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Never captured. Still believed to be at large.

Outstanding warrants remain in two counties, both Essex & Franklin.

Still sought by police.

Last seen in and around the village of Saranac Lake. Goes by the Alias “Sharpshooter”. This Polariod image is his only know photograph. If spotted, contact authorities immediately.

Consider armed & dangerous.

His aim is legend.


     Conditions were perfect. Mild mid-winter temperatures still hung just above freezing.  The afternoon air was dead calm.  The sun’s rays had softened snowdrifted hillsides.  Streets below them were slush covered.  The wooded terrain that surrounded them was silent.   Pre-sunset shadows grew long.

     The team stealthily moved into an overwatch position on a hillside overlooking the town. The street below them splashed slush covered afternoon traffic. Unaware of the danger lurking in the hillside woods just above, a target rich environment meandered quietly along the small-town streets of its afternoon routine.

     They staged in a small stand of pine trees. Plans were reviewed. Escape routes and rendezvous points pinpointed. Final orders were given. Pre-deployed scouts scooted back through the line. The targeted enemy patrol was inbound. Command gave the green light.   The mission order was “Go”.

     The team broke down into pairs.  Three sets of armed soldiers moving stealthily into position. All except the lone sniper designated to carry out the strike.       

     He was a good bit younger than the rest of the men on his team.  He’d worked extra hard to earn their respect, volunteering for all of the riskiest missions.  He never showed fear in the face of grave danger.  His aim was deadly. He never missed his target.  His teammates admired his daring courage. They had nicknamed him “Sharpshooter”.

     Sharpshooter unloaded his gear, stacking it behind the big tree with the rest. He’d slide further down the hill to better range his planned target. The rest of the team would deploy along the hillside above him, providing overwatch covering fire if needed, securing Sharpshooter’s six against any incoming enemy assault, raid, ambush, or anything else unexpected.

     He took up position halfway down the hill, setting up behind a big maple with a clear shot to the street. He chambered a round, then sat silent, waiting.

     Several vehicles passed by on the street below, all civilians, unaware they were under surveillance, their lives at the mercy of Sharpshooter’s deadly aim.  

     A pair of red squirrels chattered as they scurried through tree branches above him. The afternoon sun was dropping, along with the temperature. Sharpshooter could see his breath now.  Village street shadows grew. He shivered a bit. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

     Finally! There it was, cresting a slight hill to his left. Sharpshooter’s target came into view on the street just below him. He took aim and exhaled.

     The enemy vehicle slowly slid into range. Sharpshooter tracked its approach. He clicked off his safety, exhaled once more, then, crosshairs on target, squeezed the trigger.

     “Bam!” Sharpshooter’s shot echoed off the hillside. He’d scored a direct hit. His target screeched to a halt.  Two uniformed silhouettes exited the vehicle. There was shouting. Spotlights lit up the hillside as he made his escape.

     Sharpshooter scurried back up to the tree to grab gear and go. The rest of his team was already there. 

     “Direct hit! I nailed ‘em. I think they are coming up the hill after me. We’ve gotta go!”

     The team split up and headed off in different directions, making it harder for pursuing enemy patrols to track them. Sharpshooter donned his backpack, darted his way through the trees up the hill, crossed down into town on the other side of the hill, calmed his heartrate and breathing, then walked right down the street past the village police cruiser he’d just smacked with a snowball.


There once was a time

When the most notorious villain north woods town cops had to fear

Was a young outlaw with more guts than brains

A good strong right arm

And a big pile of snowballs


Until Our Trails Cross Again: