Brownstonelit's Blog

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!

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.

1/12/2013

Still waiting for guidance…

Will this week never end?

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!

1/8/2013

While researching this book for Charley… I ran across two names that have a potential tie to what was commonly referred to in the 60’2 and early 70’s as the “Dixie Mafia”… or somewhat more appropriately termed…the “Cornbread Mafia.” Now what do you say does Charley’s murder have to do with the Dixie Mafia? Well now, that remains to be seen. But the most important thing is that back in the day… and you can attest to this for me Grim- those lose cannons didn’t all reside in Valdosta! Some of thos loose cannons ran the rest of the state that your dearly beloved and incarcerated law enforcement leader did not. Hmmmm… Let’s take a look shall we?

Your 4 in flannel had no problem with murder- neither did the mafia.

Your 4 in flannel had no problem with porn and prostitution-neither did the mafia.

Your 4 in flannel had no problem with illegal hooch- lord knows neither did the mafia.

Your 4 in flannel had no problem with kidnapping…rape…torture…drug running…gun running…burglary…counterfeit money…car bombs…car theft- amazingly enough? Neither did the mafia!

See where I’m going with this? Some of the same key players had bigger aspirations than just your sandy little burg and some of them were connected to folks who lived quite a bit north of your sandy little burg. This is the new road. The new project. This is where Charley now leads.

Aside from additional evidence and clues that must be forwarded in Charley’s case…we now look to another county in the state of Georgia…to another murder… to another child who lost a parent to unwarranted violence. Charley’s book ends with the introduction to the next case, or rather cases that I will be working in the next book under the working title of, THE DEAD LINE, Copyright 2010.

Do not worry though- I have not abandoned Charley or my pursuit to bring his killers to justice. Just know that the blog does not always give a true reflection of where things are… or where they aren’t. It is best that I keep you guessing.

Is she done with this and moved on to that? Am I safe to crawl out of the shadows and back into the light? Think children…have I ever let go of ANYTHING?

NO. I have not. Like the junkyard dog we all fear, I am just getting warmed up-just testing the chains that bind me for the moment. I wait. I watch…and when ready…I will bite. Until then, I’ll just go fishing. Got me some good bait and I’m just itching to cast my line. Gonna catch me a big fella too. Oughta be some good feasting coming up…don’t worry ya’ll. I’ll send an invite when I get ready to FRY that fish! After all, best fish ever caught was the ones flopping about on the wet pavement just a 1000 feet or so from the Withlacoochee River. You know Grim, the ones that was there that night-dancing in the rain- trying not to drown in their own lies. Hear tell that’s where Charley liked to catch his fish…had some good bait too that night…but nothing like the bait I got!

Rumor has it-worms aren’t the only way to catch a fish. Sometimes you gotta think outside the box…the lunch box that is! Know what I mean, Grim?

Hope you had a good New Year’s …

1/6/2013

And so it has come…

The day I have feared and fought for, for four years…the weaning day. Like a beautiful relationship that has blossomed and run its course, the death of Charley Covington can now become the celebration of this life and his legacy. Will the book change what has been written?

Yes…even as it changes the past it will alter the present and the future for all connected to this crime. For both criminals and victims bound to this case by its tragedy and its consequence–each will be eternally altered for what has been written here, what has been shared- what has been taught and what has been learned.

Is Charley a better man for what I have done?

No…Charley is the man he has always been; a kind and loving soul who got his head turned in a moment of weakness and his heart betrayed in a moment of despair. A father who loved his children, a husband who fell in and out of love with his wife a hundred times over the course of their 19 year marriage- just like every other long term couple will tell you- if they do not lie. Charley was a man who saw something wrong in this world and in the midst of his own catharsis- tried to change the course of history for those who could not do it for themselves.

Am I a better woman for what I have done?

Yes…because somewhere in the midst of my own catharsis he reached out and found me-to keep me from making the same mistakes-to show me a loss before I could affect it. Because of his kindness, I am kinder. Because of his faith, I am more faithful. Because of his devotion- I am more devoted. Because of his death I have a greater life…

I am a mother who loves her children and a wife that now cherishes a husband who has been there for over 30 years waiting patiently for me to love him back the way he deserves. He is the man who brought me from young adult through motherhood and menopause, and gifted me the valuable lessons of loyalty and conviction. Together, he and Charley have taught me that love is not always a rush of affectionate feelings- a flash of pheromones…some days it is little more than a decision that we must make until the rush returns again and confirms that we are on the right path.

Because of Charley…I not only see the wrongs committed by others… but the wrongs I have committed myself. Because of his example, I will do my best to change the course of history for those who cannot do it for themselves… to decipher the shorthand of the dead and to hold the hands of those still alive who grieve their loss. This is my duty- this is my calling.

Charley and I are forever- we are written amongst the stars and he has promised to never leave my side. As the days move forward, he has promised to hold my hand as I venture into other worlds that I cannot even dream of yet. He will guide and hold me steady as I pen my way across the heartaches of other souls who wait for healing and for justice.

Does this mean the blog has ended? No… For this blog will continue as we all continue. Discoveries in this case have led me to another and it is for that set of victims that one door must be traversed to get to the next. Do these doors close behind me as I go? In a sense they will always be open…but in another I cannot tether those behind them to my side without stalling them in their evolution. As for Charley? Divine love requires that I must let him go…to walk amongst the stars- to seek the face of God and to joy in the marvels of his own salvation.

Do I love Charley Covington? Would it surprise you to know that somewhere in the deepest part of my soul I believe we have always been one- not in the sense that human’s find necessary to label. Charley and I have a soul recognition that I believe defies the boundaries of conventional wisdom- that breaches the veil of death and that cannot be contained by the human heart- but by the divine.

The rendering is bittersweet- for even as I am letting him go- I am holding him tighter.

Stay close dear friend…you are and forever will be… my heart…my angel…my shepherd.

1/4/2013

I had originally thought to put the first chapter out in the blog- just to wet your whistles for the book.

Then I let a few treasured folks read it to get a feel for their gut reactions.

Their responses were all great, but one in particluar caught my attention.

It began with:

“OMG!  Couldn’t take my eyes off the words until I read everyone… I loved the…”

And ended with:

“…I must admit I’ve never seen a bigger ‘pair’ on a woman outside of  Texas! Can’t wait to read it in it’s entirety.”

I’m thinking maybe I should just wait until it comes out in print. That way you can all be surprised!

1/1/2013

Wow!  How crazy does it feel to write that?

Even more… how crazy does it feel to finally get to tell you that it is done! The book is finished. Really finished and I am at peace with what has been written, discovered and what will continue to unfold from its writing.

I will most likely write more later, but for now?

Happy New Year to all those who have kept pace with this case, counseled me as to how to investigate it, cushioned me from its dangers and comforted me as it continually broke my heart.

For you dear Charley…

For you dear Julie…

For you dear Roxanne…

Fir you dear Jessica…

For you dear MOT…

And even for you dear G… this has been written.

Thank you dear R and thank you to me for never giving up.

Happy New Year dearest Charley- I promise you it will be!

12/29/2012

Today I held Charley’s DEATH CERTIFICATE in my hands. It still registers his manner of death as a suicide; cause of death by self-inflicted wounds.

Starting tomorrow we begin to rewrite history!

Why?

Because tomorrow we start to run with the big dogs!

Are you ready Grim?

12/27/2012

Yesterday I heard my angel song and you all know what that means! Someone or something will hopefully be coming through to me today. For this, I shall give my gratitude in advance as Charley seldom sends the messenger without a message.

As it were…

All last night I kept dreaming about the gun. You know, the one they say Charley shot himself with. In my head I kept hearing the word “evidence” being spoken. Over and over the word, “evidence.” And then I would see Hazel’s familiar face; the jet black hair, the stoic smile- the level eyes. She was telling me to look in her journal. She talked about the week of Charley’s burial when “they” came to his mamma’s house and showed her all the weapons they had taken from her house the night of Charley’s murder. They asked her to identify them… and do you know what? She was able to identify every single shotgun and handgun…every one of them, but the gun Charley supposedly shot himself with. Isn’t that something? She was married to the man for just shy of 20 years…did they really think she was that stupid?

They claimed that was his “issued” weapon and that was the gun he was shot with. Still, Hazel told them she had never seen the gun before. When she asked where it had been all this time- they told her Charley had given it to G for protection. Protection from what? A man she filed for divorce from almost a year earlier… a man who never moved out of her house until the week of Charley’s murder? A man she married three weeks after Charley’s death?

Now what would a Federal Revenue agent be doing giving his alleged mistress a government issued weapon to protect herself from a man she didn’t have the _______ to stay divorced from? Further more, where was this gun in the meantime? In Charley’s house? Naw…Hazel never saw it before. In his office? Naw…because it was never Charley’s to begin with! Neither was the porn tape that came from California a full month after Charley was buried. That was another “bright boy” move by the 4 in flannel and their fearless leader the king of LowndesCounty. You know, fake an affair- plant a porn tape- switch a gun…You say potato, I say potatoes!

The devil is in the details kids!!! But that’s what happens when you let a couple of chuckleheads run the show. First they try to cover things up- then they try to cover-up the cover-up. It’s a snowball of idiocy! Body after body must be disposed. And yet this incredible ball of lies has stood for 46 years! Why? Because nobody had the ________ to ask the right questions before. Nobody cared enough to do the right thing. Nobody involved had the morals to be a real man. These fools thought as long as they came attached to a ________, it meant they were men. Wrong- it meant they were a ___________, somehow attached to a man’s body. (You fill in the blanks. Ought to be real easy!) Please remember; ferrets, weasels and dogs have them too! Doesn’t make them exactly rocket scientists now- does it? They still lick their asses and eat one another’s poop!

So now that we know the “Einstein’s” involved didn’t cover all their bases…how many do you think remain uncovered? Oh, you just have no idea and neither do they. Why? Because they forget about the dead… they forget about those still alive…they forget about frail allegiances and forgotten alibis. They forget that nobody gives a rat’s ass about how they once were the reigning few in this county. How people feared their selective powers. Now they are small minded men who shit in their diapers and drool from their crusted lips and babble into the night- When will they come for me? How do they know? Who betrayed- who broke the “FRATERNAL PROTECTION” code? And finally… who gives a shit about their broken code?

One word baby–OSTRICH!

Too bad these men thought they were invincible- that nobody could ever figure that out.

Wanna know how I know what it really means?

Great… buy the book. It will be out within the year!