One: A Murder of Crows

    With the exception of a rather grizzly murder in rural Oregon, it was an otherwise pleseant spring morning when the body of Gregory McMenamin was discovered. At the time of his discovery, Bend boasted a population just a hair over ten thousand. On its outskirts; farms, stables, and lush mountains were all nestled in a trifecta of National Forests. Most residents were peripherally aware of the inherent dangers within such a beautiful wilderness. It took Gregory McMenamin to send a small community into a panic about the dangers of man.

    St. Charles’ Bend Coroner officially reported the death. Death, not homicide. Bend sheriff’s department was initially hesitant to release the cause of death publically and with good reason. Given the nature of the late McMenamin’s wounds, it was believed rumor would have outpaced rational thought. In a small town, rumors could easily spiral out of hand to the disservice and danger to the local Native American Tribesmen that resided in the area. At least that was the official reason behind the lack of transparency argued by the sheriff’s department after the fact.

    At forty minutes past six in the morning, Gregory McMenamin was discovered by his wife pierced by no less than three arrows.

    Although not entirely ruled out by local law enforcement at the time, Ms. McMenamin hardly fit the parameters of being a lead suspect. No history of abuse. No prior arrests, no mental illness. No infidelity. Despite the close proximity to wilderness, the Mcmenamin’s did not own any firearms let alone a bow or arrows.

In an official press interview after the coroner report, it did not go unnoticed Sheriff Ron Oleson chose his words carefully in regards Mr. McMenamin:

“...At this time, we’re gathering evidence and conducting a thorough investigation into the manner surrounding the unfortunate death of Mr. Gregory McMenamin. We encourage our citizens to come forward with any information that may lead to an arrest, but ask you not to interfere with official Deschutes County Sheriff  business…” 

(Bend Bulletin, May 11th, 1946)

‘Death’, not ‘Murder.’ This lack of clarification only added to the growing mystery of Mr. McMenamin. Added to, but certainly not the sole cause of the following day’s murder of seven armed civilians who went searching beyond the McMenamin estate less than twelve hours after Sherriff’s Oleson’s statment.

That’s when the Feds were called in.

As the Second World War concluded, Churchill’s famous warning pivoted the Allies' attention to a new threat both abroad and at home. Enter the Federal Bureau of Investigation. While more than two thousand acts of sabotage, malicious mischief and various other forms of alleged sabotage occurred, evidence of the so-called ‘Red Threat’ proved remarkably absent on American Soil. Regardless, eight murders in rural Oregon wasn’t particularly high priorty for the Justice Department’s top investigatory agency.

While average Americans were bundling up in fear of the coming Cold War and the mystery hidden behind the Iron Curtain, Agent Tom Kapalini and his forensics team studied a quiver’s worth of 110 centimeter long arrows pulled from more than a half-dozen murdered farmers. 

Agent Kapalini was a young recruit. Young, but experienced. Tom climbed the ranks of his precedent in Eastside Chicago straight out of highschool. After a decade, he’d elevate his education and receive top marks from Northwestern University in criminal justice. He was trained up through Quantico like a shark glides through water. An abundance of natural talent and a sharp analytical mind did nothing to prepare him for a case that would quickly evolve into a racially charged powder keg.

“It’s them Indians that killed ‘em;” coined a local farmer who shall not receive credit for starting a bigoted rallying cry within the town. Rumors nonetheless grew as word of arrows leaked out. Thanks largely to Kapalini’s quick response to tighten the leaks, the National Guard was called in to establish a presence of order. Criticisms of making a mountain out of a molehill were quickly silenced after what state papers would call a, “Training Drill Gone Awry.” In total, two men lost their lives to unseen adversaries with deadly aim. Several more were injured. Arrows, between 90 and 110 centimeters in length were the munitions of choice.

Unlike a growing number of bewildered, furious, and frightened Bend residents, Agent Kapalini was not interested in starting a war. He was a detective. He needed evidence, answers, and to establish a safe perimeter to keep more reckless citizens and soldiers from further harm.

The area in question: two square miles of densely packed forest in the heart of Bridge Creek Falls.

Twenty-fours hours after Kapalini had established an occupying force of 500 National Guardsmen, he received two unusual pieces of news. The first was in regards to the arrows. Three different forensics teams at the Bureau and a team of specialists flown in from the Smythsonian in DC had reached the same conclusion. Using carbon dating, each arrow was from the early 1860’s. Specifically, the style and construction of each and every arrow recovered matched those from Japan’s late Edo Period by archers using Yumi bows.

The second piece of the puzzle came by the way of an arrow that found its mark in a tree inches away from Kapalini’s head while out on a patrol. Attached to the arrow was a scroll with a script neither Kapalini nor his men were familiar with. By a stroke of good fortune, a local veteran who served in the South Pacific Theater from ‘41-’45 provided a translation:

“We wish to exchange information. Send a representative, unarmed, to our border at noon. We will allow for safe passage. With respect, his eminence, Shogun Hirawa.”

(Due to format constraints, citations in this document are missing. References will be made available upon request.)