The Heart Of The Fire

John Barton had been honoring the unwritten rule: he could visit his two daughters, but then he would have to leave; there would be no staying over. His wife Terry Lynn expected that of him. She had stopped counting on him for anything else. Their marriage had failed. His friends and family say he had been verbally abusive; they complained about his drinking ("mean, ugly," said his brother) and that he found it difficult to deal with her commitment to her part-time job as a forest ranger. "He just wanted her devoted to him," says a friend. She wanted a divorce and was adamant about it. But on June 3, according to a friend of Terry's, John refused to leave. He dug in for the next four days. On June 7, an exasperated Terry put toiletries, a blow-dryer and clothes in a backpack and headed for a co-worker's home.

As Terry's friends tell the story, she would find something incendiary in the backpack. Terry told her mother that daughters Tasha, 17, and Brandy, 13, apparently slipped in a years-old letter from their father expressing a love now long withered and seeking a reconciliation that had come and gone. The children may have hoped the words would still have force. If so, Terry's relatives say, they were too much for her to bear. She had dropped out of high school to have a baby with John; she stuck with him through 18 years and moved from California to Colorado to save the marriage. She had prayed that life with him would change. But it didn't. As Peggy Hernandez, a colleague of Terry's in California, told TIME, "John says all the words but doesn't mean anything."

LATEST COVER STORY Mind & Body Happiness Jan. 17, 2004 Past Issues Tsunami Jan. 10, 2004 ----------------- Person of the Year Jan. 3, 2004 ----------------- Secrets of the Nativity Dec. 13, 2004 ----------------- The Stealth Killer Dec. 6, 2004 ----------------- Coolest Inventions Nov. 29, 2004 ----------------- Battle for Fallujah Nov. 22, 2004 ----------------- Four More Years Nov. 15, 2004 ----------------- The Joy Of Sox Nov. 8, 2004 ----------------- The Morning After Nov. 1, 2004 ----------------- The God Gene Oct. 25, 2004 ----------------- The Vote Battle Oct. 18, 2004 ----------------- Visions of Tomorrow Oct. 11, 2004 ----------------- The Tragedy of Sudan Oct. 4, 2004 ----------------- CBS Controversy Sept. 27, 2004 ----------------- America's Border Sept. 20, 2004 ----------------- Struggle Within Islam Sept. 13, 2004 ----------------- World of George Bush Sept. 6, 2004 -----------------   SPECIAL REPORTS  Coolest Video Games 2004  Coolest Inventions  Wireless Society  Cool Tech 2004 PHOTOS AND GRAPHICS  At The Epicenter  Paths to Pleasure  Quotes of the Week  This Week's Gadget  Cartoons of the Week More graphics >> More photos >> MORE STORIES Advisor: Rove Warrior The Bushes: Family Dynasty Klein: Benneton Ad Presidency More Stories >> CNN.com: Latest News

According to forensic experts, on the afternoon of June 8, Terry Lynn Barton didn't just strike a match; she struck three — in multiple defiance of the fire ban she was duty-bound to enforce in Colorado's sun-sere parks. Barton eventually confessed that she got out of her truck, headed for a campfire circle, lighted the two-page letter and left once it had burned. Soon after, she returned to find grass burning. As the first-response forestry fire fighter, she radioed for help and began containment efforts. But the prosecutor alleges that she wanted the fire to spread — and whatever her intent, that's what it did. The flames leaped at the rate of a foot per second, engulfing more than 136,000 acres to become the largest conflagration in Colorado's history. Barton's admission — seven days after the inferno began — made it clear that the catastrophe is more than an unfathomable act of God in a season of at least 18 major Western wildfires. Named the Hayman fire — by Barton herself — after a pioneer homestead in the area, it should be called the Barton blaze for the tragic, confused humanity at its heart.

Barton is the most despised woman in Colorado, as hated as Mrs. O'Leary after her cow kick started the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. The fire has forced the evacuation of 8,000 people southwest of Denver and northwest of Colorado Springs, and could cost $50 million. Smoke detectors 30 miles away continue to go peep-peep-peep as the haze spreads. More than 1,700 fire fighters are battling the flames, including the boyfriend of the older Barton girl. Four fire fighters from Oregon died when their van crashed while on the way to help fight the Barton blaze.

At Barton's arraignment, Assistant U.S. Attorney David Conner, who is prosecuting the case, declared Barton had intentionally disturbed the campfire circle to allow flames to travel out into the forest. He charged that there had been no letter; that John Barton denied ever writing letters to her; that her love-gone-bad story was the silly fiction of a cornered firebug. If found guilty on four arson charges, she will face 17 to 65 years in prison.

Terry's public defender had no difficulty finding character witness after character witness to vouch for her: colleagues, her boss's boss, fire fighters and forest volunteers, all uncowed by public anger, standing by a friend who they said had made an unthinkable mistake. The judge denied the government's request to lock her up without bail; if she manages to raise 10% of her $600,000 bond, she can await trial in a halfway house.

Her own home, 9,500 ft. above sea level, is a bright red frame house, with a hummingbird feeder, three or four cats, a chocolate Lab named Charma and a spectacular view of Pikes Peak. Visitors can see the plumes of the Hayman fire from the house, but the property is a model of caution. The firewood and the wood splitter are placed well away from the house, in accordance with Forest Service fireproofing guidelines. There's a golden eagle in the area; a black-bear sow comes and goes so freely it is practically a neighbor. Five times a week, to keep in shape for her job, Barton jogged down the 3.3 miles from the house to County Road 1 and then back up. Her mother Sue Haddock told Time, "Terry loved that job so much it was pitiful. She worked so hard for everything she had, and for those two girls." (Her sister Carla is taking care of the Barton girls. John Barton could not be reached; his mother says he's now at a job in Northern California.)