Andy Cross-Pool

The things he said to me veered between raving paranoia—government agents had broken into his home and left behind a feather—and more lucid diatribes about abortion. “Some day, somebody is going to send me a letter with a picture of a baby,” he said, his pride evident. “They’re going to say, ‘Thank you. I didn’t have an abortion. Here’s a picture of the baby. Thanks to you.’ That’s going to happen some day.” Dear said that his hatred of abortions, and the groups that provide them, was long-standing.