Brownstonelit's Blog

10/26/10

Multicolored leaves cuddle together in the street gutters in various levels of decay… much like the bodies of Grim’s victims in Valdosta those long 44 years ago. How many gone, how many murdered we are forced now to ask. How many banded together to protect the guilty… to deny their own culpability in the debauchery of a town? And how many knew the secrets? How many whose lips remained silent- while the victims lay gasping for air in the moonlight? How many whose consciences betrayed them on a daily basis?

When I write a book I generally write it backwards… thus the delay. Every time I build the final few sentences… they whisper in my ear…”there’s more…so much more…” and I am stalled by my own curiosity to see this to the end. As you have read before, I build my stories first with title- find the corresponding font- then write the ending and backfill. Originally this book started as, ‘The Covington Conspiracy’… but the more I learned (which now I see as so minimal, it amazes me I could fabricate a title at all) the more it became hinged on one cup of coffee- and then all the cups of coffee in Charley’s life. While the title of, “The Coffee Pot Conspiracy” sends you images of Hugh Beaumont and Barbara Billingsly (of ‘Leave it to Beaver’ fame-recently deceased- God rest her soul) sitting down to coffee with Ozzy and Harriet Nelson to discuss last night’s episode of the Jackie Gleason Show- it now symbolizes so much more. Of course, I understand that you have not had unfettered access to Hazel’s journal and so your impressions will be hindered greatly- but you do remember that that was the last conversation-the last words between husband and wife that night? The mutual consent to share a cup of coffee, delayed by the interruption of a by a drive by moonshine investigation and an agreement to reconvene in the kitchen after his arrival home later that night? The timeframe ETA of ‘shortly after the pot had percolated’? A projected window of 45-55 minutes-tops? The cup of coffee they never got to share? The pot and the body that grew colder as the night went on? The unresolved marital issues? The breakdown of true communication? The uncertainty of a couple who had lost two children, blessed with two more and about concerns about how they could navigate the future with new understanding and appreciation for each other’s needs? And so it is not only fitting, but as I will explain to you- the absolute thread that binds all in this mind numbing ride.

Let us go back… not to the beginning, because in truth I cannot tell you when that is. I can only pick up the thread mid-stream and run with it. Let us begin with the summer of 1966. Our most recently discovered victim, Jessica was most likely murdered somewhere around the 4th of July in 1966. It fits the timing and the excessive heat she felt- the rapid sense of decay to her damaged face and skull as denoted by my dear friend R. So let’s conjecture for a moment shall we and find the common timeline for all this- want to?

As Betty Davis once said, ‘You better hold on tight… it’s going to be a bumpy ride!’

Ok… Jessica is murdered and beaten with a shovel somewhere around the holiday of the 4th. This fits- then they move her from where she was murdered- which was near someone’s home. (Just who’s, I will not say as yet.) She lays there in the woods- but he can see her. It excites him…maybe too much. He can see her from his window. He cannot tell his wife or children… but he likes it. This voyeurism… this lust for the dead. He keeps it to himself. He shares this with no one but Jessica. She lying dead outside his window… him enjoying the site of her mutilation and decay.

Then, the rumors begin to fly. Everybody hears, everybody knows… but nobody wants to get involved because they suspect  certain law enforcement members have their bloody little fingerprints all over this one. They wait a few days- then they bury her… oh, let’s just say possibly at a public works site. A friend reports her missing- but no one cares. She’s a hooker and a whore. Nobody cares about the lower class- not in this town. It’s all about the power and the money.

The four in flannel operate under their own power. The farther they get from the crime, the more they begin to miss the thrill. They plot for another. All the while Charley is working his AATD job and building houses on the side; they are pumping released prisoner workers on him, asking him to use them as ‘labor’. Hazel is forced into running a prison farm atmosphere and she talks about this in her journal. The unease of having so many violators on their property- she is worried with Charley gone so much of the time. Now- let’s get back to the timeline.

Jessica is probably murdered in the early portion of the month. Then buried at or under a local…. well, I know where and you will find out later. Then, G suddenly pops into the picture much more often. If Charley goes for coffee- so does she. G works for the P. O. at the courthouse. My how convenient! The same office whose prisoner’s work on public works projects- where Jessica is buried! Incredulously, they are the same people who are there that night at Charley’s murder searching for evidence- or shall we say- creatinng and destroying evidence. Stay with me now…The town is dotted with café’s and tiny restaurants that border the courthouse. The then county seat of injustice, as I like to call it. State and Federal Treasury agents all working together for the common cause, with the local law enforcement in support. Like an 18 hour bra, they support only their own though and those that hang over the sides are left to fend for themselves…

The ravens hob-knob and chatter. Who’se cheating who in and out of the bed. In and out of office. Suddenly now when Charley goes to drink coffee- everybody goes to drink coffee. At least everyone who is interested in what Charley knows and does not know about the missing girl. Take for instance, the PO boss who suspiciously arrives every time Charley steps into the P________ restaurant. He drinks with him and maybe calls his secretary over to join them- or she meets Charley and then calls her boss to join them. How very cozy this all seems. This continues for weeks- this dance of tempting and teasing information from one another. Even more odd is the fact that in mid July, G and her husband show up at Charley’s home to drink coffee, talk about construction loans and ask to borrow a gun of Charley’s to go camping with that next day. Seems nice and friendly- doesn’t it? Sure… if it hadn’t been for the fact G had filed for divorce from her husband the April before! And that it was after 10:00 at night when they showed up unannounced to borrow a gun. And that they had left 4 children home alone at the time to come and do it. Odd, right? I’ll say… don’t you find it curious that a woman who wants to divorce her husband so badly she has separated from him several times, is willing to go into the deep, dark woods with the same man she is wanting to gift with someone else’s weaponry? Hmmmmm….

Odd, but not even close to what else happens. G dogs Charley everywhere he goes- G loves sex…but apparently with everyone but maybe Charley. G continues to bait Charley with it though- flirting and teasing. Charley falls- maybe not to heavy- but heavy enough for her to begin to have some emotional influence. The coffee drinking continues- a lot and everyday. It is the way they can be together and still be innocent. G knows everything about Charley- but more importantly- she listens for what Charley knows. She’s been hired to keep tabs on Charley by people in high places- high positions. Where he goes, what he does; finding out who and what he knows. They get kinda cozy here and there- Charley gets comfortable, G hopes he will slip up and tell her things… but Charley is not stupid. Meanwhile Grim and company begin to get a bit uneasy… they worry the murder of Jessica may be a problem. But who is gonna dig up an entire _____________to find her?

August rolls through and the rumors still swirl about what happened to the pretty little girl from the American Legion Club. Rumors fly about cops messing with local ladies of the night- young ladies of the night-girls- and I don’t mean arresting them! Girls go missing- people talk. Charley listens and finds out a few things. Not enough to send someone to the gallows- but he’s got some dirt and he keeps quiet about it until September rolls on through. The heat waxes and wanes just like the Indian summer moon and suddenly the boy’s club gets a little braver. If one hooker can disappear and nobody gives a _______, then what about two? What about a club? The club of killer’s?

This is where poor Roxanne enters the picture. Dear sweet young Roxy- pretty little thing that works at the bakery- likes older men- likes badges and a man in uniform. The boy’s club gets even braver. The banker and the sheriff run a tight ship- the porn ring business seems to be just as successful as the illegal gambling and booze. High rollers from Hollywood like to fly into this sandy little burg and play high stakes poker. They like drinks, cigars and pretty girls. So… what the customer wants, the customer gets and if along the way- the local boy’s club gets a few of the bread crumbs left over… whose the wiser?

Rox spends the night with one man that ends up being accompanied by three more… it is the initiation into the boy’s club. She says something wrong and before you know it- three sets of hands are on her throat- crushing her windpipe. She fights back leaving a scar beneath Grim’s left eye. There in the mud, they kick and beat her. The air escapes her lungs one final time as they toss the coin on who gets to finish her off, but the b________ dies before they can be satisfied. Angry, the kick her some more and when they are done with her, they roll her body into a swampy area. Where you might ask??? Oh, silly children… did you really think I would tell you?

This is where the MOT comes in. The MOT (man on tape) was there with her that night. He sees, he knows and he is scared to death that he is now involved in a murder- not just a sexual tryst. The MOT panics and makes a tape- calling them all out by name…telling everything these men have done- who the mastermind is and who his minions. Grim doesn’t know whether to sh______ or go blind he is so enraged and frightened. He, the fair haired boy… the golden child… caught with is pants down and his ________ so far from home! How can he explain this? Who will believe him that is was an accident? That he didn’t mean to strangle her- just rough her up a bit? What will his wife think? What will his church think?? Funny, how he never seemed to care what God would think, isn’t it??? Funny how now that’s all he thinks about!!!

The MOT gives a copy of this, ‘spilling his guts’ tape to Charley. Charley makes several copies and then foolishly takes one to a law enforcement official outside the city, thinking it the lesser of two evils. Poor Charley- he chooses wrong. G has done her best to keep Charley on a short leash, but he is fast becoming a problem for everyone. What if he digs further? What if he finds out where Jessica was buried- or where Rox was dumped??? What if he can tie the entire law enforcement system for an entire city to these two murders? What if it goes higher… say to high ranking state officials???? Then what?

Something must be done about the coffee drinking ATTD agent. He is too smart to leave untethered for too long. The MOT and Charley meet… Charley begins to piece things together. Grim is young- ruthless and stupid. He thinks he is clever and with the arrogance of youth- immortal. The brotherhood band together- they plot, they plan… the leave the sleaze factor to G. She passes money for the boy’s club. Hush money- bribery money- one hand washes the other…they are all dirty now. All, but the guy who walks the line and drinks coffee; the one guy who could destroy the kingdom. But they have to be careful. They have to build the plan- set the mood. He has to fall for G, so that the affair will stick. So that when they do the deed, they can manipulate the press. He died of a broken heart… he couldn’t live without her or live with the shame… It was almost too perfect. They could have it all and get away with it. It was the perfect crime.

A call is made. The hook is baited, the lure cast and the black widow reels him in… nice and slow. So slowly he barely knows what is happening to him as she winds the thread tighter and tighter around his throat- pulling him closer… ever closer to her fangs. They meet… they gather… they murder… they manipulate… they lie and malign. Then 44 years later- they forget.

So we have Jessica in early July, Rox in the end of September- then Charley on October 9th, 1966. It doesn’t take long- they close the investigation in less than 3 weeks- they declare it suicide. But the MOT knows different. He holes up in a hotel hiding- hoping they won’t find him- but they do. Six days later they demand he tells them ‘Where are the other tapes? Where did Charley hide the other tapes? We know there are copies!!! Where are they?”

Their faces are red with anger. Lips afire with cursing, their hearts black as coal. They have already committed three murders in their game, one more will never matter. But he dies of a heart attack before he can give them the location.

They begin the search… house to house… intimidating and beating those who will not comply.

Have I got it right so far, Grim????

Law enforcement entered the home without permission. She knew them, but that didn’t give them the right. They broke the chandelier… “Where is it?” they kept asking. “Where is it? Tell us where it is or else…”

The woman who holds the broken glass from the chandelier could not tell them, but that did not stop them from searching the house anyway. They told her, her husband would be in trouble if he didn’t turn it over.

10/24/10

As the full moon continued last night and begged that I heed its warning, I have decided it best not to tell you all that I have learned, but suffice it to say that I spent a very fitful evening contemplating where I must now tread. I know that sometimes it may appear as though I make light of those who have passed in my imaginary conversations with them… It is in part to bait the field and also to impart information. Last night though, after seeing the movie “Hereafter”, I received further information that not only confirmed some things but set up a whole new host of threads I must follow and I can tell you now that there feels little left about this case that would surprise or, disgust me more than what I now know. So here before all, I recommit to my vow to bring these folks to justice and to bring whatever peace can be found by their victims. Note, that bringing someone to justice implies that they are still alive… they are. Not all of them, but I shall leave those to God for their rightful punishment and to the system and public court for those who would now rather join them. How close and how terrified you must be to find out you are not immortal, nor that of your legacy. How many nights will you shudder at the limb that pecks at your window sill and not know if it be the real Grim Reaper to call.

You wear the cloak of such a specter now my dear Grim, but you too shall quake at his footsteps when they come to your door for your Hell shall not be to die… but to live. To live within the horror you placed upon others. To have your beloved wife and your children know the evil that courses through your veins. To see the maggots of corruption slither amongst your crooked teeth and to know that your closest of allies would sooner toss your limbs to the dogs and save themselves than keep your sacred brotherhood oath alive.

No… for you I will save the book. You will be the starring role as you desire, but it shall be for all the wrong reasons. I know what you’ve done and how far you have gone… but I am not alone. There are others now who know- others who shall follow you just as closely as I. Those that have already passed know your secrets too and they have no allegiance to you or your warped brotherhood.

May death become you and life betray you…

The shovel and the compass now fit within the picture. The heat was brutal on her…decaying… rotting her flesh before you buried her. Was it July? August??? Or was it just the flames of Hell licking at your feet that made you sweat so?

10/23/10

Last night was a full moon and I slept, but my slumber was frustrated by bits and pieces of dreams and information that seemed to tempt and taunt, but not to solve. It was an uneasy rest that left me almost more tired upon waking, than when I went to bed!
Whatever the dreams- they were lost to me by dawn and in their wake I felt certain Charley had imparted information in them. My assumption may have been correct for in the early stages of my first cup of coffee, I received a message from R. It simply said:

“From Charley… lockbox #_ _ _ _”

Now I know what you’re saying. Darn! Why won’t she print the freaking number? Foolish mortals… why should I? The man whose hand is nervously reaching to unlock such with a stolen key knows what the number is. I know what the number is too and so… for now that is enough. Oh… and by the way. One of my most devoted readers pointed out to me that there were no “tapes” in 1966. True. It is a matter of semantics- though the error is dully noted. Of course there were no ‘tapes’ in 1966. It was a reel to reel. For those of you my age- the transferred impression is understood. For those more contemporary, the word tape should suffice to demonstrate; a documentary of sorts, a filming of…

Do not go jumping to conclusions about what this revelation means. Let it simmer on your minds for a bit, because you cannot imagine where it will lead me… although I can!!!
Perhaps all the chatter about the locks and boy’s club yesterday shook the heavenly branches last eve for today again… there was more information about Jessica revealed. This is one anxious soul. And do know what she had to say???

“Come on in… the water’s fine!” she said.
“Hey,” I said. “That sure is a mighty bad bump on your head.” And she pointed to a gash. “Oh this? It doesn’t hurt anymore- but it did like a b—- when I got it! Come on in… the waters warm.” she insisted.
So I said, “What’s that Jessica? It’s after Labor Day, silly… no pools are open now my dear girl!”
And do you know what that silly dead girl said in reply???

“Neither was this one!”

Hmmmm…..until later then!

10/22/10

I am cautioned to tell you more…
So much of what I have been able to unearth thus far in this case has come at the cost of so many hours spent in mental gymnastics to unfurl meaning. Occasionally I go back 6-8 months and read the earlier blogs and marvel. How naïve I was… yet so open, and it has been this openness to information that has brought me this far.

When this case first came to me, I eagerly plunged into the plastic coffins of Hazel’s life and tore my way through every page of her journal trying to find out what she knew to be true, what she suspected to be true and how far she might go to find the truth. I devoured every word, every sentence in her journal, and then moved forward to every document, newspaper article and photo I could get my hands on. I paid strict attention to every detail, every nuance and innuendo…but in the end I must tell you this:
In an awkward sense I have to admire the due diligence and creativity of certain individuals in the crafting of this crime. Think about it…you murder a man because you think he knows too much and you are afraid he may call you out on it. So instead of finding out exactly what he knows… you take him out. And then have to take others out who knew you took him out. Aaaahhhhhh… multiplication was never Grim’s strong suit!
Then after you take a out a few more, well golly… you have to hide all that mess now too! But you have to be careful because really… how many girls just arbitrarily drown in the same year??? Nah… you have to be creative about how they go missing. You know… so people won’t look so hard for them. Oh and hookers??? Hey- they’re the best. Why? Because nobody with any class knows who they are and nobody who “KNOWS” them, talks outside of school!!! It’s a very neat little plan, until…

So let’s think back. Exactly how many months did I wrack my brain going over each letter of the word ostrich? How many hours did I spend in researching ratites? I laugh now, but really… who expects the word ostrich to be the code word for;

Officers

Sex

Tapes

aRe

In

Charley’s

 House

 I mean, seriously… who thinks of these things? And the craziest part is… who would ever suspect that some little crime writer would figure this out 44 years after the fact? After all, men generally are not this creative. Of course there was that whole, Little Orphan Annie decoder ring phase that some of them may have gone through- but still… Ostrich? That’s pretty out there!

So far out there in fact, that I imagine it might come as a great surprise to them that I was able to figure that out. And actually, maybe I shouldn’t be boastful, because what if I am wrong?? What if it really stands for;

Officer’s

Snuff

Tapes

 aRe

In

Charley’s

House

 I wouldn’t want to guess wrong, right? Snuff tapes might make even more sense, all things considered, but we’ll just stick with my first instinct for now.

And then of course, how could I ever forget about the clue that really drove me crazy for a long time. This one was from Charley!

“…the trail will lead to M O T…”

Now think about it. Do you know how many combinations of those letters there are? Just think of how many things and/or names that M O T could stand for. The countless napkins I inked up deciphering this. Why I must have tried every combination of mafia this and mafia that you could think of. I even added Tampa or Tallahassee to the mix and then took them away again a hundred times. I even thought the O in between stood for the word, “of”. You know like, ‘the mafia of…’ something or ‘the mafia of’…somewhere. Then one day in the rain I was leaving my office and saw a SLOW sign painted yellow in the parking lot, looked at it upside down and bam*%#!*…it hit me like a ton of bricks. Like the O.S.T.R.I.C.H. code I figured out while driving in the car on Hwy 75N out of Valdosta, I suddenly knew it stood for something special and viola! I knew Charley meant it as the code for the “Man On Tape”! Bet Grim thought of that one!!!

Yes sireeeee… the Man on Tape! Boy, that sure had me bamboozeld for a bit! But that’s what it means and that’s exactly what’s at the end of this trail- a man on a tape. In fact, that’s where I found Rox-at the end of that man’s trail! You see, the MOT is a very important character in this story. Remember the message;

“… the crow was trying to scratch out Grim’s eyes. The MOT is tied to Rox and Rox is tied to Grim…”

That’s pretty special. How special you say??? Oh… that’s the interesting part. See the MOT made a tape, telling everything he knew about Rox and the boy’s club! What’s the old boy’s club from Valdosta in 1966, you ask? Why…it’s like the 1966 Mickey Mouse Club- but instead of being a club for children; this club is only for very sophisticated, crooked, debauched and depraved adult males!!! And our young friend Rox was part of the “entertainment package” for the boy’s club- kinda like when Annette Funicello used to dial the big lock and work the lever and suddenly the wooden door would swing open and you saw a cartoon. Well…in this Mickey Mouse Club show, instead of wooden doors, car doors swing open and we see bodies- not cartoons.
Why? ‘Cause in this club, law enforcement didn’t like to watch TV. They liked to play cards, drink booze, watch racy films, smoke cigars and then entertain themselves with young women. Sometimes they liked them a whole lot and sometimes they didn’t. That’s when they would mess up and accidentally kill one or two of them. It’s a funny kind of initiation rite that apparently only law enforcement seems to get, because personally I find it vile and revolting… but you know me! Ha ha ha ha…I just have a less morbid sense of humor- my bad!

See, that’s why the O.S.T.R.I.C.H. code thing is so catchy! Sex tapes… snuff tapes. To-ma-toe, to-mot-to…po-ta-toe, po-tot-o??? Semantics, right? It’s so hard to choose! Hey I know… why don’t I ask Jessica???

Hey, Jess…were they sex tapes or snuff tapes??? Hmmmmm…….

OMG…
I know who the four in flannel are now!
Grim
The man with the rubber boots
The shooter
The man they no longer remember

The brotherhood- the boy’s club!

10/21/10

They never give me information which I cannot use and they often bunch information around a single purpose.

“It feels like Rox was killed before Charley. It also feels like Charley did not fully understand the contents of the tape, meaning he would not fully understand who he would be implicating… the palm tree plate has a more specific meaning… Don’t go digging for the letter, let it play out…”

I was once asked if I received a letter from a woman from Tallahassee? Then most recently there was an impression of a letter inside an envelope- the hand writing- red lipstick and dark hair and the address of 1711 Turn- bridge or Turn-ridge something… to a Mr. Ronald C- something.

I finally received a return call from the woman with the injured foot- there was more information there.

Confirmation of the location of “the fort”.
Who lives near Rox’s resting place… who knows who… who knows nothing and who lies. Tid bits of information about the next girl.

“Jessica… waitress/barmaid… medium build… pretty… light brown hair… American Legion Club… Williams Street…Ashley Street…Hill Ave. … large parking lot in the back…”

This came hand in hand with the shovel, the compass and the number 7 which has ties to a grave plot. The date of December 17th- I do not know if it is in reference to 1966 or 2010.

“In going over my files, there was a session when you talked about______________. You mentioned a newspaper- that she was forced to go along with the story against her will. Then there is the mention of him… in his boots- rubber boots- he is angry that his wife has told Hazel about G- that he belongs to the boys club- it is about fraternal protection…”

The four in flannel:
Grim
The Mot
The man with the rubber boots
The man with the black dog

And why on the MOT’s death certificate does it read; “Ro”-something (cannot read the handwriting) followed by the word “Quarantinable” under cause of death? What happened to recording the cardiac arrest… or bruising showing his being beaten? Hmmmmmmm… I shall consult a medical official and find out why such a listing would be made and try to contact any family members still alive.

Until later then…

10/20/10

Before the rain makes its exit and the street lamps surrender to the day I wanted to make a connection and review some of the older notes of this case. Having been tutored in the shorthand of the dead now for 10 months through this case, I am beginning to radically discover more information embedded within each message.

I still struggle with a few, but know that the deficiency is mine- not R’s. They do not give erroneous information for the sake of detour. The clues quite simply are currently beyond my scope of discovery without further segue. But I continue to try and make headway in murky waters.

“…They continue to talk about the broken chandelier- the pieces that continue to fall off it- they are somehow tied to the girl- be aware. Possibly the same woman holding onto these pieces- she too is tied to the girl…”

“… There is a female who has injured her foot… talk to the woman with the bad foot- she has much to say- feels tied to Valdosta…”

“…She feels like she is being intimidated- he is laying into her- they lived close- same block or same street- close. He is yelling at her- she is cringing- he is wearing boots- she does not want to lie- wants no part of it- he is screaming- she is Hazel’s friend- he insists- they must protect the brotherhood…the boots are muddy… muddy…”

When given the call number of a specific law enforcement agent, the response was this:

“…Lakes… several lakes surrounding this number and… disco lights… NO- not disco… Swirling lights- police lights… swirling… swirling… he is there- at the lakes. He is there.. . she is there…”

I know who you are… and I know why you were there.
What I don’t know yet, Grim… is how many girls… how many times?

10/19/10

The more I begin to plug in all the holes of this case, the more I return to Hazel’s journal with fresh eyes. There is so much information contained in those pages if one is able to get beyond the protective veil of motherhood. Very careful to couch what could be harmful to young eyes, she was equally as transparent with other details necessary for me to follow. It is almost as though she knew that someday someone with different eyes would understand the shorthand of her intentions. She knew he was murdered and yet she knew nothing of the debauchery of why he was murdered and I cannot think that it may have been a blessing in disguise.

I have a huge project to do for a professor in Psychology and for my subject matter I have chosen the movie, The Vanishing. And it wasn’t until just now that I realized why it affected me so much while watching it. First let me explain the premise of the film.

A man decided to conduct a personal experiment based on an incident in his youth. Curious about his own thought process; he crawled to the outer ledge of the upper balcony of his home and stood there debating if he should jump to the ground below. He kept waiting for some internal safety –mechanism to kick into gear and stop him from doing such a risky stunt. When it did not materialize- he jumped, breaking his arm.

Decades later on a vacation, his daughter spotted a child drowning in a pool beneath their hotel balcony. Without hesitation, he jumped from the two story hotel balcony to save her- crediting his experiment at the age of 15 for his ability to jump without hesitation. His daughter and wife branded him a hero for his courageous behavior. In his mind he had attained the highest reward of his wife and daughter’s admiration. Seeing this as the pinnacle of goodness- saving a life, he then wondered if he was equally capable of the opposite end of the spectrum- the pinnacle of absolute evil-taking a life.

After experimenting with chloroform and testing different approaches of abduction, he decides that his best approach would be by appearing weak and not strong. Mimicking his adolescent injury, he approached a would-be victim as a man with a broken arm seeking assistance. He baits a woman at a local gas station, asking for her help with the glove compartment in his car. After a few moments she becomes suspicious and bolts. When this attempt proves unsuccessful, he goes into the gas station restroom to vomit and reassess his technique. Throwing the fake cast and sling into a garbage can, he vows to derive another more successful approach. Before leaving the station, he stops to buy a cup of coffee for the ride home. While he considers what to do next, he notices a young woman nearby having trouble with a vending machine.
The woman, whose boyfriend is waiting outside in the parking lot for her to use the restroom and get a drink, is trying to get a vending machine to take her crumpled five dollar bill. After the machine spits it back three times, she innocently asks if he has change for a five. He makes the change and as he is counting out the singles, she notices and admires a piece of jewelry on his wrist. She asks where she could buy one; he lies and tells her he is a jewelry salesman and can sell her a sample piece from his car. She follows and becomes suspicious; but seeing a photo of him, his wife and child on vacation together glued to the dashboard, assumes he is an honest family man and lets down her guard.

Minutes later with chloroform in hand he abducts her. Her boyfriend is left in the parking waiting, then begins searching frantically when she does not reappear. The perpetrator spends the next three years watching as her fiancé desperate for information about her, spends his life’s savings on placing ads in newspapers and plastering pictures of her everywhere begging any and everyone to help him find out what happened to her. When the fiancé finally meets another girl and tries to move on; the perpetrator enters the second phase of his experiment. He goes to the young man, produces a personal belonging of the girl and tells him he will tell him everything that happened to his girlfriend… if he will agree to go through everything she did in order to know the truth.

The question there was, would the boy’s obsession to know what had happened to the girl he loved greater than his sense of self preservation? In the end- the young man agreed to the proposal, leaving behind his new relationship- following the same path of abduction and torture in order to know the truth of what had happened to her. Of course there was much more to the film, but I will not spoil it for you.

The end result of the experiment was twofold:

Yes- the man was as capable of absolute evil as he had been of absolute good and the young man’s obsession to know the truth of what had happened, superseded his sense of self –preservation.

I think often of Hazel and how tortured her remaining life must have been. The endless nights spent trading her soul with the devil, pleading to know the truth about what had happened to Charley. Her depression and frustration over never knowing the truth. Never knowing where her marriage might have gone. Never knowing the truth about why he had had not come home… never knowing who he saw in between the time he left her and the two days after when they finally allowed her to view his clothed body in the morgue. Never knowing if G had really placed two wedding rings in his casket… never knowing who was telling her the truth and who was on the take. Suffering insult after injury, home invasions and death threats…and the constant fear that those that killed Charley would come after her and her children if she did not stop asking questions.

Did Hazel’s obsession to know the truth about Charley’s death ever supersede her sense of self preservation or that of her children? According to a story once told J, the possibility loomed. Once on a winter’s night after bundling two small children in heavy coats, the family car careened down a curvy mountain road, late at an alarming rate of speed…. the option to end it all had tempted. But because she chose not to end things that way, it is as much for Hazel that this case be solved as it is for Charley, Rox, the MOT and now possibly another young girl named Jessica.

Like the transcript from R’s first reading with Charley, the journal becomes more revealing the more you know. The cast of characters she concentrated on are more peripheral in the sense that they were obviously part of the cover-up, but perhaps not as intimate with the murders leading up to and after Charley. Their attempt to feign ignorance of it all however flogs me, which is why I see their potential for guilt as greater than Hazel could ever have imagined. No one is that stupid- that greedy perhaps… but not that stupid. Their silence was bought and paid for some deceased and by some now reading these blogs by moonlight. Those few men waking each night now in a cold sweat, changing their pee stained sheets out of fear that they will finally be fingered for their crimes.

In one portion of her journal, Hazel refers to “the other thing that Charley was working on”. She says this in relation to that fateful night. When I go over the events that happened to her after, it only adds fuel to my fire to look more closely at these men. Men like Charley’s partner who we now know lived in the same apartment complex at the young female energy known as Rox. There was the matter of a $10,000.00 advance that was never returned by this man that now begs more questions than answers. Where did this money go to… or to whom and why did his superiors not demand its return? How was all this explained away and why was he suddenly transferred out of state after Charley’s murder?

If Charley was murdered because he knew too much and indeed it has been said that three or four people came to the plate, so to speak and offered to “take him out” as he was presenting a problem… think my dear friends… what constitutes such dire consequences? Each story, regardless of truth or fiction has what we writers call the high conflict; the pivotal moment when the protagonist overcomes some great obstacle or barrier to becoming the hero again and reaching his destined goal. So let us ask the bigger question.

What was Charley’s high conflict?

Was it the alleged affair with G? Is this what he was murdered for? Because G had several men on her pate at the time beyond Charley. All law enforcement men, including the energy known as LT. I now know who that is, but at the time some of the clues did not make sense to me. I misinterpreted them. Think my friends… go back to the beginning. Re-read the first session with R. The energy known as LT was described as the socio-economically older gentlemen who G was ‘double-dipping’ with. In that same session, R described an object related to that entity that was like a judge’s gavel, but not to say it was a judge’s gavel. Well, guess what? It was a judge’s gavel she described and to think it only took another 5 months to find that out through the innocuous ramblings of another man who thought he had little to share. See this is what I love about this process.
As they say in theatre… there are no small parts, only small actors. It is the same for this process… there are no small clues… only clues whose significance is yet to be gleaned.

Until later then…

10/18/10

Today marks day 45. For those of you in the know… you know what that means. For those of you outside the circle…
Patience… patience… and all will be revealed in time!