Was I meant to tie them for her?





This has been an exhausting month and it still isn’t over yet. I had a dream last night that a little girl with untied shoes brought me a feather and placed it in my hair. I knew what the feather meant…that there was a special message or event on its way, but the significance of the untied shoes remained unvetted. Was I meant to tie them for her? Was I to teach her how to do this for herself? Or was this a metaphor for the winding down of this case?

It feels as the strings on a shoe are being pulled tighter and tighter to make a better fit and we are just at the point where the rabbit rushes through the hole to bind the knot! Are you ready? Can you not feel the build within this case?


There are just a few things now that tug at my brain. The man in Hazel’s journal who badgered about the location of the bag which contained the lighter. Now that I feel somewhat certain as to the owner of the lighter… the word conspiracy rings true louder than ever.


How does a three dollar lighter bring fear and terror to so many? Where was it found? Who took it to the pawn shop and why? How did Charley know to buy it? And how did they know that he had?


You know… for a long time I thought the watch that Roxanne was talking about was one between her and the MOT. But now it appears she was trying to tie the watch to the pipe smoker…the man she lay with. The man she said something to, to make him snap. The man who ultimately placed his hands around her throat as the others kicked and held her down. The man who walked the shoreline days after her strangulation and pretended not to know how her body ended up in the water. The man who stood above the rolling waves as the sunlight glinted off his watch and blurred in the smoke that filled the air.  The man who Charley said I would find if I just looked in the car. The man who Charley confirmed with a game of Tic-Tac-Toe. The man who now squirms within a body he no longer controls…


The circle begins to shrink.

The 4 in flannel:

The shooter who cannot wash the blood from his hands

The man with the muddy boots who walks the streets

The pipe smoker who wrote the checks

And Grim… who told them all what to do!



The shoe laces begin to tighten just a bit more… Ahhhhhhhh. The perfect fit! The knot is bound and so are their fates!

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