For twenty-eight years, Emory Trowbridge was considerate and kind only to cows. In exchange for his parents’ continuing support, Trowbridge agreed to come to New York on a regular basis to see the family psychiatrist. Over the years, in his frequent visits to the city, Trowbridge developed his obsessive dislike of the Gallows—his hatred of Two Dykes, One Who Talks, in particular. For how long, and how intently, had he been stalking Nora and Em? The press coverage of the Gallows Lounge shooting was unclear. As for what Trowbridge wrote in his diaries, there was no narrative progression; the entries were undated. What stood out were his diatribes against women and queers; Trowbridge believed that women and sexual weirdos were receiving preferential treatment. My mother and Molly were mentioned, among the dykes, and Elliot Barlow was referred to (interchangeably) as the lightweight in women’s clothes and the cross-dresser. The media cited the last-minute nature of Trowbridge’s written plans for the Gallows Lounge shooting. More forethought went into his memorizing the names of the cows, and his detailed observations of the milking process. And there was the small heavyweight’s careful account of his target practice in the gravel pit; according to the dairy farmer, the shooting was a regular occurrence. The dairy farmer insisted that his cows were not disturbed by the gunfire.

But why had Emory Trowbridge wanted to live in a trailer on the outskirts of Exeter for almost thirty years? Mr. Barlow, who was more observant than most, never recognized the natural 190-pounder among the spectators at the home wrestling matches, yet for more than a decade, Trowbridge didn’t miss a match. The backups in a wrestling lineup are often unnoticed, and Trowbridge was more unrecognizable than most. No one saw him when he was watching all those wrestling matches; no one knew when he stopped attending, or why he stopped.