Brownstonelit's Blog

3/3/2013

The stars have revealed that March is a month in which a secret will be revealed to me. Therefore, I put out this warning…if it is what I think it is? Everything and everyone is fair game and back on the table and the book may have one more chapter before it goes to print, than it has now!

I have waited a very long time for this information…

Think dear readers… who have I yet to identify? Let that be your guide and your warning!

The weather bites with bitter winds…so does the truth. Who has escaped the dangling noose? Who has left others to bear the weight of their collective deed? And why on earth would Grim and Mr. Muddy Boots not be rushing the steps of the courthouse to proclaim him as the key to the triad?

Think…the shooter cannot clean his hands of the endless blood that drips from his fingertips.

G shrieks from behind the gates of a cemetery.

The MOT prefers his game of golf in the flesh and his insurance buddy refuses to give him up.

Roxanne and Jessica are now ready to name their killers.

Boots and Grim now buy DEPENDS in bulk and the Farmer in the dell picks his brain to remember what he carried in that silver lunch box of his, who saw it and what was hidden inside that will give it all away? Yes, farmer. Someone saw what was inside that lunch box earlier that day. Be brave now. Stand up and tell what you know. I already am aware that you saw it- simply find me and I will help you through this. The bottom line is, you can tell me now where I can help you…or you can try to defend why you withheld information later. The choice is yours. It is not my job to judge- just to present what I have found. Ignorance and youth no longer provide you with the same shelter as they did 46 years ago. Wrong is wrong and you know what you saw in that lunch box was wrong.

They show R the lights turn on and off- questions-questions-questions for all those who remain. Who will turn a cheek? Who will cave and give the others away? Who will finally realize they have run out of time?

Imagine this… the Internet serves how many millions? It is easy to remain anonymous in such a large ocean of people, but in the tiny fish bowl of the town you live in? Think…shopping for groceries and paying your bills will never be the same. They will realize where you live…what you have done…who has been taken from them. Do you really think your life will remain the same once the book comes out?

Make the call… write the letter. I am here- waiting for you to do the right thing before I can no longer frame it for you in the light of redemption.

Who in that town will finally tell the truth about what happened to Charley that night on the Clyattville-Nankin   Road?

The answers are coming Valdosta- the answers are coming.

Patience, patience my friends…time will serve us well.

Reach out, Grim.

You know we know each other… for we have already met! Remember, R saw the black roses and I saw the Grim Reaper prepare his sickle. One of the four in flannel has numbered days…time to confess…time to confess.

2/24/2013

Yesterday I finally found Maxwell House Coffee Singles…have been without them for over a year. Everywhere I shop- only Folgers or private label brand. I was so excited, I bought three boxes so I wouldn’t run out for a while.

Maxwell House Coffee Singles…Maxwell House Coffee… Maxwell House…Maxwell.

Maxwell. Do you remember what that means?

Somewhere only Charley, R and I know is a Maxwell House Coffee can filled with something that would– as Grim once told me, “Blow this county wide open!”

You know what I’m talking about Grim. See, you didn’t destroy all of them.  Charley was never as stupid as you thought. How’s your ticker doing there ole buddy? Chest getting a little tight? Heart pounding… head hurting? Go ahead Grim….say it! The word is, “OSTRICH” baby!

I’d hate to be you and Mr. Muddy Boots right now. Ya’ll have to be just crapping in your shorts on this one!

So, ready…set?

Now- smile big for the camera’s!!!

Say it with me Grim…

“I’m ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille!”

2/22/2013

Note the 2 22 2 in the numerical equation above? This signifies that everything is fine and that I must trust and be patient, and wait while the angels are working things out behind the scene for me in heaven. It is difficult to do so. So many years and so many hours have been spent in trying to bring this all to fruition, that my heart skips a beat each nightfall knowing that Charley still waits for his day in court and that his family wrestles with the weight of each delay.

Today is a day to catch up on things; homework, housework…breathing!

The sun has decided to play elsewhere today and that is ok by me. With hot coffee and beautiful music, my soul can rest a minute in between papers and duties. I have put my forty hours in, in 4 days and will use this day to plug the holes in my studies and the gaps in my heart where obligation has stolen my minutes away from pen and placid thought. I warned of my schedules- mostly to keep myself from frustrations and I do my best to temper my eagerness- knowing that all will happen according to divine orchestration and that even those whom I serve are more comfortable with the time table heaven presents than I.

The editor continues in her duties…I sit patiently while bits and pieces of my soul become tailored and tweaked for public consumption. To be sure, so many of you do not understand the long road a manuscript must travel before it hits the streets. So many say; when? When will this come to print? What’s the delay? Of course, I could publish tomorrow on E-book…but Charley deserves my best and a shot at the big time. I do not wish him to be buried beneath so much digital chattel and entrepreneurial regurgitations. As I tried to explain to the editor, this is not just a shoot ’em up bang, bang book. I shall leave that to the Hollywood hacks to churn out after the fact. This is a true story about a man’s life and his murder. It is also about how his death has impacted my life and while it may present as more titillating to hop from lecherous hype to lecherous hype… there was some real soul work done throughout this adventure. The book is not just the culmination of research and discovery about the case and its many players, but about how we as humans interact with one another…how we define ourselves, our needs, our wants, our miracles and our sins

The longer it takes- the more I fret. The days roll by slowly and sometimes I begin to second guess my efforts. Was it all for Charley? Was it all for me? In then end, I acquiesce and acknowledge it was for us both. He was the vehicle by which I was allowed to exercise my demons…let go the reins of grief by serving another’s heartache. And for Charley? I pray that my efforts have lessened his grief…bridged his evolution and brought his family and his heart to a better segue. Not a day goes by that I do not wish another life for him, Jessica and Roxanne. Not an hour goes by that I do not thank them for the grace of their trials and realize that but for the grace of God, go I. The girls, once another’s’, are now my children too. I grieve for them both…their loss of childhood, womanhood, motherhood and a full life.

For this– for them–Grim and the others must pay. Not with money- for that is what shall help fuel the fires of their own eternal damnation. All the dollars- the hush money- the real-estate  and the gem stones. Oh Grim, you and your cohorts are foolish old men now and must reap the Karma the universe holds for all of you. Ego however, was your greatest crime. A young and virile man with power from those higher as sanction and buffer. Alas, they… well at least one of them is gone now. Now with rotted teeth and fragile bone, you all try to hide from the face of God and pray that any other kindnesses you have committed in your lives will be used to barter for your collective freedom from the fires…but that’s not going to happen. An eye for an eye, Grim. You helped orchestrate the deaths of those more innocent than you. Live by the sword- die by the sword you cowardly old fool. You think on that old man as you sit, hiding behind your curtains watching the cars that roll past your house. When will they come… when will they come? How many will there be? What story shall I tell to cover my sins? To cover my scars? What story will they buy? How much do they know… how much can I remember? Who have I told what and who can I still trust?

Move that money to and froe… shuffle your statements and try to build your lies about how you got it. In the end it will not matter what you say…what you do. The truth will not set you free my dear, Grim….but it may just shave a few years off your sentence! Think about it while you sit in your soiled DEPENDS.

Have a great day, Grim!

Oh BTW’s… thinking about who might be cast in the movie to play some of the characters from the book. Personally, I’m hoping for Diane Lane  to play me.

Who for you, Grim?

2/19/2013

I felt the need to connect today. So many hours have come between what I wish to say and what can be said. It has been an uneasy couple of weeks for me. School continues to eat every waking second not spent in work…a deer decided to end his life by injuring mine. My dear car took the brunt of the impact and now sits miles away waiting for restoration. I amble and limp here and there when bruises contact something other than denim… but I am fine. This reminded me of several others calls for accidents… a sort of signal for the Armageddon of this case. How is your driving of late Grim?

The other night I had a most incredible vision while in slumber’s care. I will keep it to myself for now as I am still trying to process what was shown… but humbled and grateful, none the less.

I worry some days that the wane of information has sent you all back to your lives- away from Charley, away from the girls who wait patiently for their discovery. I worry that you come to feel that all this was for show and not for conviction. Know that 46 years is a long time to overcome and there are those who have information yet that have not come forward. Without placing them in jeopardy, let’s think about our key players and their long reach. How many have information that sit with metaphorical tape across their mouths- fearful that these people yet can kill?  Will it make you feel better to know that my eyes are upon them? Will it help you loosen your tongues and grant stability to your feet to stand against them?

It is no longer fashionable to be brutish- to kill- to rape- to abuse those who felt incapable of defense. What kind of men were they, that young women and older heavy men became their prey? What kind of valor does it take to strangle a young girl you have just violated? What kind of man beats another for information and leaves them to die in a hotel room that they can watch from across the way? What type of law endorses the removal of evidence, falsification of records and the bastardization of the truth? Local law? State law? Federal law?  What kind of judge defies his oath and obstructs justice to keep his personal sins from becoming public?

Interesting isn’t it?

Who uses diamonds as currency? What woman trades her body for payment and power?

Not everyone from 1966 is dead in Valdosta…not every one is silent…not everyone is afraid to speak. I have but 2 issues I must resolve.

I need to talk to railroad folks to help me with one. The other? Well, that has been promised to be answered with the signing of a check. A signature will give me the answer to my greatest question. I eagerly await the sale of a property and the authorization of the profits!

Today I begin to check my mail. Maybe this is what Charley meant when he said, “Open the white envelope… open it!”

2/12/13

I apologize for not checking in quite so often, but warned of schedules becoming prohibitive in advance.

The last two nights  I  have been shown things. The first was most disturbing. It was a note written by someone who was desperate  for me to listen their story- a note that threatened suicide.

Last night I was shown the credits rolling at the end of a movie.

2/3/2013

Sometimes I want to reach out to all of you and tell you more about where we are in this case and what it is that we have collectively accomplished and then… I look at Charley’s photo on my desk and know that soon enough, soon enough you will all know what has transpired.

Take care my dear Valdosta in these quiet hours before the ensuing storm that you do not fall into a false sense of security that suggests you walk among only saints. The villains are still out there. Albeit older and now very much whiskered and gray, but they are still there. Do you think that murder is a thing committed only by the young? That age somehow negates the willful abuse and violence of arrogant youth? Would that I could tell you that the shelf life of anger and mental deficiency serves only those without silvered hair or yellowed teeth- yet I cannot. Those who were there that night still go to church, to the grocery stores and the local pubs to celebrate the anniversaries and monumental benchmarks of their lives. Foolish they are to think that fate will ignore them forever.

Perhaps it is fitting in a way… this distant resolution. Perhaps the universe in its infinite wisdom understands the ego of these men and women. Perhaps it knows that the true punishment for them will be to live long lives, only to have their legacies shattered in their final days. Perhaps it is fitting that they be seen for the false prophets of greed and debauchery they are in their later years and not in the glory of their testosteroned days.

Remember…no matter what they have said or what you have heard, Charley’s murder was not over unrequited love, nor moonshine and its bucolic mayhem. It was over something far baser than either of those. Last night my husband and I watched the movie, “The Paperboy” and I was reminded of why my dear friend was slain. FYI- this is not a movie for children or the faint of heart; nor should it be used as guideline or format for what happened to and with Charley. Let’s just say that certain aspects of it encapsulated a time where violence and sexual depravity were prevalent in all walks of life; both law and citizenry. A time line in our recent history when all things became negotiable; a man’s reputation, a woman’s body, the letter of the law, the venues for profit and the sanctity of human life. Though it has always been this way- the 60’s seemed engulfed in such. Did I create such a time line? No- I was but 8 when such nonsense gripped this country and so try as I might… much of what I discover and write feels foreign to me.

Last week I read something in my Victimology text that revisited the histrionic label of “regional and cultural violence…Southerness” and it was so fitting to what we are dealing with here. That being said; I wanted also to remind you that it is not me who has done or will do disgrace to your territorial namesake. In the annals of history, this perverse notoriety will come from those who sought to make all believe that your hometown was one of innocence and joy. And for most of you it has been and will continue to be and rightly so. Yours was not the contribution of crime or injustice. Yours was of manicured lawns and stately oaks- churches and children, sunshine and moral infrastructure. But for those of you who have come to recognize the veiled villains of your past- you know that back then the city was rotting from the inside out with crooked law and greedy governing.

Those who bally-hoo the honor of their Southern Justice, claim Charley’s death had nothing to do with the law; with his job as a Federal Treasury Agent. They will claim that it had to do with his failing marriage and a desperate need to reconcile with his alleged estranged mistress. Do you buy this? Do you buy that a force of more than 20 officers and agents of local, state and federal agencies could come up with nothing more than scandalous hearsay of the coffee clutch crowd to classify this man’s death as suicide? Do you believe that this case was investigated and closed in 18 days? Do you believe that higher-ups with more on the ball reviewed the facts of the case and saw the same thing? Did they see the same thing? Only 18 days for justice. Hmmmm….I can’t get cable television to schedule a trip and commit to such a time table…do we really believe that the boy scouts left in charge had the ability and/or the altruistic intentions to turn over every stone to get to the bottom of the truth they prescribed? How is it that in a case full of evidence, no evidence could be found?

This is the one of the many questions I ask…this is just one of the many questions the book will answer. Hang in there Valdosta. I have not forgotten you. Sometimes silence is golden. Sometimes it is just plain necessary.

Do not trade in your loyalties for impatience, Valdosta…real justice takes time. Sometimes 46 years!

1/30/2013

I just discovered something! I am not a dentist…why is this important? Because it’s quite possible to have mistaken a “partial” for real teeth. So what does that mean? That means anybody could have been the person who lost a tooth the night of Charley’s murder- even the man whose hat got torn. Makes sense, huh? Torn hat? Obviously a struggle had taken place or why the damage to the hat?

Looks like you are not off the hook yet , Grim.

1/2/2013

Just a silly little question…someting that still bothers me. Charley thought I might want to know the answer so I’m gonna ask.

Who lost a tooth the night of October 9, 1966? Someone who was there that night… someone who fought with Charley. Think people think. Somewhere on the front row- a tooth went missing- from the top I believe.

Just saying…dental records would be an awesome place to start looking! I know you were there that night Grim- but I’m fairly certain it wasn’t you that lost the tooth. I’ve seen them. So who was it?

Let’s see… who else?

Mr. Muddy Boots?

Mr. Farmer in the Dell?

G’s boy toy?

How about the shooter?

See, the thing I love is that while you can run and you can hide…history and history books will always follow you. Pictures of you in places you never thought would ever give your secret away. Candid photos, newspaper articles, church directories, social gatherings, weddings, funerals…driver’s licenses, photo ID’s for work. Gosh- that’s a lot!

Who knew?

Don’t you just love when a murder mystery comes together??? I do!

1/21/2013

I sometimes forget what it is to write without agenda or desire to persuade or dissuade… to write for the pure joy of writing. This morning as I walked along the battered shore of my beach and stared into the thick mass of fog that lay like a blanket upon the water. Nothing could be seen… only heard. It is amazing what one sense will do to compensate for the loss of the other. Early morning birds danced among the branches and serenaded my evolution along the shore. I picked up a piece of wood and then another…bit by bit the fog seemed to thin in spots and I could see just a bit father- but not clear to the other side. I took a breath and signed and realized that this is the way of the universe- that it shows us just what it wants us to see…selective bits at a time, rarely presenting the entire picture all at once.

Today I am ok with such an epiphany.

Today is for the stillness.

Today is for the chance to wipe clean the clutter in the mind.

Today is simply to joy and feel what transpires around me.

Today is in preparation to let go and to hold on again.

The next two months will be ridiculously busy for me and the blogs may become somewhat sparse. I am carrying a heavy course load this semester and have just lost my assistant to motherhood…that leaves me a staff of…me. With productions and research never ending-combined with school, the end game is nothing more than to make it to the end of March alive.

I can tell you that people and situations are being manipulated-redirected in their orbits into my path and that the cosmos continues to generously orchestrate my future from afar. The Cardinals that sang to me this morning remind me that my parents are still working within my life. Charley is ever at my side and I can feel his hand on my shoulder gently guiding his story to where it will do the most good. It will be a bit of a climb to bring it to the world- to do it right, but I am up for the challenge. Works of great importance do not just materialize on the scene and take the world by storm…they appear in a storm and then materialize.

Like a mother, I have given birth to the book- but not to the story- for the story was always Charley’s. I will see this book onto shelves everywhere- or available on Nook or Kindle and who knows- maybe Grim will finally get his wish to be in the movies! I can tell you this- you couldn’t make this _________ up if you tried. Truth really is stranger than fiction. Even though it will be published under full disclaimer- those of you still wandering from the streets of 1966 will know the truth and see through the veil of disguise.

Get out and enjoy the rest of the day.

1/19/2013

Amazing things happen when you surrender let go and let God…just amazing.

I am trying to decide how to begin this next series. The ‘cornbread mafia’ is nothing to sneeze at. They were real…they are real; or at least their relatives are! But there is a need to go back. Six months after Charley was murdered, several others were committed as well. For right now I am only interested in one; the death of a District Attorney who was about to try a case in Jackson County. Now the incredible synchronicity in this case is demonstrated that while my children were small we owned a horse farm in that immediate area. He house in question was a house I drove past every morning as I chauffeured my children to school or ferried horse feed and hay bales back to my farm. For over a decade I sped past this unheralded home and worried that the paint was peeling, that the bushes were overgrown and that the pasture needed tending. In my academic appraisal, the home needed love and attention…in my ignorance I had not know that a family grew and died there just six months after my Charley had been sacrificed at the altar of crime. In 1967 Georgia lost another law-abiding citizens to the grave. This time they couldn’t call it suicide this time it was appropriately called an assassination and it was.

So this is where we begin. The next book in this series is titled, THE DEAD LINE… and deals with the illegal activities of northeastern piedmont area of the state. To put this out there in the venacular of the peasantry…a charming gentlemen told me about a quote he’d once heard in reference to that area and that time frame in history…

It went something like this: ‘If I had a son in Hell and a son in Jackson County…I’d try to save the son in Jackson County first!’

That being said…we are off on another adventure and this too shall prove to be a most intriguing ride.