Tiring of Duke’s argument, the judge shook his head. “The decision has been made. Now, if you would please go back to your table we can proceed and be done with this.”

Duke stepped back, but could not resist the temptation to get the last word in. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Your Honor,” he stated in a voice that could now be heard throughout the courtroom. “I do hope that you and those folks back in Washington bear in mind that we, the people of Idaho, as well as every self-respecting American concerned about his Constitutional rights, are far from being done with this.”

Even before the judge’s gavel slammed down to bring the session to an end, the assembled journalists were off their marks and in a race to get their stories out. With her cameraman and sound tech following in her wake, Jan Fields picked her way through the press of reporters, spectators, Federal officials, and miscellaneous individuals who had the bad luck of being on that floor of the federal building at that moment. Knowing that she would be live on national television within minutes, Jan ignored everyone, including her own crew, as she made for the queue waiting at the bank of elevators. Her mind, as it always was at moments like this, fixed on the sights and sounds of the events she had just witnessed and how she would package and present them to the American public.

Through this jumble of thoughts a feeling that the story here in Idaho was far from over began to manifest itself in Jan’s conscious mind. The strident statement made by the attorney for the Idaho Six had been little more than a poorly veiled threat. That his sentiment was shared by the state and local officials who had been present was obvious as they made no effort to hide their outrage over the decision handed down. Though their responses were a tad more guarded, none bothered to hide their disappointment or disgust during the pandemonium that had brought the proceedings to an acrimonious end. No, Jan found herself saying over and over as she waited for the elevator, this is just the beginning. What occurred in the courtroom, she told herself, was but another skirmish in that bitter struggle between those who stood for states’ rights and the containment of the Federal government and that government itself. That much was obvious. What was not clear was how, and where, the next act of this drama would be played out.

When the elevator doors opened, she was swept along with the crowd into the elevator. Like her there were a number of journalists anxious to get out onto the courthouse steps where they would find a spot and shoot their stories. After shifting her shoulders about until she had established her own comfortable space in the crowded cab, Jan looked up, like everyone else, to follow their descent.