best efforts of federal, state, and local law enforcement, he eluded them for five and a half years. Yes,
“Finally, in May of 2003, a rookie police officer in Murphy, North Carolina, caught Rudolph Dumpster-diving outside a Save-A-Lot store. Rudolph was unarmed and clean-shaven, wearing new clothes and new shoes. They found his little camp, which turned out to be a stone’s throw from two strip malls and a high school. Apparently, the officers reported they could hear the highway traffic from where Rudolph’s camp was—it was that close to civilization.”
Rulon paused again. When Pope shook his head to indicate he still didn’t get it, Rulon said, “For five and a half years, the top fugitive on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list lived and prospered in the hills of North Carolina and was finally captured wearing new clothes and with a fresh shave, despite a one-million-dollar reward. Everyone was astonished when it happened, but they shouldn’t have been. What those law-enforcement people should have been paying attention to was the fact that ‘Run Rudolph Run’ T-shirts and bumper stickers were damned hot sellers in the area, and that there were enough local sympathizers—true believers—to keep Rudolph fed, clothed, and well taken care of right under their noses. Despite a massive ground search and the best experts and high technology, this guy lived two hundred yards from a strip mall in a densely populated area.”
Rulon slammed his desk with the heel of his hand. “The reason Eric Rudolph remained free was because of sympathizers who were true believers like him. Not the whole county, to be sure, but it doesn’t take a whole county—just a few true believers. They’d rather take care of him and give him food, shelter, and clothes than collect on a million bucks. They believed in him and his cause.
“Right now,” Rulon said, “Klamath Moore is up there in Saddlestring with a bunch of followers. Most of his people have come in from other states, but some, no doubt, are local. Joe, how many people in your county would you guess are pro-hunting?”
“It’s hard to say, but I’d guess sixty percent,” Joe said. “Maybe higher.”
“What percentage just couldn’t care less?”
Joe shrugged. “Twenty-five, thirty percent, I’d say.”
“Which leaves us what—ten percent anti-hunters?”
Joe nodded.
“How many of them are true believers?”
“I have no idea,” Joe said.
“Even if it’s five or ten people,” Rulon said, “that’s enough to create a support network for the guy who is out there. And that’s all he needs. Plus, he’ll have a good percentage of the press and a lot of sympathetic elitists who despise hunting on his side. And make no mistake, there are more people in this country against hunting than for it. Right now, today, even in my own state, Klamath Moore is up there preaching to the converted and radicalizing maybe just a few more folks over to his cause. His aim is to build something that will last a long time. As hard as it is to believe, gentlemen, there are already people all across this country and the world who look to Klamath Moore and the killer as heroes. Some of the news coverage is already being spun that way—‘Neanderthal hunters in Wyoming are finally getting their comeuppance.’ The world is going mad, as we know, but all these years we’ve been isolated from that. Not anymore.
“I predict there will be T-shirts and bumper stickers printed within the week. That unless we find this killer real fast, we won’t find him for years. And that for every week that passes, this murderer will grow in stature among the loonies until he’s a legend. And so will Klamath Moore.”
Rulon turned his attention to Randy Pope. “Now do you see the connection? Do you follow?”
“Yes, sir,” Pope said, unable to swallow. “My agency will be decimated by the lack of revenue from hunting licenses.”
“Not to mention how it’ll kill sales tax revenue,” Rulon said. “But Director Brewer and
Portenson glared at the governor with naked hatred. Joe thought,
“KLAMATH MOORE really wasn’t on our radar screen until recently,” Richard Brewer said, withdrawing a file from his briefcase and placing it on the governor’s desk. “Not until Director Pope contacted us with his suspicions that the ‘accidental’ hunting deaths of John Garrett and Warren Tucker might be connected in some way. For that, we sincerely thank you, Randy, for your prescience in this matter.”
Pope sat up and nodded to Brewer, obviously thankful for the compliment.
“Most of what we know about Mr. Moore comes from his website,” Brewer said. “I put three of our best investigators on it. They’ve produced this report”—Brewer tapped the file he’d produced—“which is, frankly, very disturbing.”
Brewer spoke formally with a deep, melodious voice. He sat ramrod straight in his chair. He had dark hair, a prominent jaw, and heavy eyebrows that conveyed his “I am a serious man” persona.
Joe could hear shuffling and murmuring coming from the conference room next door where the press conference would be held. He checked his watch—ten minutes until the governor was scheduled to address the media.
Brewer continued, “On his website, Moore stokes the fires of the extreme animal-rights movement. He makes no bones about the fact that he finds hunting abhorrent and hunters demented. He advocates interfering with hunters in the field, and sabotaging hunting seasons across the country and the world. He’s clever in how he does it, though, always couching his advocacy in phrases like ‘We’re not asking you to break the law, but . . .’ or ‘We don’t advocate violence or criminality in any shape or form, but . . .’ types of caveats. Obviously, he’s been advised by lawyers so that his words are clear but he covers himself so he can’t be held accountable for what happens.
“The most interesting thing we found on his website is called ‘The Forum,’” Brewer continued, opening the file and pulling out a thick stack of printouts. “It’s where his followers can post messages and have discussions. Sometimes, Mr. Moore joins in. And in doing so, he is often not as careful about his words and meaning as he is in his more formal statements on the website.
“For example, there was a post three weeks ago from a person who calls himself Wolverine. Rather than read