There is more to our story…


I am heartened today by the fact that I have discovered there are more still alive involved in this, than originally thought. You see… over the past three years I have worried that too many of those involved had passed; their information and input forever lost. Then of course I met R and that all changed. Though several have passed, most have stepped to the plate with information from the other side. I know that makes many of you squeamish and that tickles me so.


Because I am constantly amazed at religious folks who raise the roof with praise and prayers to a deity they claim can do all things and that all things are possible with faith in that deity… and yet they default and doubt! They who claim all things are possible, then scream impossible from the roof tops when I speak about this case and are minus the faith necessary to honor their own definitions of faith. It’s such a George Carland kind of thing! It is so obvious on Sundays or Wednesdays and and yet it escapes them the rest of the week. They spout  the miracles of faith and then vomit nothing but limitations out of fear. See where I am going here?

I can tell you this story is real. That Charley was real… that the other victims in this case were real and while you will concede that they lived and died… that there is a Heaven and a Hell, you leave them no remedy to reach beyond and either teach of of the glories or warn us of the flames! Why on Sundays can you believe Lazarus was raised from the dead and yet not afford the same on Tuesday to the MOT? Or Jessica? Or Roxanne? Or my beloved friend, Charley? Each of them and their souls raised from the grave to find resolution… to grant forgiveness… to make amends… to adjust Karma and find another path for their soul’s evolution?

How can you speak to a deity through prayer each night before you sleep, asking for support and guidence  and not beg the same of your deceased grandmother the next morning at the kitchen sink in the same fashion? Why would a deity so omnipotent and compassionate force us to forget in death what it so strongly begged us to learn to love in life? Do we believe to see? Or see to believe?

Ok… I will jump off my soap box, but I have to say that folks who pooh-pooh the connection with the afterlife will suffer the loss of loved ones without the redemptive salve and blessings of continuing that relationship after and I grieve for those who never come to know the peace this process has brought me.

Enough said…

Knowing that some key players are still alive keeps me pleased, as it would have made little sense that Charley would have gone to all this trouble to challenge only the dead to rise to a higher vibration. Now this may come as a shock to you, but I am trying a new approach to this. Do I abhor the actions taken by men and women whose sense of greed and sexual perversion far exceeds the norm? Absolutely! But I am trying to find a way to come at this from another angle… to help the guilty release their guilt, make peace with what they have done and confess before they stand eternally beside the shooter at the water’s edge, unable to rinse the blood of innocents  from their hands.

I want and ask for their confessions; for them to give up the ghost, so to speak and tell the truth now before it must be dragged from them by others far less compassionate than I. Why? Because I have promised to make good out of bad… to make joy out of sorrow and peace out of chaos. And… I  have vowed not to let this thing die no matter the cost! Those of you who know me, know that I am dogged in my determination and unrelenting in my pursuits.  But more importantly, because it is too late for any of us to turn back and though in the end it serves my purpose too… the fruits of collective efforts should come from a place of something more divine than merely justice.

We are in the final days… not of 2012, but of The Coffee Pot Conspiracy. Charley’s story will be a part of my story; my story part of his and together we will tell the tale of a loving man who got caught up in the midst of other’s people’s sludge and sins. A man who walked blindly into a den of thieves and sycophants who treated young women without regard and defiled both their bodies and their legacies. A man who approached middle age with doubts and fears, who lost and found his way back home at the edge of a gun… just like me.

There is more to our story than you will ever know…

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