You can run, but you can no longer hide…

10/14/10

It is important that I be clear about what I am about to say, so that you know that this is not for hype or for sensationalism. This is for the sheer purpose of venting my fears and my posture about this case. In the past year and a half, but more intensely these past 10 months since contact with Charley was first made, the unfolding of this case has been both gradual and haunting. With each step I have been awed at the capacity equally for a man’s compassion and regret and for brutal cruelty by others who must ultimately carry the mantle of guilt over his death. No longer as a curiosity or a vehicle by which I might catapult my own literary career… this case has become a very personal matter of consequence to me. In investigative reporting that normally would be considered the worst thing that could happen- because then the reporter becomes the story and not the story itself. But I feel confident that Charley meant for this to become personal. That he calls upon me to become fully vested so as to drain every amount of hesitation or fear of self effacement from my stance and propel me in my focused approach.

To date I believe I have discovered the identity of his shooter and the evidence necessary to prove my findings. With help I have learned the identity of Rox and of her possible resting place. Now comes another name… and the tools perhaps by which she may have become another victim and my heart is pained at the depth of depravity of those both dead and alive that were involved.

From the inception, I have often pondered over the high stakes of this case. What constitutes the necessity for murder? Of course in the mind of the debauched and depraved, there comes a myriad of motives and yet…what constitutes the necessity for such a broad umbrella of lies that they must be promulgated, supported and maintained over a span of decades by handfuls of people? Further still, why such a task of discovery would fall to me?

As I touched on the other day, we are brought to our destiny sometimes kicking and screaming and sometimes with the calm of a newborn lamb ignorant of the process of social slaughter. This case- this journey has been fraught with both personal and professional blessings and curses. It has provided distractions when distractions were beyond necessary. It has provided a broader understanding of the ethereal and the corporeal and in doing so; it has grown me in capacities I could have never anticipated. I have a new path in life- a new passion with which to feed my soul and my gratitude for such is boundless. I have purpose and to those who seek and flounder in shallow waters searching for same- you know the comfort and the confusion of finding your designated reason for existence rippling about your ankles.

It seems small to some—this bit of chaotic history that has taken over my intellect and my life and yet what more noble deed can I do than to help right a wrong and save from eternal anonymity the souls of those who suffered for another’s demented folly? It cuts me to the very core to think that these girls- for indeed, those just on the cusp of womanhood are little more than overgrown petticoats at play on a playground in which they do not fully understand the rules of the game- became the pawns in this pathetic game. I have girls and so my heart bleeds with empathy. I cannot imagine the terror they must have felt at the hands of men who treated them like so much chattel in the wind. As objects of entertainment, to be exploited and then discarded without regard for their right to live long and useful lives, creating and raising daughters of their own.

It is my solemn vow as a once daughter, a mother and as keeper of the promise to Charley that I will keep searching for you. No matter how many… no matter how hard they try to keep your faces hidden… no matter what the personal cost. I will listen, I will follow where you lead in order to give you voice. You will not be forgotten and those who have left you behind will know that one day… one day… they will answer for their crimes against you.

No spouse, nor grandchild—innocent as they may be, will go to their grave remembering these people who murdered other innocents as the good and noble soldiers they have painted themselves to be for the last forty four years. You will go to your graves (Grim and those who helped you) naked, wrapped only with the truth of what you have done. Though it is wrong to wish for another’s demise, I will wish for then for this:

That you live long and haunted lives. That the faces of the men and woman you murdered never fail to invade your slumber. That you come to know the pain and the fear you inflicted on others- and like green kindling upon your deaths, you burn slow and steady in the fires that brought you forth that you might become more intimately acquainted with the measure of Hell you forced upon others. Rest assured your prayers for forgiveness fall to the ground unheeded, as you have shown no remorse for your infractions. No church can harbor you… no sanction protect you… neither cover of lie, nor fostered margin of blame will keep you safe enough from my prying hands.

You can run, but you can no longer hide.

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