The Union Pacific whistles past the cornfields hourly. It is not unusual to find Weaver in Iowa because he was born and raised here, the son of a grain salesman.
People forget that part.
What they remember is the survivalist who wanted to separate from a race-mixing nation and its oppressive government. Now, Weaver mows his neat little lawn here on Wilson Avenue. A Cadillac sits in his driveway. He is listed in the phone book. But to say that Weaver has come down off the mountain would be only half-right.