I was with a lot of people at a stadium on a large farm where horses were kept. In one section was a place where the horses were slaughtered for dog meat. I was sitting in a pickup truck and watched as four horses were taken into the section where they were to be slaughtered. In a way the horses reminded me of people whom I had known. One reminded me Will Johnson (an artist whom I had met at the Dallas Zen Center). The horses were brought in in such a way that they didn't realize they were going to be slaughtered.
I felt bad about what was happening, especially about the four horses who knew me. They looked right at me as they passed, still unaware of what was going to happen. I could just imagine what would happen when they realized they were going to be slaughtered. They would realize that I had known they were going to die and that I hadn't said anything.
An idea began building up inside me. I knew a woman there who did part of the work. She resembled Countryman (a Dallas attorney). I walked up to her and lashed out, saying what she was doing was terrible. When she began crying and ran away from me, I felt sorry for her. She walked over to the side, sat down and continued crying. I somewhat liked her. I walked over to her, put my arms around her and held her. She tried to push me away, but I held on. She began sobbing that she had to do this kind of work because she was poor and had a child for which to care. She moaned that she also had a leaking pipe in her house which needed fixed.
I knew I had $40,000-$50,000, and I began thinking I might be able to lend her some money. I was also attracted to her; but I knew I was still involved with Carolina and I couldn't get involved with another woman. I held on to her, and she said she was going to quit this job. I had the feeling she meant it.
We walked off together and I began feeling good. I started thinking this place could be shut down. We walked into a barn where people were sitting around in folding chairs. It appeared that perhaps an auction was going to take place. I stood up and addressed the whole crowd. I began talking about how bad this place was. After talking for quite a while, I asked if anyone agreed with me.
I thought I saw one woman raise her hand and I made my way over to her. She was probably 30 years old and decidedly unattractive. She was wearing large glasses, but I didn't care what she looked like. I was just happy that she was willing to join with me to try to shut this place down.
When the man who owned the establishment entered, I pointed him out to the other people and told them he was the owner. He was wearing a white, short-sleeved, pullover shirt and he was moderately overweight. He had five or six other men with him. I told the crowd to look at him to see what kind of evil man he was.
Hanging from the front of his shirt was some kind of medallion which appeared made of horse hair. I concentrated my attention on him, until he finally walked over to me, obviously angry at what I was saying. I asked him if he had the local sheriff or local police chief in his pocket, if he were paying them off. But then, to scare him, I hollered out that I didn't think he would be paying off the FBI. I repeated the word "FBI" several times, and I could tell that it angered and alarmed him. The other men with him were also becoming visibly agitated. I told him I was going to go straight to the FBI and report him. He was visibly upset by my words.
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