This one of those fantastic, touching stories that haven’t been reported properly yet. For some reasons they weren’t published yet, or, due to the ruthless economy of paper publications, were deleted from feature reportages – but weren’t forgotten. I would like to launch the process of excavating them, bit by bit. I feel indebted to people I had a privilege of meeting of while driving back roads.
Say – this one.
I met Michael Gagne in Nixon, Nevada, the seat of tribal government of the Paiute Pyramid Lake Indian Reservation, home of 400 souls or so troubled by poverty and addictions. After filling a special forms and declaring that I won’t sue anyone in case of my sudden death, I went for a night patrol with Mike.
He had dozens of stories to tell – stories of the man who saw and heard a lot, even too much, when he served as a LAPD officer. He told me also about the science-fiction book he was planning to write, an amazing tale of a time and space traveller, details of which I unfortunately almost forgot…
It was 2009. I’ve tried to track him down, to catch up, follow the story line – in vain. He left Nixon, hit the road again, I guess.
Mike, are you there somewhere?