Families Forever Changed By Dicamba

Below is a just a small portion and sample of a story written by David Koon, titled,"Farmer vs. Farmer" and recently posted in the Arkansas Times. I believe it's an extremely important article and needs to be read by all in the world of agriculture.

In a house at the edge of a cotton field in Monette, Arkansa the crops stretching away to the edge of the world in all directions, Karen Wallace talked about the husband she has to go on without. According to investigators, on Oct. 27, 2016, Wallace, who farmed 5,000 acres of corn, soybeans and cotton near the Arkansas/Missouri border, arranged by phone to meet Allan Curtis Jones, 26, of Arbyrd, Mo., on West County Road 38 north of the Mississippi County town of Leachville to discuss Wallace's suspicions that the farm where Jones worked was the source of "drifting dicamba" that had damaged some of Wallace's crops. Wallace, believed that at least 40 percent of his soybean crop had been damaged by drifting dicamba since June. He'd filed complaints twice with the Arkansas State Plant Board, the state agency that oversees claims of crop damage, about damage from drifting dicamba and had encouraged other farmers to report their damage as well. According to statements issued by Mississippi County Sheriff Dale Cook at the time of the shooting, Wallace and Jones met outside of Leachville. Jones told investigators that an argument had ensued. In the midst of it, Wallace grabbed Jones by the arm. At that point, investigators say, Jones pulled away, pulled his pistol, and fired into Wallace's body until the magazine was empty. Wallace, a father of two who'd farmed in Mississippi County since he was a boy, was hit at least four times, and died in the dust on the south shoulder of the county road. Jones soon was arrested on a charge of first-degree murder, and later released on $150,000 bond. Whether the shooting was self-defense or homicide will be up to a jury. Jones is scheduled to go to trial Sept. 11. Regardless, it's crazy to think everyone involved has had their lives turned upside down because of arguments and debates surrounding dicamba. Mike Wallace was born within three miles of the spot, and started his first crop at 17. Married her at 18. Put her through college so she could realize her own dream of being a teacher. Raised two kids and saw them have children of their own. He was, she said, a man always thinking of the community, the kind of guy who would go around town with his own equipment after rare snowfalls and clear the driveways of elderly folks who'd plowed their lives into the soil of Craighead and Mississippi counties. "He wasn't a farmer that farmed out of the seat of his truck," Karen said. "He was a hands-on farmer. He was in the field daylight until dark. That was just his life." Which is, of course, what makes his death so hard to understand. The day her husband was killed, Wallace said, she'd run an errand in Kennett, Mo. The harvest done, he was leveling ground. Though she knows now that Mike had gotten a number for Allan Curtis Jones from an acquaintance, she said he'd never mentioned the name to her or their son, Bradley, and didn't tell either of them he planned to meet outside of Leachville. "He told me, 'I'll be right back,' " Wallace said, "and that was that. I never talked to him again." As soon as her husband was killed, everybody seemed to know it immediately. Word got back to her quickly. Not knowing what else to do, she and several family members met at the gin in Monette, which is run by Mike's cousin. She called her sister in Jonesboro, pleading with her to get to her daughter, Kimberly, who was attending an event at Arkansas State University. By the time she did, Kimberly had already heard through a post on Facebook. There were over 1,000 people at Mike Wallace's funeral, the line to pay respects stretching out the door of the First Baptist Church and into the parking lot. When he was buried in the little cemetery in Monette, the farmers for miles around brought their tractors, a burbling second line, and ringed the paved lane around the graveyard. "I knew Mike had a lot of friends," Karen said. "But for that many people to pay their respects to Mike was just unbelievable. It was overwhelming." The death has been hard on the whole family. Kerin Hawkins, another Wallace sister, displayed two photos. One is of their mother, Mary, standing in deep cotton with son Mike two weeks before his death. Another shows Mary, at least 30 pounds lighter, surrounded by family at this year's Fourth of July celebration. Farming has changed since Wallace started, Karen Wallace said, and not for the better. "I think we're in a society where we want the easiest way out," she said. "The easiest way, the fastest way, regardless of whom it hurts or what happens. But farming is not like that. Farming is hard work. There's work to be done now, and Mike Wallace is not here to do it. "We were raised to be there for each other. If one person was hurting in the family, you were there for them. You were there to back them up. You always had their back. It didn't matter. Mike would have done the same for us. He would be there fighting for us, and we're not going to let him down. Please read the entire article HERE