Ep 10 📞The Phone Call : 🐎Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

Brothers are an indispensable part of country life for me. Mine has been ready at a moments notice for just about any wacky idea, adrenaline moment, project, rescue, or emergency. Its important to note that family history isnt just something that happened 50 or 100 years ago. Family history is a daily event. If you’re apt to retelling a story 3 or more times, and its recounted at family reunions, make sure its written up and preserved.  As Gerrit Gong recently stated, “We each have a story. As we discover our story, we connect, we belong, we become.” Family history is just as much about becoming ourselves today, as it is about feeling those who’ve gone before us in the yesterdays of the past.

CHARACTERS
Gerrit Walter Gong
Justin Heaton
Pete Mangum
Uncle Grant Heaton
Aaron Heaton
Allen Heaton
Bishop Heaton
Douberley
Mr. Cook
Neil L. Anderson
Russell Brunson
Jon Acuff

LOCATIONS
North Rim Grand Canyon
Moccasin, Arizona
M Hill
Boy Scout Cave
Mohave County Courthouse
Arizona State Highway 389
Colorado City, Arizona
Church of Jesus Christ
Pipe Valley
Red Cliffs Chevron
Pipe Springs National Monument
Panguitch, Utah

Transcript

It was the early summer of 1993. Justin had just finished his senior year of High School, track season had just ended, and his summer work schedule was just around the corner. Most likely wrangling mules and pampering dudes for Pete Mangum again at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It was decent pay, good tips and he enjoyed the socializing. He would often tell the nervous riders as the sure footed mules meandered down very narrow cliff side trails, “If you get scared, just do like the mules do and close your eyes.”

 His 1979 two tone red and white Ford F-150 wasn’t the flashiest bench seat, stick shift, truck around, but he had a new saddle blanket style seat cover and it got him to work and back. Them’r the trucks a fella could actually work on by himself. Wasn’t all fancy and computerized and congested under the hood yet. 

The windows had the fancy roll up contraption that you actually cranked in a circular motion and the window went down….the opposite direction and the window went up again. 

The headlight dimmer switch was on the far left side of the floor board, just under the emergency brake and to the side of the clutch. 

The heater was always working, as long as you kept the coolant level topped off, or just wear your letterman jacket. This truck was equipped with the state of the art 2-55 Air Conditioning…that is 2 windows down and 55 mph.

In 1993 Gasoline was a $1.12 a gallon…and dropping. Most of the time you filled up the oil and checked the gas in these old trucks. Optional lap belt only, no air bags, big fuzzy dice, and a dream catcher swinging back and forth from the rear view mirror that was glued to the windshield. 

These ol trucks seemed to be as indestructible as a black box on an airplane. 

Hello

Ok…oh i see

He escaped did he?

Yeah I agree, most folks should lock themselves inside for the time being. 

Good to know, thanks.

(Justin) How could the courthouse lose a prisoner?

(Justin) Which way would a fugitive run in this little town, We’re boxed in by mountains on 3 sides. Lets just go for a ride and find out. 

(Narrator) Justin grabs the Winchester 30-30 rifle, loads a few more rounds in it, and heads for the corrals. He puts a saddle on a tall sorrel gelding horse named “Big Enough”.

It was a warm day in Moccasin Arizona as Justin rounds the M Hill and on through the gate just past the Boy Scout cave. (Dove and quail sounds) As he rode up past Uncle Grants irrigation dam in the wash and around the mountain slope into the canyon opening he could see what looked like an out of town cousin walking across the way. It looked to be one of Allen’s boys…maybe Aaron. He was tall like his dad and had dark curly hair like his mom. He seemed to have a jacket in front of him and across his hands as he walked along. 

(Justin) Im looking for a guy that escaped from the courthouse. If you see him you tell him I’m looking to collect the bounty if there is one, dead or alive. Hahaha. 

(narrator) The thought to be cousin walked on and back towards town, as Justin rode further into the canyon. 

(Justin) I havent seen Allen’s boys for a while, Im not so sure that was him. Come to think of it, what does an escaped prisoner even look like. Chances are that was him. And it sure looked like he was covering some handcuffs with that jacket. I’ll be buggered. I guess I’ll circle back across the wash and ride back to town and past the school. 

(Narrator) It turns out that the unidentifiable cousin, wasnt a cousin after all. It was the guy the court was looking for. And from what he had just experienced he was plenty spooked by the small town country posse approach. He’d made a quick path back to the courthouse to avoid any more gun toting country boy vigilantes. 

I surrender, i surrender, there’s some cowboy guy hunting me down on his horse. Just get me inside. Its just not a good day for me to get shot. Im allergic to bullets. 

What am I telling you this story for, well cause Personal family history stories are always happening. For example this past Monday, just after my son took his 4 wheeler down to catch the bus, i was just finishing my morning workout at 8:02am when…..(ring) oh sorry, hold that thought….its my brother calling….Hello Bishop, whats up.

Hello

(Brother) hey, did someone borrow your sons 4 wheeler?

No. Why?

(Brother) Cause it just left town on a trailer going pretty fast. 

Seriously. Ok I’m going after them. Can you follow them till I catch up?

(Brother) yeah. 

I hung up, dazed but still scrambling about the house getting dressed, getting my gun and ammo, grabbing a water bottle and just looking toward the back door when…The thought crossed my mind to call 911. You cant call 911 for a stolen, stoled, in the process of being stoleded , 4 wheeler….can you? What would I even say? Should I set the house on fire first so that my reason seems more legit? I have seen all of those billboards about the only reasons you are allowed to call 911. Is this one of them? I dont remember specifically seeing “swiped from the church parking lot 4 wheeler” on that list. I tell myself to shut my pie hole, and I call anyway. 

(Dispatch) 911 whats the nature of your emergency?

(I reply hesitantly) Um…someone stole my 4 wheeler and they are driving south on the county road towards the state highway. 

(Dispatch) What does the vehicle look like?

(Narrator) Up to this point, I realize that I dont know hardly anything about the thief, his vehicle description or anything. And when you get two colorblind brothers giving details to the other, color isnt mentioned. 

(Travis) I…I…I dont know. I think he said something about a truck and an old flatbed trailer…..there’s a white and red Polaris 4 wheeler on that old trailer. Thats the one they stole….And its not strapped down. I dont know if they are gonna head east or west from the chevron onto hwy 389. If we could somehow get….

(Dispatch) Let me transfer you to your county sheriffs dispatch.

(Travis) Ok thank you

(Narrator) When they come on the line I Repeat the previous comments and give dispatch my home phone number…which is still a thing in some parts of the world. And yes. My phone is still connected to the wall. 

After i hang up i realize that i gave my home number and then immediately regret that because i want to get in pursuit of these creeps. 

 I grab a hat, and a gun, and bolt out the door. I start the car then run back in to get my wallet. I learned that from another somewhat recent morning adventure.

3 miles down the road I get a phone call from my brother. 

(Brother) “Hey They’re headed west towards Colorado City. They are going really fast. I am going near 100 and I barely caught up with them because of traffic.”

(Travis) Ok, keep on them. I called the sheriff’s office, they are alerted. I will call them back and update them on your location. 

As he raced down the highway his truck topped out at 100 mph and he could tell by the shimmy of the front end that although it wasnt fully engaged, his hubs were still locked in 4 wheel drive, but there was no time to stop or he would lose sight of the vehicle that was a mile and a bit ahead of him still going at a breakneck speed, with an unstrapped, stolen 4 wheeler on the back. 

I pull off the road at one of the last spots of phone signal for 10+ miles and call dispatch again, update them with the location, and tell them my brother is following them. 

My brother serves as the local bishop for the Church of Jesus Christ, and was home that morning burning weeds when he saw the truck, trailer, and stolen 4 wheeler flying out of town. 

As i pull back onto the pavement I am apprehensive that I will be without signal for nearly 10 minutes. It wouldve been longer but we are all speeding like Wild banshees…one trying to get away, the other two trying to catch up and keep up. 

I top out of Pipe Valley and call my county dispatch with an update and a timeframe and check on availability to help with pursuit. I learned later that the county officer was rerouted by priority to the call of an unresponsive 7 year old in a vehicle on the highway.

The thieves turned off of the highway in a cloud of dust, which is the only way he knew they left the pavement,

(Brother) They’ve stopped at a house a mile or so from the highway. I am just outside the driveway and they see me. They are not going anywhere. Looks like one guy. 

(Travis) What’s the address?

(Brother) Do you know where the Douberley’s live?

This is a rural country habit when we refer to locations by people we know nearby. Sometimes because the street names are vague at best, or non existent. I have no idea where the location is, so I ask him to send me a gps marker. 

We are both hyped up and frazzled with indignation that someone has violated our peaceful town by stealing something that didnt belong to them. 

The stolen 4 wheeler is nothing extravagant. Its a 2001 Polaris trail-boss 325, rear wheel drive only. Nothing impressive….BUT….My son has been doing sweat equity labor to purchase it from his grandpa. On top of that he has put money and time into it to make needed repairs to replace the sprocket, chain, battery, carburetor, filters, headlight and tail light, new switches, oil change, and new petcock valve. The kid has been yelled at more than once for coming into the house smelling like a gas can. Seriously he has. Enough to make your eyes water and to worry about the pilot light on the gas stove setting him ablaze from across the room. 

He just recently got the new carburetor installed and adjusted so that it finally starts and idles again. He has kicked and cussed that machine so many times I have lost track. But he kept at it.

I stop at the highway turnoff to where I assume my brother went.

(Brother) I’m still at the house. No one has moved yet. The guy looks nervous cause he knows I am here watching him. 

I see an officer pull near the turnoff and stops to put on a Kevlar jacket. I honk and wave him over. We talk about what we know, I give him some vague directions cause thats all I have. I tell him I have a weapon in the car, because country boys are courteous that way. He says, maybe you ought to stay here at the intersection in the chance that somehow this guy evades us and tries to flee. So I stay put. Within a few minutes I see other officers driving into the neighborhood. An unmarked black truck, and a marshals blazer. 

(Justin) they are talking to the guy right now.

(Travis) can you tell the cops that I want the guy to drive the stolen property back to where he got it from and unload it. 

(Justin) i dont think thats gonna happen. 

The whole ordeal is over within 90 minutes. Possibly the quickest 90 minutes of my life, and potentially the longest 90 minutes of Mr Cook’s tumultuous existence. Thats the fellers name. In the end the 4 wheeler was recovered without damage, which is a miracle knowing that it wasnt strapped down, and one wheel was lodged through a broken board on the trailer….and he was driving like a bat outta Panguitch. Mr. Cook was arrested and turned over to the custody of the county, then given a court date, and released. 

I had previously served as a county constable for 10 years and had spent my fair share of time in jury trials. So I had no interest in showing up for a court date or pursuing charges, and I told the county officer that when he called. 

When the excitement wore off that afternoon and the next morning, I started to down shift my emotions from the adrenaline infused righteous indignation I was feeling earlier that morning. As I talked with my son about Mr Cook’s troublesome choice to steal his four wheeler, how unfair what he did was, we also learned on the scene that this was a frequent behavior for Mr Cook. I wondered if my righteous indignation had evolved into fiery darts. I didnt want that. And I didnt want to be parenting from that either. 

Why do i tell this story? Why are any of the stories Ive told important? Well, in my case, hopefully so I can learn from something so as not to repeat it if its egregious to how I want to be and parent. And to duplicate it as often as needed if it is in line with my values. 

True Stories well told can inspire, caution, entertain, and instruct. Now in the past few episodes I’ve shared several personal accounts from folks, some I’m related to, some not, yet folks who’ve had life happen to them. And in those moments of magnitude when life events spike our seismographs, I hope that we remember, record, and recount them to those we want to improve beyond our own lives. Whether that is a spouse, friend, children, family, associates, a support group, or anyone. And in recounting them to others, remind yourself that you are still pretty amazing yourself. 

What legacy are you passing on to your children and family? Is it money, is it knickknacks, is it silverware, is it keepsakes, is it memories, is it family histories.

70% of generational wealth is squandered by the 2nd generation 

90% is gone by the 3rd generation 

So as far as passing things on to posterity, the greatest staying power is recorded memories and histories. Those are the keepsakes, the wealth of knowledge and the treasures of family that do the MOST good. The principal amount compounds exponentially and tax free with your growing family. 

What do we learn from these stories? 

We learn that bad things happen to good people, and bad people happen onto some good things. Life isnt fair, it wasnt meant to be that way. Life is an experience, and we better get off our “fair” soap box and make of it everything that we can. 

“Life is not who you are, life is who you are becoming.” Russell Brunson 

What is connection to ourselves and our past? Its everything. Its the opposite of addiction. When civilizations were attacked, destroying their connections to the past, the records, their histories was the ultimate destruction. Detaching someone from what made them, thats the worst kind of long lasting damage. Dont do that to those you love. Dont be untouchably and perceptively perfect. Have flaws. Share them in a respectful way in trusted company. 

As Jon Acuff said, “The scars you share become light houses for other people headed for the same rocks.” 

My Friends, we each have a story. As we discover our story, we connect, we belong, we become.

For the love of biscuits and gravy, that’s a beautiful thing.