I Was Only Eight When I Stumbled Into A Blood-Soaked War Zone In The Oregon Woods, Saved Four Chained Men From Execution, And Sparked A 2,000-Biker Siege On My Small Town.
PART 1: THE SILENCE BEFORE THE ROAR They always called me “pleasant.” That was the word on every report card, the word whispered by neighbors in Ridgeline, Oregon, and the word my teachers used when they didn’t really know what else to say about the quiet kid in the back of the room. I was…
