THIS MORNING WE woke up to the neighbor’s pig Maple sniffing our deck, and wild turkeys were out there, too.
We had our choice of bacon for our pancake breakfast.
The sky is a brilliant blue today. I’m hearing lots of different bird voices and the call of a male quail in the woods down by the creek. It’s a good day to be outside, rolling boulders and building garden beds — and rescuing wayward pigs.
In Part Four of my Sherri Papini essay series, published at dawn yesterday morning, I said I would post my final essay when Sheriff Bosenko holds a press conference and reveals what really happened to Sherri.
But do you really need to hear from me again?
Years ago I worked with federal special agents as a student investigator, and I was also an investigative journalist. I wrote just three stories. One made the cover and was listed as a top story of the year. This was for an off brand publication I guarantee you wouldn’t know.
And now I write about forest creatures and dogs and pigs.
Did you know bunny rabbits frighten pigs? Maple almost did a barrel roll when a bunny hopped into the driveway and startled her. Maybe the bunny had antlers and fangs?
That’s the kind of stuff I want to write about.
As for Sherri and her husband Keith, I feel the truth will someday be revealed, and some of it may surprise you, and some may be old hat, such as:
“Ha! She really does love the Gilmore Girls!”
I’m not going to offer commentary once that happens, but from the comfort of my antique armchair, I’d like to encourage you to see Sherri as a fallible woman who deserves compassion as much as anyone else.
And also please consider this from Part Four:
And a quick reminder, because I know it’s needed: a victim in a crime isn’t any less a victim when unsavory details about who they are, and their past, are unearthed. That’s hard to swallow, but I’m not your physician. You’re going to have to figure out how to process that on your own.
I’m not worried about being wrong. There’s no shame in that. What bothers me is when people raise fists in defense of what they feel is truth, without actually knowing for sure.
As for the detail I referenced in Part Four — the one that had me asking the dogs and cats, “What if Sherri was telling the truth?” — that one kind of stumps me. I must be wrong, because the evidence that was presented says I’m wrong.
And when you put that up against Occam’s Razor, well, sometimes the easiest answer is buried in a dung heap, and the only one I know who’s willing to jump in a dung heap and do some digging is Maple the pig.
Have you ever met a pig before? Do you have any idea how badly they smell? She’d be right at home in a dung heap. It’d be like a piggy day spa for her.
I’m glad I had the wherewithal to question my assumptions about this case. I’m hopeful I’m right, and I’m not worried if I’m wrong — and that’s a dang good feeling as I conclude my Sherri Papini essay series.
Now, about the pig that got chased into the woods by a bunny rabbit, that’s the newest case on my docket. Let’s hope I don’t fall into a thicket of poison oak as I investigate.
Cheers, folks, and glad tidings.
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This is a Sherri Papini essay
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Sherri Papini: The Jen and Cameron Gamble edition
