This narrative sprung from a news story about the capture of a kidnapper. Bingham seized on a detail about the boy who gave police key information—that he was prone to fibs and exaggeration—and used that insight to write a focused and well-themed little story about the boy’s role in finding another boy’s kidnapper. The theme allowed Bingham to write a conclusion with a sense of arrival.
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Matthew Dixon's mother only recently had yet another talk with her 11-year-old son about stretching the truth to get attention.
So last Thursday night, when Matthew and his mom were watching the 10 o'clock news, and he jumped up to say he'd seen the missing boy pictured on the screen, she showed little reaction.
"Please be quiet, Matthew," she said. "I'm trying to watch the news."
But Matthew wouldn't be quiet. He swore he'd seen the kidnapped boy, Tanner Kahn, in the woods earlier in the day while deer hunting with his friend. And he swore he'd seen—and they'd talked to—Jeffrey Eggiman, the man who abducted Tanner from his bus stop in Mount Angel and who was described as armed and dangerous.
Matthew, a fifth-grader who loves real-life crime shows and wants to be a cop when he grows up, told his mom the man he'd seen was driving a Ford Ranger pickup.
Matthew then told his mom the license plate said X-KAHN.
And the television said the license plate said X-KAHN.
Matthew's mom was floored.
This was not like the time Matthew was grounded for fibbing.
This was not like the time Matthew told his friend he had 13 dirt bikes and a plasma TV.
When his mother turned to look at him, Matthew was already on the telephone.
* * *
Thursday was parent-teacher conference day at Matthew's school, and because there was no school, his neighbor and good friend, 10-year-old Michael Luttrell, stayed over Wednesday night.
Michael was putting on his boots, getting ready to go hunting with his dad, Mike Luttrell, around 9 a.m., when Matthew begged to go. Matthew had never hunted, though he owns a BB gun and has shot with his grandfather. Matthew's father, Duane Dixon, keeps guns, but since the family spent the last three years building a new house behind their old one off U.S. 20 in Sweet Home—and doing the work themselves—there was little time for father to teach son to hunt.
Jessica Dixon didn't hesitate. She knows Matthew doesn't like the fact he can't keep his BB gun at home out of fear that his 5-year-old brother and 2-year-old sister might get hurt. She knows Matthew has already begun to miss his pal Michael, whose family is moving to Eastern Oregon.
On top of that, she knew Matthew was disappointed that he couldn't accompany his dad to Iowa to work in a car race pit crew for a friend. She said he could go hunting on the condition he return in time for his parent-teacher conference.
Mike Luttrell drove north on McDowell Creek Road in the woods between Sweet Home and Lebanon. The boys left the Game Boy, the miniature rocket and the monster truck Matthew got for his birthday Oct. 4 at home. On this morning, they focused instead on devouring burritos and scouting the forests for deer.
Michael saw the first doe, and both boys watched two more cross the road. They spent the first hours meandering around dirt-and-gravel logging roads and encountered few other people except a logging crew. Matthew noticed every detail, making note of the old chain he spied on one road, the limb they drove over on another. It was Matthew who spotted the bear tracks and mountain lion prints when they went for a hike.
After no luck spotting a buck, Luttrell decided to drive farther northeast to a more isolated area at the top of a ridge where a co-worker spotted one the week before. It took them deeper into the foothills, a few miles off the main road, to the corner of Luttrell's map. Not long after Luttrell put his truck in four-wheel drive, they ran into Eggiman and Tanner.
Parked on a muddy side road, facing out so the driver could see anyone coming, was the Ford Ranger. Matthew didn't see anything odd about the pair by the truck—at first.
The boy, Matthew thought, didn't appear scared or upset. He looked serious, standing behind the man with the mustache and goatee, the man who wore a ponytail and had a holster on his belt.
Matthew didn't know an Amber Alert for a missing child had been activated when Eggiman, who had dated Tanner's mother, abducted Tanner in nearby Marion County. Matthew had no idea Eggiman was armed.
Luttrell rolled down the window as they approached the pair. "See any game?" he asked Eggiman.
"Nothing but squirrels," Eggiman said.
Luttrell didn't trust him. For one thing, where was his gun?
"Same with us," Luttrell said.
What Eggiman said next haunted the others. "We're hunting," he said.
It was the way he said "hunting," the way he emphasized each syllable in the word.
The exchange so unnerved Luttrell that he told the boys to keep quiet as they drove on. He couldn't shake the image of a man who claimed to be hunting but carried no gun.
Matthew turned and watched Eggiman. Matthew saw the butt of a gun—a revolver he would learn later—behind Eggiman's back, as Eggiman tried to conceal it with a red handkerchief.
The road came to a dead end less than 300 yards later, and Luttrell turned around, warning the boys not to make eye contact with Eggiman. Luttrell thought it odd that Eggiman and Tanner stood on the side of the road opposite the truck, but when Luttrell stopped to let them cross, Eggiman refused.
Luttrell and the boys put the incident behind them and drove on to a rock pit to give Matthew a chance to shoot. But other hunters were already there. So when Luttrell dropped Matthew off at home in time for his parent-teacher conference, Matthew said nothing to his mother about the strange encounter.
All he said was how disappointed he was he didn't get to shoot.
* * *
On the telephone Thursday night, Matthew called Luttrell and told him what he'd just seen on TV. Since Luttrell was in the process of moving, he had moved his TV and had no way of watching the news.
Matthew's mom took the phone and confirmed Matthew's story. Luttrell said he would call lawmen and give them directions to where they'd seen Eggiman and Tanner.
Then the questions began.
"What's going to happen to that boy?" Matthew said to his mom.
"What if he comes after me?"
Matthew's dad was still in Iowa, so his mom fielded the questions alone. They had raised Matthew under the philosophy that if he is smart enough to ask a question, then he deserves an honest answer.
Still, she didn't want to scare him. Matthew was upset. He couldn't sleep. Jessica Dixon assured her son he had done the right thing and had helped a boy his age. She tried to convince Matthew he was safe, and she let him watch "Wally Gator" and "Deputy Dog."
Luttrell called to say police were on their way to the woods.
Matthew fell asleep around midnight, and he awoke to a ringing phone Friday morning. Lawmen had called Luttrell, saying Linn County deputies found Eggiman and Tanner in the Ford Ranger pickup. Eggiman and the deputies exchanged gunfire. Eggiman was killed in the shootout, but Tanner was safe.
Matthew and his mom and dad have talked a lot since about what happened in the woods just after midnight. They have talked about the choices Eggiman made, and about his fate.
Linn County Sheriff Dave Burright called Matthew a hero. The telephone has brought calls from network television and the hope that "Good Morning America" might fly Matthew to Los Angeles or New York on his first plane ride.
Matthew's parents listen to all the nice things strangers say about their son, and they're not surprised. He's a good kid, a smart kid, and the only thing that ever gets him into trouble is stretching the truth like so many 11-year-old boys will do.
He hasn't told any fibs since Thursday, however. After what happened, he doesn't need to ever again.
So last Thursday night, when Matthew and his mom were watching the 10 o'clock news, and he jumped up to say he'd seen the missing boy pictured on the screen, she showed little reaction.
"Please be quiet, Matthew," she said. "I'm trying to watch the news."
But Matthew wouldn't be quiet. He swore he'd seen the kidnapped boy, Tanner Kahn, in the woods earlier in the day while deer hunting with his friend. And he swore he'd seen—and they'd talked to—Jeffrey Eggiman, the man who abducted Tanner from his bus stop in Mount Angel and who was described as armed and dangerous.
Matthew, a fifth-grader who loves real-life crime shows and wants to be a cop when he grows up, told his mom the man he'd seen was driving a Ford Ranger pickup.
Matthew then told his mom the license plate said X-KAHN.
And the television said the license plate said X-KAHN.
Matthew's mom was floored.
This was not like the time Matthew was grounded for fibbing.
This was not like the time Matthew told his friend he had 13 dirt bikes and a plasma TV.
When his mother turned to look at him, Matthew was already on the telephone.
* * *
Thursday was parent-teacher conference day at Matthew's school, and because there was no school, his neighbor and good friend, 10-year-old Michael Luttrell, stayed over Wednesday night.
Michael was putting on his boots, getting ready to go hunting with his dad, Mike Luttrell, around 9 a.m., when Matthew begged to go. Matthew had never hunted, though he owns a BB gun and has shot with his grandfather. Matthew's father, Duane Dixon, keeps guns, but since the family spent the last three years building a new house behind their old one off U.S. 20 in Sweet Home—and doing the work themselves—there was little time for father to teach son to hunt.
Jessica Dixon didn't hesitate. She knows Matthew doesn't like the fact he can't keep his BB gun at home out of fear that his 5-year-old brother and 2-year-old sister might get hurt. She knows Matthew has already begun to miss his pal Michael, whose family is moving to Eastern Oregon.
On top of that, she knew Matthew was disappointed that he couldn't accompany his dad to Iowa to work in a car race pit crew for a friend. She said he could go hunting on the condition he return in time for his parent-teacher conference.
Mike Luttrell drove north on McDowell Creek Road in the woods between Sweet Home and Lebanon. The boys left the Game Boy, the miniature rocket and the monster truck Matthew got for his birthday Oct. 4 at home. On this morning, they focused instead on devouring burritos and scouting the forests for deer.
Michael saw the first doe, and both boys watched two more cross the road. They spent the first hours meandering around dirt-and-gravel logging roads and encountered few other people except a logging crew. Matthew noticed every detail, making note of the old chain he spied on one road, the limb they drove over on another. It was Matthew who spotted the bear tracks and mountain lion prints when they went for a hike.
After no luck spotting a buck, Luttrell decided to drive farther northeast to a more isolated area at the top of a ridge where a co-worker spotted one the week before. It took them deeper into the foothills, a few miles off the main road, to the corner of Luttrell's map. Not long after Luttrell put his truck in four-wheel drive, they ran into Eggiman and Tanner.
Parked on a muddy side road, facing out so the driver could see anyone coming, was the Ford Ranger. Matthew didn't see anything odd about the pair by the truck—at first.
The boy, Matthew thought, didn't appear scared or upset. He looked serious, standing behind the man with the mustache and goatee, the man who wore a ponytail and had a holster on his belt.
Matthew didn't know an Amber Alert for a missing child had been activated when Eggiman, who had dated Tanner's mother, abducted Tanner in nearby Marion County. Matthew had no idea Eggiman was armed.
Luttrell rolled down the window as they approached the pair. "See any game?" he asked Eggiman.
"Nothing but squirrels," Eggiman said.
Luttrell didn't trust him. For one thing, where was his gun?
"Same with us," Luttrell said.
What Eggiman said next haunted the others. "We're hunting," he said.
It was the way he said "hunting," the way he emphasized each syllable in the word.
The exchange so unnerved Luttrell that he told the boys to keep quiet as they drove on. He couldn't shake the image of a man who claimed to be hunting but carried no gun.
Matthew turned and watched Eggiman. Matthew saw the butt of a gun—a revolver he would learn later—behind Eggiman's back, as Eggiman tried to conceal it with a red handkerchief.
The road came to a dead end less than 300 yards later, and Luttrell turned around, warning the boys not to make eye contact with Eggiman. Luttrell thought it odd that Eggiman and Tanner stood on the side of the road opposite the truck, but when Luttrell stopped to let them cross, Eggiman refused.
Luttrell and the boys put the incident behind them and drove on to a rock pit to give Matthew a chance to shoot. But other hunters were already there. So when Luttrell dropped Matthew off at home in time for his parent-teacher conference, Matthew said nothing to his mother about the strange encounter.
All he said was how disappointed he was he didn't get to shoot.
* * *
On the telephone Thursday night, Matthew called Luttrell and told him what he'd just seen on TV. Since Luttrell was in the process of moving, he had moved his TV and had no way of watching the news.
Matthew's mom took the phone and confirmed Matthew's story. Luttrell said he would call lawmen and give them directions to where they'd seen Eggiman and Tanner.
Then the questions began.
"What's going to happen to that boy?" Matthew said to his mom.
"What if he comes after me?"
Matthew's dad was still in Iowa, so his mom fielded the questions alone. They had raised Matthew under the philosophy that if he is smart enough to ask a question, then he deserves an honest answer.
Still, she didn't want to scare him. Matthew was upset. He couldn't sleep. Jessica Dixon assured her son he had done the right thing and had helped a boy his age. She tried to convince Matthew he was safe, and she let him watch "Wally Gator" and "Deputy Dog."
Luttrell called to say police were on their way to the woods.
Matthew fell asleep around midnight, and he awoke to a ringing phone Friday morning. Lawmen had called Luttrell, saying Linn County deputies found Eggiman and Tanner in the Ford Ranger pickup. Eggiman and the deputies exchanged gunfire. Eggiman was killed in the shootout, but Tanner was safe.
Matthew and his mom and dad have talked a lot since about what happened in the woods just after midnight. They have talked about the choices Eggiman made, and about his fate.
Linn County Sheriff Dave Burright called Matthew a hero. The telephone has brought calls from network television and the hope that "Good Morning America" might fly Matthew to Los Angeles or New York on his first plane ride.
Matthew's parents listen to all the nice things strangers say about their son, and they're not surprised. He's a good kid, a smart kid, and the only thing that ever gets him into trouble is stretching the truth like so many 11-year-old boys will do.
He hasn't told any fibs since Thursday, however. After what happened, he doesn't need to ever again.
