People of the Mist Read Free Page A

guns
just down the street, and they’ll wheel them out just for you.”
                 “Uh-huh.”
Adam rolled the empty coffee cup between his hands. “Did I miss something in
civics class? Hasn’t the government become an accomplice in theft here?”
                 McCoy
leaned forward, one eyebrow lifted. “Let’s be blunt about this. You, as an
individual, can’t get the museum’s artifacts returned. That’s up to your town
council and board of trustees. You’ll have to convince them to tackle the
problem of the Piankatank. You, however, have the ability to file suit against
the government in an attempt to overturn NAGPRA.”
                 “I
see.” “If you decide to do so, my fee is three hundred dollars an hour, plus
expenses that include my research team, phone calls, paperwork, even travel
expenses if they become necessary. Let’s say that we win in District Court. The
government doesn’t like to lose—and they have you, along with about another two
hundred million taxpayers, to draw upon for financial resources. The case will
automatically go to appeal… and I can guarantee you, a case like this will be
fought all the way to the Supreme Court.”
                 “And
that means?”
                 “Five
or six years, Adam.” McCoy pushed back in his chair, eyes neutral. “And I’d say
about one hundred and fifty thousand in legal fees, minimum, to make it through
the legal thrust-and-parry to land it in the High Court’s lap. Do you have that
kind of money?”
                 Adam
slowly ‘shook his head. “I make twenty-two thousand a year, Mr. McCoy. I drive
a fifteen-year-old Blazer with one hundred and thirty thousand on the odometer.
I rent a trailer house.”
                 McCoy
watched him, face expressionless.
                 “What
about the ACLU? They do things like this, don’t they?”
                 McCoy
gave a dry laugh. “My suspicion is, Mr. Jones, that they’d be on the other
side. And prepare yourself for this. Right or wrong, this case will be
partially tried in the media. The nightly news will be happy to show evil
scientists intent on exploiting victimized Indians. Are you ready to be cast as
a thief stealing their cultural heritage?”
                 “I’m
not stealing anyone’s heritage! This is about fairness, not just to the Native
peoples, but to the dead as well!”
                 “Perhaps,
but this is the dawn of the twenty-first century. Moral dimensions a d
ramifications mean little-unless a big chunk of money is involved. Prepare
yourself. You’ll be cast as a white male seeking to retain control over another
people’s cultural heritage.”
                 “A
white male? My maternal grandmother was a registered Cherokee. Cherokees are
matrilineal, making me technically Cherokee.”
                 “You
have blond hair, Mr. Jones. I doubt your appearance would make much of a case,
no matter who your grandmother was.”
                 “Didn’t
you agree with me about all the problems with NAGPRA?”
                 “Definitely.
But as an attorney, I can tell you that knowing right, and proving it in a
public forum or court of law, are two very different things.” Adam sank back in
the chair, a sick sensation in his gut. McCoy watched him impassively. Finally
Adam shook his head. “You know, I’ve spent all of my life trying to learn about
the people who were here before Columbus . Everything we know about them is because
of archaeologists, ethnographic sources, and Native oral traditions. We don’t
teach their history in our schools. Students don’t read about Cahokia when they study pyramids. We know more
about ancient Mexico , Egypt , and Iraq than we know about our own country.”
                 “I
suppose.”
                 “Now,
with a stroke of a politician’s