Incident Reflects a Desire to Be Left Alone : High Desert: A retiree who harassed pilots by shining sunlight at them is one of a breed of people who moved to the Antelope Valley for solitude.

Alcide Chaisson, a 70-year-old Robinson Crusoe of the desert, came to Lancaster Municipal Court armed with a scarred, black briefcase filled with photos, papers and a large dictionary of legal terms. He was ready to do battle against a charge of obstructing a flight path.

“You spit up in the air, it lands on your nose,” Chaisson said before his showdown with the law. “I don’t bother you, you don’t bother me. But if you do bother me, I’m going to fight back.”

Chaisson, who acted as his own attorney, wound up pleading no contest Wednesday to charges that he used a four-foot-square mirror to reflect blinding sunlight at pilots flying over his trailer near Llano in the Antelope Valley last December. He said he did it because the noise of the planes disturbs him.

The judge and prosecutor did their best to look stern, but sometimes their smiles showed through. Chaisson was sentenced to 180 days probation and 45 days of community service, working with accident victims in a hospital to cause him to think about the risks his actions posed to others.

Case closed. The affair barely twitched the scales of justice. But it did provide a look at a man who is not alone in his desire to be left alone. Chaisson belongs to a breed of recluses who find remote spots around the urbanizing Antelope Valley and try to live low-profile existences in trailers, cabins and other makeshift dwellings, often surrounding themselves with scrap metal, junked vehicles and pets.

Law enforcement officials do not minimize the potential danger of Chaisson’s assault with a nearly door-sized mirror on pilots taking off and landing at nearby Crystallaire Airfield, which is used by glider enthusiasts and the tow planes that launch them. Pilots say the noise is not loud enough to warrant Chaisson’s response.

But Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Sgt. Ron Shreves, a veteran of the 1,300 square miles of high desert patrolled by the Antelope Valley station, said many recluses are more likely to be victims than aggressors.

“They’re just people who want to be by themselves,” he said. “They don’t want any help or interference. They’re just trying to get out of the rat race.”

Shreves recalled incidents in which people living alone in remote areas have been disturbed or menaced by city dwellers riding dirt bikes or using the desert for a shooting range.

Chaisson’s son, Matthew, said of his father, a retired contractor: “He likes the life he leads. He likes the privacy. He’s a friendly person, he’ll talk to anybody.”

The diminutive, elder Chaisson came to the Antelope Valley in 1986 from Reseda, where he spotted a flyer on a light pole advertising cheap desert land. He paid $13,000 for the seven acres near 180th Street East and Pearblossom Highway.

Outside the courtroom, his brown, battered fingers dug into a voluminous cardholder to produce the card of a Vietnamese businessman who stopped recently and offered him $70,000 cash for the property. Chaisson wasn’t selling.

“I would not trade it for the plushest apartment in Beverly Hills,” said Chaisson, who retains the accent of his native Canada and reverts occasionally to French.

He said the aircraft noise dispute has marred an otherwise blissful existence. He has a horse, two dogs and two cats. He gets electricity from a generator and drinks water trucked in by his son. He built a hothouse where he grows onions, tomatoes and cantaloupes. He listens to the radio and walks in the sun.

As to the feud with the airfield a mile and a half to the southwest, Chaisson said he is bothered by the noise and intrusion of aircraft flying low over his property.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I’ve been flashing the mirror at them for two years,” he said.

Sheriff’s deputies say they have had no other complaints about noise. Chaisson, on the other hand, has few immediate neighbors who could join him in complaining.

Chaisson had planned to demand a jury trial at his court appearance. But he relented after an earnest conversation with Deputy Dist. Atty. David Wallin, who told Chaisson that although he is half Chaisson’s age, perhaps they could come to an understanding, some agreement that would respect Chaisson’s desire for solitude and Wallin’s concern for the pilots’ safety.

Wallin warned Chaisson that he could face four years in jail, to which Chaisson replied that he didn’t care. Wallin prevailed by explaining that Chaisson could plead no contest and still pursue a civil case against the airport, the Federal Aviation Administration and anyone else he wants.

Chaisson thanked Wallin and Judge Frank Jackson profusely. He passed out his business card in case anyone at the courthouse needs contracting work.

“They’re nice guys,” he said of the court officials.

Chaisson said he likes to watch the coyotes and rabbits, who are his nearest neighbors. Occasionally, he will intervene and shoo the coyotes away from the rabbits.

“I scare them from killing the rabbits,” he said. “The rabbits are so cute.”

Then he boarded a shuttle van for senior citizens and rode home to his place in the desert.