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Author Insight
The Fate of the Ponies
Besides being an antivivisectionist working to abolish animal experimentation, I’ve been an animal activist all my life. The issue my friends and I are working on now is very close to home – protesting the medieval torture machine that enslaves ponies in Griffith Park. Ponies are chained to metal bars on a turnstile and forced to walk in circles for several hours a day, all week long, year after year until they drop dead of mental misery and physical degradation. This “ride” has been a tradition in the park for many years. People have tried to shut it down, but the park commissioners keep ignoring the many voices who raise objections to the slave labor of the ponies and renew the contracts of the concession owners year after year. I have asked the commissioners, why are they ignoring the public outcry, why are they ignoring the suffering of the ponies? They all seem like normal human beings who should care, but I fear that this group of commissioners are the same as the ones in the past – they don’t want change, and a tradition of cruelty, no matter how obscene will continue.
Book Excerpt
A Fate Worse Than Death
The warehouse parking lot was ablaze with swirling cop lights. Ten or more police cars were jammed into the lot, with two ambulances and the CSI unit parked near the door to the warehouse. Farber was speaking into his cell phone, madder than hell. “Pick up Sandusky now! And hold him till I get back to the station! I don’t care how much he squawks! He’s not getting away this time!”
Lyle pulled in as far as he could, jumped out of his car, and ran toward Farber. “What happened? How’d they get them out of here so fast?”
“Who knows? Can’t find any blood stains. No sign of Helen Worthington.”
“I doubt you’ll get anything out of Sandusky, no matter how hard you squeeze.”
“We found their camera and rifle in the building across from the parking lot. Baker filmed two men at the handoff, but their faces were covered and unrecognizable. We’re tracking down the owner of the car.” Farber paced back and forth, pulling his fingers through his hair. “This was supposed to be easy. I should’ve sent more men. I really screwed up.”
“No street cameras here I guess?” Lyle asked as he looked around.
“We’ll check.”
“I should’ve been with him.”
Farber wasn’t listening. “I’ll make Sandusky talk if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll have lots of help.”
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