Writing For Power

1. Kopchak lived here his whole life. The road his and Thompson's properties shared was named Kopchak road after his great-uncle. He taught seventh-grade science before he retired four years ago, but he didn't know much about lions. He heard lions would give chase if you challenged them; it would be unwise to make eye contact or run away. Kopchak decided to walk Red briskly toward the barn looking back only once. The lion stayed put, still on the opposite side of the fence, though at any moment he could jump over to the other side.

2. That was all they could learn for now; they were urgently redeployed to the southern end of the property where cats were readying to cross the fence. After the first shot, an African lion ran between dozens of junk cars, RVs, and tractors, rusted out and overgrown with weeds, parked on the property. They used the truck to see the escapees spread over the hillside, firing on them from seventy to a hundred yards away until they went down. Kanavel strategized to shoot for the head, then move to the body. "I was sick, shooting these animals, because they didn't ask to be there," he says. "And, you know, I'm a cat person."

3. The 911 operator asked for her name.

"Dolores," Mrs. Kopchak answered.

Trapped in the barn, her son watched the menagerie grow from a north-facing window.