(Hillsboro, New Mexico) On Wednesday, July
9, 2003, I couldn't help but notice an odd site while slowly
driving through Hillsboro; a man with a pair of walking sticks,
a mylar-covered visor, a cart in tow, and something else. That
sign.
In bold red letters, the words "Love Life" stretched
skyward directly above the man's head. He had paused to allow
someone to photograph him while the temperature flirted with
100 degrees.
It appeared this peculiar wanderer was headed west, the same
direction I was travelling toward my nearby home. Moments later
I had my own camera in-hand and a tape recorder, too. When the
man with the sign above his head approached my driveway, I was
there to meet him and discover his story.
And what a story.
This friendly traveller's name is Steve Fugate. He's been
walking since March 9, when he left his hometown in Florida and
set-out for California...where he'll hang a right and aim himself
at Canada. There'll be another right turn up there, too. The
57-year-old is walking around America.
In his friendly and enthusiastic way, Mr.Fugate began to tell
me his story. In 1999, he said, he left his son to run his auto
detailing business in Florida. The son, "Stevie" Fugate,
had recently received a DWI and his dad thought he could help
teach him some responsibility by putting him in charge of the
business. Mr. Fugate set out to conquer the Appalachian Trail
while his son assumed the responsibilities of a boss overseeing
a dozen employees.
But Stevie Fugate, his father explained, was apparently too
embarrassed to appear for the community service a judge had ordered.
An arrest warrant was issued and Stevie stole a thousand dollars
of his dad's money to bond out of jail. Unfamiliar with "the
system", Stevie didn't know that any bail bondsman could
have reduced that amount of cash to just a hundred bucks.
Mr. Fugate says Stevie had never been in trouble before the
DWI episode. In fact, he says, he told his son that it didn't
matter that his car was wrecked in the DWI, as long as no one
was hurt; that's what mattered.
Mr. Fugate said his son had been a 4.0 student, and was pursuing
a law degree.
But Stevie Fugate felt such guilt at stealing from his father.
He wrote about his shame in letters to his dad. That was before
he shot and killed himself.
"He killed both of us that day," Mr. Fugate said,
the voice that was cheerful a moment earlier now cracking and
fighting to hold off the sob that comes from the "cruelest"
pain. Grief dripped more than the sweat on his back.
Mr. Fugate and I spent the better part of the next two hours
talking. He came to my home where he kindly let me give him some
tortillas and a steak for the road. We wrapped the meat in tinfoil.
"There, the sun should cook it," he said after placing
the wrapped meat just below the netting that secured his possessions
upon his cart.
Mr. Fugate shared that he never takes any money, food or anything
from anyone unless they allow him to share his story first. In
telling the story of the son he lost, he also shared that suicide
is cruel, selfish and shatters the lives of the living.
"It's the third leading cause of death of young people
in this country," he stated with more than a little despair
in his voice.
But there is hope, too. This walk around America, he said,
will hopefully reach someone. If it saves one life, he'll be
satisfied.
Two hours after Steve Fugate returned to the edge of Highway
152 and set out for a campground in Kingston, nine miles up the
Black Range, I decided to visit him again for some more conversation
and picture taking.
When he arrived at the campground, he pitched his tent upon
the hard, New Mexico ground. Efficiently, he produced an air
mattress and promptly blew it up with the breath from his lungs.
With his tent in place, we sat down at a nearby picnic table
for a final bit of conversation. He ate some of the tortillas
and the steak, which still looked mostly raw. He didn't mind.
Finally, we said farewell.
Next stop for Steve Fugate? Silver City. When we parted he
was debating whether-or-not to cut north from Silver City towards
Arizona's White Mountains or head west and blaze a trail through
Phoenix.
He knew the Arizona desert is unforgiving. But in 1999, he
said, he walked "across" America (remember this time
he's walking "around" America, which is a much greater
distance), including Nevada in July of that year.
In case you're wondering, Mr. Fugate pulls a lot of water
on that cart. A tube stretches from his insulated water supply
up his back and is always near his mouth.
"It's more important than food. I can fast for days.
I can't go without water," he said.
And he can't go on without reaching out to young people. He
even hopes that some will be encouraged to leave the creature
comforts of home and set out to hike a trail.
"On the A.T. (Appalachian Trail), I watched kids go from
18 to 30," he said of the growth afforded when confronting
life in the back country.
Mr. Fugate shared wonderful stories borne from this walk around
America.
Already, it seems, he has touched a great many hearts.
"Stevie"
Stephen Lee Fugate was born September 14,
1972 and died July 17, 1999. He graduated in 1990 from Vero Beach
High School (Florida) and attended William Carey College in Gulfport,
Mississippi and the University of South Florida, Tampa. He was
a graduate of Tampa Tech where he received a degree in Computer
Engineering. He was only 26 years old when he passed on. |
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More
than a year has now passed since I encountered Steve Fugate on
that wonderful July day in Hillsboro, New Mexico. At the time,
I regretted that I couldn't write more. Mr. Fugate had visited
me at the home I was renting at the time in Hillsboro. I'd moved
there only three weeks earlier with the express purpose of devoting
my full time to the writing of my first book.
Mr. Fugate and I spoke, as I recall, for the better part of an
hour-and-a-half. He allowed me to record our conversation on
audio tape. We covered a lot of ground while we simply sat and
talked.
I fondly recall giving Mr. Fugate some steaks from my refrigerator.
He wrapped them in tin foil and fastened them to the exterior
of his gear, explaining that the sun would cook them by dinner
time. Early that evening, I couldn't resist. I got into my car
and caught up with Mr. Fugate as he neared a campground where
he would sleep that evening. We spent about another hour talking
at his camp site. During that time, he unwrapped the meat I'd
given him earlier that day. It still looked mostly raw to me,
but he explained that that was okay, he'd eaten it that way before
and it had never bothered him. The moment remains a fond memory
for me today.
A year later, I was--at last--putting the finishing touches on
that first book (September Sacrifice). It's the story
of a true crime/murder (the Girly Chew Hossencofft case) that
I have investigated from its beginning in 1999.
I started a Web site dedicated to the Hossencofft case that same
year. That is when I first learned how to build a Web site and
ultimately developed the skills that I applied to the page you
are reading now. My Web site dedicated to the true crime case
can be viewed by clicking here. |
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If you would like to order my book,
you can do so by clicking the book's cover directly at right.
(*Steve, please contact me. I'd love to send you a copy!)
Thank you for your interest in this site.
Sincerely,
Mark Horner
Investigative Reporter, KOB-TV
Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA
e-mail: info@markhorner.com |
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