Review of Ruby Ridge – The Truth and Tragedy of the Randy Weaver Family by Jess Walter

Ruby

This is one of those books that is a true crime and a true tragedy, both at the same time.  We all vaguely remember the story that the media put in front of us.  A family of white separatist lawbreakers huddled up on a mountain stood off against the FBI.  Memories blur for most of us.  Before reading this book I remembered that some of them were shot.  I remembered there being some horrible mistakes on the part of the federal authorities as well.

Reading this book however brought clarity to all of this.  In these times where we find ourselves where labels like “white separatists” are tossed about on the news so liberally, it is important to go back and study Ruby Ridge.

Jess Walter did an outstanding job of laying out the facts to process this seemingly innocent crime that escalated to cold-blooded murder.  The author does an outstanding job of cutting through the myths around this story and dealing with the people and what occurred.  It is no small task, given that the federal accounts do not even agree with each other.

Randy Weaver was and is his own man. He did commit some crimes.  He did nothing that warranted what happened to him and his family however.  This is a story about the government living up to its own darkest ideals.  The author gives the appropriate trail of breadcrumbs to lead the reader up the trail where what should have been a routine criminal prosecution turned into butchery.  When you frame this against the events in Waco against the Branch Davidians and Timothy McVeigh’s bombing of the Oklahoma Federal Office Building; you find yourself as a reader asking yourself, “could this happen again?”

Ruby Ridge (the book) is a cautionary tale for all of us in these politically charged times where the rights of individuals are clashing with political correctness.  I found the book made me sit and think about current affairs, yet clearly it was written years before our current climate.  Any book that make you think, that compels you to contemplate the role of your government is destined to be a good book.

I’m glad I waited to read it – and moreover, I’m glad I finally did.

 

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Episode 4 – The Stockwell Strangler (Part 2)

Part II of a fascinating case.

The True Crime Enthusiast

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Join The True Crime Enthusiast as this week on the podcast we conclude the disturbing case of The Stockwell Strangler – the evil killer who caused fear and carnage to the elderly throughout South London over the hot summer of 1986…

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The Stockwell Strangler – Part 1

I have never reblogged a post- but this one captivated me.

The True Crime Enthusiast

“Obviously he is a desperate man and needs help” – Detective Chief Superintendent Ken Thompson (speaking in 1986)

Stockwell is a district in inner South London, situated in the London borough of Lambeth. It was for a time considered to be one of the poorer areas of London, but it has undergone a bit of an overhaul in recent years, and as it is in proximity to Central London and as a result has excellent transport links, it’s now and up and coming area. It does have its brushes with infamy in its history – most recently for example, Stockwell Underground Station was the scene of the high-profile wrongful killing of Brazilian Jean Charles de Menezes in 2005 by armed officers of the London Metropolitan Police. He was wrongfully killed after being mistakenly thought to be a suspect in the attempted bombings of 21st July 2005 – the attacks that…

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The Chronicling of our D&D Campaign: To the Gellesian Fields Part 18 – The Death of Galinndan

fireball

Welcome to the novelization of my current D&D campaign, told through the perspective of the characters.  For me, it lets me do a little creative writing between more serious projects.  Links to the previous posts are at the bottom of this one.  Enjoy!

Althalus…

The Minotaur called Damon Korth made his way down the line of royal guardsmen, asking them each if they were related to or friends of Matthias Blackshear.  He started with Galinndan who had been at point, putting him at the front of the row we had formed.  Galinndan seemed befuddled at the question, and I half worried that the Minotaur might cleave him with one of the huge axes that hung off of his thick leather belt.  The weapons looked far too familiar.  Blackshear had a pair, a pair he had taken from the Minotaur prince. Suddenly we were thrust in the middle of the story he had started.

This might not end well for us. 

“Well,” Galinndan stammered, “To put the term ‘friends’ loosely, we were, ah, well…”

Apparently Korth saw the truth in the now pale face of our rogue.  “Stand aside!” he barked.  The rogue complied, sulking out of the line.

The other guards told the truth…most of them even knew who Matthias was.  I saw one of them wet himself, a pool of his own urine formed around his feet as Korth confronted him. It was understandable.  The massive creature towered over us and spoke with a voice that made your ribs throb.

Korth approached Brother Dimitrios.  He said nothing, which was no surprise, but calmly shook his head at the query.

He then came to me. I could smell the raw uncooked meat on his breath, he was so close.  Korth asked me if I knew or was friends of Blackshear.  “I know him but I do not consider us ‘friends.’”

“Did you spill blood in battle with him?”

“No,” I said with complete confidence.  My own performance at the battle (see Part 11) we had fought with him had proven less than stellar, and now I was thankful for it.  It was the first and only time that I was thankful I had been transformed into an animal and had not contributed to the fight.

“I will let you pass then,” Korth said.

I let out a low sigh of relief.  I had fought more against our cause in that battle – hitting our druid – than for the former guardsman. At the time it had been seen as a debauch on my part,  Now it appeared it was a good thing.

Bor was next and he didn’t shirk from the Minotaur looming over him.  “We fought with him, yes.  All to aid in the return of his granddaughter from kidnappers.”

“Stand aside with that one,” he pointed to Galinndan whose color was just returning to his face.  Bor joined him, his hand resting on Skull Ringer’s handle.  Korth asked the same question to Arius who responded much as Bor had. That poor paladin, cursed to never even stretch the truth.  He joined the conga line of doom.

Theren remained.  The druid had a knack for fast thinking and talking and I half expected him to someone worm his way out of the battle that seemed to be coming. Instead he almost proudly said that he was a friend of Blackshear and was ordered to stand with the others.  Fool.

For a moment, I figured I was safe.  I had actually told the truth and had been spared.  Korth seemed pleased with having split our party.  “So Blackshear, the scourge of our people, has friends.” He seemed to spit out the last word. “People that would be willing to fight with him…making you our foes.  Now then, if you tell me where he lives, you go free.  Otherwise you face the Ritual of Kurasak – the Splattering.”  Splattering?  That sounded horrible.

Arius puffed out his chest and said, “I refuse to tell you.” Paladins…they have a way of leading good men to their death with their sense of honor.  Korth seemed impressed.  I was wondering if I would have to carve that on Arius’s gravestone – He impressed a Minotaur.

Theren asked, “What if we tell you?”

“Then we will hunt him down and finish our bit of honor by spilling his blood,” the Minotaur said.  “And you will get to save your paltry lives.”  He snorted out a glob of snot that splattered the druid.

Bor grinned and stepped next to Arius.  “I’m with him.”

Korth nodded and turned back to the others.  “These two showed a modicum of bull balls to stand and fight.  Will you?”

The rest agreed, some more grudgingly than others.  Then, to my surprise, Dimitrios stepped out of line where I was, nice and safe, and joined my comrades.  All eyes, my friends, the guardsmen, the Minotaur’s, all of them turned to me. I had a legitimate claim that I had not spilled blood for Blackshear.  These were my comrades.  I looked at Korth.  “I did try to help Blackshear, but I failed.  If everyone else is going to lay their lives down because they won’t tell you, then I guess I should join them.”  I really hated saying it, but I knew without me, they were probably wouldn’t stand a chance.  That didn’t upset me as much as you might think, but I had grown familiar with them and getting new comrades would be time consuming.

As I stood next to them, Arius said, “good job.”

“I fucking hate all of you,” I muttered turning to Arius. “This is your fault.  Paladins…ugh!”

Damon Korth looked over at one of the younger Minotaur’s.  “Send for Prince Wheaton!  Have him join us at the Cousins.  There he will see his brother’s death avenged.”  The other Minotaur’s joined in a chant in unison, “All hail Prince Wheaton!”  The younger creature set off at a full run/gallop across the rolling hills.

We glanced over and saw Korth lean into talk to Captain Wildsong.  The captain seemed to chuckle.  “I imagine he’s not going to have his troops rescue us,” I cursed.

Korth returned to us.  “You men gather your gear.  I promise you nothing more than a fair fight bound by our rede of law.  It takes brave men to do what you are about to do.”  There was a hint of respect in his voice.

“I appreciate that,” Arius said with bravado.

Oh shut up…

We set up and the rest of the guardsmen followed us.  The Minotaur’s were clearly sizing us up.  “I’m doomed,” I said in a low voice for my comrades.

“Why?” Arius asked.

“I can’t use magic on these guys.”

“Why not?”

“You know – magic is kind of forbidden.”

“Who cares?”  The paladin retorted, surprising me somewhat.  “They are creatures from the plains of hell.  Use your magic – we must be all-in…together.”

He had a good point – and that made me feel better.  I only wish I had more in the way of combat spells in my mental arsenal.  The Minotaur’s led us some ways to a large plateau that rose on the plains.  It was flanked by two tall rocks stand nearly 20 feet tall, listing slightly inward, towards the center.  They are weathered heavily, but there was a faint hint of faces carved on them, one male, one female.  They stood as sentries over a large stone circle over 80 feet in diameter. Defiant weeds were growing up between the cracks.  The wind, normally chilled, blew warm over the grasses there.  There were bits of colored glass broken there, as if they were part of something that stood there or a ritual.  Some of the stones have square holes in them, as if they held some sort of upright posts at one point in time.  Some broken and shattered stones, covered in moss, surround the edges of the circle, most over waist high.  Moss and vines were gripping the surrounding stones.  It is a place that is eerie and filled with dread.

“This is the Wayward Cousins,” Korth said.  “It is a place where the powers of magic are the closest to the earth.”

That triggered a memory with me.  At one point the Cousins was known as Starstone – a place of worship by the druids.  During The Druid Wars the druids were hunted and killed in an inquisition that stings to this day.  A band of druids defied the church, killing a cardinal.  The wrath of the church was furious, sending in the Order of the Black Rose to capture and kill them.  This militant order captured the druids at Starstone.  A great battle of magic and swords was fought here. The surviving druids were tied to the stones and tortured to death by the surviving members of some order, ah yes, I remember, the Black Rose.  They cursed this ground to any members of the church.  It is said that the surviving Black Roses all died within a matter of months, all under mysterious circumstances that are tied to the curse.  I remember reading about this on a scroll years ago.  I never thought to see this place.  I thought that the location of this place had been lost long ago.

We were led into the circle and waited for this prince to arrive.  The other guardsmen hung outside of the circle, as if they were getting good positions to watch what was about to come.  I shared what I knew of this place with my comrades.  Arius was angered.  “Cursed ground that affects me?  Hardly fair.”  Theren seemed depressed given his brethren were killed on these very stones.  I’m sure if he wondered if his blood would join those that died here before.

A small party of Minotaur’s arrived several hours later.  One of them wore a rough iron crown shaped like bones with two additional horns, and a thin goatee that almost looked cheesy on such a creature.  His thick hide was pierced with silver rings, rows of them that seemed to be symbolic of something, probably battles.  As they got nearer, the others chanted “Wheaton!  Wheaton!” The prince waved his hand and the chanting stopped.

“Why have you summoned me here to this infernal accursed place Korth?” Wheaton asked.

“My prince, I bring you declared friends of our most hated foe – the black-hearted Blackshear!”

The prince’s left eyebrow cocked up more than I thought possible at the news.  “You are friends with the man that slew my brother?”  His black eyes bore in on each of us.

We said nothing in response.  In the back of my head I wondered if this could somehow be turned around.  I am a warlock after all, and these are creatures created in hell.  An alliance with them could prove useful – if I managed to survive.  Right now, that was a big if.

Korth snorted, and a thin drizzle of snot oozed from his nostrils.  “The Ritual of Kurasak is one of blood and death.  You fight our prince’s champions to the death, if need be.  We are not the barbarians that are portrayed in your puny Karn. We will battle with honor.

Prince Wheaton then spoke. “I will have Damon Korth and Shiver Krang fight for our pride.  If you tell us where Blackshear is we will call this ritual off.  We will leave to kill him, but you will live. Give us that bit of your honor, and you will breathe the warm air of the plains.”

Arius took one step forward. “Knowing what you would do to him prevents us from breaking his honor and telling you.”

“Very well,” the prince said.  “You have acted honorably and will be treated with such here today.”

Damon Korth was the larger of the two, with darker hide and many more silver rings on his torso and arms.  Nicks on his horns and ears show the signs of previous battles.  Shiver Krang was smaller, but thicker, more muscular.  Both were heavily armed with massive battle axes as I had seen in the possession of Matthias Blackshear.  Krang occasionally tosses his axe, spinning it, catching it perfectly each time.  Arrogant.  That could be useful.

Captain Wildsong leaned in, locking his gaze with Arius.  “This is the price for crossing the Vizir,” he boasted.  “If I were you men, I would watch Shiver Krang.  He may be small, but I saw him gore a man during a pillaging they were leading.”  Wildsong leaned back and began to actually place bets with the other men, against us.

Bor spoke up in response.  “You will pay for your betrayal.”

Wildsong laughed.  “I have a dozen armed men at my command.  Even if you survive, you will be in no condition to come after me.”

I glared at him.  Oh, you will pay for that…if we survive.

Prince Wheaton spoke again, his voice booming.  “Should you win, I will grant you a token of my esteem.  I doubt you will win though.  The ritual of Kurasak is one that almost always sealed with blood on stone.

Wheaton steps to the edge of the circle and claps his hands three times.  The remaining Minotaur’s did the same.  Everyone secured a weapon.  This was it, a battle for our very lives.

The pair of foes did not rush in, but leaned slightly, as if readying for a charge, sizing us up.

Shiver charged forward for a goring attack, rushing at Bor, the largest of our party.  The big fighter managed to sidestep the brunt of the assault, but still caught the left horn with his body – staggering Bor back, furrowing back in the moss on the stones, making little marks where his feet slid.

I turned on Shiver Krang and cast hideous laughter on him.  The spell went as planned, the massive Minotaur fell over with a dull thud on the stones; uncontrollable laughing with an almost frightening roar of chuckles.  It was the kind of laughter that sent chills down your spine.  I actually peed a little in my jerkin at the sound.

There was something about when I cast my spell, something strange.  It had to be this place.  What did Korth say?  This was where magic was closest to the earth?  I wondered what that meant.  At the time, I pushed that thought from my mind.

Arius swung behind Shiver and used searing smite, hitting him and setting him on fire. The hide on his back glowed as hair burned and filled the air with horrid smoke.

Theren switched to his bow and fired at Shiver as well but missed. Galinndan also missed with his arrow as well.  Bor swung Skull Ringer that nasty warhammer of his but missed…oddly throwing sparks in the air…which was disturbing on its own. It had never done that before. Dimitrios leapt like a tiger at the only standing Minotaur – Korth.  His grappling attempt failed but he landed on both feet and one hand, ready to spring again.  I swear I saw a grin on his face. Thank the Old Ones, we needed every bit of help we could muster.

Bor’s blood was up, that was evident.  He swung Skull Ringer again, missing wide again, filling the air with sparks.  It only seemed to have that visual effect here, on this ground.  Galinndan notched one of his obsidian tipped arrows that he had coveted so much. It was true!  The arrow buried itself into the singed hide of the Minotaur.  The massive creature blinked out of existence, vanishing for a moment.  Then we saw him again, landing on top of three of the guardsmen outside of the ring, his flames lighting two of them on fire in the process.  Bor was puzzled as to where the Minotaur had gone but I am sure a bit thankful.

The other Minotaur’s cheered.  They seemed to love it. I wanted to cheer myself, but death was far too close at hand.

Damon Korth sprung over the ring of stones at the perimeter of the Wayward Cousins and came back at us.  He rushed at swinging his great axe, hitting Bor so hard he flew five feet and skidded on the stone surface.  Blood filled the air as the axe stopped and Bor fell unconscious, his warhammer skidding out of his grip.

The Minotaur’s and two of the guards cheered – no doubt those traitorous bastards had bet against Bor.

Theren used his healing word for Bor, enough to make his eyelids flutter as he came back from the black gates of death.  He fired his bow as well, hitting the Minotaur, leaving the arrow stuck in him next to Galinndan’s.

I cast another spell, a blast of arcane power.  The energy was incredible flowing through me, double what I had ever experienced before.  The arcane powers hit the Minotaur, knocking him back nearly a dozen feet in the process.  Whatever it was about the Wayward Sisters, this time it had helped my powers.

Arius swept his longsword at his foe, hitting the Minotaur for no damage at all – it failed to pierce his hide.  It only made Korth grin in response.  A grinning Minotaur is not a thing one easily forgets.

Bor staggered to his feet uneasily, making his way to Damon Korth.  Dimitrios shifted behind the fighter, preparing to leap at his foe one more time.

Korth turned to Arius and swung his great axe, cutting right through his armor and spraying Bor with gore.  Damnation this beast was tough!

I noticed the other Minotaurs throwing stones at Shiver who was still uncontrollably roaring with laughter.  That was not good. Their efforts might allow him to break my spell and facing two of these creatures at once was going to prove challenging. There wasn’t anything I could do at this point.

Arius struck with his sword and searing smite, one more lighting up the hide on Korth.  Then I saw something happen that sent a chill down my spine.  Prince Wheaton entered the circle and started to head for Shiver.  He’s going to shatter my spell!

Theren saw it too and decided to transform himself into a bear.  His man form rippled and a massive black bear replaced him.  The bear lumbered between the roaring Shiver and Prince Wheaton.  Theren rose in front of the prince, but did not attack.  The moment he approached, three more Minotaur’s entered the arena, clearly moving to protect the prince. It was a standoff, one that might cost us all our lives if Theren made the wrong move.

Bor swung Skull Ringer, sparks of red and blue in the air, hitting Korth hard with a thwacking sound.  It had to have hurt, but I didn’t see any sign of it.  Bor was stunned that he had not felled the Minotaur. Korth snorted through gritted teeth in response.

I tried again to unleash a blast of arcane energy but missed.  I was merely thankful I had not hit one of my comrades. Then I saw it, Dimitrios sprung like a praying mantis, landing on the shield arm of the Minotaur, and grappled with his arm.  He hung on tight despite the flinging that Korth did.

Theren rose on his hind legs to block Prince Wheaton from reaching Shiver.  The prince grinned, tossed his axe casually past the bear, landing it on Shiver’s chest.  Crap.

Korth gored at Bor tossing him in the air on his horns, sending his near lifeless body on the stones.  I swear I saw part of his intestines hanging off of Korth’s horns, not a promising sign for our badly injured friend. The specter of death cast its shadow on Bor.

I focused on Korth and channeled my arcane blast.  Something happened though…something I have never experienced before.  The energy seemed to summon a magic energy I had no knowledge of.  Where I should have seen an azure burst of magic, I saw instead orange, yellow, and red death.  A fire ball erupted in front of me, engulfing many of our people along with Shiver and Galinndan.  The roar hit me as if I were thrown in an oven.  The super-hot air seared my throat and lungs.  I stumbled out of the blast zone, my royal guard tunic, or what was left of it, burning on my body, the few remains falling on the stone.  A rising mushroom shaped cloud rolled into the sky, black and twisting.  Pain tore at me and my vision tunneled as I fought to avoid unconsciousness. I smelled bacon in the air, and I knew it was one of us.

I looked over where Galinndan had been standing…but all that remained was a pile of ashes that were roughly in his shape on the blackened stone.  He was gone – dead and charred into nothingness.  I felt a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.  What have I done?

The guards along the edge of the ring began to sing, “Burning Ring of Fire,” a popular bardic tune we heard in the taverns of Karn. They would have to be dealt with later.  My eyes closed and my ears roared with approaching darkness.

I remember hearing the sounds of battle around me as I struggled to awaken.  The blackness took forever to shake.  I finally forced my eyes open and saw Theren the bear attacking Shiver, taking him down with a swipe of his claw.

Prince Wheaton clapped his hands three times.  A Minotaur shaman entered the Wayward Cousins and laid hands on his fallen comrades.  Bor was also healed by the shaman, which stunned me.  I was able to make it to my feet, my ears were ringing and I tasted copper of blood in my mouth.  I patted my body to make sure I still had all of my vital parts.

Arius scooped up Galinndan’s ashes and put them in a pouch – there was no saving the rogue at this point. We would mourn him later, assuming we were going to survive.

Prince Wheaton spoke in a thunderous voice.  “The ritual has ended.”  Shiver and Korth bowed their heads in shame.  Wheaton turned to us.  “You have successfully won this trial.  I will grant you one token of respect, honor demands that.  You have fought well, and I consider you honored members of our tribe.  One token of my respect is what I give you for your reward.”

Arius grinned and whispered in my ear.  One word, “Wildsong.”

Good. Make him pay! “Yes!”

Arius stepped forward proudly.  “If you would do us the honor Prince Wheaton.  Would you imprison the guards that are with us?  With this you will get your vengeance on Blackshear and honor will be served. After all they are royal guards which he was a member of. They have threatened us…we know them to be our enemies.  Take them as prisoners and end this.”

“We have not threatened them…” several of the guards protested.

“Be quiet,” Arius barked in response.  “You sat there betting against us.”

Captain Wildsong, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, stepped forward.  “I…I have done nothing.  Prince Wheaton, you know me.  I am your friend, a friend of your people.  Do not listen to these men.  I have not threatened them.”

Arius tipped his sword at our former captain.  “You told us this was the price of crossing the Vizir.  You set us up to be killed by warning the Minotaur’s we were headed this way.  Your guilt is a forgone conclusion.”

All eyes shifted to Prince Wheaton.  “The honor was offered and must be accepted.  Two things will happen.  We will take Wildsong as our slave for two years.  Also this ends our bane against Blackshear, you have cleared the debt that has been with us like an open wound.  I grow weary of attempting to avenge my brother over the years.”

“You can’t do this – I am a captain of the royal guards,” Wildsong called out.

The Minotaur’s felt differently.  Shackles appeared out of nowhere and were slapped on former Captain Wildsong. He struggled against his new masters, but could not hope to make progress as they quickly disarmed him.

“One more gesture on my part,” the prince said.  A Minotaur appeared with ship piercing clip.  He tore open our armor, one by one, and pierced one nipple, inserting a silver ring there like the other Minotaur’s.  It hurt like hell, but after the fireball, I didn’t even flinch.  “The mark of honorable battle,” he said as Bor took the last piercing.

“You are always welcome with our people as equals,” Wheaton said.  “Justice has been served.”

Captain Wildsong cried out as they led him off of the Wayward Cousins and down the hillside.  “I will get you for this!”

I had no doubt that he would try…in two years’ time.  We turned to the rest of the guardsmen and Arius ordered them to fall in before us.  There was new leadership of this troop now.  If we ever saw Matthias Blackshear again, we would have a hell of a story to tell him as well.

I hope you have been enjoying this saga.  Here are the previous chapters, if you want to follow the adventure thus far.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Character Background Material

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The 31st Anniversary of the Murders of Cathy Thomas and Rebecca Dowski – the Colonial Parkway Murders

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The location today where Cathy Thomas’s Honda Civic was found

October 9, 2017, marks the 31st anniversary of murders of Cathy Thomas and Rebecca Dowski. This was the first of the Colonial Parkway Murders and that makes it significant on several fronts.  In a recent WAVY poll, over 90% of the people believe that this string of murders are the act of a serial killer.  If that is the case, that killer attempted to recreate events that led to the deaths of Cathy and Becky over three decades ago; duplicate that experience.  It makes their murders more important to fully understand since it is the lighting of this fuse that led to six additional murders.

Cathy Thomas was a dynamic individual from what we have been able to ascertain.  She graduated from the US Naval Academy in the second class that allowed women…making her one of the true trailblazers in the service.  By almost all accounts she brought a vibrancy and vitality to those around her.  Cathy wanted to be a surface warfare officer in a Navy that barely accepted females to begin with.  She was a homosexual in the Navy at a time when that was considered a security risk.  The Naval Investigative Services (today known as NCIS) probed her lifestyle and it was one of the factors that caused her to eventually leave the Navy.  She became a stockbroker in civilian life and was already very successful in her new career.

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Cathy Thomas while in the Navy

Rebecca Dowski was a transfer student to the College of William and Mary.  Intelligent and energetic, she had completed her high school years in France.  She attended Dickenson for a short time and became a standout athlete there.  During her summers she taught at a summer camp where the kids and the parents thought highly of Becky’s enthusiasm and leadership.  Her parents divorced and that hit her hard but she never lost focus or her drive.  She transferred to William and Mary to pursue a career in international business.

Rebecca Dowski
Rebecca Dowski, William and Mary Student

Cathy and Becky were introduced by Cathy’s former girlfriend and were in the early stages of a relationship.  On October 9, 1986, they were last seen on-campus, assisting another friend on a computer homework project.  Becky’s car was packed to go home over the fall break (Columbus Day).  They left campus in Cathy’s car, presumably to get something to eat and to spend some time together before Becky left.

Their car was found by a jogger near the 9.5 kilometer mark on the Colonial Parkway along the York River on October 12.  It had been pushed over the edge of the river embankment and was nose-down.

The Park Rangers presumed the white Honda Civic was a crashed vehicle and smashed the back window out to get to the occupants and rescue them.  The interior had been soaked in diesel fuel.  Cathy was in the hatch portion of the car, Becky in the back seat.  There was blood everywhere.  It became almost instantly clear that this was no drunken driven accident.  Because the bodies were found on Federal land, the FBI was called in.

Cases still unsolved  Colonial Parkway Killings Haunt 20 Years Later
Cathy’s car after being secured by the FBI for analysis

The murderer or murderers came with several implements of death.  The victims had been strangled with a nylon line commonly used by boaters.  Their throats had been cut by a very sharp knife, nearly decapitating Cathy Thomas.  The killer had removed the rope with his knife, leaving a small piece of it in Cathy’s red hair.  The murderer put the bodies in the back of the Honda and had driven it to the spot on the Parkway where it was found.  Dousing the vehicle interior with diesel fuel, he had tried to light it…spent matches on the ground told that part of the story that night.  Diesel’s higher ignition point negated that.  Finally he had tried to push the Honda into the York River in hopes that it would wash out to sea.  Instead it had been stuck there on the embankment.

It was overkill.  Why cut their throats if you had them tied up around the neck?  What had triggered this kind of brutality?   Was it someone offended at seeing two women together, perhaps intimately?  Or was it something else that caused this level of violence in the killer?

There had been a struggle – Cathy Thomas had put up a fight.  She had a knife cut at the base of one of her thumbs. The killer had spent considerable time with his victims.  He had presumably struggled with Cathy, regained control, tied the two of them up – strangling them. Then he had cut their throats, put them in the car, and drove them to where they were found.  This was not a small portion of time he spent with his victims; which begs the question – why?  If his intent was to kill his victims, why not just shoot them as they sat in the car?  No.  This killer spent time with them as they struggled and suffered.

I could write pages of why the investigation went nowhere, attempt to lay blame and point fingers but that does not help at all and is likely a misguided effort.  None of that changes the reality that this pair of murders became cold – frigid cold.  There are questions I’d like to know, beyond the obvious “who was the killer?” These include:

  • Where did Cathy and Becky go after they left campus?  There is a presumption they were killed either late on October 9 or the early morning hours of October 10.  Where did they go after leaving William and Mary?  There was meat in their stomachs, so they must have gone somewhere for dinner – where?
  • Where did these crimes take place?  There was not enough blood to indicate they were killed where the car was found.  So where did these murders happen?  Was it on the Parkway at another pull-off, or somewhere entirely different?
  • When did the murders transpire?  There is a long span of time from when the pair were last seen and when their bodies were found.  How much time did the killer spend with them?  The timeline often answers other questions for investigators.
  • Why leave their bodies on the Colonial Parkway – a heavily traveled roadway?
  • Why were they targeted?  This is two bright (if not brilliant) young women.  What triggered such a scene of carnage? What drew the killer to these two women?

Bill Thomas has remained a stalwart champion of his sister Cathy.  He has established a Colonial Parkway Facebook page.  If you have theories, suggestions, memories, or tips – it is a great place for you to go to offer your thoughts.  I encourage you to go there and join that group.

The Chronicling of our D&D Campaign: To the Gellesian Fields Part 17

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Welcome to the novelization of my current D&D campaign, told through the perspective of the characters.  For me, it lets me do a little creative writing between more serious projects.  Links to the previous posts are at the bottom of this one.  Enjoy!

Bor Boskin…

I didn’t trust our Captain from the moment I saw him.  His name was Durand Wildsong, a pretty boy as far as fighters go.  That dimple did nothing for me, nor his long blonde hair and goatee.  He wore a polished breast plate – which to me only attracted unwanted attention during a battle.  His shield was a field of green with three intertwined roses.  Lieutenant Rygar had passed on command to the Captain, which seemed a bit odd to me.  I’d spent enough time near military camps when they came near our village to understand how the chain of command works.

Captain Wildsong gave us the usual pep talk, with just a touch of arrogance in his voice.  “I’m your commanding officer. You new recruits, you don’t know our commands yet.  Watch the other soldiers and do what they do, you’ll pick it up.”  Apparently that was the depth of our training.

“As I understand it, you are here to deliver some message to the Gash.  If proven wrong, I will dispatch you.  I run a tight ship here.  We have a long way to go – through the plains.  It is not an easy journey to be sure.  You will be given duties along the way, I expect you to follow my orders without question.”

I nodded.  I didn’t like this guy’s attitude. Recruits?  Ha! We were drafted.  This was clearly a bit of spite on the part of the Vizir Krolf Lorraine for our going behind his back to get to Lord Sklaver.  As if to accentuate my suspicions we saw the Vizir approach the Captain before we departed.  The two spoke but I could not hear them.  I did see that Vizir point to us.  “You see that Theren?” I nodded at the two of them.

“I did,” the druid replied.  With those words all of us, even that mute monk that had joined us looked over at the Vizir and the Captain of the Guard.

“This does not bode well,” Arius added.  I noticed that his hand drifted to the pommel of his sword as he watched the Vizir.  He was my kind of paladin.  He was tolerant of people and the games they played, but when push came to shove, he responded with force.  Paladins are complex people at times, and at others, very simple.

“We’re being set up,” Althalus muttered.

I tended to agree but held my tongue.  The best that I could do is be prepared.

Our trek was slow – we were assigned to the rear of the column.  We passed some farmers along the way, hauling their harvest to the city. A few offered us some apples from their carts, which was kind of them.  The camp was very “military” in how it was set up for the night.  The only advantage I saw to being with a larger party of armed men is that we were safer and we wouldn’t have to be up a good portion of the night on watch.

Our first few days and nights journey were dull, which was something that we all needed.

One farmer asked us where we were headed and Galinndan said we were headed to the Gash.  “I’ve heard some strange things from there recently.  That’s not unusual though.  Strange stories are common around that locale.”

“Have you seen anything out of the ordinary yourself,” Althalus probed.

“There were some hoof prints I came across on the road a few days ago.  We haven’t seen those raiders operating this far south in a while.”

“Raiders?” the warlock pressed.

“Minotaur’s.”

We all looked at each other.  Blackshear had mentioned killing the prince of the Minotaur’s.  That was where he got those incredible battleaxes he carried.  I wondered if it was the same ones he was referring to.

Captain Wildsong huddled with the farmer at the mention of the Minotaur’s then let the man go about his journey.

“Anything we need to be worried about Captain?” Arius asked.

“They have always been a bit of as problem – more in recent years.  They seem to have bit of a hard-on for the Royal Guards. Our peace with them was bought with blood and certain conditions.  Suffice it to say, they do not like the Royal Guards.”

“Great,” Althalus said with a chuckle, picking at the smock of the Royal Guards that we now wore.  “It would have been funny except that’s now us.”  The warlock was right – this did not bode well.  I took a look at Dimitrios, the monk that had been at Althalus’s side since the city.  He made eye contact with me with those penetrating blue eyes and offered only a shrug in response.  I oddly was not creeped out by him.  There are times silence is precious and a man that does not talk does not weigh you down with the burdens of his life.

The Captain continued, “One of our men, some twenty years ago, killed one of their leaders.  Since then, well, they have wanted a bit of revenge.  We have been able to deal with them, but it is always tense.”  He cleared his throat and raised his voice for the rest of the troops to hear.  “They will attempt to provoke us if we come across them.  No one draw weapons or fly off the handle when that happens.  I know what they want and I will handle this.  They will look to you for reaction.  You draw a weapon, they will counter thrice over…by killing us all.”

We huddled for a moment.  “What do we know about Minotaur’s?” I asked.  All eyes drifted to our druid Theren. If anyone would know, the tree-hugging druid would.  He honestly looked a little embarrassed and at the same time, proud.  “Aside from the usual half-bull, half-man, there’s not a lot known.  They are said to be originally spawn of demons.  Not all of them though.  Some break their ties with the hell-spawn and form their own tribes and mate among themselves.”

I glanced over and saw Captain Wildsong pulling over one of the other guardsmen in hushed conversation.  I nudged Theren and he saw it too.  “I wonder what that’s all about.” I asked.  It wasn’t until the next morning I received an answer.  At daybreak the man that had been speaking with the Captain rose early and mounted up, riding out at a trot far off on the road ahead of us.

Arius saw it too and approached the Captain.  “Are you scouting ahead?”

“Yes.  It seemed…prudent,” Wildsong said.  I didn’t think much of it at the time. Only later would I remember the strange way he responded.

Three hours later we came across a white trail of smoke not far off of the road.  It was a cottage, one that has been recently burned.  Wildson stopped the column.  “I need some volunteers to check that out.”

“I’ll go – and so with Galinndan,” Arius offered.  The rogue was a little surprised that he had been volunteered but the two of them went off to inspect the burned out rubble.  They came back after 20 minutes or so.  “No bodies of men or beast – living or dead,” the paladin reported.  “Lots of hoof prints though, all over the area.  Whatever happened here is over with.”

“We ride on then,” Wildsong said.

We camped that night on the plains.  There wasn’t much cover, just the normal briar and bramble.  There were copses of trees that dotted the rolling hills, but they were few and far between.  The Captain agreed with Arius’s suggestion at no fire for the night – not with the threat of the raiding Minotaur’s in the area.  We bedded down.

That night there was a commotion coming from Theren’s and Galinndan’s tent.  I rolled out of my woolen blanket, Skull Ringer at the ready.  As I charged out of my tent I saw a figure stagger back, howling in Orcish. It was hard to make out, but it seemed to be a half-orc, and he was clearly bloodied about the head.

Dimitrios silently emerged almost like a shadow in the night.  Arius popped out of his tent and surprised me that he was using a weapon and not unleashing any of his magic.  The rock he threw hit the attacker in the back as he ran away.  The manlike creature turned and made an obscene gesture at us, then ran off into the dark.  The entire camp erupted.  “To arms, to arms!” barked Captain Wildsong. Confusion and men staggered out with weapons only made matters worse.

Wildsong made a quick headcount.  “We’re short a man!”

“It’s Galinndan!” Theren called out.  “He was hit in the throat with some sort of poison dart.”

I opened the tent flap and saw him.  The rogue was pretty pale, a dark wobbling his his neck as he breathed.  Theren pulled out the healing potion that Galinndan had purchased in the city and poured it into his mouth while Dimitrios pulled the dart out of his neck. I could see the sickly green ooze on the metallic point.

“What was that about?  Why would a half-orc come in and attack us?” Wildsong pressed as he deployed several of the guards to the perimeter.  “Have you crossed this person before?”  Dimitrios simply shrugged at the question.

Galinndan slowly recovered, “Mommy?” he muttered.

“Far from it,” Arius replied.

“I wonder what that was all about.” Theren responded.

Arius paused for a moment.  “Oh crap.  Remember back at the inn, when the Thieves Guild tried to steal Skull Ringer?”

Galinndan tried to sit up but failed but looked over at the captain.  “He was a…associate.”

“An associate?” The captain replied in dismay. “He attacked you in the night.”

“He’s a member of the Thieves Guild,” Galinndan replied half-awake.

“Maybe,” Arius said in a low tone through gritted teeth, “You should be quiet and rest.”

“What did you do to piss off the Guild?” Wildsong demanded.

“We didn’t let them steal from us,” Arius said.  He as not making things better in our explanation.

“He,” Althalus said, gesturing to Galinndan, “forgot to pay them.”  Arius rolled his eyes, stunned that the warlock was telling the Captain so much detail.  Even a paladin knows there are times to keep their mouth shut…less chance to say a lie and commit a sin.  I had learned that well from my comrade.

“You crossed the Thieves Guild?” Wildsong said in dismay.  “You do know that they send out assassins to kill those that cross them?”  It would seem that Galinndan had forgotten to tell us this important detail.

“I know this looks orchestrated,” Althalus said. “We didn’t join the military to avoid the Guild.”

Wildson’s face was rigid with anger.  He glared down at Galinndan. “From now on you sleep alone.  I’m not endangering any more of my men on your account.  Your debt to the Guild, be it in blood or money; that is on you and your own foolishness.”

Galinndan bowed his head in shame.  The rest of the troops seemed to look at us all as if we were bad people.  We weren’t of course, but I understand this from their perspective.  The captain posted more guards, doubling the watch.  Our rogue was still pretty wobbly.  All we managed to get out of this was a used poison dart.

The next morning as we rose and Galinndan looked more hungover than anything.  Wildsong posted him at point, clearly as punishment.  As we were about to set out the captain asked, “Do any of you wish to tell me about anyone else you may have pissed off and have a bloodgrudge against you?”

Arius nodded.  “We did manage to piss off the Vizir.”  There were times that the paladin’s penchant for the truth made my stomach knot.

The captain didn’t flinch.  “I am well aware of your dealing with Vizir Lorraine,” he replied bitterly.  There was something in the way he responding that I did not like, not one bit.  I could sense that the captain was not a man to be trusted.

It rained but we trudged on.  Two days later we came across a gathering down the road. The man sent ahead as a scout returned and approached the column.  He and the captain entered into an animated discussion, one we could not pick up on.  The captain turned and faced all of us, speaking loud for all of us to hear.

“There’s a Minotaur patrol up ahead men.  We have a routine, a bit of a ritual with them.  They will approach us.  You will not draw weapons or make overt actions towards them.  They will ask you some questions.  You will need to answer honestly because they have the means of verifying your answers, none of which you want to experience.”  I could tell by the way he said it, it was ominous.

“You mean all of us?” Arius.

“Yes,” Wildsong said.

“I would have thought that you would have answered for the men in your command,” the paladin pressed.

The captain did not like having his integrity questioned, we could see that on his face.  “This is the way we have done it for nearly two decades.  It is how we maintain a peace with these creatures.”

“I would be honorable and speak for my men,” Arius replied under his breath.

“If you draw a weapon you doom us all,” Wildsong added, ignoring the murmur.  “Understood?”  Everyone nodded.  We all began to move forward.

Nine of the creatures were there.  They were massive, larger than anything we had seen before.  One, clearly the leader strode out before the others.  His thick leather straps that crossed his chest were impressive, studded with brass and silver grommets.  His right horn was nicked, chipped in some previous battle.  The massive creature strode in front of Wildsong and looked at him as he knew him, and respected him little more than one would an insect.  This does not bode well for us.

His voice boomed, shaking my chest as he spoke to all of the guardsmen.  “I am Damon Korth.  I patrol this area for our tribe.  Royal Guardsman – hardly worthy of our time…though I am surprised that you sent your scout to ensure we were here Captain Wildsong.”  He gave Wildsong a glare and when I looked at the captain, he averted his gaze.  It was not a good sign, for sure.   “Usually you go out of your way to avoid us.  You know what we want…we want blood; we want vengeance.

“So I ask you men that follow Wildsong one question you must answer honestly.  In the name of our dead Prince DeSaul, are any of you kin or friends of Mathias Blackshear?”

Aw shit…

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Character Background Material

My New Campaign

#dungeonsanddragons

Public events for A Special Kind of Evil and other books – Fall/Winter of 2017

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Clearly she gets her looks from her mother – though I often am credited for her “colorful” vocabulary and temper.

Victoria Hester (my co-author and daughter) have a number of public events coming up this fall and into the winter – most centered on our book on the Colonial Parkway Murders.

As a note, we don’t bring books to sell at these events.  These events are not about selling books, but rather about talking about the victims and the crimes.  We are more than happy to autograph your books or your Kindles (no joke, people ask us to do this) at the events however.  We encourage you to support your local bookstores or Amazon.com.

I will be keeping these dates current.  Sometimes things change on-the-fly with some libraries.  Bookmark this post or simply follow my blog to keep abreast.

We hope to see a lot of locals show up at these events to talk about the crimes.

October 4 – Olivet College, Michigan.  Criminology Class discussing our book The Murder of Maggie Hume and that investigation.

October 5 – Battle Creek Math and Science Center, Battle Creek Math and Science Center, Battle Creek, Michigan.  Two Forensic Classes discussing A Special Kind of Evil.

October 9 – Smithsonian Air and Space Museum – Udvar Hazy Center at Dulles, 7pm.  Blaine will be discussing his book on Frank Luke Jr. – Terror of the Autumn Skies, for the AHS Group meeting there.  Open to the public.

October 17 – Tabb Library, Yorktown, Virginia, 6:30pm – Discussing A Special Kind of Evil.

October 25 – Norfolk Public Library, Norfolk, Virginia. 5-8pm  Discussing A Special Kind of Evil.

November 4 – Culpeper County Public Library, Culpeper, Virginia, 3:00pm.  Discussing A Special Kind of Evil.

November 28 – Newport News Library, Grissom Branch, 7:00pm.  Discussing A Special Kind of Evil.

Williamsburg Library is attempting to pick a date sometime in January of February for a talk as well.  We hope that happens since we did a lot of research there.

Needless to say we hope you are able to join us!