Free A Death in Wichita by Stephen Singular Page A

Nicholas, which meant avoiding political or religious discussions with her husband. Like most Kansans, and most Americans, she believed that a woman had the right to decide what to do with her own body, but was careful not to say this directly to her husband. One day she was teaching preschoolers when an enraged mother stormed into her classroom, picked up her child, and threw the youngster against a metal cabinet.
    “I should have had an abortion when I could have!” the woman shouted.
    Lindsey recoiled.
    “Later on,” she says, “when I’d had a chance to think about it, I felt that the woman was probably right. I told Scott about what I’d seen and said that not everyone was cut out to be a parent, but that only made him angrier.”
    His anger was evolving into action. In the spring of 1994, he began associating with members of local militia movements who were stockpiling firearms. The year before, the FBI had entered the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, to end a standoff between the sect’s leader, David Koresh, and the authorities. The buildings erupted into flames, killing seventy-six people inside the compound and spreading paranoia among the anti-government groups. That paranoia reached into the Roeder household and came out in Scott’s ramblings and other behaviors. He wouldn’t drink tap water anymore, because it was laced with fluoride that would give him cancer; he insisted on buying bottled water instead. He had to have pricey vitamin B tablets and garlic pills, which smelled bad, to ward off other diseases being spread by the government. And he had to be prepared if his enemies came after him. As the man of the house, he’d recently forgotten to pay the bill for Lindsey’s heart medicine, putting her health at risk. After getting her next paycheck, she gave him some money and told him to go pick up her drugs. He came back with a gun instead.
    She thought about kicking him out again, but faced the same dilemma as before: while her husband was clearly becoming more radical, he hadn’t broken any laws or physically abused his family members, at least not to the point of criminal activity. Despite his verbal assaults on Lindsey and his tirades about abortion, he had a gentler side. He made a point of taking bugs out of the house and letting them live in a natural environment, rather than killing them. Many who worked with or befriended Roeder were struck by his kindness and willingness to help. He may have been associated with people on the far right holding viciously racist views, but he didn’t feel he was racist and was sensitive about being perceived that way. Violence was wrong, he often told people, no matter how deeply one felt about an issue. Still, if the couple divorced, he’d get a joint custody arrangement with Nicholas, and Scott was no longer just potentially dangerous, but armed. Wasn’t it safer to have him inside the house, where she could keep an eye on him?
    He had an old, flimsy-looking Bible he carried around and quoted from. One day he and Lindsey got into an argument because he didn’t think she was obeying him as much as she should—or as much as he thought the Scriptures instructed her to. He liked to tell their friends that she was an atheist, even though she regularly attended church services at Knox Presbyterian. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to him about women’s rights and her own political convictions, but she’d held back for the sake of her marriage and son. As the argument heated up, she grabbed the old Bible and hurled it at him.
    “Stop twisting the word of God!” she shouted.
    “You could have hurt me,” he said, shocked at what his wife had done.
    The couple moved to the brink of another separation, but once again she let him stay.
    Scott was convinced that the FBI or ATF had tapped their phones and was monitoring his words and movements. Lindsey doubted this was true, but hoped it was. Sometimes, she picked up the receiver,