Not all that long ago I watched a TV show in which one of the principal “stool pigeons” for the prosecution was hidden away under the Witness Protection Act. It raised this question in my mind, and perhaps it has in yours, “How many people in that category do we have living right here in Lewis County?”
Don’t laugh. I’m serious. You couldn’t find a more perfect place than Lewis County in which to hide such a person. Our population is large enough for a newcomer to slip in here without too many people noticing. On the other hand, it’s small enough so that any of the subject’s former associates wouldn’t be likely to stop for a hamburger or a drink while driving through on Interstate 5.
Here in the upper left hand corner of the country, we’re as far as possible from larger cities where criminal activity is likely to be centered. Another plus is that we’re certainly not as suspicious of strangers or newcomers as a resident of, say, New York City or even Springfield, Illinois, might be.
How could you identify such a person if he or she moved in next to you? I’ve given more than a little thought to this. First of all, such a person wouldn’t be inclined to make vacation trips to visit Las Vegas, Reno or Los Angeles. Nor would they be likely to attend large sporting events such as a Seahawks game, or any other occasion where gambling (and high-roll gamblers) might be present. Even an invitation to accompany you on a visit to the Lucky Eagle Casino would probably be turned down politely.
Relatives or other visitors from out of town could be conspicuous by their absence. He or she wouldn’t drive a fancy car, nor would he or she speak with an accent recognizable as being from New Jersey or South Carolina.
They’re not likely to draw attention to themselves by becoming active in local politics or civic betterment, and that lets out just about all the people I know who have settled here in the past dozen or so years.
Now maybe you’re thinking, “Hey! That sounds like my next door neighbor.” That’s the problem, or at least it’s the point I’m trying to make. Their very safety depends on their not making any noticeable waves. It’s possible they could become as good a friend as you’ll ever have. Perhaps they may already be one.
Does it make you think twice about that couple down the street or across the fence? You don’t need to answer to me, just to yourself, but, would that make a difference?
C’mon, Moeller, change the subject. Centralia police recently conducted sweeps for illegal camping. I’m sure it’s a lot more prevalent than we think, if only because we don’t see much of it. If you’re up to the task, take a walk through the brush between the Goodwill store and Hayes Lake. You probably won’t see any people, not if you make a bit of noise going in, but you’ll see a lot of campsites.
The same goes for the area between the south end of Fort Borst Park and the Skookumchuck River. Every slab of cardboard along a trail is where somebody spent at least one night. One morning I found a new sleeping bag next to a headstone in Centralia’s Pioneer Cemetery. I left it there for several days before I ran it through my washer and donated it to the Visiting Nurses thrift store.
Where else can these unfortunate people go?
•••
Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
