I have a question…


I have a question…
I have a question for the 4 in flannel. Make that… the 2 who are still alive that were part of the 4 in flannel.
Was it really necessary to tie and cut up her ankles like that? Jessica shows her ankles cut up- possibly having been tied with barbwire. Was it not enough to bash her face in with the shovel? Was it really necessary to hog tie the child with wire? She was pregnant. And with whose child? Let’s think…
Not a commoner. Who would give a ________ about that. After all, you all called her a hooker. So who in the state of Georgia could loose more if their name was tied to that? Must have been somebody big. Somebody in the public eye- someone who could ill afford having a pregnant hooker calling his office… or his wife! Someone whose entire career would have fallen apart had the people of the state known how really corrupt he was.
Isn’t it ironic? Men who live so publicly- live so debauched privately. Don’t you just love men who parade themselves about as pillars and then slum in the shadows- praying their wife does not find out- hoping that harlots and hookers will hold their tongues. What? Because you killed her, you think she cannot talk anymore? Foolish men…large egos- small minds. There are but two of you left who will pay for the sins of the four and I know who you are. But I’m not the only one. That’s right, Grim. They know…
Bloody shovel and a compass!
The pool…pretty brown hair clumped with dirt and blood…
Red lipstick used to write a message…

What did it say, Grim? Did it mention you by name? He’s dead now and can no longer act as buffer for you. No client-attorney privileges for the dead!

Dear God Grim…what gives you the right to torture and disfigure young woman and then go home to slide into bed next to your waiting wife? Does she know? Does she suspect how truly vile you are? Is there some place in the back of her mind that knows and cannot let it surface, else she vomit up the blood of all your victims like worms rotting inside her? She knows and it makes her skin crawl. There is no church that will house you. No preacher that can pardon you for what you have done. The clock ticks for you Grim. As it ticked for those you went after- so it now ticks for you!

I pray- and this is a solemn prayer- that you will not rest another night. That you will know that I am on your trail and that I will hold your feet to the fires of Hell for what you have done. For forty-five years you have walked the streets of Valdosta, using your ego and your religeous ferver to deflect suspicions. Too bad you can no longer wear them in good conscience. Every person you meet will know what you have done before I am through. Every church will close their door to you and your feet will be burning hot from the flames of Hell that lick at them- salivating for the day they can engulf the rest of you!


Do you believe in God, Grim?

Then pray!

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