Bizarre! Shocking! and True!

JAMESTOWN — This is a tale of true crime, with slashed throats, courtroom intrigue, forensic mysteries and not a single football player. It begins in the night, with a dog barking. The dog barks and barks. No one knows why. The barking cuts through the quiet of the Gold Rush foothills, bouncing down canyon and ravine, invading the sleep of neighbors. It goes on for hours.

“That dog might have stopped to take a breath or two,” one neighbor will say later, “but it pretty much went throughout the night.”

This recollection is offered in the context of a court case, and not just any court case. This is case No. 94-01773, the People of the State of California vs. Terry and Susan Lorusso, who, according to the complaint, “did own, keep, harbor or maintain dogs, to wit, ‘Joshua,’ a neutered adult male black lab cross, and ‘Charity,’ a female black lab cross, which by habitual barking, howling, crying, baying, whining or any combination, disturbed the rest, sleep, quiet or peaceful enjoyment of life of reasonable persons of normal sensitiveness residing in the area.”

In other words, the Lorussos stand accused of owning two bad dogs. In the last two years, Joshua and Charity have been cited for violating Tuolumne County’s dog noise ordinance 36 times. This is believed to be a record for canine malfeasance, and it also gives rise to a mystery: Most of the barking citations have come after the dogs had their throats cut open by a vet and their voice boxes removed.

“Something,” Terry Lorusso says ominously, “is rotten.”

*

The Lorusso house sits on a five-acre lot dotted with old oak. It’s Sierra foothill country, semirural. At the driveway gate, two black dogs bound toward a visitor. Charity, the bigger, younger one, uncorks a squeaky bark. She sounds like a dog with a sore throat. That she can manage even this amazes the Jamestown vet who has operated on her twice, once to remove the voice box, and again to scrape away any scar tissue that might help her create sound.

Next comes Joshua, the more pathetic creature. Joshua, now 11 years old, once was top dog. Since the operation, he meekly follows Charity’s lead. His debarking operation was, it would seem, a complete success. He stands at the gate, opens his mouth, and this is what comes out:

” . “

Lorusso shakes his head: “That’s all he can do. Just blow air.” Lorusso is a 42-year-old antique dealer. He moved here 16 years ago from Cerritos, seeking the rural life. Lately, he’s seen many new people follow his path. He figures this is his main problem--too many city people jamming into the foothills. They complain about his dogs. They complain about his church music. He wonders how they’ll take his chain saw when it comes time to cut wood.

When the dog complaints started, Lorusso says, he tried to be a good neighbor. He got the dogs “debarked. It was sad to see them, their throats all swollen and stitched up.” In a short while, however, the citations began to pour in again--most identifying Joshua as the culprit. Lorusso couldn’t understand. The animal control officers seemed to believe whatever the neighbors said. He does not deny that Charity can yelp a little, but not Joshua, and, anyway, isn’t this supposed to be the country?

“This land is zoned for animals,” he says. “My goats make more noise than those dogs. And if I want, I can have 100 peacocks on this property. I can have cows, pigs, ducks, donkeys. Do you know what 100 donkeys would sound like?”

*

The complainants won’t talk to the press, but in court papers they have painted Lorusso as a man of “vengeance,” who humiliates them and even tries to run them off the road in his truck. The dogs, they say, are worse. He counters with accusations of harassment, conspiracy and attacks on his dogs with shovels. This is a mean one, folks.

“I am not going to be railroaded anymore,” Lorusso says. “I have spent $1,600 fighting this junk. I have spent hours in court. I love my dogs, and I am not going to get rid of them.”

He has called Oprah, Geraldo, Phil--everyone who might conceivably help him, except maybe Robert L. Shapiro. Lorusso notes happily that the case has become an issue in the district attorney’s contest, with a challenger accusing the incumbent of going harder after dogs than human criminals. So far, though, Lorusso has lost most court battles. The latest citations go to trial in November. Lorusso promises a new tactic: He will put his dogs on the stand.

“The dogs,” he says, “are the best evidence. They speak for themselves.”

Or don’t.

Right, Joshua?

” . “

Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge.