So, I visited Carol Pool at her Silver City home. She is a woman I met last year when she was tending bar at the Union Saloon. It was not simply for pleasure, though talking with her has always been a treat.
She was attacked the night of Fri., Feb. 17, by a man she did not know, who grabbed her about her throat and attempted to choke her to death. While this is not a pretty picture, it gets worse.
Because of the “good ol’ boy system” in Storey County, what should have been a charge of attempted murder got reduced by arresting deputies to simple assault. That’s why I went to talk to her, to get her side of the story for the newspaper.
Because I plan to write an article exposing the attack, the attacker, and what brought the attack on, I will not be sharing all the facts here. Instead, I want to talk about our visit.
After getting out of my truck, I went to the door and knocked. No answer.
So I double-checked my phone and found two messages from her. One was to let myself in, and the other was she was showering.
After pouring a hot cup of joe, I wandered about her front room, looking at all the artwork and books she has lining her walls. She is very eclectic, I discovered.
As I stood there, the shower shut off, and after a few seconds more, she came out wrapped only in an orange towel. The ease with which she presented herself for those few seconds caused me to stammer, “You want some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” she answered from behind her closed bedroom door, “My cup is on the counter in the bathroom.”
Stepping inside the small room she had just vacated, my glasses fogged up, but I found her cup despite a lack of vision. Cup in hand, I topped off her coffee and added half-and-half and a spoon of whole sugar.
No sooner had I set it down on what doubles as a dinner and study table than she came out fully dressed. She sat on the end of the couch, and I was in a chair across the room.
We talked about the trouble that led up to the attack and then the attack for nearly two hours. I could tell that Carol was exhausted from reliving what must be a nightmare for her, so I ended our interview and directed the conversation in a friendlier direction.
As we talked, she got a large baguette, hummus, spinach leaves, and cheese and made lunch. We spent the next 45 minutes chatting before she yawned, signaling it was time for me to leave.
While it was a pleasant day, en route home, my head filled with an ugly swirl of clouded thoughts as I struggled to put her story in a simple timeline to help me keep all the facts straight. By then, the sky had also moved from bright blue to dark gray, filled with clouds and bitter-blowing snow.
The Old Blog in the Desert 