From Publishers Weekly
During early September 2001, federal and state law enforcement agents staked out a farm in rural southwest Michigan. By the time they departed, farm owner Tom Crosslin and his life partner, Rollie Rohm, had been killed by government bullets. Los Angeles journalist Kuipers, who grew up 20 miles from the shootings, explains how and why the two men ended up dead in his third book (after
I Am a Bullet). Crosslin, a brawler by nature but also an astute businessman in rural real estate, founded the farm in 1993 as a refuge for marijuana smokers, disaffected gays, lovers of live musical performances and libertarians. Rohm's 11-year-old son by a previous heterosexual marriage also lived on the farm. Prosecuting attorney Scott Teter, unwilling to accept the illegal substance use on the land, charged Crosslin and Rohm with growing marijuana in their home, tried to place Rohm's son with a social services agency and began proceedings to confiscate the land. But he met resistance from Crosslin and Rohn, who decided to destroy the property by fire. Drawing on extensive interviews, government documents and news coverage, the author verges on portraying the prosecutor as evil incarnate. But Kuipers doesn't cross the line from sound journalism into advocacy, while letting the story unfold through superbly detailed characterizations and skillful pacing.
(July) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
Tom Crosslin and Rollie Rohm were lovers who wanted to create a refuge for counterculture, libertarian types, including gays, live music aficionados, and pot smokers. Their Burning Rainbow Farm quickly achieved fame among those constituencies in their little corner of southwest Michigan. But when crusading DA Scott Teter decided that the specter of peaceful people smoking ganja was a public affront, matters took a decidedly unmellow turn. Teter succeeded in placing Rohm's adolescent son with social services, and confiscation proceedings were brought against Crosslin and Rohm's land. Teter also charged the men with growing marijuana and sought their incarceration. Before that happened, Crosslin and Rohm torched the farm and somehow were shot dead by government agents. Was this really necessary? Kuipers, whose sympathies are as clear as his prose is objective, interviewed locals, g-men, and former farm habitues in pursuit of answers. A cautionary tale for social revolutionaries and a case history of a single-minded prosecutor's aggressiveness, this is of special interest to pop-culture and gay studies.
Mike TribbyCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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