In the summer predawn twilight, the tiny hamlet isolated on high plains sat in silence.  The dead rooster on the ground was omenous.

  People, in this part of the world, are hospitable - to a point.  When your back is turned, they become irreverant if not downright dangerous to you.  In a way it is alot like a mafia, you were not born into the right group, you are a second rate citizen.  This is the case everywhere, but in the high plains of Northeast Colorado, the difference can be glaring.  A political and police state control protecting an inner-circle elites' ill-gotten gain from the public at large.

  When John Q. Public does step up to question the illegitamate dealings within this state, he becomes a target.  Not only a physical target pummeled as a message and example but of false criminal investagations intended to remove Mr. Public from the political equation.  This may seem old hat to any political observer, but the level of danger and intriguge involved in such a small town can far outpace even the largest city. 

  "The river is long and no-one will look for your body."

  That was the chilling advice one of the many lawyers told me as I pleeded my story.  None of them wanted to touch my case as I had been "Home-Towned" as they called it.   Do not mess with the politics in isolated towns.  The sheriff is under their thumb and any investigation into your dissappearance is under his control. 
 
  All I wanted was chickens.  I know that sounds silly, however, that is what started my journey into this seamy and dangerous world.  A happy father of four with a beautiful wife and profitable main street restaruant, I felt loved and respected by the public at large. 
  The public loved me, not the elite politcal machine.  To them I was a pest.  Attending town meetings as a businessman I listened and took notes not ever wanting to run for office, I was busy enough.  They saw me as the big-city boy who was watching their every move.  It must have seemed like that too.  No-one ever attended their meetings to just listen.  Whatever the case may be, I did have enough experience and knowledge to see these people had no idea how to properly run a meeting using standard rules of order.  It was just beyond their desire or knowlege.  More importantly, I didn't care.  That was until they insisted that I follow rules that they themselves did not follow - No Chickens!  Suddenly, I cared.  I followed their rules my whole life, I even got rid of my chickens to demonstrate that fact.  When presented a petition by the public to allow a small number of chickens on private property I was told in no uncertain terms;
  "We don't care what the people think." 
That is when things started to get really interesting.