An Summary of the Deadly Election Working day in Ortonville
between majestic Great Lakes and the marshes, Ortonville is similar to
any other tiny northern Michigan town. It had been Election Day, looking
forward to a check out to the ice cream store, I accompanied my grandpa as
he drove the fifteen-mile trip into area. Country life offered little
excitement, but that day an surroundings of uneasiness replaced the most common
contentment I experienced while passing aged properties, their drabness
contrasted sharply by a few colorful, modern improvements. Having
spent the to begin my teen years below, it had been simple to find any
modification in the town's feeling.
pondered the concerned expression on the faces of the few persons we saw
on the roads. It seemed individuals were in a hurry. There have been not the
usual groups gathered to switch local gossip. Many noticeable was
the absence of children playing in the local park.
my grandpa messed with the air inside our rusted out Chevy, we
approached the site visitors light, greeted-certainly not by flashing red, yellowish or
green, but by uniformed police guys armed with guns and showing up much
out of place in such calm surroundings. As our auto slowed to
an end, I was shocked as I observed before me an enormous machine gun, pointed
in our direction. A officer walked little by little to the truck and
explained, what was heading on, "Sorry Sir, but we'll need to
search your truck, simply just routine procedure."