Rebecca agreed with Aaron, the skinny, goateed man from the animal rights group. The way Tucky Thompson was using her mother was an outrage, it was pure exploitation, it was inhumane. He’d turned her death into a freak show, sideshow — a circus complete with a big-top tent.

Rebecca and Devin sat in collapsing lawn chairs, in the backyard of the house the activists were renting during their protest of Tucky Thompson’s Sasquatch Circus. Someone offered Rebecca a tofu burger. She wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.”

Tucky had no right. And Aaron bet he had no rights, either, legally – if Rebecca was to step up, stand up for her mother. Aaron explained that he was an animal rights lawyer. “This isn’t just about your individual case,” Aaron said. “It’s about the bigger picture.”

“Exactly!” Devin exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying all along. It’s about the bigger picture.”
Rebecca snacked on a handful of organic corn chips and nodded. She couldn’t admit she was having trouble seeing this bigger picture that had everyone so wound up. She wanted to see her mother and understand more about her life and her people. If they’re people? Are they people? She shook off the questions. Aaron and his group said they’d help. They’d given her and Devin a place to stay and rounded up resource and research materials for her. There were Sasquatch books and videos, photocopies of magazine articles and print-outs from websites. “We are at your disposal. We can help you. We can make this happen for all of us,” Aaron said. Girls with nose rings and dreadlocks fluttered around with plates of vegetable sandwiches and bowls of organic chips and salsa. “Anything you need – just ask.”

Aaron told them that the organization worked with celebrities all the time, and at this Rebecca was chuffed. They think I’m a celebrity, she thought.

They discussed strategy well into the night. Or, more aptly, Aaron and Devin discussed strategy while Rebecca ate more chips — there was a seemingly endless supply — and nodded in time with the warble of hipster folk music as much as she did in response to Aaron and Devin’s suggestions.

Rebecca couldn’t simply show up at Tucky Thompson’s Sasquatch Circus and demand custody of her mother. No. The confrontation had to be carefully planned and executed.

Rebecca couldn’t wander about town, not without purpose and certainly not without either Devin or Aaron at her side. Devin appointed himself her manager; Aaron would deal with the press.

And, Aaron said, Rebecca couldn’t shave or wax or pluck or use depilatory creams, powders or pastes. They needed her relation to the Lady Sasquatch to be obvious. “I understand that this is a very personal matter, Rebecca,” he said.

“Don’t worry, she won’t.” Devin answered for her.

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