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A Blind Old Man Stood in Front of a Hells Angels Convoy—What Happened Next Stunned Everyone — Transcript

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0:00At 2:17 in the afternoon on a Tuesday in
0:02August, Texas Highway 9 belonged to 23
0:05motorcycles. You could hear their
0:07engines half a mile before you saw them.
0:10A low rolling thunder that climbed up
0:12through the asphalt and into the soles
0:14of your shoes before it ever reached
0:16your ears. Black leather jackets, chrome
0:18catching the sun, and on every back the
0:21same patch, a grinning white skull with
0:23wings spread wide. Hells Angels Lone
0:26Star Chapter. A mother on the sidewalk
0:28pulled her daughter behind her without
0:30thinking about it. The owner of Martinez
0:32Hardware took three steps to his glass
0:34door and turned the lock. A teenager on
0:36a bicycle eased onto the grass and
0:38stopped. And Sandra Keen, 25 ft back
0:42with her phone already raised, hit the
0:44live button. Because in 11 years of
0:46reporting for the Mill Haven Courier,
0:48she had learned to recognize the face
0:50situation makes right before something
0:52goes wrong. Then a 78-year-old blind man
0:55walked into the middle of the road. He
0:57moved slowly but without hesitation, his
1:00wooden cane tapping the center line, a
1:02canvas bag hanging from one arm. He did
1:04not hear the engines, or perhaps he
1:06heard them and did not stop, because
1:08Harold Bennett had run out of the kind
1:10of time that allows a man to stop. His
1:12wife was dying 30 km away. He had no
1:15car. The taxi dispatcher had not picked
1:18up. His neighbors, not very neighborly
1:20lately, he would say later and leave it
1:23at that, had not answered their doors.
1:25So he walked. The lead motorcycle came
1:28to a stop 11 ft from the old man. Then
1:31the second, then the third, a chain
1:33reaction of hydraulic brakes and burning
1:35rubber. 23 bikes spreading to a
1:38standstill across both lanes, a black
1:40wall of leather and chrome, and the
1:42sudden deafening absence of sound. 40
1:45seconds passed. Everyone on that
1:47sidewalk was waiting for the same thing.
1:49Engines snarling back to life, the
1:51convoy parting around the old man like
1:54water around a stone, or worse, voices
1:57raised, a confrontation, the kind of
1:59scene that confirmed every assumption
2:01already loaded and cocked. The man at
2:04the front reached up and took off his
2:05helmet. He set it on the handlebars,
2:08climbed off his bike, and walked toward
2:10the old man. Nobody had predicted that.
2:13What none of them knew, what even Jake
2:14Morrison did not yet know, was that the
2:17old man's canvas bag contained a
2:19document bearing the letterhead of
2:20Chambers Development LLC, and that the
2:23man who had arranged for that document
2:25to be signed was at that very moment
2:27sitting in a third-floor office at
2:29Millhaven Town Hall, quite calmly
2:31waiting for Harold Bennett to disappear
2:33from his life forever. He had no idea
2:35what was about to find him. Jake
2:37Morrison was 52 years old and had been
2:39riding for 34 of them. He had a piece of
2:42shrapnel in his left knee from a rice
2:44paddy outside Quang Tri that woke him up
2:47when the weather changed, a dead wife
2:49named Sarah whose name was inked in blue
2:51on his left forearm, and a daughter
2:53named Linda who was a lawyer and had not
2:55yet fully forgiven him for being
2:57himself. It had been, up to that moment,
3:00a decent afternoon. The Lone Star
3:02Chapter's annual pre-rally run was a
3:04formality, a warm-up before 3 days of
3:07riding and noise, and the particular
3:09kind of silence that exists between men
3:12who have known each other long enough
3:13not to need words. Jake had done it 18
3:16times. He was thinking about nothing in
3:18particular when the old man stepped off
3:20the curb. He did not curse. He did not
3:22hit the horn. He squeezed the brakes and
3:25reached for the radio clipped to his
3:26jacket in the same motion. "All units,
3:29stop now." That was all. Behind him, 22
3:32bikes responded. He sat for a moment,
3:35engine off, watching the old man stand
3:37perfectly still in the center of the
3:39lane. The man's eyes were the first
3:41thing Jake noticed when he walked close
3:43enough to see them, a flat, washed-out
3:46gray aimed at the horizon with the fixed
3:48focus of someone who has learned to look
3:50at things they can no longer see. His
3:52jaw was set hard, lips pressed together
3:54like he was holding a bone between his
3:56teeth and refusing to drop it. His free
3:59hand held a flip phone. The screen had
4:01been swiped across a dozen times. Nobody
4:04had answered. Jake stopped a few feet
4:06away and crouched down so he wasn't
4:08looming. "Sir," he said, then softer,
4:11"where are you trying to get to?" The
4:13old man's throat worked once. His chin
4:15dipped. "County hospital." His voice was
4:18dry, scraped thin at the edges. "My wife
4:21is there." A pause that had real weight
4:23to it. "She's not going to make it."
4:26Jake did not say he was sorry. He had
4:28learned a long time ago, in a different
4:30country, that some things do not get
4:32better when you say you're sorry. He
4:34looked back at Marcus Bull, web, his
4:36sergeant-at-arms, 6 ft 4 in and built
4:39like a grain elevator, who was already
4:42reading the situation with the quiet,
4:44complete attention he applied to
4:45everything and made a small gesture with
4:48his chin. Bull nodded and began talking
4:50to the other riders in a low voice. Jake
4:53looked back at the old man. "We'll get
4:55you there." Harold Bennett turned his
4:57face toward the sound of Jake's voice.
4:59Something shifted in his expression, not
5:02relief exactly, more like a man who had
5:04been bracing for impact and is
5:06recalibrating for something else
5:08entirely. "You're Hells Angels," he
5:10said. It was not a question. "That's
5:12right." The old man was quiet for a
5:14moment. Then, "All right." Deputy Aaron
5:17Collins arrived 4 minutes later, which
5:19meant someone on that sidewalk had
5:21called 911 immediately. He stepped out
5:24of the county cruiser, saw 23 Hells
5:26Angels bikes laid across the highway,
5:28and their president standing in
5:30conversation with some white-haired old
5:32man, and his hand went to his belt, not
5:34for his firearm, but for the strap of
5:36his baton as a kind of reflex. "Break it
5:39up," he said, pitching his voice loud.
5:42"All of you move along." He pointed at
5:44Jake. "Get your people out of the lane."
5:46Jake rose to his full height and
5:48regarded Collins with a stillness that
5:50made Collins feel, without quite
5:52understanding why, like the less
5:54powerful person in the exchange. We're
5:57giving this man a ride to the county
5:58hospital, Jake said. His wife is a
6:01patient there. Collins shifted his
6:03attention to the old man. Sir, I can
6:06arrange a department escort. No, thank
6:08you. Harold Bennett's voice was not
6:10loud, but it carried the precise,
6:13unhurried authority of someone
6:14accustomed to being heard in a
6:16classroom. The last time you came to my
6:18house, deputy, you didn't say you were
6:20there to help me. The sidewalk went
6:22quiet. Sandra's phone kept recording.
6:25She would later write that what she saw
6:27in Collins's face in that moment was not
6:29confusion, not indignation, but
6:32recognition, the micro expression of a
6:34man who has heard something he had hoped
6:36would never be said out loud. Collins
6:38recovered quickly. I don't know what you
6:40think you I remember just fine, Harold
6:43said. I may not see, but I remember.
6:46Jake did not press the advantage. He
6:48turned to Collins with the flat, even
6:50tone of someone reading from a prepared
6:52statement. We're transporting a civilian
6:55to receive medical care. You're welcome
6:57to follow along. A beat. We're leaving
6:59now. Collins stood there for 3 seconds.
7:02Then he got back in his cruiser. They
7:04settled Harold on the back of Pete's
7:06bike, the smallest rider in the chapter,
7:09wiry and long-limbed, with Bull
7:11steadying one side and Jake the other
7:13until the old man had his footing.
7:15Harold held his cane across his lap with
7:17both hands, upright, like a man on a
7:20commuter bus. You were in the service?
7:23Jake asked before they pulled out.
7:25Harold tilted his head toward the voice.
7:27Korea, First Infantry Division, '52 to
7:30'54. A pause. Vietnam, '68 to '70. A
7:35beat between them shaped like everything
7:37that particular exchange always
7:39contains. Hell of a thing, Harold said,
7:43neither a compliment nor a condemnation,
7:45just an acknowledgement between men who
7:47understand exactly what the other one is
7:49not saying. They wrote, somewhere on the
7:52long straightaway outside of town,
7:54Harold raised his voice over the wind
7:56and said, without preamble, there was a
7:59kid in my company, had an eagle tattooed
8:01on his arm. We called him Hawkeye. He
8:04carried me off the line at Heartbreak
8:05Ridge when I caught some shrapnel. Not
8:07as bad as it sounds, but bad enough. He
8:10paused. The skull on your back, it
8:12reminds me of him. That's all. Jake said
8:15nothing. The road unspooled ahead of
8:17them. Over the radio, Bull's voice came
8:19through calm as a weather report. Hey,
8:22there's papers sticking out of his back.
8:24Chambers Development Property Transfer
8:26Agreement. Jake's eyes stayed on the
8:28road. Keep them safe, he said. Eddie
8:31Ramirez did not talk much. What he did
8:33was read traffic the way other men read
8:36faces, instinctively, completely, with a
8:39hundred small decisions made before most
8:41people had finished processing what they
8:43were looking at. He was already blocking
8:45the first intersection by the time the
8:47main convoy arrived. The others fanned
8:49out behind him, pairs of bikes sliding
8:51sideways across the lanes, riders
8:54dismounting and standing with arms
8:56crossed, not threatening, not speaking,
8:59just there, a wall of leather and chrome
9:01and quiet authority. Three lights, four
9:04intersections, one railroad crossing
9:06where the gate was already descending.
9:08Eddie cleared the tracks 10 seconds
9:10ahead of the train. Sandra's battery was
9:13at 38%.
9:14She watched the viewer count on her live
9:16stream climb, 800, 1,200,
9:202,000. In the first 2 minutes, the
9:22comments had been what she expected.
9:24Then something changed. Wait, are they
9:26clearing the road for him?
9:28The old man is on the back of the
9:30motorcycle. Why am I crying in a Wendy's
9:32parking lot right now? 18 minutes after
9:35they left Highway 9, 23 motorcycles
9:38rolled into the parking lot of Mill
9:39Haven County Hospital. Jake helped
9:42Harold down from the bike, one hand
9:44steady at the old man's elbow. A nurse
9:46came through the automatic doors, took
9:48one look at the assembled riders, and
9:50started to say something. Tommy Chan,
9:52compact, quiet, his EMT certification
9:56clipped to his jacket lapel, stepped
9:58forward and said two words, his wife.
10:01They went inside. Dorothy Bennett was in
10:03a room at the end of the corridor, her
10:05face pale against the pillow, and four
10:07in the back of her left hand, a monitor
10:10keeping time with its quiet, steady
10:12insistence. She was awake. She had asked
10:15three times since morning whether Harold
10:17had called. Harold walked through the
10:18door alone. He found the edge of the bed
10:21with his hand, found her fingers, and
10:23took them in both of his. He did not
10:25speak. He stood there with his head
10:27bent, and the room was so still that the
10:29monitor's beep seemed to come from
10:31somewhere very far away. In the hallway,
10:34Eddie sat on a plastic chair and pulled
10:36out his phone. He had a photo of his
10:38daughter Rosa, 7 years old, gap-toothed
10:41grin, a princess crown slightly too
10:43large that kept sliding over one eye. He
10:46looked at the photo for a long time
10:48without quite seeing it. Bull stood
10:50against the wall with his arms folded
10:52and his eyes closed, his lips moving
10:54once, very slightly. Tommy came and
10:57stood beside Jake and spoke without
10:59looking at him. "Two days," he said
11:01quietly, "maybe three." Jake nodded.
11:04After a while, Harold came back out. He
11:06had his face in order, the face of a man
11:09who has locked things away in a place
11:10where they won't spill. He looked like
11:12every old soldier Jake had ever known
11:14looks when they are done grieving in
11:16private and returning to the business of
11:19living. "Thank you," Harold said. He
11:21stood straight, hands at his sides. "Are
11:24you in a hurry to be somewhere?"
11:25Jake looked at him for a moment. "No,"
11:27he said. He hesitated. "Those papers in
11:30your bag, you mind if I take a look?
11:33Harold put the bag on the chair beside
11:35him and unzipped it, then sat back with
11:37his hands on his knees while Jake spread
11:39the documents on the side table. The man
11:41from Chambers Development came to my
11:43house 4 weeks ago, Harold said. He had a
11:46lawyer with him. They said they needed
11:48my thumb print on a relocation
11:49assistance form, something to do with a
11:51grant application. His voice did not
11:54change pitch. Last week, their lawyer
11:56mailed me a letter saying the property
11:58transfer was complete that I had signed
12:00a voluntary sale agreement. A pause. I
12:03never signed any such agreement. I
12:05pressed a thumb print on what they told
12:07me was a government form. That was all.
12:09Jake turned to page three. Bull had
12:12moved to Jake's shoulder without being
12:13asked. He looked at the documents and
12:16then at Jake's hands, where the knuckles
12:18had gone white at the edge of the table.
12:20The dates were wrong. Harold's thumb
12:22print, one print, had been transferred
12:24and reproduced across multiple pages,
12:27appearing on a property transfer
12:29agreement for a house valued at
12:30$240,000,
12:32sold for $35,000.
12:35The letterhead read, Chambers
12:37Development LLC, Millhaven Commercial
12:39Revitalization Project, projected
12:42investment $8.2 million,
12:44final parcel acquisition deadline next
12:47Monday. Jake set the papers down and
12:49took out his phone. Four rings. Dad.
12:52Linda Morrison's voice had the careful,
12:54measured quality she used for unexpected
12:56calls. What is it? I have some documents
12:59I need you to look at. A silence on the
13:01line, the kind that meant she was
13:03already shifting gears, already becoming
13:05the other version of herself. Where are
13:08you? County Hospital. I'll be there in
13:1020 minutes.
13:11She came through the doors in a gray
13:13blazer and dark jeans, briefcase under
13:16one arm, hair pulled back. She was 28
13:19and had her father's eyes and almost
13:21nothing else of him that she hadn't
13:23worked deliberately to put some distance
13:25between. She saw the row of leather
13:27jackets in the corridor and stopped
13:29walking for exactly half a second. Then
13:31she kept going. She introduced herself
13:34to Harold with her full name and a
13:35steady handshake and listened while he
13:37told her everything without
13:39interrupting. She wrote four lines on
13:41her legal pad, asked three clarifying
13:43questions, then Jake handed her the
13:45documents. She read for four minutes.
13:48When she looked up, she looked at Harold
13:50first, then at her father. The look
13:53between them lasted less than two
13:55seconds and contained approximately 10
13:57years of complicated history and then it
13:59was done. "This isn't a simple fraud
14:01case," she said. She spoke to the room
14:04because everyone in it needed to hear
14:06it. "The use of a thumbprint to
14:08fabricate consent on a property
14:09transfer, specifically targeting a
14:12visually impaired elderly person who was
14:14misled about the nature of the document,
14:17that's predatory fraud. That's elder
14:19exploitation under Texas statute
14:22combined with the deliberate
14:23misrepresentation during the signing."
14:25She tapped the papers. "Richard Chambers
14:28isn't just looking at civil liability.
14:30He is looking at criminal charges." She
14:32called a man named David who did digital
14:34forensics and who owed her a favor.
14:37Meanwhile, Bullet had spent the last
14:39hour on his own phone. What he assembled
14:41quietly and methodically was this.
14:44Chambers Development's Millhaven project
14:47was the largest commercial deal in the
14:48county in a decade. Every parcel in the
14:51footprint had been acquired, some
14:53through negotiation, two through legal
14:55pressure. Harold's house sat at the
14:57geographic center. Without it, the
14:59project could not break ground. Chambers
15:02had investors flying in from Houston on
15:04Tuesday morning. Sandra's live stream
15:07had by then been viewed by over 200,000
15:09people. In the comments, a name kept
15:12surfacing. Chambers. Chambers
15:14Development. Is this the same Chambers
15:16who pushed out the Garza family three
15:18years ago? A link appeared, then
15:20another. Then a woman named Maria Garza
15:23left a comment that read, "Yes, it is
15:26and I have documents, too." When Collins
15:29called Jake to inform him, he was being
15:30summoned to the precinct on charges of
15:32obstruction and failure to comply with
15:35officer directives. Jake listened for 4
15:37seconds and said, "Talk to my lawyer."
15:40He handed the phone to Linda. Her
15:42expression did not change. "Deputy
15:44Collins, this is Linda Morrison, counsel
15:47for Mr. Jake Morrison and Mr. Harold
15:49Bennett. I'd like to note the time and
15:51nature of this call for the record." A
15:53pause. "Now, what exactly would you like
15:56to discuss?" Collins hung up. Jake
15:58looked at his daughter. Something
16:00crossed his face, not pride, because
16:03this was not the right moment for pride,
16:05but something close to it, something
16:07that had been waiting for the right door
16:09to open. Linda did not look back at him.
16:11She was already writing. Sandra Keene's
16:13article went live at 6:47 in the
16:16morning. Local developer accused of
16:18forging disabled veteran's signature to
16:20seize family property. Deputy allegedly
16:23complicit in intimidation campaign.
16:26Below it, scans of the documents. Key
16:28discrepancies annotated by David's
16:30forensic analysis. The metadata showed
16:33edit timestamps inconsistent with the
16:35claimed signing date. The thumbprint had
16:37been digitally reproduced across
16:39multiple pages from a single original
16:41impression. The agreement page appeared
16:44on documents Harold had never seen until
16:46Chambers' lawyer mailed them. In the
16:48third section, Maria Garza told her
16:50story. A retired school teacher
16:53pressured off her property 3 years ago
16:55through a nearly identical combination
16:57of false paperwork and legal threats.
17:00She had signed a non-disclosure
17:01agreement with Chambers. After
17:03consulting with a lawyer, she had
17:05decided she was willing to challenge it.
17:07The article was shared 2,000 times in
17:09the first hour. By 9:00 in the morning,
17:12a news van from a San Antonio station
17:14was parked outside Millhaven Town Hall.
17:16Richard Chambers held a press conference
17:18at 10:00. His suit was immaculate, which
17:21told you he had been thinking about
17:23appearances and not hard enough about
17:25the situation itself. His attorney stood
17:27beside him with the posture of a man who
17:30would rather be anywhere else on Earth.
17:32The first question from the assembled
17:34reporters was, "Mr. Chambers, can you
17:36explain the discrepancy between the
17:38thumb print position and the document
17:40signing date as identified in this
17:42morning's forensic analysis?" Chambers
17:45started to answer. His attorney put a
17:47hand on his arm. Chambers answered
17:49anyway. The attorney passed him a folded
17:51note. Chambers paused three times in 20
17:54seconds and never completed a sentence.
17:57At 2:00, Sheriff Dan Hawkins, 60 years
18:00old, 32 years on the job, a man who
18:03operated on the simple principle that
18:04the law meant what it said, signed the
18:07order suspending Deputy Aaron Collins
18:09pending internal investigation. He made
18:11two additional calls, one to the Texas
18:14Rangers, one to the FBI field office in
18:16San Antonio. Collins was in Chambers's
18:19office when the notification hit his
18:21phone. He read it twice. The silence
18:23between the two men had the particular
18:25quality of people who have been playing
18:27cards together and have both just
18:29realized the table is on fire. The
18:31emergency hearing for the protective
18:33order on Harold's property was held the
18:35following morning in a courtroom that
18:37held 40 people and had 63 in it.
18:40Chambers's attorney, in a move that was
18:42either strategically desperate or
18:44tactically suicidal, argued that
18:47Harold's visual impairment and possible
18:49cognitive deterioration cast doubt on
18:51the reliability of his testimony. Judge
18:54Patricia Ruiz removed her reading
18:56glasses. "Council," she said, in the
18:59tone of someone who has heard everything
19:01and remains unimpressed by all of it,
19:03"are you suggesting your client's
19:05position depends on this witness being
19:07found incompetent?" The attorney said
19:09nothing. "Because if so," Judge Ruiz
19:12said, I suggest you reconsider your
19:14strategy in the next 60 seconds."
19:17Harold Bennett took the witness chair in
19:19his clean white shirt, cane resting
19:21against the seat beside him. He answered
19:2412 questions from Linda Morrison in a
19:26clear, unhurried voice. Dates, figures,
19:29the exact phrases used by Chambers'
19:32representative during the house visit,
19:34the precise location of the thumbprint
19:36page within the document stack, the
19:38wording of the letter he had received
19:39afterward. Not one detail faltered. "Mr.
19:42Bennett," Linda said, "how are you able
19:45to recall these specifics with such
19:47precision?" Harold was quiet for a
19:49moment. "I can't read," he said. "I
19:52can't drive. I can't see my wife's
19:54face." He paused. "So, I remember
19:56everything else. I haven't got another
19:58choice." The courtroom held its breath.
20:01In the front row of the public gallery,
20:03Linda Morrison's pen stopped moving. She
20:06looked down at her legal pad. She did
20:08not blink for several seconds. Judge
20:10Ruiz granted the protective order.
20:12Outside on the courthouse steps, a
20:14deputy served Richard Chambers with
20:16notice of criminal investigation.
20:18Chambers said nothing. He looked, Sandra
20:21would write later, like a man watching
20:23his own reflection in glass that was
20:25beginning to crack, still recognizable,
20:28but not for long. Dorothy Bennett died
20:30on a Thursday morning with her husband's
20:32hand in hers. He had been there every
20:34day. He had not been late. The funeral
20:37was held on Saturday at St. Andrew's
20:39Episcopal. A small white church on the
20:41edge of town with a gravel lot that held
20:4420 cars. When Harold arrived, the street
20:47outside was lined with motorcycles, 23
20:49of them, parked end to end along the
20:51curb, engines off, riders standing
20:54beside them with helmets under their
20:56arms. No one had called them. No one had
20:58asked. They did not go inside. They
21:00stood in the street while the service
21:02was held. And when the small
21:03congregation filed back out into the
21:06thin morning light, The riders were
21:08still there. They did not approach. They
21:10did not speak. They stood the way
21:12soldiers stand, not at attention, but
21:15present, accounted for. After the last
21:17of the attendees had dispersed and the
21:19pastor had gone back inside, Harold
21:22stood at the top of the church steps. He
21:24could hear the street, the distant
21:26traffic, a bird somewhere in the elms,
21:28the faint creak of metal cooling in the
21:30morning air. He took off his old faded
21:33cap and held it to his chest. Then he
21:35straightened his spine, lifted his chin,
21:38and raised his right hand in a slow,
21:40deliberate salute, aimed at the sound of
21:43the motorcycles, at the riders standing
21:45in the street, at something beyond them
21:47both. One by one, the engine started.
21:50Jake Morrison was the last to pull out.
21:52He rode slow, the way you do when you're
21:54not ready to leave something behind. At
21:57the end of the block, he checked his
21:58mirror. The old man was still at the top
22:01of the steps, hand at his temple,
22:03perfectly still. Jake held the speed,
22:05watching it, watching it. Then the road
22:08curved and the image was gone. Linda was
22:10standing in the parking lot across the
22:12street, keys in hand, when her father's
22:15motorcycle rounded the corner and
22:17disappeared. She had seen the salute.
22:19She had seen her father slow down. She
22:21stood in the empty lot for a long while
22:23after the engine sounds had faded into
22:26the ordinary noise of the town. There
22:28were things she had spent years being
22:30embarrassed by, the jacket, the patch,
22:33the careful way she changed the subject
22:35when someone asked about her father, the
22:37assumptions it invited, the distance it
22:39required. She thought about Harold's
22:41voice in that courtroom. I can't see my
22:43wife's face, so I remember everything
22:45else. She thought about her father
22:48crouching in the road in front of 23
22:50idling bikes, asking a trembling old man
22:53where he needed to go. She thought about
22:55the answer, which was simple, and the
22:57response, which was also simple, and how
23:00sometimes the whole of a person is
23:01contained in a single unhesitating
23:04choice. She did not call him. Some
23:06things do not need to be said to be
23:08complete. She got in her car and drove.
23:11Sandra Keen's follow-up piece ran the
23:13following week after Richard Chambers
23:15had been formally indicted on three
23:17counts of predatory fraud and one count
23:19of forgery, and after Deputy Collins had
23:22agreed to cooperate with investigators
23:24in exchange for a reduced charge. Maria
23:26Garza's non-disclosure agreement was
23:28nullified. The Mill Haven commercial
23:31revitalization project was suspended
23:33pending review. The last paragraph of
23:35Sandra's article read, "On the afternoon
23:38of August 14th, a blind man walked into
23:40the center of Highway 9 because he had
23:42run out of every other option. He did
23:45not know what he was stopping. He did
23:46not know what the men behind those
23:48engines were capable of or what they
23:50might do or whether any of this would
23:52end in anything other than another
23:54ordinary indignity. He only knew he
23:57needed to get somewhere and he was going
23:59to get there." What the riders did next
24:01was not complicated. They asked where he
24:03was going. They took him there. And
24:05then, because what they found along the
24:07way turned out to be something that
24:08required staying, they stayed. That is
24:10the whole story and it stunned everyone,
24:13including, I suspect, themselves.

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