Moose Lake Star Gazette - Serving Carlton and Pine Counties Since 1895

By Wick Fisher
Moose Lake Star-Gazette 

Butch: The rest of the story

Wick's World

 


I’ve been told more than once I leave too many stories hanging in limbo. I am aware of this fact and there is a very good reason for it. Many of my “the rest of the story” idioms can’t be printed. Often, it is because this is a family newspaper. More often, it is for my protection or for the party I am writing about. Last week’s story about the delightful Cajun named "Bonly Monly" Dubois includes both reasons.

Let me begin by telling you Breaux Manley Dubois is a real live character. For our protection, I gave him a fake name. The nickname Butch is real, so is this story. In 2011, following a 30-year absence, we bumped into one another on a riverboat in Texas. After exchanging greetings, this is a story he told me that day. I had heard bits and pieces from newspapers and television as Butch’s story had gone national. A Texas friend confirmed the story indeed included Butch with an escaped convict.

Butch had built a home in the Texas boondocks, somewhere between Austin and bayou country. Amid the hill country that rolled toward the marshland sets one of the most notorious prisons in America. The Texas State Penitentiary is known to both the public and prisoners simply as Huntsville and few inmates ever escape.

Standing along the railing of our riverboat, I tried to nudge the rest of the story out of Butch. He was more than willing to tell me what really happened.

“Butch, I heard you went to work for the cops one night,” I said.

“Yup, some ol’ boy paid me an unscheduled visit,” Butch said.

One of Butch’s priorities is privacy — the reason he was living in a remote area where an escaped con would choose to run.

Butch continued, “I was having a beer one night when this old boy bust through my door. He had a gun in his hand and dressed in a uniform I knew didn’t belong to the Huntsville basketball team. I saw on TV the cops were looking for this guy.

“He told me to get down on the floor. I told him to shut up and quit pointing that gun at me. He got real mad and started shaking. He said he was gonna blow me away. I knew he was doing life for murder and had nothing to lose,” Butch stated.

Realizing the con was nervous and scared, Butch needed to calm him down and wait him out. Nobody accused Butch of being the smartest Cajun to come out of the bayou, but I bet he was one of the most cunning and conniving. Butch was a very persuasive man. He always got things done his way. If I called him Butch Trump, he would take it as a compliment.

When the cops arrived, Butch told his story, leaving out a few minor details. He became somewhat of a local hero reiterating how he was able to stay awake longer than the other guy.

When asked by the cops how the guy got so bloody, Butch said, “He was so tired when I woke him up, he walked right over and fell down the stairway.”

The cops wrote up their report and gave Butch a wink and a nod before departing. Butch grabbed a beer.

I shook my head and shook Butch’s hand. We haven’t seen each other since.

 

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