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Words? Who needs words?

They say it all in icy stares.

Inevitably, somewhere, during his daily travels in the city, Mitchell Johnson will feel the cold, silent jeers of people he does not know, but who believe they know him.

"They look at me with a clear air of visceral disgust," the city manager says with a pained smile.

"I'm their Anti-Christ."

For nearly two tortuous years running, Johnson has found himself in the center of a perfect storm of rumors, distrust and conspiracy theories.

It was Johnson who led the hiring of former police Chief David Wray. And it was Johnson who said he decided months later that Wray was not the man he thought he was. That he couldn't trust what Wray was telling him anymore.

Wray ultimately resigned under pressure in January 2006.

Ever since, life's probably been no Elm Street parade for either man.

"It's been hell," Johnson said, as if anyone needed to ask. "What do you think?"

Part of the "hell" Johnson refers to is the constant swirl of conspiracy theories.

That Johnson made some kind of a deal with black leaders to sell Wray out in exchange for being promoted to city manager. That Johnson was out to "get" Wray in revenge for Wray's investigation of Project Homestead, the defunct affordable home builder that misused taxpayer money.

That Johnson even has held a vendetta for years against Wray because Wray married Johnson's first love. Seriously, folks.

"It's absolute fantasy, but it fits somebody's fantasy for believing something," Johnson said. "It's like 'Alice in Wonderland.'

"I'm waiting to be tied to the Kennedy assassination."

Johnson finds some comfort and consolation in people who come up and reassure him, he said. And in the City Council's firm and unanimous support.

"Every one of those people will tell you that he's lost friends because of this situation," Johnson said. "They stood by me because they knew this stuff was wrong."

Similarly, Johnson holds firm to his view that this all boils down to Wray not leveling with him on alleged misconduct in the department. An investigation by a consulting firm, RMA, confirmed Johnson's concerns. Then an SBI investigation that resulted in the indictments of two former Greensboro special intelligence officers who worked for Wray confirmed them further, Johnson said.

But for some people, "small fry" stuff like trying to hack into another officer's computer isn't enough. Where's the smoking gun? After all, Wray wasn't indicted. No trails have led to him.

Yet if he didn't know what was going on, why?

We can only guess. Wray's not talking, except through his attorneys and Jerry Bledsoe's weekly Rhinoceros Times series -- told distinctly from Wray's point of view.

Say what you will about Johnson (and who doesn't?), at least he has been willing to address the situation front and center. With the press. The public. Bloggers. Even Bledsoe. Wray -- for whatever reason -- hasn't.

"The guy has never stood the test of fire in front of the press except from a guy who's telling the story the way he wants it to be told," Johnson said.

Johnson said some people believe so passionately he was out to get Wray that they've rationalized that even if Wray lied to him, the end justified the means -- that if it took bending rules, or breaking laws, to get rid of crooked cops, so be it.

"If we're making cops dirty to get rid of dirty cops," Johnson said, "we've got a problem."

Yet, what may be uglier than the situation itself is what it has done to this community.

There's too much important work to be done in this city to wallow in the poison of prejudice and distrust. Or to let it consume us to the point of paralysis.

Yet this is precisely the kind of conversation we're not good at. Greensboro still struggles to talk to itself and does an even lousier job of listening.

We take sides and dig in. Deeper and deeper, until the hole's too steep to climb out.