Archive for March, 2013

Three blind mice…

March 31, 2013


Happy Easter!

Pay attention to the numerology in today’s date- it is important. Aside from the splendor of this religious holiday and the sacred meaning of the rising of our Lord…think about the significance of such a feat in your own lives.

We live, we learn, we love, we die and we rise again in another plane meant for reward and application of all the lessons we have learned while corporeal in this world. This is the joy of Easter; this is the reason for our existence- to learn.

What  I pray for today is peace…peace of mind… peace of heart and stillness within the quiet center of your souls. On a lighter side; I also pray for chocolate and jelly beans, but that is something I can take care of myself!

As for this case, I have many wishes- but wishing doesn’t get the job done, so there will be more work. The bell soon tolls for one individual ascribed to this case and I cannot for the life of me feel compassion for a soul who has carried upon his heart such deeds as have been committed. If I am right, this soul has lived a comfortable life since then. Again, under the sham of honor and respectability that many see as their birthright. So little time left. Please- someone have the bravery to ask they speak the truth. Now quick before the final breath, before the last thought- before the gates of heaven close before them. I pray they may they learn to speak the truth and not die with a lie upon their lips. This is my wish, but that is their choice. May they be smart enough to do the right thing.

When it is all said and done…and the dust of grief settled, may their offspring right their wrongs for them. You know who I am talking about. Think back to that day…

What was in the silver lunch box that did not make sense?

Why was Charley’s widow not allowed to see his body at the morgue?

What wounds were covered with morgue make-up before the widow could see?

Why did they keep his body from her eyes for 72 hours?

Because they were trying to spare her the final image? Or, because they were trying to hide something from her?

Now…think again.

What did you see in that silver lunch box that day, that could have been the cause for this? What strange object was within that you did not understand? What could have caused odd serrations upon Charley’s arms in the last hours of his life, that he later obsessed about in death? What lacerations could not afford to be seen in those first few hours of the investigation? Now think about all those that signed off on his death certificate. Those who were supposedly interviewed at the scene and after? Were these reputable men? Who else was privy? Who spoke for  the young unfortunate  innocents placed there by design?

The investigation into Charley’s death lasted only 18 days. My dear readers-milk has a longer shelf life. So think- what was in the silver lunch box that holds the key to the first final moments in Charley’s life? The moment when Charley knew things were going down horribly wrong?

Now, think about cheese. What are the words to that old favorite childhood song you liked to sing, Grim?

The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell- hi, ho the merry-oh! The farmer in the dell?

Or is it?

Three blind mice, three blind mice. See how they run, see how they run?


The countdown has begun. And then there were three…


A great veil is being thinned…

March 30, 2013


I fear we have hit another cycle. Almost two years ago there was a cautionary alert that included the:  “In three days… in three days… in three days something will happen.” At that time they told me to look towards one of the folks involved with Charley’s death that night. That something would happen and an “A” association with potential cause of a medical crisis. At the time I had no idea what it meant. Three days later I was told about a person of interest’s medical crisis. The crisis began with an A.

A year ago on Easter break, I sat in a Thai restaurant in Covington, Georgia and listened to a small child ask her mother about the Grim Reaper. The woman told  the child, the Grim Reaper  was the figure of death. He is the dead spirit, dressed in a black cloak with red eyes and reeks of sulfur. The Grim Reaper is the harbinger of death. I recall later that night talking to R and telling her. She confirmed and was presented with the image of black roses  and a caution about one of the individuals involved in this case who would be nearing their end.

It has been now been a year and I have had several dark visitations of late I believe to be warning. In one, I was shown a room full of bloody bones, with the fleshy face of just one man buried amongst them. Apparently he was new to Hell and his decay and suffering just about to begin. Next I was shown to a stone walled room and seated at a wooden table. I was told to drink a solution from the bowl that looked like filthy grayish sewer water with great chunks of human waste. Naturally I refused and when I did- I was attacked by a creature who resembled what some might call a “watcher” or “nephilim.” Nephilim are fallen angels.

The impression of the creature made you think it was part human, but the facial features were not. Next I was immediately given the impression of the Grim Reaper-complete with hooded black cloak, the stench of sulfur and the deep reverberating voice that spoke telepathically- insisting again that I drink from the bowl of human decay.  Again I refused and the creature shown himself in full view. Even though I academically understood who it was, it was the stark features of the face  that stole my breath. When I turned to face it off, the  face was birdlike-black like a great crow or raven.  The nose, though made of flesh was very sharp and beak -like. The eyes? Best way to describe? Hollow- like when you see a bird on the side of the road or under a tree who has died. If you look where eyes would have been, you see only the sunken, thick gray film of an eyelid left to cover the empty orbitals. When I refused to drink of the bowl of waste for a third time- it took its great talons and jabbed them into my sides and then ripped the flesh from my rib cage and left me there to bleed.

I woke frightened and for days could not bring myself to speak of the dream or to search its meaning.

A great veil is being thinned between the two planes and images of both good and evil are now becoming more often- more clear- some frightening- some of great comfort as in the images of the Blessed Virgin.

Yesterday another message was received… the image of a long black car and then the  message, “In three days… in three days… in three days.” They say this passing will help with discovery of certain secrets which have been hidden from view. I spent the day pondering the ramifications.

Last night as I closed out my academic obligations for the spring, I decided to take the rest of the night off  and just relax. My husband and I often DVR many shows while I am in semester, so that I can catch up with them when the scholastic pressure is off. Last night he asked what shows I wanted to catch up on first…my choice? Obviously–Castle! With Pj’s in place and comfy blanket across my lap, my husband selected the most recent one I had missed and what do you think the theme of that episode ended up being? Now mind you…it was selected at random and we had no prior knowledge of its contents.

In the opening scene… it showed a woman alone in her apartment. Lights flicker on and off- she is on the phone- desperate for help and then…you hear a message that someone will die in three days. In fact; the entire episode was about a series of folks who were witnesses to a murder. Each received a series of evil images and then died- each exactly three days after the impressions.

Now, am I saying that I think the message was for me and I am in fear of death? No…but I do believe it was a confirmation for the three day equation and very much meant to warn of another’s ‘s potential final moments.

Remember- this case is 46 years old, so many of the players in this case are in their late seventies- and early to mid-eighties. I fear someone is in danger of going to their grave without confession. Someone else knows they have not been truthful. Someone knows what they carried with them that day- that they harmed Charley- that what they did was not right and seen by others. Somebody close to them knows their secret.

The last time the cosmos warned, “In three days…” someone suffered a medical crisis exactly after three days. I fear that same person shall suffer something greater this time–eternal silence. Make peace with your maker- make peace with your family- make peace with the truth.

Set your houses in order.  Confess… make the call today. Those who remain faithful to this blog may understand…make the call.

I can do no more than set forth the images seen, the impressions felt.

Mark this day…

March 30, 2013


Mark this day.

Mark three days from now.

Mark three months from now.

A secret will be revealed.

It is not mine.

Good night Grim.

It’s the cat!

March 25, 2013


Yesterday was one of nostalgia . With my husband in New York I was left for several days to digest revisions and to complete projects for my finals. It has been a busy last few days and so I took some time out last evening to relax a bit. Since the weather was not cooperating I decided to fore-go more reading and veg out in front of the television. To my wonderful surprise, Field of Dreams was on, and so I both laughed and cried as it now has become my English bible.

Later amongst a dinner for one, I watched a previously record Julie and Julia– previously recorded as in September of 2012! And I cannot tell you how marveled I am at Meryl Streep! That woman could become anyone- she’s beyond amazing. And Amy Adams…precious! That being said, I took the time to recall why these two films have become so special for me. Of course, the baseball movie is a homage to my parents and to Charley; only the iconic saying would have to be changed to…”if you solve it- they will come.” Solve it I have and yes… they have come… many times as a matter of fact. For this, I am grateful and cannot thank R enough for her constant conduit to them.  s I told you before, I once thought that it was Charley who brought me my parents, but in truth the opposite is to be true. My parents brought me Charley so that I might learn to wade through my grief by focusing on another’s first.

As for Julie and Julia…it was that film that first presented the idea of a blog for this project. Julie Powell however was rather lucky- her project lasted on 365 days and brought her a plethora of recipes to which dazzle folks on Thanksgivings for the next 4,000 years. I cannot bone a duck, but I can read between the lines and imagine truth and light where killers have done there best to put it out. The movie also gave me great pause, because in the midst of this woman’s determination to complete her task, she learned she had lost touch with part of her daily life. For a brief time, she kept her focus so tight- she could not see beyond her shadow. I have caught myself in such straights several times as well. In my eagerness to process and mentally prosecute this case I have lost sight of the world around me on occasion.

It is important that we stay the course… that we seek to achieve our goals and cross the finish line, but not at the expense of someone else- else the victory is hollow. You may feel that I have breached such shores myself from time to time because I share so little here that you are debating whether to walk away from this blog and find a new folly to pursue. I don’t blame you. There’s little to grit your teeth about or purse your lips in whispers about these days. I know what it is you want. I know why you come here everyday. Like those in Sweeney Todd you wait as the Baird wipes his bloody hands and shines his glinting blade in the window for you to see. You want blood. You sit and hold your breath each time you see a post. Then you get here and I talk about movies and days of yore and your disappointment soars.  Where are all the graphics murder scenes, you ask… What about the girls? G? The MOT? Charley? The merry murderers? Where are all the questions and the justifications for their brutal behaviors? Where? Where are all the secrets and stolen moments? The missing teeth, the barbed wire about the ankles…torn hats and dangling acorns?

They are still all here…silent and patiently waiting their time to shine. If I could share more, I would…or…eh, maybe not. You see, this is not just a story for me. Oh sure I have been crafting the book since forever it seems, but do not forget- this is an investigation for me as well. These were and are real people who both committed and suffered real crimes. Understand? Real people died- real people should be investigated and incarcerated. Is this my job? Now… mine was to lay the bread crumbs for others to follow. Now to be fair…would you really expect me to do all this work, so that I could abandon common sense and serve only ego? Be it mine or yours? Of course not. I have gone back to school for this- studied for three years now and still have more to go. Would I do such for grins? Don’t be so naive or greedy in your wants.

Do you really think that the bird sings loudest when the cat has entered the woods,  so the cat will know exactly where he is and what he is doing? No…he sits quiet upon a branch. Calm and still he watches the movements of the feline below. Cautiously he follows his lead and makes not a move while the cat’s ears are pricked. Wisdom seeks patience. The bird waits until the danger has passed before he sings again.

This bird will sing again, I promise. But first I must dot my i’s, cross my t’s and my LT’s and then…

Shhhhhhhhh…shhhhhhhh… shhhhh…it’s the cat!

As for Charley…

March 23, 2013


It is darn near midnight and I have been working on homework for the better part of the day. It has been a strange week…hell, it’s been a strange month. Mercury is no longer retrograde and that makes me happy, but very tired. Things are in motion again, people in play and I await eagerly to see where it will all lead.

My job is very busy right now…I am in the midst of a production, finals and finishing the final revisions on the book. I have a few more major decisions to make before its publication, but am waiting to see what the calm will bring. Things are changing in every facet of my life it seems. I will be selecting a new assistant at work, polishing my final project for school, setting up for additional considerations for the book and waiting for legal guidance to specific issues before I can move forward. This is a time to quietly build and save energy. To consider options and prepare for the onslaught it will surely bring.

I also need to make a decision about summer school: To go ahead and commit or take the summer off for what may prove to be an eventful season with other pressing obligations. Right now I am leaning towards taking the time to rest, store energy and begin serious work on the next case. I have little time before I must commit either way, so…

As for Charley, he has been quiet of late until today. He came through with a message through somebody else and it gives me great joy to hear it. I have missed his words. Too much going on within my head with all the studies and drama to attend to prevents me from hearing what it is he is trying to say. The numbers have been fairly consistent warning of great change. Changes in relationships, habits…letting go of people and things that no longer serve or fit. I imagine I will be part of that equation for others as well and that is okay. To every season, as they say. People need to move on when they need to. While I am ready for the spring, I will not mind the rain tonight if it comes. I shall be tethered to my laptop for the next few days with homework and so the slight patter against the window will be welcomed accompaniment to my thoughts.

Soon, soon I shall be able to write purely for the sake of writing again. I do miss it so. Academics are rewarding, but not near as fulfilling. I need to breathe again in ink, to bleed within the margins of a page. Another adventure looms just beyond my reach and I am ready for what the cosmos sees fit to bring– it has been long in the making.  Tis the season of faith–the awakening of the soul… may I be worthy of  its introduction.

For you daddy…

March 12, 2013


Today is my father’s Birthday. He passed away just a few years ago and unlike Charley’s daughter, I had many happy years to enjoy his humor, relish his wisdom and cherish his warm and comforting hands in times of trouble or distress. One would think that since such little time has passed since his death, that there would be still a brooding sense of sorrow that clouds a celebration of his life. But if you guessed that–you would be wrong. There is no brooding or heavy heart for me in his passing. Let me explain why. First, my father’s joy at being reunited with my mother would eclipse such a selfish notion on my part. To forestall such a reunion in the light of his happiness would have been to stand in the way of reward. You see, after my mother’s death, I saw the life of my father be buried inside the tomb with her. Theirs was a real love affair… the kind we dream of… the kind we cherish and the kind we cannot seem to muster in today’s world.

My father and my mother were in love with each other. The equation was simple. She respected him and his efforts to make her feel safe, never faltered in his ability to take care of us all and or lessen in his joy at her smile and twinkling blue eyes. He very simply adored her. He garnered strength from her strength, his faith from her faith and his laughter from her quirky sense of humor. Together, this incredible duo loved and cherished their children and the marvelous memories they helped make with them.

Was this real? Was it possible for people to love, respect and admire one another for over 56 years? Yes…it was real-painfully real as they were lost without one another. He here  on earth without her and she, alone in heaven without him. And how do I know this? Because on my mother’s death bed, my father continued to say the Rosary at her cheek for 15 minutes after they had called her ‘time’ of death. Why?  Because my father had read somewhere that even though the heart has stopped and the body has shut down, the ears continue to hear and the brain continues to process information 15 minutes after the fact. Simply stated, my father did not want my mother to go into eternity without his voice to guide or the comforting words of her faith to open the gates before her.

That, my dear readers is true love. In the midst of his agony…in the midst of his broken chain…in the reality that my father was now the sole and soul provider for ten children who had just lost their mother, my father placed himself last on the list to be comforted.

Though I have been granted a few days to consider and reconsider a great many things, my father‘s Birthday has been the clearest reminder of why this journey has been so important to make. Because what my father leaves behind is a legacy of love, honor and respect. Charley deserved to have his legacy read much the same. That, remains my goal because somewhere in the last moments of Charley’s life…I believe he saw the eternity of collective loss his death would bring to others. For him?  The chance of reconciliation. For his bride?  The loss of granting forgiveness. For his children? Simply loss on every level imaginable.

At the end of the day, we each get the information we seek in the time we are meant to receive it. So today– on my father’s Birthday– I ask my father to intercede upon my behalf and grant me the answers to the questions I have been asking for 4 years. It is now time to bring this case to a close in the same fashion I have put the pen to rest upon the book.

Happy Birthday daddy…give  mom a kiss for me and may you both find peace in the safety of each other’s arms and the knowledge that you chose well both in heaven and on earth.

Missing your steady hand this day and everyday…


Your daughter

Now you know why…

March 11, 2013


The other day I walked into a building and there on the floor beneath me was a small black feather. Now ordinarily a feather is a symbol or a sign that important information may be forth coming. However, there is another take on the black feather that gave me greater pause.

Do you remember last year about this time when I told you about a dinner at a Thai restaurant that involved a young child asking about the Grim Reaper? Do you also remember that on that same day, R saw a bouquet of black roses?

Now do you understand why I am cautious about seeing a black feather?

For the first time…

March 8, 2013


For the first time since this journey began I am uncertain as to why I have dedicated 4 years of my life to this. That being said, I can’t imagine how Moses must have felt after doggedly searching for the Promised Land for 40 years.

Remember this day…

March 5, 2013

Jas 1:12

Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.

Remember this day Valdosta,  remember this day!

Can you ear the hooves of the four horsemen coming after the four in flannel?

Listen close…

They ride for you Grim…they ride for you.

Who in that town…

March 3, 2013


The stars have revealed that March is a month in which a secret will be revealed to me. Therefore, I put out this warning…if it is what I think it is? Everything and everyone is fair game and back on the table and the book may have one more chapter before it goes to print, than it has now!

I have waited a very long time for this information…

Think dear readers… who have I yet to identify? Let that be your guide and your warning!

The weather bites with bitter winds…so does the truth. Who has escaped the dangling noose? Who has left others to bear the weight of their collective deed? And why on earth would Grim and Mr. Muddy Boots not be rushing the steps of the courthouse to proclaim him as the key to the triad?

Think…the shooter cannot clean his hands of the endless blood that drips from his fingertips.

G shrieks from behind the gates of a cemetery.

The MOT prefers his game of golf in the flesh and his insurance buddy refuses to give him up.

Roxanne and Jessica are now ready to name their killers.

Boots and Grim now buy DEPENDS in bulk and the Farmer in the dell picks his brain to remember what he carried in that silver lunch box of his, who saw it and what was hidden inside that will give it all away? Yes, farmer. Someone saw what was inside that lunch box earlier that day. Be brave now. Stand up and tell what you know. I already am aware that you saw it- simply find me and I will help you through this. The bottom line is, you can tell me now where I can help you…or you can try to defend why you withheld information later. The choice is yours. It is not my job to judge- just to present what I have found. Ignorance and youth no longer provide you with the same shelter as they did 46 years ago. Wrong is wrong and you know what you saw in that lunch box was wrong.

They show R the lights turn on and off- questions-questions-questions for all those who remain. Who will turn a cheek? Who will cave and give the others away? Who will finally realize they have run out of time?

Imagine this… the Internet serves how many millions? It is easy to remain anonymous in such a large ocean of people, but in the tiny fish bowl of the town you live in? Think…shopping for groceries and paying your bills will never be the same. They will realize where you live…what you have done…who has been taken from them. Do you really think your life will remain the same once the book comes out?

Make the call… write the letter. I am here- waiting for you to do the right thing before I can no longer frame it for you in the light of redemption.

Who in that town will finally tell the truth about what happened to Charley that night on the Clyattville-Nankin   Road?

The answers are coming Valdosta- the answers are coming.

Patience, patience my friends…time will serve us well.

Reach out, Grim.

You know we know each other… for we have already met! Remember, R saw the black roses and I saw the Grim Reaper prepare his sickle. One of the four in flannel has numbered days…time to confess…time to confess.

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