Silence be damned. Hurry you say…hurry!

October 16, 2016

My dear readers…

I know you must feel as though I have abandoned you and in a sense I have—but for good measure.

For five years as I was writing and researching my last case, I wrote constantly and kept you informed and included in what I was learning–even as I was learning it.

This next novel, LORDS OF THE HARVEST will do much the same and will provide you with every nuance and detail and much, much more. But there is a difference with this case…a huge difference. Charlie Covington was 1 victim and even though I found another 3 or 4 to complement his murder—it was well below the masses involved in this epic venture.

Masses, you might ask? Yes.

My job with Charlie’s case was to learn on the job-cut my teeth and polish up the rough edges of an investigative process which has now become uniquely my own. The tenure of that case was to teach me patience…real patience. The kind of patience that says we will give you the clue today and you will figure out its meaning, but it may take months- even years to discern. That’s the kind of patience that solves mysteries my dear readers– not perpetuates them.

You want to understand the impetus behind the murder of Mary Sue Ogletree…the undeclared 8th victim of the Stocking Strangler? To do so, you must then understand why Kathleen Woodruff was murdered…why Ferne Jackson and Janet Cofer were murdered. And what about poor Florence Scheible? This and much more will be gifted you…but patience…patience.

In order to understand why she was murdered we must go back even further than 1980…or 1978….or even 1977. We must go all the way back to 1945 and a derailed train in Chicago that led me to a monogram on a handkerchief, tucked in the corner of an apartment building basement.


You should be, because it is a fascinating and twisted series of segues that connects your Columbus kills to a barrel full of burning documents….men dancing naked in the moonlight…purple capes and chloroformed children being moved throughout sewer tunnels to places you visit, but never stay. Local games of cops and robbers who share not only their secrets, but their spit and seeds as well.

This case may have begun with 8 elderly tortured and murdered women in Columbus, Georgia, but it has metastasized well beyond its bucolic borders to a national series of unsolved murders, which have now a simple corded rope that binds these victims to inhumanities committed by not 1 man…but several.

How is this possible you say, when the man they sent to prison for these crimes sits on Death Row waiting to die? Because just like ‘dead men who tell no tales’—dead women tell no lies and they have much to say on this matter.

I know that some of you have been ever so patient; gnawing at your nails and beating your chests behind closed doors, begging me to hurry…demanding that I rush to get your section of the story publicized, so that you can see all the intricate details and lies that have befallen your little burg …but there are other cases in other burgs and victims as well. They too demand and deserve the same rights as yours, for your cases are not isolated incidents. It is within those cases that some final details must be worked out. It is to those victims and those details that my silence now speaks and must be maintained to affect the most radical of outcomes.

Know this—your patience is appreciated and will be well rewarded.

I ask only that you allow me the time to vet the last remaining information, so as to provide you with every evidentiary tool you will need to demand the justice they all deserve. So that when my pen finally falls silent and the torch then becomes yours to carry… you will not fail!

For yes, when at last I am all but spent in ink and release this to the cyber winds, it will become each of you who will be responsible to follow through and see these truths to fruition. You will be the ones who will recall the clues, remember the lies and attest to what I have found. It will be then, that having nothing left to protect or stall for, all will finally see the truth and bring to light those who have buried your women with the weight of their false and sanctimonious legacies.

Many pillars of the community will fall and you will be asked to pick up the pieces and create from their filth something new and pristine. Though some may say, the men who committed such crimes sit in prison or lay rotting away in the ground beneath you…do not think that a truth in paper is a truth in fact. A papered death is not the same as a real passage, so do not assume safety where there is none.

When you read this book, you will come to understand the innuendo…till then…silence.

Silence be damned. Hurry you say…hurry!

But would you want me to come to the table with having prepared only half a meal? To bait you with a simple tease of dessert and yet not the dessert itself?

The heft of this book—this literary tome of justice and supposition cannot be reduced to outlines to calm your anxieties and satisfy your demand for immediate gratification. It needs to contain what it needs to contain, in order to achieve its goal and its goal is for the victims…not the murderers or the voyeurs who stood by silent and watched as they killed their way through your quaint and superficial history. This book needs to provide you with the details, the evidence and the supportive information you need to make the leaps of faith I made… into the walk of legitimacy and validation it must become.

This is what you, the reader deserves…that is what I, the author deserves for my efforts and for those who have suffered under the weight of a hundred clandestine communications and a handful of Non-Disclosure Agreement contracts that have bound so many of you to my side for the duration of this adventure. Rest assured every legal precaution has been taken, every word already saved and legally documented by those who have as much desire to share as I.

Think my dear readers…

What do you suppose lies between its covers? What truths will come clean as lies…what lies will come through as truths? How many souls will be saved…and how many more, condemned by their own deeds? Who will be placed upon the altar of your justice system and who will you find out, have already been placed upon another altar, still hidden amongst your beautiful boulevards?

The killers know and now you will too.

Nothing is being held back, so be clear about why you want to read this book. If it is for artificial titillation…then walk away now. If it is for the truth and the integrity of victims everywhere–then read on, but be warned. It may show you people in another light; as someone either more or less than what you thought before–but that is for you to judge.

Because I can never know everyone who will come to read it and do not live among you, I can tell you what I have learned—show you what I have found and pray you finish the job of identifying other victims. But be forewarned; you then will have to live with the knowledge of what has been unearthed. For just as I…once you turn the page…you cannot un-see something you have seen…un-hear something you have heard or un-know something you now will never be able to forget!

Those of you who have read my prior novel, “THE THIN GRAY LINE; A TRUE CRIME INVESTIGATIVE MEMOIR” and understand my process, already know that information from spirit cannot be rushed. If you have not read it, order it from Amazon now. Understanding how I do what I do is just as important and what it is I find. The two go hand in hand and cannot be separated.

In the very beginning of this next book, you are cautioned to use your intellect. Do not assume that you can skip from this page to that or this chapter to another and be able to piece it all together. It must be consumed in the same fashion that it was disgorged to me…one clue and one murder at a time. In the end, you will thank me for the diligence and dedication to detail and deconstruction.

Above all…trust my process.

Unorthodox as it may be and as many times as my faith is challenged by its unwavering demands for adherence, it produces results. This book, while consumed with murderous deeds and despicable acts of inhumanity…teaches that the veil of death can be pierced by the true of heart. That our loved ones, even though they have passed– have much to share with us. Just as spirit and the angels live and breathe in the air about me, so too do they live and breathe in the air about you. Blessed as we are to be amongst those still walking the earth–we each have a duty to help one another heal and move forward from our personal and collective tragedies to transformations of our souls.

UNDERSTAND…every piece of the puzzle is being provided for you in this book. Take your time as you turn its pages. Let it speak to you about the victims and how they passed. Help them move from where they are, to where they are meant to be and remain ever grateful for the joys you share in every day here on this side of the veil.

LORDS OF THE HARVEST will draw you in and undoubtedly leave you a very different person. From page to page, victim to victim…their pain will become your own, but their eternal triumph over evil…everyone’s.

Sometimes it take decades before we are ready to recognize what it is that truth needs us to see…

Are you ready?

Prepare yourself…




Coming to Amazon soon…

Shhhhh! Someone may be listening!

July 17, 2016


I know you are all waiting for the next book, “LORDS OF THE HARVEST” to be released– as am I, but it has to be right and it has to do what it is that the universe is asking of it… to provide information that leads to justice.

Already the book has gone through several incarnations, as more and more information and victims have come through. Each clue carefully considered and followed until its designated end.  This is important that you understand nothing has been rushed–nothing taken or entered into lightly.

Emotions have been weighed. Is what this book portends to wreak, worth the efforts and consequences that will befall those of us who have risked so much to create it? Will we wish we had turned and walked away? Will we be pleased at what we have gathered…ciphered…culminated and corrected?

Can we forgive those who have wronged us with clear enough heart to tip the scales of Karma?

The information continues to be vetted for accuracy and the writing for efficiency of verbiage. It is not a small tome and with so many alterations to include additional facts and suppositions, it has grown to be a rather heady manuscript. That being said, it will require you to use your intellect in arenas somewhat foreign to most. Do not despair. Whatever lies within its covers is there to help you build the appropriate educational bridges necessary to appreciate the intricate manipulations these killers have carefully engendered to achieve their collective goal.

To be certain…it is not about superficial titillation or gore mongering, though you will be sure to find enough for those who surf for such. It is about a graphic series of serial murders that have followed a common thread…executed by a specific brand of killer(s). This, if done properly, should bring potential closure to hundreds of people all across this nation and across several decades.

Timing is however, paramount. Nothing worthy is easy…nothing critical insignificant.

For now, I wait for a sign that the timing is right.

Remember; ‘Silence is not only golden…sometimes it’s necessary!


Someone may be listening!

Trust the process…

March 29, 2016


Before we begin…thank you for your patience.

I have not gratuitously delayed the maintenance of this blog. Rather, I have been bound and gagged by the duties of due diligence and that my dear readers, comes with absolute consumption in the task at hand. Trust that I have not abandoned my post for simple frivolities or left you without communications because it was my desire to do so…but rather a need to do so for sanctity’s sake.

The book continues to go through the necessary steps of legal monitoring and that is to the credit of talented attorneys and other literary counsel, who understand the gravity of the tale and the expanse of its information. To them, I am grateful.

As for the rest of life, I am finally released of scholarly pursuits, health contingencies and deadlines and can commit fully to both life and the literary exercise with the joy of playful abandonment. So much of my life has been restricted to the rigors of this case, the demands of exacting sources and procuring and deliberating spiritual directives for the last several years, that I joy in finally seeing the natural end of things and the message that I can gather my strength for the approaching next moment…

But for now? For now, I shall tend to my literary garden, prune the lengthy lexicons, dot the i’s and cross the last few t’s and then look away from what has been, to what will be. This journey…this incredibly fantastical and mind-numbing progressive revelation of histrionic activities has been the most spherically engaging journey of my life.

Everything… and I mean everything in my life has collectively prepared me for this project and with each page written and committed to history, I can see how spirit has woven the threads of each individual I have met, each interest cultivated and every detour taken into the most amazing tapestry of experiences from which I have been asked to pull, to divine answers and connect the dots.

For those who wait with bated breath on the book’s release…LORDS OF THE HARVEST …trust that your patience will be well worth its frustration. Just as I, rest assured that you could never have anticipated where this adventure will ultimately lead you. There are lessons for all in this epic tome…lessons of history, of desire, debauchery, delusion and delayed justice.

Though spirit continues to edify with clues and calamities alike, I stand poised on the precipice of one of the world’s most intriguing tales and too share in the frustrations of the delay, but trust that delay in this instance has been the universe’s great good gift to me. No delay or momentary departure has been without merit or foundation and both it’s necessity and boon has been absolute. For the gift of detour, I cannot thank spirit enough. For the gift of faith in my abilities and associations, I am grateful as well.

They say that timing is everything and so I bow to a greater power and calibration than my own.

I am a number 7…a seeker of the unknown and this path was chosen for me in another life. The book will explain all, tell all and I eagerly wait for its path to publication. The universe is now setting the table, shifting the sands in the hourglass…setting the scene and cuing the curtain.

Trust in the process…trust in the timing.

Things are coming together sooner than you think!

Long time coming…

December 5, 2015


Dear Readers,

I know it has been a long time coming–these many words you think have been forgotten or left behind somewhere I could not take you and in fact…that is exactly the truth. Where I have been, I have not been able to bring you along… but I know you will forgive me.


Because shortly my next book will come out and then, my dear readers, you will understand why I have been silent–why I could not share with you all that has transpired. Know this; I have never needed to keep so much, so far from your eyes before, but this has been necessary in order to vet the information and reach the conclusions that have been made.

The case in Columbus indeed metastasized beyond the borders of your quaint town and it was necessary to follow where evidence willed. These last few months…nay, years…have been spent in the pursuit of justice for those unable to do so for themselves and true to spirit, my efforts as well as those of many others have not been in vain.

The epic novel, “Lords of the Harvest” is in its final stages and awaiting clearance for publication. It was no small feat…it is no small tale…and the heft between its cover will alert you to the tremendous amount of research and effort undertaken by all who played a part.

I caution you dear readers… pace yourself and pay attention. Truth is not only stranger than fiction, it can be terrifying and so you must pay attention to every nuance and clue presented.

This my dears, is not to be a bathroom novel meant for the in-between moments of your life, or the quick read you grab for the short drive or the puddle-jump air flight. This is an epic and intimate look at a nation’s history of a bizarre patchwork of homicidal selections and the incremental loss  of those who were taken from you: your wives, your mothers, your sisters, your brothers, your fathers, your sons, your neighbors, friends and fellow citizens.

This book needs no one to brag about its content. It will not seek to convert you or change your assessment of the universe or the towns you live in…it seeks only to inform and to prompt the questions the evidence will demand be asked of your officials.

There are some of you out there who are aware of the efforts made on certain individuals behalves and yet, ironically…some of those individuals have yet to learn of this momentous project’s existence. They for whom such endeavors have been made, will without public fanfare be notified of its results before this book goes to print. It is their privilege…it is their right, that they be allowed the privacy of their thoughts and the digestion of these suppositions before the world steps in to make of them what they will.

As author, I thank you for your continued support and loyalty and promise that you will not be found wanting when at last you crack the cover of its girth. Again, this is not a small undertaking and so do not be initially discouraged at the breath of its expanse. Rather, understand that there was no other way for this to be written and shared, so that you might understand everything that I have now come to understand.

If you have not read the previous TRUE CRIME MEMOIR by T.A. Powell; The Thin Gray Line, you might want to, so that the story and characters remain congruent for you. From one murder to many…the contents of, “LORDS OF THE HARVEST” will amaze you!

Stay tuned…

For those who have wrestled…

September 13, 2015


I cannot believe it has been so many days between writing and yet the blur of  academics and production schedules have been so all consuming, little else has been accomplished in between.

Yesterday I took a break after a heavy morning of academics and went outside into the world and played in the earth–putting in new plants and mowing the yard. After a heady week of pressures, it was good to exercise muscles unbearably knotted with stress and breathe in the afternoon air without expectations, deadlines or obligations. This morning, with hot coffee infused with pumpkin spice and necessary caffeine…my husband and I dressed in light jackets and flannel shirts…enjoyed the colorful plantings outside our cottage and took to the water. As the sun began to kiss the treetops, we ventured into the very unexpected cold autumn air to the marina for breakfast. Is the food there that great? No…not really. But the hot coffee and the ride over, on top of the sun splattered shoreline was spectacular. That and the ritual of early LL Bean mornings with my husband, sets the world right for me each Sunday morning and brings back to a sense of wonderment and gratitude for the gifts Source has already shared with me.

With eagle on the wing above us, it never ceases to amaze me that in spite of every trial we have been thrown…our lives are still the stuff of small dreams. I live on a lake…my chariot, our boat…our house is not too big, but not too small…the view from its deck is as grand as my aspirations and as private as my faith…and the joy it all brings me, makes what I do so very possible. My husband and this life–gift me with the power and support to follow my divine purpose.

As for the case(s)…

The book is still being vetted and the suspense is like having thrown all your cards up into the air…only to be suspended in the wait of their fall.

In truth, I am both eager and afraid of the enormous impact this may have on our lives…but overjoyed that the universe has brought such an adventure our way. Those who have been a part of this journey will joy in its release and be shocked at what has transpired even beyond their contributions and I can hardly wait  to share it with them.

For those who have wrestled with their input or scattered it elsewhere out of  impatience of fear, they will come to understand that the process for me could have not been altered or abridged–lest certain things would have been missed and/or forgotten. The divine orchestrates what needs to be done at the very moment of its necessity and even though it presents as struggle sometimes…I have learned not to question timing, but to embrace it.

As stated, the cards are in the air…where they will land is up to God and I eagerly await his decision!

The unscheduled sabbatical…

August 23, 2015


The unscheduled sabbatical…

Not only is it a good thing to get away sometimes, but in doing so the last two days  I have received exactly what I would have worked towards if I had not, without the stress or angst of such important benchmarks.

After a full week of hectic production schedules and academic pressures, I decided to take an unscheduled sabbatical (which I have decided will become a title of perhaps another book to be written soon…) and unplug from the routine of my life, in order to enjoy my life more.

On Friday afternoon my husband called asked me for a date. Tired, but eager to share some time apart from work or studies, or the topic of murder…I accepted and began the hour and 15 minute drive home.

In the ride of enjoyment, the slick and dampened streets of the city eventually gave way to the asphalted bumpy roadways of my personal sanctuary and I pulled into my driveway and parked… but only for a moment. My husband, anxious to be about the adventure, waved from the deck enthusiastically– acknowledging my arrival and without further delay, rounded up the animals and locked up the house.

With the windshield wipers confused about their intermittent duties, I watched through the speckled windshield as the ripples on the lake made their way between shorelines…gently rolling in their exhaustion. Feeling much the same, I waited patiently as my husband made his way across the patchwork lawn and crawled in beside me.  Curious about our destination I piqued an eyebrow, but he only smiled and quipped,  “Let’s try something new.”

With a quick hello and a brief pause in our weekend momentum to set the navigation system, I smiled as he tapped his way to a foreign address. Eager for a new adventure, I followed its guidance  through rain and sunshine down unfamiliar roads and picturesque pastoral settings. Thirty minutes later we arrived at our destination– a restaurant in Locust Grove called, The French Market.

Having met one of the owners on a boat ride the week before, we had been given a modest description of its menu and ambiance–but the owner was decidedly underscored in his narrative. For the weary traveler of the work week, this was not just a nice upscale detour from the common fare… it was Nirvana. Tucked within the quaint historic bricked walls of a renewed old main street diorama, it stood as beacon to relaxation and casual sophistication.

Now, I am not a restaurant critic and the purpose of this blog is not to grant you  travel log gratuities, but my dear readers…it was so what was needed at the right moment.

The decor was elevated with a European twist; sophisticated but grounded in its intent and service. The food– a rarity of eclectic flavors blended together with just the right level of spice and richness was as inspiring in its consumption, as it was in its presentation. Between the symbiotic contentment of the background music and the chilled wine, my shoulders eased and the week’s weight sloughed to the the floor. Hidden within the confines of a quiet corner, we discovered the view of a Baby Grand piano pinched in between the folds of a panoramic picture window. Under the creative lighting, I enjoyed my husband’s contagious smile and the eclectic banter of neighboring tables.

Most times we enjoy the native experience of where we live, but occasionally it is good to heighten the senses…travel new roads…break away from our regular routines and throw caution to the wind. I cannot tell you how much the simple experience of excellent food, good wine and carefully crafted ambiance can gift the soul. The adventure was just what I required and I thank the owners for their careful attention to each authentic detail of our engagement.

Now, I cannot lie…

As comfortable as I may have eventually become, murder did eventually share the table with us, in that my mind is never far from the cases it must solve. That being said,  as compliment to dinner when traveling through the general store attached–I found just the perfect item on sale.

Not functional, it was a simple piece of gratuitous decor: a rusted old fashioned lock, with an equally old fashioned rusted key stuck inside it. Now why would such an innocuous article of common design be so incredibly significant to this investigative author?

You cannot possibly know this, but I had just that week approved the final cover art design for my book; THE LORDS OF THE HARVEST.  And what does the exterior of this epic tome cover brandish? A similar likeness of an old fashioned lock with a key entering it…signifying the miraculous discovery of a key signature element of the killer(s) Modus Operandi (MO) who terrorized multiple populations over multiple decades in all four corners of these United States. This one particular signature element is the key that will unlock the mysteries behind the deaths of hundreds of victims, define their collective accountability and bring closure to hundreds of victims’ families.


I should most definitely think so, for when and where was the last time you found yourself confronted with the very thing in an unrelated arena that matched so intimately that of your current and hidden thoughts? Encouraged…I walked about to see what other treasures could be garnered. A personal favorite was a small wooden plaque which simply read: “Survivor of Shit Creek”; a place I have known all too well.

Next, I found a bracelet that held a silver ingot that held the word FAITH on one side and GRACE on the other. Taking this as an omen from spirit, I purchased both along with a cameo bracelet and in tandem with my satiated appetite for culinary pleasure and spiritual inspiration…walked out the doors of, The French Market of Locust Grove, filled with a renewed sense of my divine mission and my dedication to living in the present.

Continuing my sabbatical, I left my laptop alone for another 24 hours  and enjoyed the gifts of sky, water, sunshine, rain and family. The rewards? A chance to appreciate what I already have…what I already know, rediscover who I already love and what has been shared between us. At then end of a wonderful day of non-committal nonsense, I received a phone from a dear friend–filled with information that will further support the suppositions and structured findings within my book.

The products of, “Faith and Grace”.

Grateful for the chance to elongate the umbilical cord between my laptop and myself further…I found a wonderful space in between to remember that there is more to life than work and study. To remember that there is beauty…joy…taste…color…culture and contentment.

Too often we bury ourselves under personally constructed bull-works that bind us to overwhelming obligations and unnecessary deadlines. I am the worst for such- juggling both theatre productions and the needs of the dead.  In this unscheduled sabbatical, I have found the gift of renewed strength to continue with my divine purpose.

Thank you to, The French Market of Locust Grove, for reminding me that life is a gift itself and if you are really lucky…some days you are able to find all of the above in one sophisticated little splotch of bucolic bliss!

You see, my allegiance is not to the living…but rather to the dead.

August 11, 2015

8/11/2015 I would apologize for the distance and yet, because it has allowed me to focus on my investigations and this book–I not only cannot–I will not. When you read it, you will understand and not begrudge the silences. This book, which began with the Columbus Stocking Strangler has taken more twists and turns than the ones in the California hills they always show on fancy car commercials on television. So while I regret the lack of pure writing for writings sake, I understand that this go around it was better to apply my craft to the task at hand and keep the therapeutic bantering for later. That being said, I stand at the precipice of one of the most exciting adventures of my life and though my greatest desire is to share it all, right here…right now…my greatest caution is that it must be vetted and governed by edified counsel before it goes public–thus the delay. Take care to understand though, it will be worth the wait and I do not promise what I cannot deliver. In the interim, I have noted that vibrant green and supple leaves that once held high stations in lofty trees have suddenly begun to turn their yellowing cheeks to the wind…gracing the wet and damp earth beneath my feet. When did summer begin to slip away? Even the waters outside my window  have lowered their temperature a degree or two and the wind, while still warm…has decidedly turned its attention towards the approach of a new season and away from Saturday’s sun burns and Sunday’s golden sunsets. Something new is in the air. Something new that begins to tell me that so much of what was, will no longer apply–not just seasonally,but for all time. Things and thoughts are slipping away with each ebb of the tide and as I stand at the shore, I am no longer prompted to retrieve them. What was once ballast to keep my life on an even keel, now appears as only unnecessary weight. Sails raised, they have served their purpose and no longer necessary to move forward, are tossed overboard. So this is what is called the harvest cycle? This long walk away from the pinnacle that was your glorified youth? Tenured and tested, I feign less and boldly walk towards more without regrets. Like the leaves that have begun to put on another face, so too have I begun to change myself in small increments as well. A wrinkle here, a wrinkle there…a word…a look…a thought… a deed…a decision…anything and everything is now on the table and up for renegotiation. But that is one of the benefits of getting older. We care more about what we are leaving behind, than what has been granted to get us to where we are. This book, this information, this time in my life has been so carefully orchestrated by forces unseen that I must honor what has been gifted and with that gift comes great responsibility. That is the reason for my exaggerated absence…the reason why you must be patient…why everything must be validated and confirmed. People’s lives will be changed, not just for entertainment’s sake…but for history’s sake and I bear that in mind with each page printed. For those of you still hoping for resolution in Charley’s case…patience. Things are being shared…people canvassing the streets and the file cabinets of the past and when ready…will announce their confirmation of my findings. Then perhaps Valdosta, you can change this man’s DEATH CERTIFICATE from suicide to homicide. Find a way, before others go public with new information. You see, my allegiance is not to the living…but rather to the dead.

I cannot even remember a time…

June 25, 2015

6/24/2015 I almost feel as though I should apologize… I cannot even remember a time I went this long without posting and yet, the whirlwind of life has kept things so incredibly busy and almost chaotic that to apologize, while probably appropriate, would be insane. I have hardly stopped for a moment to catch my breath in the last month and I expect that the next will bring more of the same. Silence is not only golden, it is sometimes necessary and even though you have heard this from me before, it has never wrung so true. There are times that we must do the responsible thing…be the responsible one in the room and sometimes being that responsible means we have to stay still…keep quiet and listen…take advantage of what the universe is trying to tell you. This is one of those times. In the days and weeks to come you will come to understand that these are the kind of days that we will look back on and remember the quiet before the storm, for we cannot predict which ways the wind will blow once the clouds have begun to gather. Many people have worked hard and long on this project…many people have waited even longer for results and it is hard to stand tall when the tides of change roll in, not knowing what the undertow will bring with it. Each day I watch the waves break upon my beach; some days it brings me tiny treasures and some days pure unadulterated trash—other people’s trash. And each day I must sift through the pile and rubble and decide what goes where and how to dispose of it. Murder is a lot like that. You never know what the tides of information will bring, still you sift through the evidence of a case and you decide where to put it… you keep what can be used, you dismiss what remains trash. Police files often hold both. The trick is to divine what is treasure and then follow to where it leads. In the days to come you will question why this writer sits silent? Where have I gone? What am I thinking and why am I not sharing that with you? In the days to come, I promise…when the time is right, I will answer those questions and more. It may take 683 pages to do it…but I promise it will be an unforgettable ride! Stay tuned…


May 13, 2015


Today I learned that a group of Wombats are called a “Wisdom”.

Wisdom was also called Sophia…a nick name for such is Sophie.

Now what do Wombats and Sophie have to do with today? You will soon see.

Today is also the 13th…a significant number and a significant date…may the Wombats be with you!

Birthday presents…

May 5, 2015


Birthdays always bring such wonderful presents and this year was no different…well, maybe a little different.

A little different, because this year my present from the universe arrived a few hours earlier than expected and brought with it, a new opportunity and the chance to plug a few holes!

Thank you…

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