Alcohol flowed freely on the mesa, and as the months rolled by, some people felt oppressed by the small town’s isolation. “At first, it was lots of fun,” Hempelmann recalled, “but as things wore on and everybody got tired and tense and irritable, it wasn’t so good. Everybody was living in each other’s pockets. You’d play with the same people that you worked with. And a friend would ask you out to dinner, and you didn’t have anything else to do, but you just didn’t want to go. So they would know. If they drove by your house, they would see that your car was still there. Everybody knew
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