Chicken Little's Revenge

                          Chicken Little’s Revenge

        As dusk quickly enveloped the abandoned farm, Sam Jones struggled to get his heavy package into the grain elevator. Making sure that the rotting grain covered the package completely, he securely locked the elevator’s lid in place.  Then he climbed down from his perch and sped back to his farm. Apparently, no one had seen him make his deposit.  

      The grain in that elevator, in Sam’s mind, now would cover not only a decade of farming activity long ago left behind, but also would seal the fate of the man whose corrupt self interest threatened to destroy the quiet life that had brought Sam and his neighbors to rural Maryland.

       As Sam closed the rusting gate of the weed-infested field behind him, he thought back on the unnecessary skirmishes that had led this normally quiet vegetable farmer down the tragic path to commit the only criminal offense in his 50 years of life.

      He and his family had bought the small plot of land down the road with the intention of turning it into a truck farm and bringing a cleaner, less-intensive industry to an area suffering from much of the factory-farming and ultra-polluting poultry industry taking over more and more of Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

     At first, Sam, and Jasper Fulton, manager of the Steamboat Poultry Farms affiliate under construction next to Sam’s small tract, had become great friends.  Jasper initially said he had plans for what he called a relatively small poultry-raising operation that would bring new life to a struggling area with the most modern equipment on the market to control pollution from chicken waste.

     Within a very short time, however, Fulton and Steamboat Farms had decided to quadruple the amount of animals they raised. The pollution controls, though, had not kept pace with the growing requirements of the expansion.

      The odor, emanating from the area of Steamboat Farms, became so overwhelming that Sam and his family, and many of their neighbors, could not go outside of their homes without choking on the foul stench.

      Also, as the operation continued to take over more of the abandoned farm property, the smaller farmers noticed that Jasper had become far less interested in being a good neighbor and far more interested in gargantuan profits. They also watched with alarm as he continued to rub in the face of his neighbors his multiplying influence with county lawmakers to eliminate opposition to Steamboat’s expansion plans.

      Meanwhile, Sam continued to circulate petitions. He eventually signed up 5000 residents opposed to further building and addition of chickens at the Steamboat site. He and his neighbors would make impassioned but logical arguments whenever the poultry raisers submitted expansion proposals that did not include improvements to their environmental systems.

      The county council leaders would listen politely and give every assurance that they always made decisions based on fairness with the best interests of the health and welfare of all of the county’s residents uppermost in their minds.

       After every hearing, Steamboat would win a unanimous decision in its favor with no comments from the council members before, during or after each vote.

      After one particularly contentious session though, Jasper shouted angrily at Sam and his neighbors, “Why don’t you troglodytes get out of the way of progress and work with us for the good of all business? My business, after, all, is the only one that counts. You should realize that I own this county.”

     Jasper even threatened to permanently shut down any who stood in his way.

       Sam stayed behind after one of the meetings to attempt to sway some of the council members toward his point of view. Then, after waiting outside a closed door, confidential meeting for more than a half hour, he overheard one of the council members tell Jasper, “Don’t worry, you have met the financial considerations we told you were necessary to make this happen, so we will continue to take care of you.”

      It looked like Sam and his neighbors were up against a stone wall with no recourse open to them.

      Even the courts stifled a relatively simple step like filing a temporary injunction in an attempt to stop work at Jasper’s facility. Opponents found themselves mired in paperwork that caused months and months of delays.

      “What can you do, Sam?” his neighbors said. “It looks like Big Poultry’s money talks and the fix is in. You might as well give up and live with it. We all can’t afford to move out.”

       “I will not give up,” he replied. “Even though Steamboat has a lot riding on their operation here, they wouldn’t bother to keep the fight going in such a small area that ranks as an insignificant part of their total corporate picture. There must be somebody local pushing their own selfish interests in order for the county council to always do their bidding. The first priority of that local person, Jasper, is lining his own pockets. He is the leader of the blockade. If he is silenced, then we will have a far better chance of winning.”

         Sam’s supporters became concerned, however. that the plan he had to silence Jasper would spell more trouble than any of them had ever bargained for.

          He refused to give any details about his ultimate silencing solution, but, as month after month passed, his wife said he had become more and more agitated and unreasonable, and more and more determined to end the situation once and for all.

          One Saturday, Sam invited Jasper to his house for a discussion. Before Jasper arrived Sam’s wife saw her husband take a pitchfork and a long rope from his barn and lock it in the trunk of his car.  

        When Jasper showed up, the two men got involved in a loud shouting match behind Sam’s closed bedroom door after Sam played a recording for Jasper. 

      Sam’s wife then saw them leave in his car.

      About two hours later Sam returned alone. As he stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him, he had a somber look on his face. His only comment: “I finally fixed the situation. The blockade no longer has its leader.”

         Jasper had agreed to meet Sam alone, but also had told his assistant to inform the county council and Sheriff Bull Johnson if he did not return home within two hours of the conference.

           The next morning Sheriff Johnson was waiting on the front porch of the Jones farm with an arrest warrant in his hand.

           A crowded court calendar meant that the opening arguments in the bribery trial of three of the five county council members would have to go forward before Sam’s murder trial.