Brownstonelit's Blog

12/5/2015

Dear Readers,

I know it has been a long time coming–these many words you think have been forgotten or left behind somewhere I could not take you and in fact…that is exactly the truth. Where I have been, I have not been able to bring you along… but I know you will forgive me.

Why?

Because shortly my next book will come out and then, my dear readers, you will understand why I have been silent–why I could not share with you all that has transpired. Know this; I have never needed to keep so much, so far from your eyes before, but this has been necessary in order to vet the information and reach the conclusions that have been made.

The case in Columbus indeed metastasized beyond the borders of your quaint town and it was necessary to follow where evidence willed. These last few months…nay, years…have been spent in the pursuit of justice for those unable to do so for themselves and true to spirit, my efforts as well as those of many others have not been in vain.

The epic novel, “Lords of the Harvest” is in its final stages and awaiting clearance for publication. It was no small feat…it is no small tale…and the heft between its cover will alert you to the tremendous amount of research and effort undertaken by all who played a part.

I caution you dear readers… pace yourself and pay attention. Truth is not only stranger than fiction, it can be terrifying and so you must pay attention to every nuance and clue presented.

This my dears, is not to be a bathroom novel meant for the in-between moments of your life, or the quick read you grab for the short drive or the puddle-jump air flight. This is an epic and intimate look at a nation’s history of a bizarre patchwork of homicidal selections and the incremental loss  of those who were taken from you: your wives, your mothers, your sisters, your brothers, your fathers, your sons, your neighbors, friends and fellow citizens.

This book needs no one to brag about its content. It will not seek to convert you or change your assessment of the universe or the towns you live in…it seeks only to inform and to prompt the questions the evidence will demand be asked of your officials.

There are some of you out there who are aware of the efforts made on certain individuals behalves and yet, ironically…some of those individuals have yet to learn of this momentous project’s existence. They for whom such endeavors have been made, will without public fanfare be notified of its results before this book goes to print. It is their privilege…it is their right, that they be allowed the privacy of their thoughts and the digestion of these suppositions before the world steps in to make of them what they will.

As author, I thank you for your continued support and loyalty and promise that you will not be found wanting when at last you crack the cover of its girth. Again, this is not a small undertaking and so do not be initially discouraged at the breath of its expanse. Rather, understand that there was no other way for this to be written and shared, so that you might understand everything that I have now come to understand.

If you have not read the previous TRUE CRIME MEMOIR by T.A. Powell; The Thin Gray Line, you might want to, so that the story and characters remain congruent for you. From one murder to many…the contents of, “LORDS OF THE HARVEST” will amaze you!

Stay tuned…

9/13/2015

I cannot believe it has been so many days between writing and yet the blur of  academics and production schedules have been so all consuming, little else has been accomplished in between.

Yesterday I took a break after a heavy morning of academics and went outside into the world and played in the earth–putting in new plants and mowing the yard. After a heady week of pressures, it was good to exercise muscles unbearably knotted with stress and breathe in the afternoon air without expectations, deadlines or obligations. This morning, with hot coffee infused with pumpkin spice and necessary caffeine…my husband and I dressed in light jackets and flannel shirts…enjoyed the colorful plantings outside our cottage and took to the water. As the sun began to kiss the treetops, we ventured into the very unexpected cold autumn air to the marina for breakfast. Is the food there that great? No…not really. But the hot coffee and the ride over, on top of the sun splattered shoreline was spectacular. That and the ritual of early LL Bean mornings with my husband, sets the world right for me each Sunday morning and brings back to a sense of wonderment and gratitude for the gifts Source has already shared with me.

With eagle on the wing above us, it never ceases to amaze me that in spite of every trial we have been thrown…our lives are still the stuff of small dreams. I live on a lake…my chariot, our boat…our house is not too big, but not too small…the view from its deck is as grand as my aspirations and as private as my faith…and the joy it all brings me, makes what I do so very possible. My husband and this life–gift me with the power and support to follow my divine purpose.

As for the case(s)…

The book is still being vetted and the suspense is like having thrown all your cards up into the air…only to be suspended in the wait of their fall.

In truth, I am both eager and afraid of the enormous impact this may have on our lives…but overjoyed that the universe has brought such an adventure our way. Those who have been a part of this journey will joy in its release and be shocked at what has transpired even beyond their contributions and I can hardly wait  to share it with them.

For those who have wrestled with their input or scattered it elsewhere out of  impatience of fear, they will come to understand that the process for me could have not been altered or abridged–lest certain things would have been missed and/or forgotten. The divine orchestrates what needs to be done at the very moment of its necessity and even though it presents as struggle sometimes…I have learned not to question timing, but to embrace it.

As stated, the cards are in the air…where they will land is up to God and I eagerly await his decision!

8/23/2015

The unscheduled sabbatical…

Not only is it a good thing to get away sometimes, but in doing so the last two days  I have received exactly what I would have worked towards if I had not, without the stress or angst of such important benchmarks.

After a full week of hectic production schedules and academic pressures, I decided to take an unscheduled sabbatical (which I have decided will become a title of perhaps another book to be written soon…) and unplug from the routine of my life, in order to enjoy my life more.

On Friday afternoon my husband called asked me for a date. Tired, but eager to share some time apart from work or studies, or the topic of murder…I accepted and began the hour and 15 minute drive home.

In the ride of enjoyment, the slick and dampened streets of the city eventually gave way to the asphalted bumpy roadways of my personal sanctuary and I pulled into my driveway and parked… but only for a moment. My husband, anxious to be about the adventure, waved from the deck enthusiastically– acknowledging my arrival and without further delay, rounded up the animals and locked up the house.

With the windshield wipers confused about their intermittent duties, I watched through the speckled windshield as the ripples on the lake made their way between shorelines…gently rolling in their exhaustion. Feeling much the same, I waited patiently as my husband made his way across the patchwork lawn and crawled in beside me.  Curious about our destination I piqued an eyebrow, but he only smiled and quipped,  “Let’s try something new.”

With a quick hello and a brief pause in our weekend momentum to set the navigation system, I smiled as he tapped his way to a foreign address. Eager for a new adventure, I followed its guidance  through rain and sunshine down unfamiliar roads and picturesque pastoral settings. Thirty minutes later we arrived at our destination– a restaurant in Locust Grove called, The French Market.

Having met one of the owners on a boat ride the week before, we had been given a modest description of its menu and ambiance–but the owner was decidedly underscored in his narrative. For the weary traveler of the work week, this was not just a nice upscale detour from the common fare… it was Nirvana. Tucked within the quaint historic bricked walls of a renewed old main street diorama, it stood as beacon to relaxation and casual sophistication.

Now, I am not a restaurant critic and the purpose of this blog is not to grant you  travel log gratuities, but my dear readers…it was so what was needed at the right moment.

The decor was elevated with a European twist; sophisticated but grounded in its intent and service. The food– a rarity of eclectic flavors blended together with just the right level of spice and richness was as inspiring in its consumption, as it was in its presentation. Between the symbiotic contentment of the background music and the chilled wine, my shoulders eased and the week’s weight sloughed to the the floor. Hidden within the confines of a quiet corner, we discovered the view of a Baby Grand piano pinched in between the folds of a panoramic picture window. Under the creative lighting, I enjoyed my husband’s contagious smile and the eclectic banter of neighboring tables.

Most times we enjoy the native experience of where we live, but occasionally it is good to heighten the senses…travel new roads…break away from our regular routines and throw caution to the wind. I cannot tell you how much the simple experience of excellent food, good wine and carefully crafted ambiance can gift the soul. The adventure was just what I required and I thank the owners for their careful attention to each authentic detail of our engagement.

Now, I cannot lie…

As comfortable as I may have eventually become, murder did eventually share the table with us, in that my mind is never far from the cases it must solve. That being said,  as compliment to dinner when traveling through the general store attached–I found just the perfect item on sale.

Not functional, it was a simple piece of gratuitous decor: a rusted old fashioned lock, with an equally old fashioned rusted key stuck inside it. Now why would such an innocuous article of common design be so incredibly significant to this investigative author?

You cannot possibly know this, but I had just that week approved the final cover art design for my book; THE LORDS OF THE HARVEST.  And what does the exterior of this epic tome cover brandish? A similar likeness of an old fashioned lock with a key entering it…signifying the miraculous discovery of a key signature element of the killer(s) Modus Operandi (MO) who terrorized multiple populations over multiple decades in all four corners of these United States. This one particular signature element is the key that will unlock the mysteries behind the deaths of hundreds of victims, define their collective accountability and bring closure to hundreds of victims’ families.

Synchronicity?

I should most definitely think so, for when and where was the last time you found yourself confronted with the very thing in an unrelated arena that matched so intimately that of your current and hidden thoughts? Encouraged…I walked about to see what other treasures could be garnered. A personal favorite was a small wooden plaque which simply read: “Survivor of Shit Creek”; a place I have known all too well.

Next, I found a bracelet that held a silver ingot that held the word FAITH on one side and GRACE on the other. Taking this as an omen from spirit, I purchased both along with a cameo bracelet and in tandem with my satiated appetite for culinary pleasure and spiritual inspiration…walked out the doors of, The French Market of Locust Grove, filled with a renewed sense of my divine mission and my dedication to living in the present.

Continuing my sabbatical, I left my laptop alone for another 24 hours  and enjoyed the gifts of sky, water, sunshine, rain and family. The rewards? A chance to appreciate what I already have…what I already know, rediscover who I already love and what has been shared between us. At then end of a wonderful day of non-committal nonsense, I received a phone from a dear friend–filled with information that will further support the suppositions and structured findings within my book.

The products of, “Faith and Grace”.

Grateful for the chance to elongate the umbilical cord between my laptop and myself further…I found a wonderful space in between to remember that there is more to life than work and study. To remember that there is beauty…joy…taste…color…culture and contentment.

Too often we bury ourselves under personally constructed bull-works that bind us to overwhelming obligations and unnecessary deadlines. I am the worst for such- juggling both theatre productions and the needs of the dead.  In this unscheduled sabbatical, I have found the gift of renewed strength to continue with my divine purpose.

Thank you to, The French Market of Locust Grove, for reminding me that life is a gift itself and if you are really lucky…some days you are able to find all of the above in one sophisticated little splotch of bucolic bliss!

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.

6/24/2015 I almost feel as though I should apologize… I cannot even remember a time I went this long without posting and yet, the whirlwind of life has kept things so incredibly busy and almost chaotic that to apologize, while probably appropriate, would be insane. I have hardly stopped for a moment to catch my breath in the last month and I expect that the next will bring more of the same. Silence is not only golden, it is sometimes necessary and even though you have heard this from me before, it has never wrung so true. There are times that we must do the responsible thing…be the responsible one in the room and sometimes being that responsible means we have to stay still…keep quiet and listen…take advantage of what the universe is trying to tell you. This is one of those times. In the days and weeks to come you will come to understand that these are the kind of days that we will look back on and remember the quiet before the storm, for we cannot predict which ways the wind will blow once the clouds have begun to gather. Many people have worked hard and long on this project…many people have waited even longer for results and it is hard to stand tall when the tides of change roll in, not knowing what the undertow will bring with it. Each day I watch the waves break upon my beach; some days it brings me tiny treasures and some days pure unadulterated trash—other people’s trash. And each day I must sift through the pile and rubble and decide what goes where and how to dispose of it. Murder is a lot like that. You never know what the tides of information will bring, still you sift through the evidence of a case and you decide where to put it… you keep what can be used, you dismiss what remains trash. Police files often hold both. The trick is to divine what is treasure and then follow to where it leads. In the days to come you will question why this writer sits silent? Where have I gone? What am I thinking and why am I not sharing that with you? In the days to come, I promise…when the time is right, I will answer those questions and more. It may take 683 pages to do it…but I promise it will be an unforgettable ride! Stay tuned…

5/13/2015

Today I learned that a group of Wombats are called a “Wisdom”.

Wisdom was also called Sophia…a nick name for such is Sophie.

Now what do Wombats and Sophie have to do with today? You will soon see.

Today is also the 13th…a significant number and a significant date…may the Wombats be with you!

5/5/2015

Birthdays always bring such wonderful presents and this year was no different…well, maybe a little different.

A little different, because this year my present from the universe arrived a few hours earlier than expected and brought with it, a new opportunity and the chance to plug a few holes!

Thank you…

4/21/2015

Yesterday I did something I seldom do. I decided to try and take a new approach to something old.

That being said…

I am always amazed at how many different roads can lead to the same place. Amazed at how many different perceptions there can be of the same view. Perhaps this is why our cars have so many windows…so we can see different things, all while headed in the same general direction.

A driver will have one view…the front seat passenger another, as well as those in the rear–who see most things in hindsight of the others.

No one window of observation is ever exclusive…no one window gifting the only acceptable view.

Someday, try a new road into work. Or one evening, take the longer way home and use that time to think.

Sometimes, the variations within a single landscape shows us something we might have missed otherwise.

It’s called…another perspective.

4/17/2015

Yesterday began Pluto’s retrograde until mid-September…it will provide time for true and deep introspection; which in my case means…editing and proofing my next book: LAW OF THE HARRVEST, by T.A. Powell. (Copyrighted materials, 2014)

This book will chronicle my journey and investigation into the Columbus Stocking Strangling’s of 1977-‘80 and the fingerlings of clues that have metastasized from that investigation, into other nationally infamous serial killings that will flog your mind.

Helping a friend out a few days ago, I pulled this card from the deck:

This morning, I pulled it again…the Wheel of Fortune card; both times reversed.

Wikipedia says:

“…The origin of the word is from the “wheel of fortune” – the zodiac, referring to the celestial spheres of which the 8th holds the stars, and the 9th is where the signs of the zodiac are placed. The concept was first invented in Babylon and later developed by the ancient Greeks…”

Now, normally the Wheel of Fortune tarot card is a symbol of constant change and traditionally one could read it in the upright position as favorable changes ahead and the reversed…well…not so favorable changes ahead.

The Wheel Of Fortune card, like so many of the other cards of the Major Arcana, has a variety of interpretations between Tarot decks. Basically, this card has been modeled after the 15^th century medieval concept of Rota Fortunae, the wheel of the goddess Fortuna.

Wikipedia also edifies:

“… Images generally show a six or eight spoked wheel, often attended or crested by an individual (sometimes human; sometimes a Sphinx-like half-human) attired in an Egyptian-style headdress…”

But that is not the only thing spirit intended me to see!

What spirit intended me to see, was something in its design that echoed that of another design. Look closely at the figure of what might be construed as the Egyptian head-dressed, Sphinx inspired figure-depicted in a burnish red, hanging with its head and horns dangling off the wheel to the left side…the left leg is also raised at the knee—bent, and the right leg laying relatively flat atop the twisting wheel.

Now why is this important you say?

If I told you that one of the killer’s was an occultist…that he breast fed on all things esoteric…that he believed in religion, astrology, astronomy, the tarot, ancient Egypt and was a practitioner of a specific type of magic and that like every true sociopath—kept souvenirs of his kills—wouldn’t you be interested to know more?

Stay tuned Columbus. This is just the beginning!

4/10/2015

So shall we begin to lay the bread crumbs that will have all of Columbus eating out of our hands in less than a year?

How many of you remember these killings…the Columbus Silk Stocking Strangling’s?

How many of you had mothers and grandmothers who bolted their doors and left on their lights trying to prevent the evil from entering their homes?

How many of you questioned the inability of your police to catch the killer(s) who wandered your streets undetected and how many of you bought the line of crap they fed you when they said they could prove a man was responsible for the killings with an 8 year late partial fingerprint in one of the three of the seven attacks he was convicted on and yet…had nothing to parse on the other four?

How many of you have sat back and watched the circus of your courtrooms as the local law dances their way around the facts of the case and desperately trying not to step into the _______ of their  forefathers…or is that four fathers?

Let’s begin by asking the most primal of questions.

If both the Columbus Stocking Strangling’s and the Mary Sue Ogletree case’s, respectively can be categorized as crimes of passion…due to the brutality and personal natures of the violations and manners of death, then why are we even looking at the man currently on death row?

What intimate contacts or personal vendetta had this man ever had with any of these women?  And beyond the cursory knowledge that they lived in the same community at one time, they obviously never lived in the same world…if you understand my meaning. But even that cannot truly explain the motivation for the killings and the state’s premise was flimsy at best.

The convict was a thief and a drug dealer.

And if nothing was ever stolen…and no drug association evident?

What was his motivation for these horrendous kills?

What egregious errors had these women made towards him?

What up close and personal default had they committed towards him that would trigger such calculated and sexually stunted violence?

Can the pillars of your justice system answer that question with a straight face?

Motive 101!

Think my dear readers…because your officials are asking you to believe that the common rules and professional guidelines of criminal psychology for a psychopath and/or sociopath do not apply here to either case.

In the last hearing for this man to get a new trial we are asked to swallow such nonsensical rationalizations that a man in the midst of executing vile and passionate crimes… takes both time out and preferential umbrage with the kind of shoes he wears…so that he could spend a night running and jumping through hoops of ridiculous circumstances with his toes curled under to lay flat against the balls of his feet, so as to fit into a pair of shoes more than 3 sizes too small for him…just to screw with the detective’s heads after the fact. In addition, he is a thief who decides after he has killed his victims, not to steal anything-just to throw them off his scent!

That’ll teach those silly cops a thing or two!

Next, we are asked to believe that members of the Columbus justice system did not find the evidence of bite mold, or shoe mold information terribly important at the time of the murders… nor, decades later when they were asked to produce the evidence and then conveniently paraded that either it never existed or that it had been lost. All proven to have been untrue.

Now, I am not asking the families of these victims to relive their tragic losses for folly’s sake, and I would not presume to grasp the level of their despair; but I would venture that in as much as they would like to have their loved ones death’s validated by finding the true killer…they would feel remiss at having watched another man die for crimes he did not commit.

Again, I am not saying that the man in prison is innocent of all the crimes levied against him and he has openly admitted to thievery and substance issues in other cases, but these crimes? He says no…cops say yes. Yet there was never proper record of any of these conversations made, only hearsay after the fact commentaries by cops- desperate to fit the narrative of those being flown by those above them and so should not have been entered as evidence…only hearsay.

What I experienced while in that courtroom a few months ago was most alarming. Had it not been that I both heard and witnessed with my own eyes, these thin arguments offered by the state… I would not have believed some of the suppositions presented. In fact, had a criminal justice student turned in a proposition providing such lack of standard protocols for evidence collection and procedures, devoid of any proper chain of custody documentation, used as the basis for argument for or against any Defense positions…the DA’s office would have likely failed such a proposal. You cannot compound the initial lack of evidential integrity by throwing more piles of incredulity upon it to make it more palatable…the case should be thrown out.

Only in a small town or small minded courtroom would such flagrant evasions ever fly.

Now, I don’t pretend to be an attorney…but your name doesn’t have to be “Ferdinand” to recognize a huge pile of bull_____, when you’ve stepped in it!

I’m just saying that Columbus should perhaps pay greater attention to this case and the players in it, before this man is executed. There are a lot of really interesting questions that will have to be answered about the proposed, “lost” or “produced” evidence in this case…not to mention the unpublicized personal relationships between certain previous, “prime suspects”…the original investigators…attorneys and certain business partners and hidden activities at certain underground parties at a certain house, if this man is put to death.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I plan to ask those questions in the book anyway…whether you kill this man or not. But we can start other places before its release, and we can start with this:

Questions like…

If the lack of any responsible collection and/or chain of custody procedures for evidence in this case has clearly been proven to be an epic cluster_______ the size of Texas, then how can any of the evidence presented in this case ever be trusted? The evidence was improperly collected, stored and/or preserved to begin with. Now I know this was in the 70’s, but please…even an idiot knows to put all the evidence in one safe place…TOGETHER… and not at the bottom of a stairs or “hidden” in a brown paper bag in the back of a file cabinet. Not to mention that some of it was contained in an evidence vault on the same floor as the DA’s offices for decades. Now that sounds responsible, doesn’t it?

Unless…

So who had unfettered access to it? From what I have been told…pretty much anybody and everybody was able to walk right in there and walk right out, for all those years and if that’s the case… then well…that begs another set of questions–does it not?

Questions like:

Who had much to benefit from the removal or the manipulation of evidence to make sure Gary was convicted to take the fall and shut down the screams of fright from the community they so-call served?

But even more importantly?

Who had much to lose if the evidence found had been able to prove that Gary wasn’t the one who should have taken the fall?

Now that’s the real story in this case!

These are the basic questions that should have been asked then and if the case was solid enough to convict then…could they still be answered the same way today, producing the same effect. But can they?

Look at the original players? Who started somewhere and ended up somewhere else after the Gary conviction, or even just after his arrest? Who was elevated? Who was relocated and why? And then…who lost those positions later after and why?

Tigers don’t change their stripes, children! They just get longer and fade, like the smiles your players hide behind.

The case itself is a sham. The verdict of guilt such a pretentious pile and the endless defense of the state’s position, such a waste of tax payer money and intellect, that the whole case should be thrown out of court and Gary remanded to release for time served.

Otherwise…you explain to me how a fingerprint found 8 years after the fact…and AFTER…Gary’s latent arrest, can suddenly be introduced without proper documentation as to where it came from and how it could have been preserved for all that time without any compromise on a window sill?

Now that’s magic! Or is that…chaos?

(That’s an inside joke for the real players…trust me, they’ll get it!)

The lack of proper procedure in this case boggles the mind.

Many people have deep and hidden personal histories they wish to hide behind this case…things that involve certain activities and many public personalities that cannot professionally or personally afford to have come to light.

So Columbus, do yourself a favor and pay attention…things are about to get very interesting in your town. Go walk the streets of your historic district and take notes; this wasn’t just somebody’s Folly, it was an unholy alliance and mission statement placed in plain view and they counted on only those occultist and enlightened to understand its value and directives.

Business partnerships are about to be exposed…hidden activities brought to light…associations demonstrated…people who wore robes- ritually disrobed…houses that held secrets, dismantled-photo by photo… madmen who once danced naked in the moonlight around a blazing barrel of files and documents not meant for your eyes to see…later filled pools with something other than water…poems that once glorified the black mountains, now read more like a true crime novel… and student loans that had benefactors that might raise certain eyebrows now, have paid off in delays and denials.

Sounds like a good night at the movies and yet…it was all there in your little town…hidden from your eyes, by men who thought they were more clever than the rest of the world and they were–for a time, but no longer. So grab a box of popcorn, Columbus and get ready for the show!

Easter and this investigation have raised more than one man from the dead this year…let’s see what else can be found.

Stay tuned!