I spent the summer of '06 in the far reaches of Western North Carolina's Appalachian Mountains surrounded by spring water and Kudzu. The characters I met (and most of the plot and dialogue) were a blend of Mark Twain, William Faulkner, Gabriel Garcia-Marquez, and Jack Kerouac. One day a motley cast of characters from many different walks of life converged at the county courthouse. This is as accurate as I can possibly render it, without embellishment nor falsification.
I and my housemates had abandoned the first house we shared due to a series of disturbing ethereal phenomena. That is another story. We also had a number of rather negative encounters with our neighbors, who had always wanted to own the property we were renting and felt resentful toward anyone living there. When we moved out, friends of ours moved in, and the trouble with the neighbors escalated, resulting in a visit to the county courthouse. (Incidentally, our friends never had any trouble with the poltergeist or whoever).
The neighbors (whom I shall call the Weavers) were the kind of far-right-wing that comes from being severely paranoid. They kept their two teenage sons at home all the time, and had no contact outside their family and church. My friends who moved in after me were Kundalini Yoga acolytes, dressed in orange robes and turbans. I shall refer to them as the Kummerly's. When I was summoned as a character witness on behalf of Mr. Kummerly because the Weavers were accusing him of chasing the boys with a nail-studded club, I knew we were in for a circus.
Walking down the streets of Marshall, NC is a wonderful experience if you are given to nostalgia. Nothing has changed since the 50's, and you half expect Andy Griffith to step out of one of the doors and give you a friendly handshake. The defendants and their allies met in a coffee shop to brief with the attorney. He got a feel for what it's like living next to the Weavers and what kind of questions he might ask in the courtroom, then we all walked across the street for the trial.
The Weavers made their case first. It was apparent to me that the boys (especially the youngest one) were uncomfortable giving false testimony, and that beyond the rehearsed lines they were given to speak, they could not answer the attorney's questions. The Weavers had brought a delegation from their chuch as character witnesses for the plaintiff. Each of them echoed the other, asserting that the Weavers were the "Kindest, friendliest, God-fearin' Christians". I was meditating on the un-christian practices of bearing false witness against your neighbor and self-deceit but I could not remember the reference to the Bible verse I was thinking of. On the other side of the courtroom I saw an Eastern Orthodox monk, and I thought I'd pick his brain. "Do you remember where the verse is found that talks about speaking false accusation?" I asked him. He slowly shook his head "No". Then he handed me a piece of paper with a prayer printed on it. "I have been saying this prayer for 25 years or more." He told me, "'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner'. When you meditate on the first half of this prayer, it teaches you who He is. When you meditate on the last half, it teaches you who you are". Then he turned to face forward silently, and I returned to my seat.
When my friend Tina started her testimony, things started getting good:
Attorney: "During your time living on Peters Ln, did you have occasion to interact with your neighbors, the Weavers?"
Tina: "Yes, a few times".
Attorney: "How would you characterize your interactions with the plaintiffs?"
Tina: "I'd have to say pretty negative, honestly. Mrs. Weaver woke us up early one morning pounding on our door, yelling loudly, accusing us of stealing from them, and accusing me of running a whorehouse".
Attorney: "How did you reply to Mrs. Weaver at that time?"
Tina: "Well I told her if I was running a whorehouse, I'd have a whole lot more money than I do now"
Courtroom: Chuckles
Tina: "I also told her that we don't steal and that she had no business accusing me falsely"
Attorney: "Did the Weavers do anything else while you were living at the house on Peters Ln?"
Tina: "Yes, sometimes they would shoot guns over our house, and you could hear the bullets in the trees overhead"
At this point the oldest Weaver boy started glaring at Tina in an intimidating manner. The judge pointed at him and said "Young man, I can see the way you are looking at the witness, and if you make another face like that again, I will hold you in contempt of court. is that clear?"
When the Weavers were cross-examined, they all protested that they did not even own any firearms.
I was called to the witness stand. I told the judge that I would prefer not to swear, but only to affirm to tell the truth. He said "alright, go ahead". I raised my right hand and the judge said "you don't have to raise your hand to affirm". "Oh", said I, "Sorry".
Attorney: "During your time living on Peters Ln, did you have occasion to interact with your neighbors, the Weavers?"
Me: "Yes sir"
Attorney: "How would you characterize your interactions with them?"
Me: "Belligerent, rude, full of expletives and name-calling"
Attorney: "Where you present for the incident when Mrs. Weaver came to your door early in the morning?"
Me: "I was"
Attorney: "What happened then?"
Me: "Mrs. Weaver accused me of stealing firewood and gasoline from their house. I told her that we don't burn wood, I don't steal, I am a Christian as well, and that I was homeschooled like her boys, and furthermore, wouldn't her dogs have raised the alarm?"
Attorney: "Did the plaintiff's attitude change after you talked to her?"
Me: "Yes, she became calmer and stopped cussing and shouting, then she told me it was probably the man that lives in the woods who stole the fuel- that the CIA has black-ops trainees on our mountain and they supply them by air-drops from silent black helicopters"
Attorney: "While you were living at the house on Peters Ln, did you observe any of these black-ops trainees?"
Me: "No sir, but that might be due to the fact that the plaintiff alleges that they are wearing invisibility cloaks"
Courtroom: roaring laugh, extended
Judge: pounds gavel "Alright, order."
After me, several members of the local community were called to the stand. I did not know any of them, and I was unclear which side had called them as witness. I was nervous, because the neighbors had been in the area for generations, and while both the Weavers and the Kummerlys were relatively new to the area, at least the Weavers didn't wear orange turbans....
One man (whom I shall call Mr. Metcalf) was approaching 70 years old, and as he walked to the stand I couldn't help but note that his gait was suited to walking on steep slopes, and the flat courthouse floor seemed to be awkward under his feet.
Attorney: "Mr. Metcalf, how long have you lived in Peters Hollow?"
Mr. Metcalf: "Nigh onto 70 years, which is my whole life"
Attorney: "Do you know the plaintiffs, the Weaver family?"
Mr. Metcalf: "Yes I do. I been up to their house many a'time and I brought my guns up there and we shot all'a mine and all'a ther'n"
Attorney: "So you're saying that the Weavers do in fact have firearms?"
Mr. Metcalf: "Oh yeah, they do! They got more guns than anybody I ever known! And another thing- I been living here in this Holler for sixty-odd years and I ain't never seen no black helicopters or CIA men or nothin!"
Shortly thereafter, the judge dismissed the case and we all were reminded that truth is stranger than fiction...
