While living out of State, my daughter told me over the phone that she was having sexual contact with someone back home. The second time we talked, she said she couldn't talk about it because the phone was "too hot" to use. I notified authorities and couldn't get anything done by telephone, so I drove to deal with it in person.
On the way, as I was driving through my mother's retirement community, I saw a girl of 6-12 years old riding in an old classic convertible with a middle-aged driver on the right side of the front seat (the driver's side was on the right). As I met her gaze in passing, what looked like an involuntary convulsion of anxious exasperation bellowed out of her. It was the first indication to me that something was wrong.
I rented a room to consider the situation, and showed up at my mother's place just before I planned to leave to say hello. I heard thumping under the stairs during my visit, and wondered what was going on. My mother packed a lunch, and talked me into leaving my trunk full of belongings to save fuel. I still didn't know what was going on, but her trucker boyfriend was there, and the van driven by her old boyfriend, who I knew to be dangerous was parked in the yard, so I chose not to challenge the circumstances and left. Years later, I was given bits and pieces from the trunk in disarray.
On the way home, on a road mapped out by my mother's boyfriend, I saw two dogs sniffing what looked to be the eviscerated lungs and some of the entrails of a small person on the left side of the road.
The remains were fresh, blood had dried, but was running when the remains were placed. A triangular tear in the tissue of the lungs made it clear that the interior was still moist - green, but intact. They had not dried out, so they had not been there long. There was no noticeable odor, but two dogs were investigating the scene when I arrived. A square torn out of a blue hospital gown with a circular Hospital Anesthesiologist logo on it, and a few tin cans laid beside the remains. I video taped the evidence and drove on to find what I believe was the rest of the eviscerated body hung by the neck from a three-pole ranch gate.
He, or she, looked like s/he had been hobbled, with socks on feet pointing straight down. Dressed in what looked like brand new clothes and wearing lipstick smeared and mascara drawn like a starburst around open eyes, a silent scream seemed to passed out of him, or her. His, or her open eyes gave me the impression that s/he might be still alive, but because I had just videotaped the eviscerated remains of what I believed to be his, or her plural cavity a few miles before - and, because s/he was hanging by the twisted remains of his, or her own esophagus and digestive tract. I did not stop to check life signs, I could not. It was clearly a dangerous situation. S/he hung so lightly, seeming to drift and spin - as if to follow my gaze as I drove by in the heat of the afternoon sun's shine.
I had no working phone, but was gravely concerned about the situation, so with the videotape in hand, I drove on to get the information to the police. I stopped at a roadside bar to call 911, but perhaps due to the state of shock I was in, or because I wasn't convincing enough, no one responded. Drugged on tranquilizers as usual - and in a state of shock, I stopped to change my underwear several times, and when I did, I realized there were bugs on my clothes in the trunk. So I took the blue square I found torn out of the hospital Anesthesiologist gown, and along with my underwear, put them into a dumpster at a lakeside campsite to return to my drive home without the contamination. And as I crossed a deep canyon, a hellacious howling of the wind buffeted the car, and a thick black cloud descended onto the horizon ahead.
I also remember an old grey pickup truck that followed me through the foothills that may have had as its passenger the same girl that alarmed me as I arrived to my Mother's place, but this time with a heavy-set bearded middle aged man. They turned towards the east onto a dirt road before I found the remains. I also recall a Sheriff's squad car following during some period of the remaining trip after my encounter with the hate crime scene, but had to turn around at one point because I found myself in another State, so I can't be sure of exactly where I was at all times, or even in which direction I was traveling, but the only time I couldn't account for at all during my trip home was a short nap just after I crossed the boarder from my Mother's retirement community. I ate breakfast and did my laundry the morning before the encounter and after driving all night, but that time was strange, almost surreal with flashes of bright white light the night before, and a heavy dampness to my clothing while doing the laundry before encountering the crime scene. I remember feeling relieved while driving to begin with, but something was amiss. Please see: Log
I also talked to the Authorities about the allegations my daughter made to me over the phone when I arrived; about the adult in her home sometime prior to my talk with my daughter. Though I did my best to relate what had happened - not only then - but also over recent years to anyone who would listen, it was clear that my efforts were inadequate and perhaps misguided. My daughter may not have chosen to share this information with others, so this document remains anonymous. What she did share with me was more like a confession than an accusation. And while an investigation into my daughter's allegations was conducted two years after I arrived, what I was told after the fact is that there was no one in the household that could have engaged in that kind of activity, and that my daughter made no further disclosure to the police to confirm my report when they interviewed her.
I am in no position to compete with Investigators on this case or any other, but I have done my best to own my own behavior, and report all I'm able to online, and in person. I've kept names out of these documents for the safety everyone concerned. And while there may be still unanswered questions, I cannot presume to do the work of Law Enforcement, or lead the investigation, and mystery is okay. I rely upon God, the Rule of Law, and Law Enforcement to do what needs to be done, and let life take its course. I've searched for guidance and strength to mitigate the harm that continues, and found one healing influence that comes from the Order of St. John. You'll find the Obligations reprinted here: Aspirations.