Legacy

This story starts with the person of Jon De’Farge.  Jon was owner of a small  but nice circus.  It had assorted acts, nothing spectacular like in the big circuses, but nice enough.  Everyone from Jon on down was like a family.  So when the circus went out of business for lack of attendance, the family broke up.  It was a tearful time of goodbyes and good luck wishes.  Many joined one of the larger circuses or sought more regular employment.  The exception was three family units of dwarves and midgets that accounted for  sixteen souls that Jon dearly loved.  They had been the heart of the clown acts. Their sizes made it near impossible to find normal employment and the other circuses had no need for more such individuals.

Jon was like a Godfather to them and they depended on him for their food, shelter, and very existence.  Yes, they had children of their own.  Money was running out and times were becoming extremely desperate. So they sat down as a group and decided they had very little choice but to seek a way to sustain their lives by any means.

A plan was devised that involved six adults and eight of the ten children.  The plan was to dress the midgets and dwarves like children to create the illusion that they were all just that; some of them actually were.   The now fourteen wee folk and full size Jon would don ski masks and barge into homes of old people, robbing them of their salable valuables and cash.

The idea of making the wee ones seem like all children was to keep people from violently resisting them as no one would want to hurt a child.  That proved to be a rather correct supposition.

The big guy Jon, however was another matter, he would be fair game.  However when anyone tried for him the wee ones would gang up on the old person and about four wee ones could bring down a full grown adult and sit on them without much effort.  That was true only because to prevent such a takedown would have meant causing serious injury to those who were in their entirety perceived as children.

No one wanted to do that because of normal reasons and also because of what they had read in the newspaper about the Vietnam Conflict where our troops were accused of being “Baby Killers”.  True they had killed many babies or should I say toddlers.  Butas a matter of no choice.  The North Vietnamese would give four and five year old children a hand grenade and tell them to go give it to the nice American Soldier.  The soldier had to shoot the kid before he got close enough to blow them both to pieces.  Poor soldier would have the haunts for life from it.

Jon and his troop of faux children were fairly successful in their operation. Newspaper accounts were frequent.  In an odd sort of way they almost had a following or fan club so to speak.

They didn’t stay too long in anyone city, so newspapers around the country kept the tales of their exploits fresh in the public mind.

Then things took a nasty turn as they were bound to, intentional or not.  There were reports of injuries, broken bones on the oldsters taken down; and then the report of a death.  The surviving widow said her husband struck his head on a table as he was being taken down.  That’s homicide anyway you cut it, the kind and degree would eventually be up to a judge and jury.

Now enters the story one Gary Wilson and his wife Judy, both in their seventy’s. They had also read about the exploits of this strange group.  What they had not anticipated was that they would be on the list of potential victims.

Gary had said at the breakfast table a time or two, “Take out the big guy, cut of the head of a snake and the body dies.”  A bit of a truism to say the least.

Gary was a bit of a gun collector and had a fairly good arsenal in his closet.  Also a small pocket pistol he kept on the night stand by the bed.  It was early morning and Judy was in the shower.  Gary had just finished dressing and was about to come out of the bedroom when he heard a loud noise like someone forcing the front door.  He quickly shoved his small pistol into his shirt pocket grabbed a golf club and proceeded to investigate.

He had barely got to the end of the hall from the bedroom when he was swarmed by fourteen wee persons (appeared to be children) and one big lug. Gary’s inclination was to take out the big lug.  But before he could even start to take a step forward with the golf club, four wee ones swarmed his legs and took him down.  Golf Club went flying somewhere in the process.

Gary’s left arm broke when he went down.  One of the wee ones rushed by him heading towards the bedroom.  That was not going to work thought Gary, if that miscreant little %**&^%$^ got to the closet arsenal it would be nothing but bad news for him and no doubt countless others. Still not wanting to hurt what he thought was a child, at least no more than necessary, Gary pulled his small pistol from his shirt pocket and nailed the wee one in the leg.  It was a controlled shot as Gary was an expert marksman.

The wee one went down like a sack of dropped potatoes, howling in great pain.  Then all pandemonium broke loose, the robbers suddenly knew they had encountered what they had never expected, an armed oldster.

The big lug (Jon) went for Gary’s gun and got a bullet in his knee cap for his effort.  He went down like an extra big sack of potatoes.  Panic was everywhere.  But none of them wanted to get anywhere near Gary who was now sitting up even though still on the floor.

Apparently a neighbor had seen the van and the horde of wee ones pouring out of it and called the police.  That neighbor also called a couple of other neighbors and about six neighbors with baseball bats and anything else they could swing came pouring in the door and took quick control of things.  The police arrived about seven minutes later, six car loads of them.  They of course arrested the whole bunch.  Fortunately no one died this time.

Gary hollered at his wife that it was alright to come out.  She did and quickly dressed.  An ambulance took Jon and the wee one to the hospital.  My wife drove me to the ER to get my broken arm set.  I was glad to find out the wee one I shot was one of the wee adults and not one of the wee children.

I don’t know what the courts will decide about them.  Personally I think the wee ones need help and probation more than anything.  Even though Jon wasn’t the one who indirectly caused the one death, he probably will be found culpable and have to serve some time. Quite a bit of time I suspect.