You see, my allegiance is not to the living…but rather to the dead.

8/11/2015 I would apologize for the distance and yet, because it has allowed me to focus on my investigations and this book–I not only cannot–I will not. When you read it, you will understand and not begrudge the silences. This book, which began with the Columbus Stocking Strangler has taken more twists and turns than the ones in the California hills they always show on fancy car commercials on television. So while I regret the lack of pure writing for writings sake, I understand that this go around it was better to apply my craft to the task at hand and keep the therapeutic bantering for later. That being said, I stand at the precipice of one of the most exciting adventures of my life and though my greatest desire is to share it all, right here…right now…my greatest caution is that it must be vetted and governed by edified counsel before it goes public–thus the delay. Take care to understand though, it will be worth the wait and I do not promise what I cannot deliver. In the interim, I have noted that vibrant green and supple leaves that once held high stations in lofty trees have suddenly begun to turn their yellowing cheeks to the wind…gracing the wet and damp earth beneath my feet. When did summer begin to slip away? Even the waters outside my window  have lowered their temperature a degree or two and the wind, while still warm…has decidedly turned its attention towards the approach of a new season and away from Saturday’s sun burns and Sunday’s golden sunsets. Something new is in the air. Something new that begins to tell me that so much of what was, will no longer apply–not just seasonally,but for all time. Things and thoughts are slipping away with each ebb of the tide and as I stand at the shore, I am no longer prompted to retrieve them. What was once ballast to keep my life on an even keel, now appears as only unnecessary weight. Sails raised, they have served their purpose and no longer necessary to move forward, are tossed overboard. So this is what is called the harvest cycle? This long walk away from the pinnacle that was your glorified youth? Tenured and tested, I feign less and boldly walk towards more without regrets. Like the leaves that have begun to put on another face, so too have I begun to change myself in small increments as well. A wrinkle here, a wrinkle there…a word…a look…a thought… a deed…a decision…anything and everything is now on the table and up for renegotiation. But that is one of the benefits of getting older. We care more about what we are leaving behind, than what has been granted to get us to where we are. This book, this information, this time in my life has been so carefully orchestrated by forces unseen that I must honor what has been gifted and with that gift comes great responsibility. That is the reason for my exaggerated absence…the reason why you must be patient…why everything must be validated and confirmed. People’s lives will be changed, not just for entertainment’s sake…but for history’s sake and I bear that in mind with each page printed. For those of you still hoping for resolution in Charley’s case…patience. Things are being shared…people canvassing the streets and the file cabinets of the past and when ready…will announce their confirmation of my findings. Then perhaps Valdosta, you can change this man’s DEATH CERTIFICATE from suicide to homicide. Find a way, before others go public with new information. You see, my allegiance is not to the living…but rather to the dead.

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