I seriously doubt it was from off-planet, though I suppose anything's possible. I figured that, like the unmarked van and the low flying planes, it was only there to intimidate us. It didn't work. I'm prudent, but not a coward. Besides, better to die on our feet than to live on our knees.
Position is everything.
I went back in the house and fondled the Winchester some more. The UFO never returned. Mae's ring-bindered final version of the Warren Testimony concordance filled shelves covering a wall of the master bedroom in the house we moved them to. The house was going to be opened to the public as the Mae Brussell Research Center, but jealousy, professional and otherwise, between two rival broadcast journalists put the kibosh on that. In addition to the books and clip files, there was a room packed solid with neat rows of boxed clippings that hadn't been filed and cross-referenced yet.