The Unsorted BBS Collection/thegreatunsorted.tar/thegreatunsorted/texts/txtfiles_misc/news64.txt

Text File | 1993-02-20 | 4KB | 74 lines

02/13/1993
By BOB MOEN Associated Press Writer
   HEATON, N.D. (AP) -- Tax protester Gordon Kahl's grave is covered
with snow in the back of Heaton Cemetery, hidden from the road
behind two towering evergreens.
   But memories of Kahl's violent confrontation with federal
marshals -- a hail of bullets 10 years ago that left two men dead --
still haunt the community where he grew up and farmed.
   "They'll never let it rest, will they?" Lyle Anderson bellowed,
slamming his fist on the desk in his small gas station just down the
road from the cemetery.
   A former schoolmate of Kahl's, Anderson doesn't see the point of
dredging up memories of such a dark event. "That's no anniversary,
not for a thing like that," he growled.
   Yet some people are still fascinated by Kahl's story. Books have
been written and a TV movie based on the case was a hit for NBC in
1991. About a dozen visitors every year stop at Anderson's
single-pump gas station to ask where Kahl's grave is.
   "I can't see no sense to it," Anderson said. "Just let it rest.
Put it away."
      More than a decade ago, the 63-year-old Kahl had gained
notoriety as a member of the Posse Comitatus, a right-wing,
grassroots, anti-tax group that fed on the discontent over a harsh
agriculture economy.
   With a name that literally translates to "power of the county,"
the group railed against the federal government, Jews and the
banking system. Posse members believed power belonged not to the
government but to people like them -- mainly white Christians.
   Kahl was convicted in 1977 of tax evasion in Texas and sentenced
to five years' probation. But he still refused to pay taxes, and a
judge issued an arrest warrant in 1981.
   On Feb. 13, 1983, Kahl met with several Posse supporters in
Medina, about 50 miles south of Heaton, to discuss creating their
own "township."
   As he and his family headed back to Heaton at dusk, they came
upon a roadblock set up by federal and local authorities seeking to
arrest him on the outstanding warrant.
   A brief standoff ensued. A shot rang out. Deputy U.S. Marshal
Robert Cheshire Jr. radioed he had been hit. A 15-second burst of
gunfire followed.
   When it was over, Chesire, 32, and U.S. Marshal Kenneth Muir, 53,
were dead. Three other law enforcement officers were injured.
   Kahl's eldest son, Yorie, was shot in the stomach. Kahl's wife,
Joan Kahl, was weeping in the car.
   Yorie Kahl, now 33, and Scott Faul, who accompanied the Kahls,
are serving life sentences for murder and assault. A third man,
David Broer, served six years in prison for harboring a fugitive and
conspiracy.
   Gordon Kahl escaped and became the subject of a nationwide
manhunt. Authorities found him four months later hiding in a farm
home near Smithville, Ark. They tried to arrest him June 3, 1983,
leading to a second shootout that left Kahl and Lawrence County
Sheriff Gene Matthews dead.
   Now living in a San Diego suburb, Mrs. Kahl says she believes her
husband killed the marshals in self-defense.
   "It never would have happened at all if they hadn't ambushed us
like they did," she said in a recent newspaper interview. "He was
defending his family, and he did the right thing by trying to defend
us."
   Since Kahl's death, the Posse has "kind of withered on the vine,"
although some people still hold to certain Posse doctrines, said
Lynn Crooks, an assistant U.S. attorney in Fargo who was involved in
the case.
   In Medina, there are no signs or markers to indicate what
happened or where. It's not the sort of thing a town takes pride in.
   "It's a hassle to us out here," said Wayne Reardon, who lives
across the road from where the shootout occurred. "There's no end to
it."
   Many of those involved don't see any point in saying anything
more.

   "It's past the time to just let things go," said Lois Muir, Kenneth Muir's
widow. "Life goes on, you know -- good or bad."