Knight stood. He had on a black ski cap and a blue jacket over a hooded sweatshirt and was clean-shaven. <strong>The</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r, Roger Bellavance, held up his hands, one clutch<strong>in</strong>g a pair of b<strong>in</strong>oculars, demonstrat<strong>in</strong>g that he had no gun. Knight’s hands had been <strong>in</strong> his pockets, but he pulled <strong>the</strong>m out. He showed that he had no weapon, ei<strong>the</strong>r. “I tried to convey <strong>the</strong> idea that I was harmless, no threat, us<strong>in</strong>g only my hands. I did not come close to <strong>the</strong>m.” Knight <strong>in</strong>sisted that he did not speak a word—“I communicated nonverbally”—though <strong>the</strong> Bellavances recalled him a mumbl<strong>in</strong>g a few phrases. <strong>The</strong> grandfa<strong>the</strong>r, Tony Bellavance, sensed immediately that <strong>the</strong>y’d encountered <strong>the</strong> North Pond hermit. He knew <strong>the</strong> legend; he realized that cab<strong>in</strong>s had been robbed. But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> presence of <strong>the</strong> hermit himself, Bellavance, who was conv<strong>in</strong>ced that <strong>the</strong> hermit was a military veteran, was struck with a very strong idea of what needed to be done. “He said we had to leave him alone,” recalled <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r. “He said that he’s not hurt<strong>in</strong>g anyone. He’s up here for a reason, he said, and he doesn’t want to deal with people. My fa<strong>the</strong>r’s a little Frenchman with a big heart, and he just thought this guy needed to be on his own, unbo<strong>the</strong>red.” <strong>The</strong> son and fa<strong>the</strong>r did not want to go aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> grandfa<strong>the</strong>r’s wishes, so <strong>the</strong>y did what he asked. <strong>The</strong> three men all promised out loud that <strong>the</strong>y would let <strong>the</strong> hermit be. “We made an oath,” said <strong>the</strong> grandfa<strong>the</strong>r. “We swore we would never say anyth<strong>in</strong>g.” <strong>The</strong> hermit nodded. <strong>The</strong>n, his arms still held out, palms open, as if ready to catch a beach ball, he leaned forward at <strong>the</strong> waist and bowed before <strong>the</strong> three men. “I don’t know why I bowed,” said Knight. “To convey <strong>the</strong> idea of thanks, I th<strong>in</strong>k.” <strong>The</strong> entire encounter lasted no more than a couple of m<strong>in</strong>utes. <strong>The</strong> ice fishermen kept <strong>the</strong>ir promise, though Roger, <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r, did tell his wife, who was unsure whe<strong>the</strong>r he was speak<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> truth. No one took a photo or video. Roger said that later he had to fight <strong>the</strong> urge, several times, to return to <strong>the</strong> woods and try to talk to <strong>the</strong> hermit. But he respected Knight’s privacy. <strong>The</strong> men said noth<strong>in</strong>g until after Knight was arrested; <strong>the</strong>n Roger, th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g he might be able to help law enforcement f<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> campsite, told Trooper Vance <strong>the</strong> story. She didn’t believe it. Knight said that he hadn’t mentioned this <strong>in</strong>cident with <strong>the</strong> ice fishermen to anyone because he felt that <strong>the</strong>ir pact rema<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong> place. <strong>The</strong> agreement, <strong>the</strong> way he understood it, was that no one would ever say anyth<strong>in</strong>g. But I’d just <strong>in</strong>formed Knight, dur<strong>in</strong>g a visit <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> county jail, our seventh one <strong>in</strong> eight weeks, that <strong>the</strong> Bellavances had, <strong>in</strong> fact, spoken to o<strong>the</strong>rs about it. Knight now felt that <strong>the</strong> pact was broken. “What about o<strong>the</strong>r pacts?” I asked. “Did more people f<strong>in</strong>d you?” “No, <strong>the</strong>re were no o<strong>the</strong>r encounters,” Knight swore. People had been look<strong>in</strong>g for him for years. If <strong>the</strong>re’d been any h<strong>in</strong>t that anyone had found his site, word would have spread <strong>in</strong> a flash. “Will you make a pact with me that you’re not cover<strong>in</strong>g up any o<strong>the</strong>rs?” “Yes.” <strong>The</strong> ice-fishermen encounter seemed like just <strong>the</strong> sort of event for which Knight had established his emergency cache. He could have abandoned his camp well before <strong>the</strong> men saw him and moved somewhere else. Or he could have decamped immediately after. He said he seriously thought about evacuat<strong>in</strong>g, but <strong>the</strong>re was a lot of snow. “To move, I’d have to leave footpr<strong>in</strong>ts. I had little food. I took a chance <strong>the</strong>y were good people.” Also, Knight admitted, <strong>the</strong> notion of start<strong>in</strong>g over seemed exhaust<strong>in</strong>g. Had he been younger, he almost certa<strong>in</strong>ly would’ve moved. This was when he understood, he said, that “<strong>the</strong> circle was clos<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>.” Just two months after see<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> ice fishermen, as <strong>the</strong> snow was reced<strong>in</strong>g and <strong>the</strong> chickadees had started
to s<strong>in</strong>g, with his food supplies near<strong>in</strong>g zero, Knight departed on a midnight thiev<strong>in</strong>g raid. He pried open a rear door of <strong>the</strong> P<strong>in</strong>e Tree d<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g hall. He filled his backpack and stepped out, and was suddenly bl<strong>in</strong>ded by a light while someone yelled at him to get on <strong>the</strong> ground.
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Also by Michael Finkel True Story:
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Contents Cover Also by Michael Fink
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In memory of Eileen Myrna Baker Fin
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1 The trees are mostly skinny where
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2 Terry Hughes’s wife nudges him
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eyes, and trains the .357 square in
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down, hands still locked behind his
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truth. Anything else would be wasti
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“I took no medications and never
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Or them. Nobody knew. Because of th
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North Pond hermit, it turns out, wa
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7 I learned about Christopher Knigh
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8 A white envelope arrived in my ma
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against the rules of journalism. I
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9 Augusta, Maine, is picturesque bu
- Page 37 and 38: East accent. I plowed awkwardly on.
- Page 39 and 40: 10 Knight lived in the same campsit
- Page 41 and 42: Knight, matching him step for step.
- Page 43 and 44: He’d spread a carpet over the mag
- Page 45 and 46: It was the kind of total quiet that
- Page 47 and 48: to the nature of the electromagneti
- Page 49 and 50: something. Chris was smart and frie
- Page 51 and 52: 13 But why? Why would a twenty-year
- Page 53 and 54: including Charles Darwin, Thomas Ed
- Page 55 and 56: 14 Knight actually did have a plan.
- Page 57 and 58: the sorts of places where it’s ne
- Page 59 and 60: their canoe has been borrowed and r
- Page 61 and 62: 16 Knight lived in the dirt but was
- Page 63 and 64: he was famished for words, he’d s
- Page 65 and 66: Knight had a strong distaste for bi
- Page 67 and 68: Knight’s camp. He began observing
- Page 69 and 70: 18 The only book Knight didn’t st
- Page 71 and 72: my winter toilet. Do my business. T
- Page 73 and 74: pen name. “Human society has been
- Page 75 and 76: do telethons? I hate Jerry Lewis.
- Page 77 and 78: fed her, but with Knight she had no
- Page 79 and 80: 21 A thousand poets sing of solitud
- Page 81 and 82: “psychologically completely out o
- Page 83 and 84: 22 Snow melted, flowers bloomed, in
- Page 85 and 86: changes is where the brain is funct
- Page 87: His thieving raids became considera
- Page 91 and 92: inherited from her mother, and a co
- Page 93 and 94: 25 A side door to the jail swings o
- Page 95 and 96: Jail, he’s realized, might not be
- Page 97 and 98: 26 Chris’s oldest brother, Daniel
- Page 99 and 100: That note, thirty-four words long,
- Page 101 and 102: the bright side. The sun will come
- Page 103 and 104: 28 A mile down the road, I pull ove
- Page 105 and 106: It’s now just a spot in the woods
- Page 107 and 108: For insight into Knight: Matt Hongo
- Page 109 and 110: Annette Schipf Chris Anderson David
- Page 111 and 112: David and Louise Proulx, whose tiny
- Page 113 and 114: A Note About the Author Michael Fin