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Poster boys for the summer of hate | page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Though no direct link has been established, the men all subscribed to the
same general white supremacist views -- a belief that gays, Jews and other
minorities are subhuman and must be eliminated if the white race is to
continue to flourish. Those appear to be the views of Matthew Williams. But before the arrest
of the two brothers, many who knew them had no idea of the hatred that
authorities say the two harbored against people they considered different
or inferior. And until law-enforcement began describing the evidence
officers had seized -- everything from the purported murder weapon,
complete with Tyler's palm prints on the barrel, to handwritten notes
boasting of being sought in the synagogue fires -- few could have believed
either man stupid enough to leave behind such a compelling trail. "You would like to have your daughter go out with this guy," said Dennis
Williams (no relation), who manages the Redding farmer's market where the
brothers as well as Matson and Mowder frequently sold organic vegetables.
"I would trust him, I'm serious. It's too day and night. He had a bunch of
people fooled." Unlike the Buford Furrows and Benjamin Smiths of the world, the two boys
were not misfits or loners. There is no evidence of past mental illness in
either, and no one can point to any incident that could explain a hatred of
Jews or gay people. On the surface, their friends, customers and neighbors
knew them simply as friendly lawn boys. The two operated a landscaping and lawn service out of their parents' house
in Palo Cedro, Calif., a picturesque enclave of homes on large lots that
back up to Cow Creek, about 20 miles east of Redding. Residents there say
the boys were unfailingly polite and friendly. Matthew "brought over a silver dollar for my son's 13th birthday and
taught him how to read the silver prices in the paper," said Debbie
O'Connell, who lives next door to the Williams home, which is shielded
from the street by a fence and steel gate with a "Keep Out, No Trespassing"
sign. Tyler Williams would stop by to borrow O'Connell's computer to check gold
and silver prices on the Internet, she said. The family itself was always
gardening, and the boys could make anything grow. Their lot is studded with
fruit trees and vegetable patches, and they prided themselves on the fact
that between their produce and their ducks and chickens they were largely
self-sufficient. "They're self-contained," O'Connell said. "They eat their own chickens
and ducks, grow their own food, their own eggs. It's almost like they're
burying themselves in there," she said, noting the dense shrubbery that covers
the property. What made the family stand out, neighbors say, was the noise that would
come blaring from inside the house at all hours of the day and night.
Sometimes it would simply be religious music. Other times recorded sermons
would echo through the quiet neighborhood. "They were heavy Bible
thumpers, really into that stuff," said neighbor Don O'Connell. Religion
was a lifelong passion for the two boys, who grew up in a household that
valued it above all else. Their father, an eccentric, religiously devout,
retired U.S. Forest Service employee, raised the brothers to live off the land
in anticipation of the coming apocalypse. Before they moved to the Redding area, the family had lived in the small
Butte County farming community of Gridley, about 40 miles north of
Sacramento.They lived on a narrow country lane in a small, modest home that
faced a field and had a one-acre backyard filled with fruit trees. During
the day, Matthew Williams would wander the neighborhood communing with his
God. "He used to walk up and down the street carrying a staff and preaching
to no one," said David Anderson, a Live Oak high school teacher who bought
the Williams home three years ago. "That does something to kids, raising
them up in that environment." "I always felt sorry for those boys," added a longtime neighbor in Gridley,
who asked not to be named. "The parents didn't allow them to associate
with anyone other than people from their church. They were just held down
that way. They never went to parties. Only with the church. I asked the
father many times what church he belonged to and he would never tell me."
That may have been because the family had changed churches a number of times, associates say, in an apparent bid to find just the right fit. "They were zealous in their faith, but that's what pastors encourage people
to be: zealous in their faith," said Craig Cook, their former pastor in
Gridley at what he described as a mainstream evangelical Bible church. "But
they were far from kooks. They were not cultish, as people would make them
out to be." And, Cook added, they were not anti-Semitic. "I find it
extremely hard to believe concerning the anti-Semitic bit because the
family are Semitic lovers -- they love the Jews because our Christianity
finds its roots in Judaism. And the entire family was high supporters of
the Jewish faith, so I find it very hard to connect them to that."
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