They came for our grain before they came for my life.They rode in at dawn. Dust on their cloaks. Steel on their hips. They looked at our fields and herds and saw easy meat. We had no armor. No walls. No iron gates. Only hands that knew work and eyes that knew hunger when they saw it in other men.By their measure we were naked. I knew better. I had

There is a story sitting in Washington State right now that any hungry lawyer or investigative journalist should be circling. It starts with a musician named Roy Dawson, a small town, and a long line of Canadian shadows that refuse to let him go.According to Dawson, one of his “groupies” from Canada—blonde hair, brown eyes, pretty enough to d