper as the one who had committed burglaries at the home of Byron Smith. His sister commented on FB, “This bull—— will all be over soon!” Cody Kasper admittedly stole from Byron, who took an interest and wanted to help him in life. Cody introduced his friend Nick to Byron, and their choices and actions caused this tragedy.

The next afternoon, Byron went back to his house again to check on things. This is the third time he has gone there alone. He usually comes back in a very quiet, nonsocial mood. He was gone about three hours and when he came back, he was surprisingly talkative, in fact overly talkative. He was working on some video equipment and cleaning up some things. He calls his brother there from his landline as he feels safer talking on a landline versus a cell phone. He is always thinking about security and privacy. He shared that he had been talking to Bruce about buying some neighboring property to Byron’s homes. If they own a certain amount of acreage, they can remain rural and not part of the city, ultimately saving tax dollars.

One evening Byron is helping Dilan study for a biology test. They have been absorbed in homework for almost three hours. He is grilling Dilan with question after question. It’s amazing how much brain knowledge he has about plants, which is what the test is on. I remember very little detail of some of the things I learned in high school. Who does? This morning right away he had asked me a question that would probably stump me, and it was, “Who was the one pope that was not elected by the people?” I thought for a moment and said that it had to be the very first one. I was right and I think he was surprised that I got it right. Most of the time he uses such unusual words that I have to ask him what the word means. He helped Dilan study for three hours without a break. I thanked him after they were done, but he seemed to enjoy and even thrive in that opportunity to work with a young person in that capacity.

The next Friday night brought in snowy weather. “The roads are too slippery to drive out of town in this weather,” I said. We decided on Cabin Fever, since it is right down the road. Byron didn’t want to go. He said, “There are too many locals.” I thought he may be getting more comfortable as he did go to the West Side Café once for breakfast without incident. He still does not want to go anywhere local. His life has completely changed now. He mentioned over dinner one night that he wasn’t invited to judge a science fair in Minneapolis this year. He was always invited every year. He wasn’t invited to a Boy Scout retreat as he has been in the past. His life very much had revolved around being a Boy Scout adviser and mentor. “That part of my life is over,” he said one night. We all felt very sad for him.

John took him for a drive on Sunday (March 17) to visit his mom in Crosby. They left while I was in church on Sunday. John is very diligent about visiting his mother. They took her out for a chicken dinner at Coach’s, a bar and grill restaurant in Deerwood. They have a chicken special every Sunday and all the locals go there. It is a noisy place, but the food is excellent, so you can overlook the noisy environment. When they got back, Byron was telling me that he mentioned to my mother-in-law about Indian finger weaving. He had instructions in his home somewhere, and he would retrieve them and teach her how to do this. Being she is part Native American, this would be a perfect craft for her. She loves to crochet, and this could be something she could do in conjunction with that. He also brought a brochure for a Scandinavian Festival in June at the Nisswa Pioneer Village. He seemed like he really wanted to attend, so we will have to make sure we are free that weekend. He also mentioned that there are several powwows held during the summer and one, in particular, is a good one with a craft and food festival near Bemidji. Byron then informed us that he knows the dance of this ceremonial celebration as he has had the opportunity to dance in several powwows. He has the full ceremonial dress and everything. All three of us, John, me, and Dilan, looked at each other in amazement. Byron, dancing in a powwow, was a bit of a surprise.

I was watching the Good Wife on Sunday night, and Byron came in, sat down, and turned on the lamp. “I have something to show you and I showed them to Dilan as a contribution to his education,” he said. He told me to open my hands and placed two unusual looking gold coins in it. They looked like foreign money but inscribed in English and were quite heavy. He said they were just like the others that had been stolen. (He had about $25,000 worth of gold coins stolen in the October 27 burglary.) The coins in my hand were worth over $2,000. He had purchased them when gold was $300 an ounce and now it was at $1,200 an ounce. Each of the coins was a pure ounce of gold. I asked him what Dilan said when he saw them, and of course, he was amazed. I can’t imagine what high school kids did with 20 gold coins worth that much money as they have never been recovered. The thought of pawning them or selling them would certainly raise questions. What happened to 20 gold coins worth about $25,000? I asked if he could get reimbursed from his insurance company for the loss. He said, “No, the coins would have had to be covered under a separate policy and are not traceable anyway.” He would never recoup the loss of them.

One Sunday afternoon Byron wanted to go for a walk in the woods. It was a sunny day, but windy and cold. We went to check out his rental property, which is what he calls the house he just bought in July. He bought the 5,300-square-foot home in July (2012) as it adjoins his family property. He had wanted to buy it for years, but the owner wanted too much money and they finally settled on a price that was agreeable. At one time she had wanted $450,000 for it. It is a grand home with two fireplaces, six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a huge kitchen, and a sun room. When I first saw the home that was tucked back in the woods, I thought it was a dream home. The burglars had broken into the detached garage of this property too. Byron has the doors double bolted and double locked too. The padlocks are readily visible sending a message forbidding entry. As Byron toured us through his home, he showed us the bedroom that he would be sleeping in as soon as all the snow melts. He is planning to live there permanently and board up all the windows in his other home. We walked over to his Elm Street home. He was looking for a camera so that Dilan could use it for one of his classes. He proceeded to tell me all the things he had wanted to change some day, the floors, the laundry room, and the kitchen remodeling. We went downstairs where the shootings took place. This was the first time I had ever been down there. You could see the bullet markers in the cement wall—about six of them with numbers assigned to each hole. The carpet looked clean, but he said he had cleaned best he could one day. He seemed nervous to be there as he was quickly moving about. He stopped to show me some of the souvenirs he had purchased from all his travels while desperately looking for that camera. The basement is filled with many electronics parts and stereos and record albums by the thousands. In his shop area is where the monitors were for the outside cameras. He had to be in that room to view the cameras. On Thanksgiving Day, he was in a different room in his reading area. There are shelves of books and a chair centered in the U-shape of the shelves with a lamp. It’s like an intimate, cozy spot to quietly read, but I knew that was the chair where he was reading when he heard the glass break on Thanksgiving Day. He still seemed a bit uncomfortable and uneasy there, but I could tell he wanted to find that camera and quickly get out. Then he started talking to me about the shootings while we were there. “You couldn’t see their faces as they were coming down.” The stairway is narrow, and his chair faces the stairs from the side. He went on to tell me that if he is found guilty, he will make a public statement that lets all criminals know that they can be safe in the city of Little Falls because criminals are welcome here and are protected declaring that a homeowner is not protected by the sheriff’s office. His motto for criminals was, “Come to Little Falls! Nothing will happen to you.” I was standing there thinking how sad it would be if he really was found guilty. It is not a concept I had given much thought to. Sadness and anxiousness overcame me, and I just wanted to immediately leave his home. On the walk back, I noticed that the neighbor girl was outside smoking a cigarette. This was the same girl that Byron suspected of stealing his military jacket and leaving a joint in one of his cars. She had been there when we walked by upon entry and had stood there and took a picture of us walking by with her camera. For what reason, I am not sure.

Byron has stopped the video recording of the Elm Street traffic this week. He says he has enough information to submit to the DEA.

On Easter Sunday 2013, Byron is recollecting the event of his Thanksgiving Day events to Mr. St. Onge, who is visiting our home this evening with his young son. Here is how he tells it: He is downstairs reading. He hears someone trying to get in the door. It rattles. The intruder tries another door. It rattles too. He has double locked them because of previous break-ins. He sees the shadow of a person moving across the wall downstairs. Maybe they will go away because all doors are locked and dead bolted. He hears them now upstairs, running across the wooden deck. He hears them try more doorknobs. Suddenly a window is breaking. He hears glass shatter now. He is in fear for his life. “This is gonna be bad,” he says to himself. He stops the story there and says the rest will come out in court. George St. Onge came over to visit because he, too, has been burglarized many times at his business where he sells motorcycle parts outside Little Falls. He actually has trails leading outside his property where thieves have entered his property so many times. He has called the sheriff’s department only to be told, “There is not much we can do.” Mr. St. Onge could identify with Byron’s frustrations with being burglarized so many times as Byron had with no results in finding out who was committing the crimes and getting the property back.