Shawn Inmon - The Vigilante Life of Scott McKenzie

Scott and Joe sat at the kitchen table for hours, trying to get a handle on what this project actually looked like.

Eventually, the little red dog, who Scott learned was named Jenny, quietly laid her head on Joe’s knee.

Joe laughed a little. “She’s reminding me that it’s past time for her walk around the neighborhood so she can smell whatever secret messages the other dogs have left for her. Wanna come on the walk with us?”

“Of course. I need to do about ten miles to work off that steak you fed me. Let’s go.”

Spring evenings can be chilly in western Oregon, but this night remained warm. Scott didn’t walk Jenny on a leash, but just opened the door and let her out. She knew their route and Scott and Joe followed along behind.

As they walked, the two men quietly batted ideas back and forth about the upcoming project to help out veterans. The whole plan began to take shape in their minds.

They had walked half a mile from Joe’s house when Scott looked up and stopped cold.

They were in front of a one-story house with a small porch off the front door and decorative shutters on the windows. It was a cute house and looked like most of the other homes in the neighborhood.

“When were the houses in this neighborhood built?”

Joe had to focus on the question, as his mind had been on what they had been talking about a moment before. “Ummm, I think most of this neighborhood was built for families of men returning from World War II. So, maybe late forties? Why?”

Scott stared at the little house. If he had been asked if he might recognize his old home, he would have said no. That was a long time ago. Many lifetimes, literally.

He would have been wrong. “Is there still a little park up ahead on this street? Swings, and teeter totters and things like that?”

Joe reconnoitered where they were and said, “Yeah. How in the world would you know that? Did you walk through here on the way to the house today?”

Scott shook his head. “No. It doesn’t matter.”

They started to walk again, but twice Scott looked at the little house, with its porchlight on, looking absolutely non-threatening in every way.

That house was the stuff of my nightmares for so many years. Seeing it from this perspective, I can see it for what it is—an ordinary house where something extraordinarily bad happened. Nothing more.

Joe, who had been chattering a mile a minute about their new project, stayed quiet and let Scott have his thoughts.

I was a child. Ten years old. The two of them picked their own path to that moment and there was nothing I could have done about it. I think I can let that go, now.

Scott flashed a little smile at Joe—a thank you for the break in their conversation while he kept his own counsel. “So, do you have a place here in Middle Falls where we can put this whole thing?”

THE NEXT MORNING, SCOTT woke up a few minutes before 6:00 a.m. He had never learned to sleep late, no matter where he was.

He found a bookshelf in the living room and riffled through the books until he found one by Kurt Vonnegut that he hadn’t read— Breakfast of Champions —and sat down to read. At a more civilized hour, he poked his head in through Joe’s backdoor and smelled coffee brewing.

“Come in, no need to knock!

They looked through the notes they had scrawled the night before and came to a conclusion. This project was too big for both of them. It required skills and expertise neither of them possessed.

Scott leaned back in his chair. “I love that we’re doing this. I can’t imagine all the good we are going to do for the people who deserve it. But, there’s a reason I’m not a middle manager in corporate America somewhere. As much as I love this project, overseeing a lot of details just isn’t me.”

Joe chewed on his pen. “It’s not really me, either. I’ve got a high school education. We need to bring in people to help us. A project manager. A lawyer to help us with all the legal stuff. Luckily, this is one place where having a big bank account will help.”

Joe walked over to the wall phone and dialed a number he had written on his pad. He waited a few seconds, then said, “Hello, this is Joe Hart. I’m in need of some legal advice on a project I’m preparing to launch, and I wonder if your firm handles that type of project?”

Two minutes later, they had an appointment with a local attorney named Ben Jenkins for that afternoon.

BY THE TIME THEY HAD finished with that appointment, they had retained Jenkins—who, it turned out, had gone to high school with Joe—and they had a recommendation for a project manager.

They met with the potential project manager—a young woman with a penchant for organization named Samantha Straley—for dinner the following night and both knew she was a perfect fit.

That left Joe as the man with the vision of the project and Sam Straley as the woman in charge of everything else. It also left Scott at loose ends.

He stayed in the comfortable little mother-in-law in Joe’s backyard for six weeks. He enjoyed the time there. It was nice to have someone who knew who and what he was. They had coffee together every morning and dinner together most every night, but Joe instinctively left Scott alone for long stretches of every day.

Still, Scott wasn’t used to staying around in one place for long, and he did feel the pull of the road.

One morning in early July, as they sat drinking their morning coffee, Scott said, “I’ve gotta head out, brother. I haven’t been in one place this long in years, and my feet are itching for the open road.”

Joe glanced at the back door and saw Scott’s backpack was there.

“You’re not gonna leave me to do this all alone, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good,” Joe said. “I thought you were serious, hauling your bug out bag around with you like that.”

“Oh, I’m serious about leaving. But, you won’t be alone, and you know it. You are the money and idea man. Sam is the person that actually does all the work. Happily, that means you don’t need this old soldier.”

“Damn. I was hoping you were going to hang around through the duration of the project.”

“This project is bigger than both of us. It’s going to take years. No insult intended to the tiny hamlet of Middle Falls, Oregon, but if I had to stay here until then, I’d be crazier than I am now. It’s not my nature to stay in one place this long.”

“Tell me that you’ll at least check in, so I can tell you all the ways I’m messing up.”

“Deal.”

Scott set his empty cup in the sink and headed toward the front door. He was never one for long good-byes.

“Hold on, brother,” Joe said as he grabbed Scott in a bear hug. “Don’t stay gone too long, all right?”

Scott gripped Joe on the shoulder. “I won’t. I’m going to be out there, scouting for our first customers, remember?”

Joe nodded. “You’re right. That was our plan.”

“For now, though, I’ve got a few people on my list I want to get to before I get too old to wield this baton. Right now, a certain Green River Killer should be looking over his shoulder, because I’m coming for him.”