by Hartt
Battling icy roads in the long, relentless winters does not dampen the enthusiasm of Cokeville’s citizens for their town. Winter nights have been known to hit 40 degrees below zero, and the high mountain winds add to the chill. Residents generally joke that snow never melts in Wyoming’s hills; it just blows around until it wears out.
While it is an isolated community, the history of the untamed West didn’t bypass Cokeville. Even now, hills in the border area around the town’s outskirts yield remnants of old stills from the Prohibition years. There were once five busy dance halls in the town itself. A visitor may see mule deer, Canada geese, or sandhill cranes in the cultivated fields, and even elk or moose on the outskirts of town. Tourists come to fish for trout in the Bear River and Smiths Fork, or to ride the ski lift in Pine Creek Canyon. Family-owned ranches dotted with mostly black Angus cattle stay green in the summer via rolling sprinkler irrigation systems.
Youngsters in Cokeville don’t have much time to be idle. Some of them drive tractors before they are big enough to see over the dashboard of the family car. Even the little ones help keep irrigation schedules running or get the hay in. Many of the children know what it’s like to be responsible for raising chickens, pigs, or steers as they participate in an active 4H program that helps them earn money for their future education. The refinements of sewing, art, and photography are also encouraged, because the community has a proud history of successful artists. In the summer, the library hosts a well-attended and active children’s reading program, evidence of the community’s commitment to successfully educating the next generation.
There is still no movie theater, video arcade, or game center for young people to gather in. Their time and energies are consumed by mostly ranching and school activities. There is little need to focus on what some parents strive to do in “building character.” It is built in. Some are up early for ranch chores, then school and all its extracurricular activities, and on weekends, there are church obligations and more ranch chores.
While there are plenty of chores to go around, community members are quick to join together for community-wide entertainment and events. Annual expeditions to gather firewood for the widows always conclude with a hearty Dutch oven supper. Smiths Fork, which runs through town, provides fishing competition for youngsters.
Homecoming Week at the high school involves the whole community. Students past and present work on the festivities, planning or marching in the parade or climbing Big Hill to help light the block “C.” Just about everyone comes to the barbecue in the park preceding the exuberant pep rally and bonfire. Every game day always brings out a big local crowd, including games as far away as several hundred miles, more evidence of the close-knit community.
For many years, all school students met in one building, but a new elementary school was opened one year before Young returned to town. The kids were proud to have their own school now, and they were aware of the tradition of high academic achievement in the community. They knew that the graduating class from the previous year had sent 96 percent of their graduates to college, most on some kind of scholarship.
Generally considered a religious community with a friendly mix of Mormon, Catholic, and Protestant citizens, there were also a few who described themselves as “agnostic,” including Rocky Moore, a genuine mountain man who spent much of this time shooting an old-fashioned musket, rarely missing. Moore said he would believe in a divine power when he saw “the burning bush.” He would have more to say about that after May 16.
Music teacher John Miller was of Methodist stock, but with no Methodist church in town, he worshipped with the Episcopalians. When the high school produced The Sound of Music one year, the Mormon mothers who were pitching in to help with costumes recruited the Catholic home economics teacher, Clara Dayton, to learn how to make a nun’s habit. In a predominantly religious community, it was noted with a sense of pride that during the annual Pioneer Day celebration, the spectators at the town rodeo might watch while a self-described agnostic helped a Catholic youngster, encouraged by a Protestant cowboy, onto a feisty calf provided by a Mormon bishop.
While it may be impossible to determine exactly why Young chose Cokeville as the target of his plan, evidence suggests that there were essentially four reasons this community was the perfect place to stage “The Biggie”:
It was a town made up of trusting, generally religious individuals who felt safe enough in their own community that they seldom locked the doors to their homes.
It was an isolated community with a volunteer police force. Young knew it would take time to amass a contingency of law enforcement capable of stopping him.
It was a close-knit community with people who knew one another by name and would be fiercely protective of their children—even to the point of paying a hefty ransom.
It was a community that made every effort to raise hard-working, highly intelligent children.
David Young may not have noted all this, but he did write in his lengthy journal that it was a closely bonded “town of trust.” That much he had noticed while twirling pistols on the Stockman’s Hotel veranda. And for these reasons and others, Cokeville was picked as the perfect location to pull off “The Biggie.”
Chapter Three
A Town without Children
“There is no doubt in my mind that David Young planned to kill the children to gain control of their minds.”
—Ron Hartley, sheriff’s investigator
On the afternoon of May 16, 1986, afternoon kindergarten was about to start. Jeremiah Moore was excited about school that day—it was also his seventh birthday. Little Jody Pope arrived a bit early for kindergarten and headed for her class with Mrs. Petersen. A mother of five, Carol Petersen believed in firm discipline, but she found her charges’ natural curiosity a better method for keeping them interested, especially when the topic, as it would be today, was dinosaurs. Jody loved Mrs. Petersen’s classes and looked forward to studying the awesome creatures with the magical names. Shiloh Pope, Jody’s seven-year-old brother, liked school but was happiest at work on the ranch. Already he rode his horse well enough to help round up stray cows on the range. Still, Shiloh was a good role model for Jody. Last year, she had watched him enviously as he brought beginning reading books home from Mrs. Janel Dayton’s first-grade class. Now Jody was learning to read and just couldn’t wait to learn more.
The Pope kids were close friends with the Wixoms, and Jody’s face lit up when she saw sixth-grader Kamron Wixom on the playground. Kam had recently been the lead in the elementary school production of Tom Sawyer, a good outlet for a boy with a penchant for mimicking well-known characters. Kam’s friend, Travis Walker, had played Huck Finn. The whole town loved the show. Travis’s parents, Kevin and Glenna, had recently completed emergency medical training and felt prepared to face their first on-call challenge.
Another student, fourth-grader Rusty Birch, had done a great job playing Winthrop in the high school production of The Music Man. Gina Taylor, winding up her first year in grade school, was the only girl in a family of four older brothers. She sang while the boys handled piano and several other instruments.
Just as Pat Bennion got her two girls off to catch the bus that morning, she received a call from the school. “Can you substitute for Mr. Teichert’s third-grade class today? He has a track meet out of town.” Having taken this class before, Pat readily agreed. “Sure, I’ll be right there,” she told them, and she was on her way as soon as she arranged for her son, Sam, to stay with a neighbor until it was time to catch the afternoon bus for his kindergarten class. Pat’s mother-in-law, Verlene, was already there as a teacher’s aide.
Paul Clark’s mother, Eva, had just called the school that afternoon to say her son would be late. “I’ll drive him in shortly,” she said. “The bus won’t need to make a trip up the canyon for him.” The Clark family treated getting to and from school quite seriously. Eva and Lowell and their eight children were building a new log home, tucked in the pine tr
ees and just behind a bend in the Smiths Fork River. It was as peaceful a place as existed anywhere, but it meant the school bus had to come ten miles each way to pick up their children.
And so went a typical day for this typical town, a close-knit community about to be pulled together tighter than they ever imagined.
***
Meanwhile, David Young parked his van in the school parking lot, and he, Doris, and Princess started unloading the arsenal of weapons and supplies. Princess did not share the irrational emotions of her father and began to feel as if she were caving under the strain of the last two days. At one point, David told her to move some of the guns. As she did, she dropped something. That did not escape the watchful eye of her father. He looked at his daughter coldly. “Screw up one more time,” he announced tersely, “and I’ll shoot you.” She was certain he would.
With his two friends secured helplessly to the interior of the van, David now had only his obedient wife and nervous daughter to help carry in all the firearms: five rifles—including two AR-15 semi-automatics—five pistols, ample ammunition for all of them, plus additional ammo to be placed near the bomb so the searing heat of the blast would cause them to explode. In addition to the five blasting caps already part of the bomb assembly, another thirty were brought into the school.
The three must have made quite a sight, had anyone been outside to see them, as they made their way up the walk, the girls struggling with all the guns and David wheeling the cart full of assembled bomb components. A number of David’s journals were also carted in. Apparently his understanding of reincarnation included the concept that his journals, filled with notations of his superior thoughts and actions, would also be restored into his Brave New World.
He had taken the time earlier to make copies of his mathematical treatise for eternal life via reincarnation, which he entitled “Zero Equals Infinity” (see Appendix V). He had already sent one to President Reagan so that he too would be enlightened. Young’s convictions were firm. He had faith enough in his beliefs to act on them. Now he would put the plan in motion because he thought he had figured it out and was ready to die for a new and better world. Armed with a .22 pistol and a 9 mm tucked in his waistband, Young personally wheeled in the bomb. It was time to announce his presence.
***
Inside the school, the end of the south hallway turned right. David and his little group followed the turn and saw, near the front entrance, a counter and receptionist’s desk next to the principal’s office. Someone was seated at the desk.
Christina “Tina” Cook, the school receptionist, looked up as she heard someone approaching. Originally from Canada, she had moved from Washington, D.C., to Cokeville after David and Doris had moved away, so she had no reason to recognize any of the people coming down the hall, burdened with what looked like a stack of guns and something in a shopping cart. Casual attire and paraphernalia of one kind or another were familiar sights to anybody living in a rural, outdoor-active town, and their presence did not initially alarm her.
Tina greeted them as she would any other visitor to the school. “Hello,” she said with her usual smile. There was no response from either the woman or girl. The man came closer and stood, also silently, just watching her. She was surprised at the grim look on his face. At almost the same moment, another woman approached the receptionist’s desk. Tina assumed she was with the others because she had never seen this woman either.
This woman, Cindy Cowden, had an appointment with Principal Max Excell. She was there to interview for a teaching position that was open in the kindergarten. Since Mr. Excell was not in sight and the receptionist was busy with three other people, Cindy decided to step into the restroom.
Tina’s attention came back to the three standing in front of her. The man was speaking. “Mrs. Cook,” he said, scrutinizing her nameplate. “Is that your name?”
“Yes, it is. Can I help you?” Tina tried again to initiate a normal conversation.
“You certainly can,” he responded, but said nothing more.
Tina had never seen so depressing and cheerless a look as the one on his face. With a shock, she understood it was really possible for a person to have “cold eyes.”
The man leaned toward her. “Mrs. Cook, this is a revolution! This school is being taken hostage!”
Tina was unsure how to respond, and David must have seen she hadn’t quite taken in his announcement. “Don’t push any alarms, answer any phones, or call for help! We are very serious, Mrs. Cook. I have guns and this is a bomb.” David opened his jacket and pointed clearly to the shoelace-trigger attached to his wrist and its connection to the shopping cart.
Tina looked from the pile of components back to David, still in disbelief.
He explained about the clothespin detonator. “See where I have inserted the plug between the two ends of the pin? I have only to let them touch, Mrs. Cook, and this entire building, with everyone in it, blows sky high. Mrs. Cook, you and I are only one-half inch from death.”
Tina felt a spurt of anger. She wished he would stop saying her name like that, over and over again, especially in that sepulchral tone. She hadn’t moved from the mean streets of Washington, D.C., to this rural haven where people raised families in love and respect just to be threatened at her desk by a rude, self-important stranger.
David must have seen the doubt in her eyes. Even more pointedly, he said, “Try to hit me on the head, jump me from behind, or anything at all, and I will pull this bomb trigger as I go down. Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Cook?”
He is making himself ridiculous, she thought, but she realized he saw himself much differently than that. She couldn’t even think of how to respond.
“How many telephones do you have here in the school, Mrs. Cook?” he asked.
“Five,” she managed to say.
“Well, unplug them. All five.” She looked at him numbly for a minute and then got up and walked to the principal’s office to comply. “Stop!” he suddenly shouted.
Doris came up to Tina and looked at her closely. “May I impress upon your mind, Mrs. Cook”—now she was doing it!—“that the lives of everyone in this building depend on what you do in the next several minutes?” Tina could only nod.
Just then, Cindy Cowden reappeared. She saw David gesture to her and said, “No, I’m fine. I’ll just wait for Mr. Excell right here.”
“Lady, you better get over here with the others,” he replied.
Cindy didn’t like being ordered around by this man. Again, she said, “No, I’ll just wait right here.” Without speaking, David lifted the barrel of his pistol and aimed it at her. She couldn’t believe it. “What’s this,” she said, laughing, “a new interviewing technique?” Tina shook her head at Cindy, and the receptionist’s terse expression sobered her immediately. As instructed, she joined the group.
At this moment, Janel Dayton came to the office to pick up her mail. She had been a Cokeville first-grade teacher for several years and had six children, her youngest in the morning kindergarten. Her husband ran their family ranch north of town. She took in the entourage with a look and decided she would just go back to her room and pick up her mail later.
Before she could, David turned and once more loudly announced, “This is a revolution!”
She turned back. “Who do you represent?” she asked him.
“Ourselves!” he said. Janel tried to walk away, but he stopped her. Like Tina and Cindy, she was soon made a part of the hostage group.
The next person to come upon the gathering was fifth-grade teacher Rocky Moore, intent on getting some papers he wanted from his desk. Suddenly he heard an angry voice. “You! Get over here with the others behind this counter!”
A stocky and determined man—not the type to be bullied—he muttered, “That’ll be the day!” and merely kept on going.
“I know you, Rocky!” the voice boomed. Moore stopped to see who was talking. As he walked back, he suddenly found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol, less
than a foot away. Then the man who had spoken cocked the gun. It was so close Rocky could see the slug in firing position.
“You don’t remember me,” the man said. “But I’d just as soon kill you right now as later.” He seemed really angry. “Get over here and keep quiet!”
Rocky shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Hey, I’m coming, if that’s the way you feel about it.” He knew the tall man now. David had been his tenant years ago. There had been the usual disagreements about repairs and rent paid on time. David wanted more than repairs; he wanted remodeling. Rocky had told him he was free to leave. He thought little more about David once he moved away. But David clearly didn’t forget him. He didn’t like not getting his way. That wasn’t the way things should be.
Rocky realized that confronting David now would only make matters worse. Since the man already bore him a grudge, Rocky decided to stay as quiet and inconspicuous as possible and wait the turn of events. David already seemed to have forgotten him anyway and was concentrating on looking for a bigger space to commandeer. He shepherded everyone toward the adjacent conference room. “Is that a large room?” he asked.
“No, it isn’t,” Tina said. Cindy Cowden and Janel Dayton were pushed right into the room. David kept the group together while he looked inside.
Cindy noticed an open window. She suggested to Janel that they climb out and run.
Janel thought about it seriously. But she had just turned over her first-grade class to fellow teacher Jean Mitchell for combined activities with Mrs. Mitchell’s students. It was the first day of their trade arrangement, and both teachers were excited about the approach. Janel considered what might happen if the man found out she was missing and decided to take it out on Jean or any of the children. No, she decided, she would have to stay and see the whole thing through.