The small town where Randy Weaver now lives is as wide and open as Ruby Ridge was steep and hidden. 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.