“Wallace Dale tells the story of his daughter’s death in clipped, even sentences; the only time his eyes mist over is when he talks about how the anniversaries of her birth and death still get to him. And the only time he laughs is when he reminisces about growing up traditional in the remote folds of the reservation’s Chuska Mountains. His mother hewed to Navajo dress and the ancient creation stories; his father, a Comanche, practiced the healing arts of medicine men. The family raised sheep and horses, and grew corn, squash, and beans. There was no running water, electricity, or gas. ‘It was a lot of work but fun, and we learned a lot from it too,’ Dale says. ‘I always held on to their ways. Without them, we all would have been lost.’ But after Deirdre was murdered, tradition could not keep Dale anchored. He got sick; bills piled up; his marriage fell apart. He was consumed by fantasies of revenge, and he came to believe that his people’s tradition was getting in the way of justice for Deirdre. It was time, he decided, for the Navajo to embrace the death penalty.” (for publication 01/07)