Archive for January, 2013

I just discovered something…

January 30, 2013

1/30/2013

I just discovered something! I am not a dentist…why is this important? Because it’s quite possible to have mistaken a “partial” for real teeth. So what does that mean? That means anybody could have been the person who lost a tooth the night of Charley’s murder- even the man whose hat got torn. Makes sense, huh? Torn hat? Obviously a struggle had taken place or why the damage to the hat?

Looks like you are not off the hook yet , Grim.

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Just a silly little question…

January 26, 2013

1/2/2013

Just a silly little question…someting that still bothers me. Charley thought I might want to know the answer so I’m gonna ask.

Who lost a tooth the night of October 9, 1966? Someone who was there that night… someone who fought with Charley. Think people think. Somewhere on the front row- a tooth went missing- from the top I believe.

Just saying…dental records would be an awesome place to start looking! I know you were there that night Grim- but I’m fairly certain it wasn’t you that lost the tooth. I’ve seen them. So who was it?

Let’s see… who else?

Mr. Muddy Boots?

Mr. Farmer in the Dell?

G’s boy toy?

How about the shooter?

See, the thing I love is that while you can run and you can hide…history and history books will always follow you. Pictures of you in places you never thought would ever give your secret away. Candid photos, newspaper articles, church directories, social gatherings, weddings, funerals…driver’s licenses, photo ID’s for work. Gosh- that’s a lot!

Who knew?

Don’t you just love when a murder mystery comes together??? I do!

I sometimes forget…

January 21, 2013

1/21/2013

I sometimes forget what it is to write without agenda or desire to persuade or dissuade… to write for the pure joy of writing. This morning as I walked along the battered shore of my beach and stared into the thick mass of fog that lay like a blanket upon the water. Nothing could be seen… only heard. It is amazing what one sense will do to compensate for the loss of the other. Early morning birds danced among the branches and serenaded my evolution along the shore. I picked up a piece of wood and then another…bit by bit the fog seemed to thin in spots and I could see just a bit father- but not clear to the other side. I took a breath and signed and realized that this is the way of the universe- that it shows us just what it wants us to see…selective bits at a time, rarely presenting the entire picture all at once.

 

Today I am ok with such an epiphany.

Today is for the stillness.

Today is for the chance to wipe clean the clutter in the mind.

Today is simply to joy and feel what transpires around me.

Today is in preparation to let go and to hold on again.

 

The next two months will be ridiculously busy for me and the blogs may become somewhat sparse. I am carrying a heavy course load this semester and have just lost my assistant to motherhood…that leaves me a staff of…me. With productions and research never ending-combined with school, the end game is nothing more than to make it to the end of March alive.

 

I can tell you that people and situations are being manipulated-redirected in their orbits into my path and that the cosmos continues to generously orchestrate my future from afar. The Cardinals that sang to me this morning remind me that my parents are still working within my life. Charley is ever at my side and I can feel his hand on my shoulder gently guiding his story to where it will do the most good. It will be a bit of a climb to bring it to the world- to do it right, but I am up for the challenge. Works of great importance do not just materialize on the scene and take the world by storm…they appear in a storm and then materialize.

 

Like a mother, I have given birth to the book- but not to the story- for the story was always Charley’s. I will see this book onto shelves everywhere- or available on Nook or Kindle and who knows- maybe Grim will finally get his wish to be in the movies! I can tell you this- you couldn’t make this _________ up if you tried. Truth really is stranger than fiction. Even though it will be published under full disclaimer- those of you still wandering from the streets of 1966 will know the truth and see through the veil of disguise.

Get out and enjoy the rest of the day.

So this is where we begin…again.

January 19, 2013

1/19/2013

 

Amazing things happen when you surrender let go and let God…just amazing.

 

I am trying to decide how to begin this next series. The ‘cornbread mafia’ is nothing to sneeze at. They were real…they are real; or at least their relatives are! But there is a need to go back. Six months after Charley was murdered, several others were committed as well. For right now I am only interested in one; the death of a District Attorney who was about to try a case in Jackson County. Now the incredible synchronicity in this case is demonstrated that while my children were small we owned a horse farm in that immediate area. He house in question was a house I drove past every morning as I chauffeured my children to school or ferried horse feed and hay bales back to my farm. For over a decade I sped past this unheralded home and worried that the paint was peeling, that the bushes were overgrown and that the pasture needed tending. In my academic appraisal, the home needed love and attention…in my ignorance I had not know that a family grew and died there just six months after my Charley had been sacrificed at the altar of crime. In 1967 Georgia lost another law-abiding citizens to the grave. This time they couldn’t call it suicide this time it was appropriately called an assassination and it was.

 

So this is where we begin. The next book in this series is titled, THE DEAD LINE… and deals with the illegal activities of northeastern piedmont area of the state. To put this out there in the venacular of the peasantry…a charming gentlemen told me about a quote he’d once heard in reference to that area and that time frame in history…

It went something like this: ‘If I had a son in Hell and a son in Jackson County…I’d try to save the son in Jackson County first!’

 

That being said…we are off on another adventure and this too shall prove to be a most intriguing ride.

Regards and regrets…

January 16, 2013

1/16/2013

Somehow the weather seems fitting today; quiet and sullen it drools in between the lips of a cloud.

Life sometimes grants us moments of great pause and it is our duty and obligation to respect them for what they are.  This calling- or obsession as it were-has gifted me many things. It has tried me on a daily basis and it has governed my every waking moment since its introduction. To those who arm chair quarterback about another’s efforts, remember…

It’s not easy to put yourself out there…to dance on the head of a pin every day and hope that you get each step right- or even that if you get a few wrong there will be another day to crawl back up and dance again. That being said, I seem to be in some sort of holding pattern. Information continues, though it is harder to find its placement among the many things that litter my day.

Work is as always and school has already begun, so I have a full docket that no longer allows for the wallowing all day in and out of clues and impressions and indeed, this suits me fine for the moment. The book is done and so all that is left is the fine tooth of the editor to whip her way through it and help me bring further polish to its finish. Now minus many pages-her job should be easier. So that you know; the names of most folks have been changed and the places they haunted somewhat less. In the end, you will recognize who you recognize and you will not, who you do not. In your own mind you will try those you suspect and release those whom you pardon and all of this will take place within your mental courtrooms. Why? Because it is no longer my job- to be judge and jury for you.

As you read though it dear friends, understand that this book is about a very personal journey. A journey that has taken 4 years of my life and continues even now to own my soul. A journey that brought powerful meanings and powerful mentors to my life. It is about the journey of discovery. Discovery of Charley- his life and his death. The players that have affected its outcome and its abridgement.

The term, Historical Fiction in this case is essential, as it explains that even though it is based on an actual event – a great deal lies within the lines of supposition and conjecture. Where I can document fact I will, where I can make a leap of faith- I must. In the end it is what I believe happened according to my experience and my exposure to more facets of this case than dare I say many of you still alive will ever know or possibly even admit to.

In the end you must understand that this is a story about a man whose family aches to find peace. To right the wrongs unjustly thrust upon them one cold night in October of 1966. Do I speak for the family? No- I speak for myself in this book, though my sentiments are much the same as theirs. Can I prove everything proffered in this book – only time and the conscience of the killers will tell.

Remember though…what is not discovered in this lifetime will be proclaimed and suffered through in the next. If what I saw in my dream that night was the soul of a woman fighting to evolve and depart her earthly trials to escape the damnation of her decent- then God help those that are naive enough to think that shelter in this life affords them innocence in the next. This I know- this I have learned. There is life after death- there is love after loss and there is proportionate consequence for unkind actions committed without contrition.  What else I know is for me to ponder and for you to discover for yourselves. As to the truth or the lie of what happened to Charley Covington that night will be for you to decide and it is a blessing and a curse as some of these people still walk and worship among you.  Take care in what you say and to whom. Be mindful of what you think and express.  Many who are guilty will appear just as innocent as you and many who are innocent will be forced to walk beneath a shadow of doubt for their unknowing associations.

They say ‘justice is blind.’ In this case, that rings true but not for the equality of what you think. Until this case is brought to light- justice remains blind.

You will forgive me then if I no longer share further information with you about this case, unless there presents a dire need. You already have enough to wade through and I must be on about my way to work on another.

Regards and Regrets,

ta

 

Today…

January 15, 2013

1/15/2013

 

‘The answers are easy. It’s the questions that are so complicated.’

 

I tried to spend…

January 14, 2013

1/14/2013

I tried to spend most of the weekend outside my head in an effort to reconnect with why I do what I do- what I think-what I understand and what I don’t. It took an entire weekend to decipher.

Somebody asked me a few questions last week that made me stop and think.

What if nobody ever goes to prison for what they have done? What then?

Well… then nobody goes to prison.

Are you ok with that?

No…not really. But I am not judge…or jury.

Will everything you have done be for naught?

No… there will be the book. It will speak truths a jury may never get to hear.

What if the 4 in flannel get away with it?

How can they? In life there will always be the book… in death there will always be God.

Will you be hurt if the truth gets buried beneath lies and alibis?

People will know the difference. Those that know will need no further proof. Those that can only guess will keep the questions going.

How do you know?

Because there is no statute of limitations on death in the state of Georgia-someone will prosecute- someone will listen- someone will decide.  Somebody in the law will see that Charley has a right to have his epitaph rewritten.

Again… how do you know?

Faith!

I am already spent this day…

January 13, 2013

In the silence you deliver…

There are times when I sit back and question everything I have done…everything I have worried about…everything I have written and everything I have unearthed in this case. Times when I come to appreciate that while this is a hobby for most- it has been an obsession for me- a 24 hour a day ticker tape inside my head that ceases to relent. Awake or asleep, I tally the clues and the impressions and find segue to both plausible and positive connections. I speculate and confirm…confirm and speculate some more. It is the bridge of discovery.

Am I always right? No.

But am I always wrong? No.

I had a recent speaking engagement and in preparation I reviewed several things on my web site that I wanted to highlight- including the opening with my bio and one section caught my attention. It was the section where I am reminding the masses as well as myself that my job is not to get all the questions about a crime or an event answered, but to make sure that all the questions get asked and heard.

Asked and Heard. That is my job; nothing more- nothing less…simply to get the questions needed to be asked, asked and heard.

That being said, sometimes I worry that the questions I ask may not be the ones I should be asking. Or that the ones I ask may not have answers. And even more frightening? That sometimes the questions I ask may have answers I may not come to like. But does that measn that they should not be asked? No…I am not the person who died for asking them. Charley was. Sometimes I worry that in the asking I am separating myself from those I have come to trust and admire. I worry that the friendships that have been forged throughout this process will not be strong enough to withstand the shadow of print.

In one of the books by Anne River Siddons, she has written one of the best lines ever gifted a character: “Perception is everything my darling.” And this is true. You and I will never see things in the same light- we can’t. But more importantly- we shouldn’t. Everything you see will be seen through the prism of your personal understanding and experience. In like token, I will see the same thing from another angle as my constitution and my experience will shape my own impression of the same information in a far different fashion-and it must. For my reasons for observation and discovery will never be the same as yours. It is not just the way with this book- it is the way of life. None of us will ever see or experience the same thing in the same way and that is both a blessing and a curse for us as humans to bear. This is not a cheap disclaimer that absolves me of any sins of omission and/or assumptions…this is simply a matter of fact.

In this case- Charley’s case- there are many who thought they may have been one person at one time and are now someone else by virtue of their experience and contrition. Those who have once done wrong could have repented and followed a new path; those who have fallen and cannot seem to find the traction of their faith or forgiveness- will follow another and others may merely hide beneath the rugs of their flimsy reputations as proof that they are innocent. All this to say… I have crafted this book as a memoir of my experience in chasing the killers of Charley Covington. Even those names that have already appeared in the public domain have been altered for consequence sake. I can change the names- what I cannot change is the impression of information, or the manner in which it was received. Whether a person is innocent or guilty is based upon their actions and their ability to defent those actions. I cannot change their past- or even the impressions of their past.  Even more, I cannot un-write the things they have done or perceived to have done. All I can do is present the information received in the light of day and allow reason and empathy to write their epitaph.

People did things I cannot undo. A man is dead….a child is without her father…a grandchild is without his grandfather. How then do I parse one man’s reputation for another man’s life? How can I not tell what I have seen and heard? How can I help avoid another’s inconvenience  in a moment of doubt only to tell the same lie again 46 years later and not become as guilty as those that pulled the trigger and conspired to hide it all?

I look at Charley’s photo and must pledge my allegience to his truth- not his current legacy. His death certificate reads suicide. It should read something else and I will not rest until it does. This man was murdered in cold blood.

I am already spent this day and without shame or rancor state that I have finished what I have been asked to do; for this there can be no apology.

Still waiting…

January 12, 2013

1/12/2013

Still waiting for guidance…

Will this week never end?

Cycles…cycles…cycles…

January 11, 2013

1/11/2013

Today Grim can have the day off. I have no desire to play the game.

Instead, I am having another Adam Lambert week where frustrated with where I am, I throw my hands to the sky and ask the universe…”What do you want from me?” Only this time I am less inclined to listen for the answer. Why? Because for the first time in a long time I grow weary of the road blocks presented and tire of the need to accommodate. (BTW’s this has nothing to do with the case or the book.)

Disappointed about another’s decision, I must move forward and remember that like a previous misread opportunity, my true job is here. Is it hard? Hard to squelch this ever burgeoning need to excel- to move forward- to try and outwit fate and yet be reminded at every turn that my energies may be wasted if diluted further? Ego is such an odd thing. With it we become more than we are and without it we have less to spur us forward.

When does it become enough? Shall the student always aspire to teach- the teacher to become the professor, the professor to become the legend? When do we say that being right for what we do does not mean we settle for mediocrity if we become nothing else? Or does it mean that we recognize the design in our soulful departure and make peace with where we are if something is blocked? Is it that more is sometimes just more or that higher simply separates us further from that which we loved in the first place? These are the questions of the day. When does the complement become the pigeon hole? And when does the pigeon hole no longer fit? I strive for patience. I hear the angels whisper in my ear- ‘do not quit 5 minutes before the miracle happens.’ These 5 little minutes have now  lasted 4 years!

It is curious… when we strive for something else; does that denote a lack of faith in the divine plan for our lives? Or does it reaffirm our need to achieve and grow? Let me rephrase that. When we strive for something else and it becomes blocked…does that denote a lack of faith in the divine path for our lives? A simple redirect from afar? Or… does it merely mean that it is not our turn, or that we are barking at shadows that have naught our silhouette attached?

I say, ‘this disappointment- this too shall pass,’ and that I should revel in someone else’s joy and I do. Yet even as I applaud their efforts, I am feeling unappreciated for my own. Is this shallow…superficial? Of course it is, but it is also human. I keep my Angel book close. I scout for numbers, reach for meaning and messages that will tell me I am still on my path and that this recent disappointment should be seen as confirmation that I am where I am meant. I listen in the night and haunt my own dreams waiting for another message in case I have clearly misunderstood the universe’s intent– but the messengers seem to have all gone silent. Why so needy? Why so distant? Because it feels as if Charley has moved on? Because there are others waiting in the wings to be heard and I remain too emotionally tethered to the recent past to hear them?

Cycles…cycles…cycles. This  is a month in which I am to let go of that which no longer works. I must remember that the wheel of life continues to turn regardless my egotistical wants or my monitorial needs. Impatient I yell at the sky- this is supposed to be my year and only 11 days in I am already behind. Note to self- this is not an ethereal temper tantrum…this is a heartfelt ploy for needy confirmation. Like Moses wandering the desert I grow weary of the sand and grit between my toes. Unlike Moses I am a woman so I stop often and ask for directions- assuming that my walk about will be dramatically shortened! I cannot wander about aimlessly whatever my liking- I have a mission and I am haggling with unseen obstacles because I am uncertain what they stand for.

In the end I will lay down my head and submit. Why? Because it is futile to do anything else. I will concede that the thing was not right for me- that I was not right for it and I will lick my wounds and salve my bruised ego and I will move forward- but I will not forget. And each new time I reach, I will hesitate just a few seconds more before I try. I will think about the hurt… I will mull over the ever thinning veneer of my resilience and I will question the effort to try again… but try I must, for that is my constitution.

So what is it I want from the universe? The same thing that I can get from Sears or Home Depot…I want a friggin guarantee! I want to know that if I try again- I will succeed.

Ok… stop laughing! We all saw how futile that was gonna be from the outset. Still, I thought I’d try. Sometimes it’s necessary to be small and petty and human and to get our perceived injuries off our chests. Sometimes I hate being the bigger person- the good little cheerleader… the gal who picks herself up and gets back on the horse again. Sometimes I just want to privately wallow for a day or two and cake myself with self-righteous mud. Sometimes we just need to vomit to get it all out of our systems and then in a day or two we come to grips and move on.

That being said I am already half way there. I just needn’t to stop, smell the roses and then stomp the ________ out of them to feel better for a moment!


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