7/18/2014
With the full moon past and the weight of another production upon my shoulders, I am oft limited to leisure or research pursuits. Will all of July flow so unruly? No… days from now I shall have the pleasure of diving back into the necessary documents and notes from a recent trip to further crafting of the next novel. Already begun, I can see the longer road of discover stretch before me and it makes me both eager and hesitant. School begins just three weeks from now and while I am anxious to complete my degree, so much of busy work goes into my hours that there are never enough to go around.
The case of the Stocking Strangler beckons to me throughout the day and haunts me at night. For several days, I have had the luck of complete submersion into its world and indeed it is both lurid and fascinating. Can there be such a thing as intellectual perversion? These animals stalked their pray and then executed their needs with such calculated objectivity, it is almost admirable. Each victim selected, courted and then killed…not courted in the romantic sense, but courted in the…’let me calm your fear s and lull you into a false sense of security’ kind of way.
I am most interested in the eighth and final Columbus victim in particular as she has steeped forward and offered her help to bring her killer to justice. Hers is almost a case of ease. Do they have the wrong man on trial for her murder? Oh, yes indeed. From the lips of the victim herself, she has stated that her murder was somehow related to a business dealing; a business dealing gone bad. Did Mary Sue have a business at that time? No…but her brother did and so that is where we begin.
Looking at the crime scene photos is disturbing, if you concentrate only on the overall graphics…but if you concentrate on the other clues in the photo, is begins to speak a language of its own. From its gore, we must extract its mystery and information. Mary Sue has much to say, and she does…over and over.
The killers were all about the occult, which is something that law enforcement seems to have overlooked..conveniently or otherwise. In order to catch a serial killer you must think from his world- not from yours. This case dances among some of the most glorified and deified secret societies and has such symbolism and black magik attached to it, that I almost fear inviting some of it into my home. Already the tiny white dog that loves to converse with Charley and my parents on occasion form the couch in my office or the floor of our bedroom has begun a new kind of chatter which leads me to believe that I have new ethereal visitors at the lake house who have much to tell. I pray that they are here to help and not to intervene for adversity’s sake. Only once has she growled deep within her chest and so only once have I reached for the rosary that lies beside my computer.
Talk to me Mary Sue, for I can no longer turn back to the hours of innocence before your murder. I have seen the shredded flesh of your throat…gazed upon your lifeless body and studied the scars of bloody fingers that cut across the threshold of your kitchen door. Talk to me Mary Sue. Together, you and I will put name to his face, sentence to his deed and justice to his soul.
I wait with baited breath to hear what they have to say.
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