Archive for October, 2010

What’s the old boy’s club from Valdosta in 1966, you ask???

October 22, 2010


I am cautioned to tell you more…
So much of what I have been able to unearth thus far in this case has come at the cost of so many hours spent in mental gymnastics to unfurl meaning. Occasionally I go back 6-8 months and read the earlier blogs and marvel. How naïve I was… yet so open, and it has been this openness to information that has brought me this far.

When this case first came to me, I eagerly plunged into the plastic coffins of Hazel’s life and tore my way through every page of her journal trying to find out what she knew to be true, what she suspected to be true and how far she might go to find the truth. I devoured every word, every sentence in her journal, and then moved forward to every document, newspaper article and photo I could get my hands on. I paid strict attention to every detail, every nuance and innuendo…but in the end I must tell you this:
In an awkward sense I have to admire the due diligence and creativity of certain individuals in the crafting of this crime. Think about it…you murder a man because you think he knows too much and you are afraid he may call you out on it. So instead of finding out exactly what he knows… you take him out. And then have to take others out who knew you took him out. Aaaahhhhhh… multiplication was never Grim’s strong suit!
Then after you take a out a few more, well golly… you have to hide all that mess now too! But you have to be careful because really… how many girls just arbitrarily drown in the same year??? Nah… you have to be creative about how they go missing. You know… so people won’t look so hard for them. Oh and hookers??? Hey- they’re the best. Why? Because nobody with any class knows who they are and nobody who “KNOWS” them, talks outside of school!!! It’s a very neat little plan, until…

So let’s think back. Exactly how many months did I wrack my brain going over each letter of the word ostrich? How many hours did I spend in researching ratites? I laugh now, but really… who expects the word ostrich to be the code word for;








 I mean, seriously… who thinks of these things? And the craziest part is… who would ever suspect that some little crime writer would figure this out 44 years after the fact? After all, men generally are not this creative. Of course there was that whole, Little Orphan Annie decoder ring phase that some of them may have gone through- but still… Ostrich? That’s pretty out there!

So far out there in fact, that I imagine it might come as a great surprise to them that I was able to figure that out. And actually, maybe I shouldn’t be boastful, because what if I am wrong?? What if it really stands for;








 I wouldn’t want to guess wrong, right? Snuff tapes might make even more sense, all things considered, but we’ll just stick with my first instinct for now.

And then of course, how could I ever forget about the clue that really drove me crazy for a long time. This one was from Charley!

“…the trail will lead to M O T…”

Now think about it. Do you know how many combinations of those letters there are? Just think of how many things and/or names that M O T could stand for. The countless napkins I inked up deciphering this. Why I must have tried every combination of mafia this and mafia that you could think of. I even added Tampa or Tallahassee to the mix and then took them away again a hundred times. I even thought the O in between stood for the word, “of”. You know like, ‘the mafia of…’ something or ‘the mafia of’…somewhere. Then one day in the rain I was leaving my office and saw a SLOW sign painted yellow in the parking lot, looked at it upside down and bam*%#!*…it hit me like a ton of bricks. Like the O.S.T.R.I.C.H. code I figured out while driving in the car on Hwy 75N out of Valdosta, I suddenly knew it stood for something special and viola! I knew Charley meant it as the code for the “Man On Tape”! Bet Grim thought of that one!!!

Yes sireeeee… the Man on Tape! Boy, that sure had me bamboozeld for a bit! But that’s what it means and that’s exactly what’s at the end of this trail- a man on a tape. In fact, that’s where I found Rox-at the end of that man’s trail! You see, the MOT is a very important character in this story. Remember the message;

“… the crow was trying to scratch out Grim’s eyes. The MOT is tied to Rox and Rox is tied to Grim…”

That’s pretty special. How special you say??? Oh… that’s the interesting part. See the MOT made a tape, telling everything he knew about Rox and the boy’s club! What’s the old boy’s club from Valdosta in 1966, you ask? Why…it’s like the 1966 Mickey Mouse Club- but instead of being a club for children; this club is only for very sophisticated, crooked, debauched and depraved adult males!!! And our young friend Rox was part of the “entertainment package” for the boy’s club- kinda like when Annette Funicello used to dial the big lock and work the lever and suddenly the wooden door would swing open and you saw a cartoon. Well…in this Mickey Mouse Club show, instead of wooden doors, car doors swing open and we see bodies- not cartoons.
Why? ‘Cause in this club, law enforcement didn’t like to watch TV. They liked to play cards, drink booze, watch racy films, smoke cigars and then entertain themselves with young women. Sometimes they liked them a whole lot and sometimes they didn’t. That’s when they would mess up and accidentally kill one or two of them. It’s a funny kind of initiation rite that apparently only law enforcement seems to get, because personally I find it vile and revolting… but you know me! Ha ha ha ha…I just have a less morbid sense of humor- my bad!

See, that’s why the O.S.T.R.I.C.H. code thing is so catchy! Sex tapes… snuff tapes. To-ma-toe, to-mot-to…po-ta-toe, po-tot-o??? Semantics, right? It’s so hard to choose! Hey I know… why don’t I ask Jessica???

Hey, Jess…were they sex tapes or snuff tapes??? Hmmmmm…….

The brotherhood-the boy’s club…

October 21, 2010

I know who the four in flannel are now!
The man with the rubber boots
The shooter
The man they no longer remember

The brotherhood- the boy’s club!

October 21, 2010


They never give me information which I cannot use and they often bunch information around a single purpose.

“It feels like Rox was killed before Charley. It also feels like Charley did not fully understand the contents of the tape, meaning he would not fully understand who he would be implicating… the palm tree plate has a more specific meaning… Don’t go digging for the letter, let it play out…”

I was once asked if I received a letter from a woman from Tallahassee? Then most recently there was an impression of a letter inside an envelope- the hand writing- red lipstick and dark hair and the address of 1711 Turn- bridge or Turn-ridge something… to a Mr. Ronald C- something.

I finally received a return call from the woman with the injured foot- there was more information there.

Confirmation of the location of “the fort”.
Who lives near Rox’s resting place… who knows who… who knows nothing and who lies. Tid bits of information about the next girl.

“Jessica… waitress/barmaid… medium build… pretty… light brown hair… American Legion Club… Williams Street…Ashley Street…Hill Ave. … large parking lot in the back…”

This came hand in hand with the shovel, the compass and the number 7 which has ties to a grave plot. The date of December 17th- I do not know if it is in reference to 1966 or 2010.

“In going over my files, there was a session when you talked about______________. You mentioned a newspaper- that she was forced to go along with the story against her will. Then there is the mention of him… in his boots- rubber boots- he is angry that his wife has told Hazel about G- that he belongs to the boys club- it is about fraternal protection…”

The four in flannel:
The Mot
The man with the rubber boots
The man with the black dog

And why on the MOT’s death certificate does it read; “Ro”-something (cannot read the handwriting) followed by the word “Quarantinable” under cause of death? What happened to recording the cardiac arrest… or bruising showing his being beaten? Hmmmmmmm… I shall consult a medical official and find out why such a listing would be made and try to contact any family members still alive.

Until later then…

What I don’t know yet, Grim…

October 20, 2010


Before the rain makes its exit and the street lamps surrender to the day I wanted to make a connection and review some of the older notes of this case. Having been tutored in the shorthand of the dead now for 10 months through this case, I am beginning to radically discover more information embedded within each message.

I still struggle with a few, but know that the deficiency is mine- not R’s. They do not give erroneous information for the sake of detour. The clues quite simply are currently beyond my scope of discovery without further segue. But I continue to try and make headway in murky waters.

“…They continue to talk about the broken chandelier- the pieces that continue to fall off it- they are somehow tied to the girl- be aware. Possibly the same woman holding onto these pieces- she too is tied to the girl…”

“… There is a female who has injured her foot… talk to the woman with the bad foot- she has much to say- feels tied to Valdosta…”

“…She feels like she is being intimidated- he is laying into her- they lived close- same block or same street- close. He is yelling at her- she is cringing- he is wearing boots- she does not want to lie- wants no part of it- he is screaming- she is Hazel’s friend- he insists- they must protect the brotherhood…the boots are muddy… muddy…”

When given the call number of a specific law enforcement agent, the response was this:

“…Lakes… several lakes surrounding this number and… disco lights… NO- not disco… Swirling lights- police lights… swirling… swirling… he is there- at the lakes. He is there.. . she is there…”

I know who you are… and I know why you were there.
What I don’t know yet, Grim… is how many girls… how many times?

Think my friends…

October 19, 2010


The more I begin to plug in all the holes of this case, the more I return to Hazel’s journal with fresh eyes. There is so much information contained in those pages if one is able to get beyond the protective veil of motherhood. Very careful to couch what could be harmful to young eyes, she was equally as transparent with other details necessary for me to follow. It is almost as though she knew that someday someone with different eyes would understand the shorthand of her intentions. She knew he was murdered and yet she knew nothing of the debauchery of why he was murdered and I cannot think that it may have been a blessing in disguise.

I have a huge project to do for a professor in Psychology and for my subject matter I have chosen the movie, The Vanishing. And it wasn’t until just now that I realized why it affected me so much while watching it. First let me explain the premise of the film.

A man decided to conduct a personal experiment based on an incident in his youth. Curious about his own thought process; he crawled to the outer ledge of the upper balcony of his home and stood there debating if he should jump to the ground below. He kept waiting for some internal safety –mechanism to kick into gear and stop him from doing such a risky stunt. When it did not materialize- he jumped, breaking his arm.

Decades later on a vacation, his daughter spotted a child drowning in a pool beneath their hotel balcony. Without hesitation, he jumped from the two story hotel balcony to save her- crediting his experiment at the age of 15 for his ability to jump without hesitation. His daughter and wife branded him a hero for his courageous behavior. In his mind he had attained the highest reward of his wife and daughter’s admiration. Seeing this as the pinnacle of goodness- saving a life, he then wondered if he was equally capable of the opposite end of the spectrum- the pinnacle of absolute evil-taking a life.

After experimenting with chloroform and testing different approaches of abduction, he decides that his best approach would be by appearing weak and not strong. Mimicking his adolescent injury, he approached a would-be victim as a man with a broken arm seeking assistance. He baits a woman at a local gas station, asking for her help with the glove compartment in his car. After a few moments she becomes suspicious and bolts. When this attempt proves unsuccessful, he goes into the gas station restroom to vomit and reassess his technique. Throwing the fake cast and sling into a garbage can, he vows to derive another more successful approach. Before leaving the station, he stops to buy a cup of coffee for the ride home. While he considers what to do next, he notices a young woman nearby having trouble with a vending machine.
The woman, whose boyfriend is waiting outside in the parking lot for her to use the restroom and get a drink, is trying to get a vending machine to take her crumpled five dollar bill. After the machine spits it back three times, she innocently asks if he has change for a five. He makes the change and as he is counting out the singles, she notices and admires a piece of jewelry on his wrist. She asks where she could buy one; he lies and tells her he is a jewelry salesman and can sell her a sample piece from his car. She follows and becomes suspicious; but seeing a photo of him, his wife and child on vacation together glued to the dashboard, assumes he is an honest family man and lets down her guard.

Minutes later with chloroform in hand he abducts her. Her boyfriend is left in the parking waiting, then begins searching frantically when she does not reappear. The perpetrator spends the next three years watching as her fiancé desperate for information about her, spends his life’s savings on placing ads in newspapers and plastering pictures of her everywhere begging any and everyone to help him find out what happened to her. When the fiancé finally meets another girl and tries to move on; the perpetrator enters the second phase of his experiment. He goes to the young man, produces a personal belonging of the girl and tells him he will tell him everything that happened to his girlfriend… if he will agree to go through everything she did in order to know the truth.

The question there was, would the boy’s obsession to know what had happened to the girl he loved greater than his sense of self preservation? In the end- the young man agreed to the proposal, leaving behind his new relationship- following the same path of abduction and torture in order to know the truth of what had happened to her. Of course there was much more to the film, but I will not spoil it for you.

The end result of the experiment was twofold:

Yes- the man was as capable of absolute evil as he had been of absolute good and the young man’s obsession to know the truth of what had happened, superseded his sense of self –preservation.

I think often of Hazel and how tortured her remaining life must have been. The endless nights spent trading her soul with the devil, pleading to know the truth about what had happened to Charley. Her depression and frustration over never knowing the truth. Never knowing where her marriage might have gone. Never knowing the truth about why he had had not come home… never knowing who he saw in between the time he left her and the two days after when they finally allowed her to view his clothed body in the morgue. Never knowing if G had really placed two wedding rings in his casket… never knowing who was telling her the truth and who was on the take. Suffering insult after injury, home invasions and death threats…and the constant fear that those that killed Charley would come after her and her children if she did not stop asking questions.

Did Hazel’s obsession to know the truth about Charley’s death ever supersede her sense of self preservation or that of her children? According to a story once told J, the possibility loomed. Once on a winter’s night after bundling two small children in heavy coats, the family car careened down a curvy mountain road, late at an alarming rate of speed…. the option to end it all had tempted. But because she chose not to end things that way, it is as much for Hazel that this case be solved as it is for Charley, Rox, the MOT and now possibly another young girl named Jessica.

Like the transcript from R’s first reading with Charley, the journal becomes more revealing the more you know. The cast of characters she concentrated on are more peripheral in the sense that they were obviously part of the cover-up, but perhaps not as intimate with the murders leading up to and after Charley. Their attempt to feign ignorance of it all however flogs me, which is why I see their potential for guilt as greater than Hazel could ever have imagined. No one is that stupid- that greedy perhaps… but not that stupid. Their silence was bought and paid for some deceased and by some now reading these blogs by moonlight. Those few men waking each night now in a cold sweat, changing their pee stained sheets out of fear that they will finally be fingered for their crimes.

In one portion of her journal, Hazel refers to “the other thing that Charley was working on”. She says this in relation to that fateful night. When I go over the events that happened to her after, it only adds fuel to my fire to look more closely at these men. Men like Charley’s partner who we now know lived in the same apartment complex at the young female energy known as Rox. There was the matter of a $10,000.00 advance that was never returned by this man that now begs more questions than answers. Where did this money go to… or to whom and why did his superiors not demand its return? How was all this explained away and why was he suddenly transferred out of state after Charley’s murder?

If Charley was murdered because he knew too much and indeed it has been said that three or four people came to the plate, so to speak and offered to “take him out” as he was presenting a problem… think my dear friends… what constitutes such dire consequences? Each story, regardless of truth or fiction has what we writers call the high conflict; the pivotal moment when the protagonist overcomes some great obstacle or barrier to becoming the hero again and reaching his destined goal. So let us ask the bigger question.

What was Charley’s high conflict?

Was it the alleged affair with G? Is this what he was murdered for? Because G had several men on her pate at the time beyond Charley. All law enforcement men, including the energy known as LT. I now know who that is, but at the time some of the clues did not make sense to me. I misinterpreted them. Think my friends… go back to the beginning. Re-read the first session with R. The energy known as LT was described as the socio-economically older gentlemen who G was ‘double-dipping’ with. In that same session, R described an object related to that entity that was like a judge’s gavel, but not to say it was a judge’s gavel. Well, guess what? It was a judge’s gavel she described and to think it only took another 5 months to find that out through the innocuous ramblings of another man who thought he had little to share. See this is what I love about this process.
As they say in theatre… there are no small parts, only small actors. It is the same for this process… there are no small clues… only clues whose significance is yet to be gleaned.

Until later then…

Patience… patience…

October 18, 2010


Today marks day 45. For those of you in the know… you know what that means. For those of you outside the circle…
Patience… patience… and all will be revealed in time!

They should have been looking at her throat….

October 17, 2010

Whoever had the medium sized black dog was at both murders… Charley’s and Rox’s. Did he belong to the shooter or to the two other law enforcement individuals who were always present? The one whose sleeve is covered with the blood of Charley. The one whose finger swipes across his forehead cannot be denied. The one who draws the car on the shoulder and not in the road…

The “fort” was an old restaurant at the corner of Patterson and Ashley- right near the Ashley Daniel Hotel were the MOT’s body was found after he had been intimidated and died. His death certificate said something about “quarantined”; but could this be because a cardiac arrest doesn’t usually come with signs of being beaten all to Hades?

The letter was written by a female with red fingernails- red fingernails gouging in the backsides of men during intercourse. Red fingernails on the hands that took the coffee grounds and strew them all over the kitchen the week after Charley was buried. Woman’s hand that took Charley’s house keys from his key ring- from inside the house. The red fingernails belong to G.

Rox- the young girl who was used for “entertainment” by certain law enforcement agencies- she was intimate with 3 of the 4 who murdered her that night. It was autumn- you could see the breath escaping through her thin lips as she lay there on the ground being beaten. They say she drowned, yet there was no water in her lungs… but they should have been looking at her throat.

The one who kicks and beats wears camouflage. He likes his boots and swears to protect the brotherhood. Beware the man who bears a tattoo of a dragon on his arm. Is this the POW of months ago I could not trace? This is the man whose association with the woman whose name begins with a B is well known. He likes seafood…

There is much already known and much to learn yet, but I am fast approaching the tipping point where the scales of justice will soon find their momentum to pursue.

Learn the shorthand of the dead, Jessica…

October 16, 2010

Forced to return to those clues which remain unvested, I try to piece the strangling threads together in a plausible way.

Clues like these:

1177 Turn…something- an envelope with a letter inside to this address and the name on the front of the envelope reads Mr. Ronald C… something. The hand writing it has bright red finger nails

A letter from a woman in Tampa…
The decorative plate with the palm tree on it…
December 17…
The man standing at the carved fence who will talk…
The 4 in flannel…
The shovel…
The compass…
Beware of the man with the dragon tattoo on his arm…
Three sets of hands on her throat while the soft spoken one, who knows it is wrong watches…
The woman in the home who has an injury to her ankle- she will talk…
The woman whose name begins with B has something to say- she wears necklaces made of beads…
She appears from under water…
The small white dog…
The necklace with a V engraved in it…
The fort…

Many of these clues have led me to Rox and many more will lead me to what happened to Jessica. On October 23rd, I shall reconnect with the proper authorities and establish their level of interest in re-opening this case. On October 24th another package goes out to someone else whose keen interest has been steadfast and patient. Today I shall send an update of what I have learned since I sent the first package. Monday I meet with others who I think will have to concur that a blind eye can no longer be turned towards such a travesty of justice as this.

Learn the shorthand of the dead, Jessica… I am here. I will listen.
Charley, Rox and the MOT will show you the way.

Shame on them!

October 15, 2010


Today is a day of great personal importance to me. I ask that you all send a measure of positive thought my way. Committed to solving the entirety of this now very possible series of murders connected with Charley’s death takes more than just patience, intuition and research; it requires evidence. Grant me your trust for the day that what I am attempting to parlay will help move this process forward by stronger wheels than I can personally employ. I will place my trust in those who have guided and mentored me this far and trust that the larger picture they can see before me is the right picture for what it is we are trying to achieve. Today I seek wisdom to know what the right path will be.

Beyond that, let us return. There was a reason why Rox kept appearing to R from under water. At first we thought perhaps that she was stuck; reliving her murder over and over and could not move on. This was further complicated by the introduction of the compass and the shovel… but it became apparent that neither tool was necessary for where they left her. So why the presentation of a blood stained shovel… or a compass?

Seldom do they introduce something… or someone without segue or reason. And now the name Jessica appears over and over. Jessica has something to do with the shovel and the compass and the “fort” and December 17th has something to do with…

Did I ever tell you History was one of my favorite subjects???
Unless we understand history… we are doomed to repeat it.
They did not understand history and so they did repeat it. Again and again and…
Shame on them!

You can run, but you can no longer hide…

October 14, 2010


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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