Posts
I love this very clever way one cheater was caught. Can't say I've even used the technique myself. Though it's beautiful in its simplicity in terms of busting the cheater...
and providing and inside link behind what are normally closed doors.
Listen here: Cheater Busted War of the Roses
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Mud And Stars
There's a quote by Frederick Langbridge one of my mentors taught me when I first decided to become a Private Investigator. I was a Criminal Defense Investigator then and the quote goes like this:
"Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars."
The quote really affected me the first time I heard it because it was the day before I was going to Walla Walla Penitentiary for the first time to interview an attorney's client.... who was, in essence, my client.
Walla Walla is a pretty rough place.
As I write this, I recall driving towards Eastern Washington and repeating that Langbridge quote over and over. Sometimes in my head and sometimes aloud.
At the time I related it only to prisoners...
and the attitudes they choose when they get locked up.
"...One sees mud and the other sees stars."
Now, many moons later, I find the quote analogous to the lives we all lead and the prison bars, real or imagined, that hold us back.
The man I was seeing was convicted of a double murder, except an appeal had been filed and was actually moving forward....
because the attorney claimed our guy had been railroaded, his rights violated and the appeal was in motion.
Yes, the attorney told me, our guy was present during the multiple murders....
however, his crime was "doing nothing."
It was a drug deal gone bad.
Yes, our client led his two older friends to the drug dealers that they ultimately robbed and murdered.
Yet, according to the attorney and his client...
He did not hold the dealers at bay with one of the two hand guns police held in evidence.
He did help tie the victims up with the zip ties found in his pocket.
Nor not beat the victims with the baseball bat.
He did not participate in the final slice and dice with the switch blades they all had.
YES he was covered with blood (the victims') and high on the drugs the two dealers were killed for...
however...
NO, (he claimed) he was paralyzed with fear when the whole thing was going down and could do nothing to stop it lest he be killed himself.
At the very least, the attorney said, our guy deserved a reduction of sentence...
from life in prison to the possibility of parole.
So in my mind, it was the same old SODDI defense the attorney was employing for the appeal - "Some Other Dude Did IT." or in this case, Dudes.
Our client was too shocked to intervene, the attorney claimed.
He was the youngest of the three men accused in the murder.
What got him convicted, the attorney told me, was one of the older men (in his 40's) immediately struck a deal with the prosecution, turned state's evidence and pinned the entire thing on the younger dude
(late 20's) and the third guy present.
It was the younger man I was going to see. The one convicted, in Walla Walla.
I was in my 30's and I wondered what it was like to be in your twenties and sentenced to life.
I wondered all kinds of things about muders, the victims and the people who commit them.
There were a million questions I wanted to ask this guy, but I was instructed by the attorney not ask him anything other than the written down, designated, agreed upon questions.
I was glad this guy and I were separated by glass instead of seated in one of those rooms Criminal Defense Attorneys and their investigators get to sit in with their clients.
I could tell the second he looked at me and I looked in his eyes, he was high as a kite.
I heard drugs were easy to get in prison, now I had confirmation.
His pupils were so dilated there was almost nothing but black.
He picked up his phone...
I picked up mine...
and the games began.
I introduced myself and held my ID up to the window.
He called me names like sweetie, baby, honey.
He talked fast, he grinned a lot, kept leaned into and away from the window,
He asked me questions about myself.
I smiled and told him we'd talk "more personal stuff later..." after he answered the attorney's questions.
So I asked all the questions and he gave me all the answers.
Nothing new, nothing different.
When we were finished with the attorney's list, I him a question of my own:
"Why didn't just walk away, run, turn state's evidence first, anything, if you were innocent?"
He looked at me, leaned real close to the glass, gave a wicked smiled and hissed, "because maybe... I did it."
That threw me for a momentary loop.
Then the quote popped back into my head....
the Frederick Langbridge one,
"Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars."
I thought....
Man, this guy sees an appeal and sees stars...
but truth is, he is mud and doesn't deserve it.
I recall him watching me stare blankly back at him after his admisssion.
He had that same wicked smile on his face.
He knew the only one I could share the confession with was his attorney.
And he was already convicted of the crime.
What's he got too lose?
"Now tell me something about yourself sweetheart," he said.
"Welllllll" I replied, drawing out the silence purely for dramatic effect.
"I once believed anyone could climb out of the mud and reach for the stars. But you've changed my mind. I think you belong exactly where you are. In the mud."
His smile disappeared real fast and I didn't look to see what it turned into.
Instead, I hung up the phone, closed my notebook picked up my pen, turned my back and went through the prison exit process.
I walked fast to my car, and would've run... if my pride hadn't stopped me... and headed west back to Seattle.
On the way back, I called the attorney and told him everything.
Including the confession
And what I said afterwards.
I also told him if he didn't fire me, I'd quit the case.
Instead, the attorney laughed and said,
"Almost all of them do it you know. We're more mitigators than defenders anyway. We just do damage control."
I was surprised by his response and the truthfulness of it.
I know now... and knew then.... so many accused people are indeed innocent.
Those are the ones who need to see the stars, who need a great Criminal Defense Investigator.
I also knew I wasn't that person.
Shortly after stepping away from that case, I switched to Civil Investigation.
Now I represent victims and I sleep a whole lot better at night.
"Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars."
The quote really affected me the first time I heard it because it was the day before I was going to Walla Walla Penitentiary for the first time to interview an attorney's client.... who was, in essence, my client.
Walla Walla is a pretty rough place.
As I write this, I recall driving towards Eastern Washington and repeating that Langbridge quote over and over. Sometimes in my head and sometimes aloud.
At the time I related it only to prisoners...
and the attitudes they choose when they get locked up.
"...One sees mud and the other sees stars."
Now, many moons later, I find the quote analogous to the lives we all lead and the prison bars, real or imagined, that hold us back.
The man I was seeing was convicted of a double murder, except an appeal had been filed and was actually moving forward....
because the attorney claimed our guy had been railroaded, his rights violated and the appeal was in motion.
Yes, the attorney told me, our guy was present during the multiple murders....
however, his crime was "doing nothing."
It was a drug deal gone bad.
Yes, our client led his two older friends to the drug dealers that they ultimately robbed and murdered.
Yet, according to the attorney and his client...
He did not hold the dealers at bay with one of the two hand guns police held in evidence.
He did help tie the victims up with the zip ties found in his pocket.
Nor not beat the victims with the baseball bat.
He did not participate in the final slice and dice with the switch blades they all had.
YES he was covered with blood (the victims') and high on the drugs the two dealers were killed for...
however...
NO, (he claimed) he was paralyzed with fear when the whole thing was going down and could do nothing to stop it lest he be killed himself.
At the very least, the attorney said, our guy deserved a reduction of sentence...
from life in prison to the possibility of parole.
So in my mind, it was the same old SODDI defense the attorney was employing for the appeal - "Some Other Dude Did IT." or in this case, Dudes.
Our client was too shocked to intervene, the attorney claimed.
He was the youngest of the three men accused in the murder.
What got him convicted, the attorney told me, was one of the older men (in his 40's) immediately struck a deal with the prosecution, turned state's evidence and pinned the entire thing on the younger dude
(late 20's) and the third guy present.
It was the younger man I was going to see. The one convicted, in Walla Walla.
I was in my 30's and I wondered what it was like to be in your twenties and sentenced to life.
I wondered all kinds of things about muders, the victims and the people who commit them.
There were a million questions I wanted to ask this guy, but I was instructed by the attorney not ask him anything other than the written down, designated, agreed upon questions.
I was glad this guy and I were separated by glass instead of seated in one of those rooms Criminal Defense Attorneys and their investigators get to sit in with their clients.
I could tell the second he looked at me and I looked in his eyes, he was high as a kite.
I heard drugs were easy to get in prison, now I had confirmation.
His pupils were so dilated there was almost nothing but black.
He picked up his phone...
I picked up mine...
and the games began.
I introduced myself and held my ID up to the window.
He called me names like sweetie, baby, honey.
He talked fast, he grinned a lot, kept leaned into and away from the window,
He asked me questions about myself.
I smiled and told him we'd talk "more personal stuff later..." after he answered the attorney's questions.
So I asked all the questions and he gave me all the answers.
Nothing new, nothing different.
When we were finished with the attorney's list, I him a question of my own:
"Why didn't just walk away, run, turn state's evidence first, anything, if you were innocent?"
He looked at me, leaned real close to the glass, gave a wicked smiled and hissed, "because maybe... I did it."
That threw me for a momentary loop.
Then the quote popped back into my head....
the Frederick Langbridge one,
"Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars."
I thought....
Man, this guy sees an appeal and sees stars...
but truth is, he is mud and doesn't deserve it.
I recall him watching me stare blankly back at him after his admisssion.
He had that same wicked smile on his face.
He knew the only one I could share the confession with was his attorney.
And he was already convicted of the crime.
What's he got too lose?
"Now tell me something about yourself sweetheart," he said.
"Welllllll" I replied, drawing out the silence purely for dramatic effect.
"I once believed anyone could climb out of the mud and reach for the stars. But you've changed my mind. I think you belong exactly where you are. In the mud."
His smile disappeared real fast and I didn't look to see what it turned into.
Instead, I hung up the phone, closed my notebook picked up my pen, turned my back and went through the prison exit process.
I walked fast to my car, and would've run... if my pride hadn't stopped me... and headed west back to Seattle.
On the way back, I called the attorney and told him everything.
Including the confession
And what I said afterwards.
I also told him if he didn't fire me, I'd quit the case.
Instead, the attorney laughed and said,
"Almost all of them do it you know. We're more mitigators than defenders anyway. We just do damage control."
I was surprised by his response and the truthfulness of it.
I know now... and knew then.... so many accused people are indeed innocent.
Those are the ones who need to see the stars, who need a great Criminal Defense Investigator.
I also knew I wasn't that person.
Shortly after stepping away from that case, I switched to Civil Investigation.
Now I represent victims and I sleep a whole lot better at night.
Friday, August 27, 2010
More On Meth: How To Spread The Word
Meth enters our kids' lives insidiously, like a snake. That snake, however, is a charmer.
Though he appears to be a leader, he's a really a pusher. A drug pusher who stands to profit from turning your kid into a client.
Every generation has/had their highs and lows.
From moonshine and morphine many moons ago, to cocktails and cocaine, marijuana and Esctacy, PCP, LSD... the list is endless. And I think the real topper is Meth.
I know I have Meth on the blog's brain these days.
Not literally of course.
Never have tried it, never will.
It's just that I'm seeing it's effects more and more these days. Like I see more and more anxiety.
More and more foreclosed homes.
More and more unemployed people.
More and more people in line at food banks.
More and more people sleeping in their cars.
More and more people sleeping in tent cities, under bridges, folded in doorways.
More and more people looking for a psychological way out.
And at first, Meth might appear to be that.
I am told that at first... meaning... the very first time you try it... you get this burst of intense energy and a high that makes you feel like you can do anything and everything without sleeping for days.
After that, forgetaboutit.
The rest of the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, breaths that make up a lifetime are spent in search of replication of that very first high.
The Multnomah County Sheriff's Office in Oregon gave us all an amazing tool when they started their ever- evolving "Faces of Meth Project". That's the video just below this post. It keeps changing from time to time. I recognize some of the faces, see new ones over the years.
If you have a kid or grandkid exposed to other kids, good and bad ones, you may want to think about showing them the video below.
It's like showing kids who drive dunk corpses in the morgue, it shocks them into better behavior.
Same with "Faces of Meth," only it's more a preventative measure.
You play it in a junior or high schoool, Meth rates drop dramatically.
That simple.
Kids are very vain.
They don't like to see what Meth will turn them into.
For questions on use of "Faces Of Meth" Mug Shots and Materials, please contact Multnomah County Sheriff's Office at 503-988-4300 or visit http://www.mcso.us/public/
Though he appears to be a leader, he's a really a pusher. A drug pusher who stands to profit from turning your kid into a client.
Every generation has/had their highs and lows.
From moonshine and morphine many moons ago, to cocktails and cocaine, marijuana and Esctacy, PCP, LSD... the list is endless. And I think the real topper is Meth.
I know I have Meth on the blog's brain these days.
Not literally of course.
Never have tried it, never will.
It's just that I'm seeing it's effects more and more these days. Like I see more and more anxiety.
More and more foreclosed homes.
More and more unemployed people.
More and more people in line at food banks.
More and more people sleeping in their cars.
More and more people sleeping in tent cities, under bridges, folded in doorways.
More and more people looking for a psychological way out.
And at first, Meth might appear to be that.
I am told that at first... meaning... the very first time you try it... you get this burst of intense energy and a high that makes you feel like you can do anything and everything without sleeping for days.
After that, forgetaboutit.
The rest of the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, breaths that make up a lifetime are spent in search of replication of that very first high.
The Multnomah County Sheriff's Office in Oregon gave us all an amazing tool when they started their ever- evolving "Faces of Meth Project". That's the video just below this post. It keeps changing from time to time. I recognize some of the faces, see new ones over the years.
If you have a kid or grandkid exposed to other kids, good and bad ones, you may want to think about showing them the video below.
It's like showing kids who drive dunk corpses in the morgue, it shocks them into better behavior.
Same with "Faces of Meth," only it's more a preventative measure.
You play it in a junior or high schoool, Meth rates drop dramatically.
That simple.
Kids are very vain.
They don't like to see what Meth will turn them into.
For questions on use of "Faces Of Meth" Mug Shots and Materials, please contact Multnomah County Sheriff's Office at 503-988-4300 or visit http://www.mcso.us/public/
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Meeting The Meth Heads
I've been away from the blog for a while because I spent most of my time this week on the road, traveling to and from cases, scenes, interviews and meetings.
I tend not to travel locally with my laptop and rely on my Droid for internet browsing, email, phone on my daily round... because the less I carry, the less can be stolen from me.
I also tend to be very careful when and where I stop my vehicle -- either to stage a surveillance or work a case, because there are always eyes on we strangers, in neighborhoods strange to us.
So a couple of days ago I was in an area of Seattle, White Center... which some not-so-affectionately call "Rat Center"... because it's not the nicest of neighborhoods.
It's one of those communities that has many good people mixed with a bunch of real bad gang-bangers.
A very good police officer was killed there a few years ago.
I was planning to meet a witness not far from the shooting scene and I was on high alert.
I made a point not to wash my car; to dress down; wear no makeup: pull my blond hair back, and chose my studious glasses vs contact lenses.
I try to draw as little attention to myself as possible in high crime areas.
I am also frequently asked if I am a cop, so I guess I carry myself that way when I carry my black leather notebook, ID, camera, papers and pen.
So before I got to my destination of the day, I noticed my gas gauge running low.
Traffic was backing up and I decided to pull into what I knew was the last safe gas station before my stop.
I grabbed my bank card from my wallet before exiting the car with my bags locked inside...
stuffed my phone in the side pocket of my cargo pants.... and inserted the bank card into the gas tank reader.
I covered the security code window as I entered my ID when two white men and a white woman who were evidently druggies approached me right at the gas pump.
They emerged from shadows I never saw.... because it seemed like one minute I was pulling the gas hose off the tank.... and the next minute they were right there.
One guy and girl moved to my right, another on my left.
As they approached, I looked the guy on my left right in the eyes, nodded my head and said "Hey, how ya doin'?"The respect seemed to throw him off guard.
"We'd be doing better if we had some money," the other guy said.
"Me too, " I replied.
"At least you got that car" the woman said, with a smile that revealed rotten pointed teeth.
"The bank owns my car" I said as I proceeded to pump gas while I noted two things.
First, all three strangers had sores on their face and were clearly Meth Heads looking for a fix, they were not yet high for the day.
The second thing I noticed was the Good Old Boy in a brand new F350 Pickup playing Bruce Springsteen pull in behind me at the pump.
"Can we have some money?" the woman asked me.
"You're asking the wrong person, " I answered. "I can barely fill this tank."
"You got any drugs?" the guy asked.
"Nope," I said. "Left 'em all home."
The humor, or irony, escaped them.
Then the woman said, "Well, we want your car"
"Sorry," I said, "you can't have it."
It was then that the guy in the 350 Pick-Up stepped out of his truck and walked towards me and the three druggies.
I gave Mr. 350 a big smile.
He was very large, maybe 6'2, his muscles were busting out of his shirt. He looked like Paul Bunyon with tattoos.
"Hey Darlin'," he said walking to me, "How you doing?"
"Happy to see you" I said.
His mere presence caused the the three druggies beside me to quickly scamper away and disappear to where ever it was they crawled out from.
I reached my hand out and shook Paul Bunyon's big calloused one.
"Thanks" I said.
"My pleasure" he responded. "I watch those Meth Heads here all the time. I saw them when I was stopped at the light. I watched then move towards you and I just pulled into the pump right behind you."
"You didn't need gas?" I asked.
"No" he replied. "You needed me."
There was silence while I pondered that perfect moment of zen.
Then I asked him what his name was.
He laughed and said, "Just call me Sam... Good Sam."
He walked away, went back in his truck and just sat there... watching my back... until I finished pumping my gas.
When I was done.... he pulled up next to me, gave me a salute.
I saluted back, then blew him a kiss.
Paul Bunyon blushed, smiled, pounded his chest once with his fist and drove off into the sunset.
The last I saw of him was the rear end of his truck, his thumbs-up sign out the driver's window.
I regret not getting Bunyon's plate numbers so I could at least I.D. and thank him further.
But my head wasn't in that space then.
Instead I called 911, shared my experience and descriptions with the operator.
Since no crime was committed all the police could do was keep an eye on the station.
Just like Good Sam.
This experiences prompted me to re-post a video I have shared a few times. Meth is such an all pervasive drug now. Its use is not declining. It is penetrating the suburbs, affecting women young and old, single and married, school children, hardworking fathers, the injured, the unwell and the unemployed.
I am told, at first, it feels like an instant fix to a broken life, an endless stream of energy and hope in a barren sea.
But it is an illusion.
Meth burns holes in your brain that never fill in again.
The sores are the poisons leaking out of your body.
The rotting teeth are just one sign of your body decomposing while you live.
Meth can also cause extreme acts of aggression, depravity, kills... and over kills.
It is true people can come back from Meth use however that is not the norm.
Our species is based on survival of the fittest and Meth Heads are not the fittest.
The video I will post next is one of my favorite of the Faces of Meth series...there's also a version on my links list to the left. I apologize to those of you who find it redundant and dated.
For those who haven't seen it, I think it will help you see what this evil substance can do to people who were once whole.
I tend not to travel locally with my laptop and rely on my Droid for internet browsing, email, phone on my daily round... because the less I carry, the less can be stolen from me.
I also tend to be very careful when and where I stop my vehicle -- either to stage a surveillance or work a case, because there are always eyes on we strangers, in neighborhoods strange to us.
So a couple of days ago I was in an area of Seattle, White Center... which some not-so-affectionately call "Rat Center"... because it's not the nicest of neighborhoods.
It's one of those communities that has many good people mixed with a bunch of real bad gang-bangers.
A very good police officer was killed there a few years ago.
I was planning to meet a witness not far from the shooting scene and I was on high alert.
I made a point not to wash my car; to dress down; wear no makeup: pull my blond hair back, and chose my studious glasses vs contact lenses.
I try to draw as little attention to myself as possible in high crime areas.
I am also frequently asked if I am a cop, so I guess I carry myself that way when I carry my black leather notebook, ID, camera, papers and pen.
So before I got to my destination of the day, I noticed my gas gauge running low.
Traffic was backing up and I decided to pull into what I knew was the last safe gas station before my stop.
I grabbed my bank card from my wallet before exiting the car with my bags locked inside...
stuffed my phone in the side pocket of my cargo pants.... and inserted the bank card into the gas tank reader.
I covered the security code window as I entered my ID when two white men and a white woman who were evidently druggies approached me right at the gas pump.
They emerged from shadows I never saw.... because it seemed like one minute I was pulling the gas hose off the tank.... and the next minute they were right there.
One guy and girl moved to my right, another on my left.
As they approached, I looked the guy on my left right in the eyes, nodded my head and said "Hey, how ya doin'?"The respect seemed to throw him off guard.
"We'd be doing better if we had some money," the other guy said.
"Me too, " I replied.
"At least you got that car" the woman said, with a smile that revealed rotten pointed teeth.
"The bank owns my car" I said as I proceeded to pump gas while I noted two things.
First, all three strangers had sores on their face and were clearly Meth Heads looking for a fix, they were not yet high for the day.
The second thing I noticed was the Good Old Boy in a brand new F350 Pickup playing Bruce Springsteen pull in behind me at the pump.
"Can we have some money?" the woman asked me.
"You're asking the wrong person, " I answered. "I can barely fill this tank."
"You got any drugs?" the guy asked.
"Nope," I said. "Left 'em all home."
The humor, or irony, escaped them.
Then the woman said, "Well, we want your car"
"Sorry," I said, "you can't have it."
It was then that the guy in the 350 Pick-Up stepped out of his truck and walked towards me and the three druggies.
I gave Mr. 350 a big smile.
He was very large, maybe 6'2, his muscles were busting out of his shirt. He looked like Paul Bunyon with tattoos.
"Hey Darlin'," he said walking to me, "How you doing?"
"Happy to see you" I said.
His mere presence caused the the three druggies beside me to quickly scamper away and disappear to where ever it was they crawled out from.
I reached my hand out and shook Paul Bunyon's big calloused one.
"Thanks" I said.
"My pleasure" he responded. "I watch those Meth Heads here all the time. I saw them when I was stopped at the light. I watched then move towards you and I just pulled into the pump right behind you."
"You didn't need gas?" I asked.
"No" he replied. "You needed me."
There was silence while I pondered that perfect moment of zen.
Then I asked him what his name was.
He laughed and said, "Just call me Sam... Good Sam."
He walked away, went back in his truck and just sat there... watching my back... until I finished pumping my gas.
When I was done.... he pulled up next to me, gave me a salute.
I saluted back, then blew him a kiss.
Paul Bunyon blushed, smiled, pounded his chest once with his fist and drove off into the sunset.
The last I saw of him was the rear end of his truck, his thumbs-up sign out the driver's window.
I regret not getting Bunyon's plate numbers so I could at least I.D. and thank him further.
But my head wasn't in that space then.
Instead I called 911, shared my experience and descriptions with the operator.
Since no crime was committed all the police could do was keep an eye on the station.
Just like Good Sam.
This experiences prompted me to re-post a video I have shared a few times. Meth is such an all pervasive drug now. Its use is not declining. It is penetrating the suburbs, affecting women young and old, single and married, school children, hardworking fathers, the injured, the unwell and the unemployed.
I am told, at first, it feels like an instant fix to a broken life, an endless stream of energy and hope in a barren sea.
But it is an illusion.
Meth burns holes in your brain that never fill in again.
The sores are the poisons leaking out of your body.
The rotting teeth are just one sign of your body decomposing while you live.
Meth can also cause extreme acts of aggression, depravity, kills... and over kills.
It is true people can come back from Meth use however that is not the norm.
Our species is based on survival of the fittest and Meth Heads are not the fittest.
The video I will post next is one of my favorite of the Faces of Meth series...there's also a version on my links list to the left. I apologize to those of you who find it redundant and dated.
For those who haven't seen it, I think it will help you see what this evil substance can do to people who were once whole.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Break-Ups
I've been doing a lot of domestic work lately.
It's not my favorite stuff to do, particularly because everyone has their own version of why the friendship, relationship, marriage, partnership, whatever, failed.
Having been through one marriage and now well into a second...
having experienced separation, custody, and his first girlfriend...
I get it when it comes to being married and being single.
And I have come to one inextricable conclusion, you may or may not agree with.
I believe it is far better to be single and happy....
than to be married and miserable.
Coupling is nice and safe and comforting only when the person you couple with is functional, humane, and cares about you.
Love is wonderful, however, it's not an excuse, nor is it a reason, to stay in a relationship where you feel you are being mentally, physically, or emotionally abused.
The problem is exiting.
Exiting is always the hardest part. That's when things get really dark.
When one person steps out, the black clouds, lightening bolts and the dark green demons of jealousy step in.
Fumes of rage fill the air, they ignite at the slightest emotional spark.
And the end result can be catastrophic...
or liberating.
Because when one door closes, another usually opens....provided you are open to it.
That said.... this P.I. has to step away from the computer to work one such case.
So I decided to leave this point... and the blog... in the hands of angels.
I've heard many versions of the Sinead O'Conner's song over many years.
However, this is one of my favorites because All Angels so clearly communicates the depth of despair the dissolution of a relationship can take you to.
It's not my favorite stuff to do, particularly because everyone has their own version of why the friendship, relationship, marriage, partnership, whatever, failed.
Having been through one marriage and now well into a second...
having experienced separation, custody, and his first girlfriend...
I get it when it comes to being married and being single.
And I have come to one inextricable conclusion, you may or may not agree with.
I believe it is far better to be single and happy....
than to be married and miserable.
Coupling is nice and safe and comforting only when the person you couple with is functional, humane, and cares about you.
Love is wonderful, however, it's not an excuse, nor is it a reason, to stay in a relationship where you feel you are being mentally, physically, or emotionally abused.
The problem is exiting.
Exiting is always the hardest part. That's when things get really dark.
When one person steps out, the black clouds, lightening bolts and the dark green demons of jealousy step in.
Fumes of rage fill the air, they ignite at the slightest emotional spark.
And the end result can be catastrophic...
or liberating.
Because when one door closes, another usually opens....provided you are open to it.
That said.... this P.I. has to step away from the computer to work one such case.
So I decided to leave this point... and the blog... in the hands of angels.
I've heard many versions of the Sinead O'Conner's song over many years.
However, this is one of my favorites because All Angels so clearly communicates the depth of despair the dissolution of a relationship can take you to.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Love Is Blind
I made a friend at a sushi bar out here.... and over the years, we crossed paths every now and then.
He was the owner of a rather large business on the Peninsula where I live.
He was silver-haired, handsome, retired military and happily married when we first met.
He sat to my immediate right, I was eating my usual odd assortment of sushi, which I ordered in Japanese.
He asked me if I speak Japanese.
I said, "No, I just speak sushi."
He laughed and the rapport of friendship was instantly established.
We talked about his marriage then... it was about two years old.
And it was his second marriage.
She was 15 years younger than him.
He said he met his wife on, "of all places" he said "the internet."
He said she was the perfect woman for him, beautiful, attentive, foreign, was a hair stylist he planned to set up in business.
He brought her to America, she got citizenship.
He said eventually, she wanted to bring her whole family to the USA and she suggested he build a new house for all of them.
It was then that I pressed my business card in his hand and said, "Hold on to this card. You may need it one day."
I recall him looking at my card with amusement and his reply.
"I never met a P.I. before."
"Well" I said, "Hope you never need one. But just in case..."
And so it went.
The last time I was in the at sushi bar was about one year ago.
Hadn't heard from him until last week.
He wanted an immediate surveillance.
He was leaving home for four days on a business trip.
He suspected his wife was having an affair.
He said he was almost 100 percent sure.
So he planned an out of town trip and wanted an investigator on the house.
He wanted pictures, from dawn to 9:00 AM, when she went to work.... and also at the end of the work day. He wanted photos of everyone entering and exiting.
Normally I rarely, take these cases.
After way too many years of domestic surveillance, it is not my favorite thing to do.
However, this guy was a friend and I see anyone who betrays a friend as an enemy.
I agreed.
And it was one of those moments investigators live for.
I got to the area about 5:00 a.m.
Not only did I find the perfect surveillance spot to sit unnoticed in my vehicle, I didn't have to sit the endless hours, or days, I anticipated.
Within the first two hours of my arrival, the front door of the house opened.
A man stepped out, his arm around a woman in a white bathrobe.
There was a long lingering kiss.
I got the shot.
As I zoomed in on the kiss, then their individual faces, I could see he appeared much younger than her. I knew she was 35, he looked to be in his early twenties.
He walked to his car just in front of the front door.
It was new model 350 Pick-Up parked right next to her brand new Lexus.
I got his plate, followed him to his place of business -- an Auto Repair Shop -- and then stopped at at drug store and processed the photos.
Later that night I returned.
He arrived at her door, she greeted him in a tank shirt, jeans and wine glass in her hand.
I stuck around until the lights went out and returned pre-dawn.
Again he exited the house, again she was in the white robe.
Again I got photos, processed them and then... called my friend, the client.
"You were right," I said. "She's had a young guy at the house. He works at the auto shop down the road from your house."
He was silent and then said,
"Is he very tall, dark-skinned, curly hair?"
"Yes"
"Joe," he said.
There was more silence, then he said quietly,
"damn, he fixed my car last week. Maybe I better check my brake lines," he pretended to laugh.
I told him that was not an bad idea. I also told him I had photos.
We agreed I would meet at the sushi bar and I would hand him the envelope.
He would hand me a check.
And (bonus!) he said, he'd like to buy me sushi dinner, for finding the truth.
He said he'd felt something was very wrong with his marriage for over a year
We discussed what he intended to do with the info and photos.
He said he'd be calling his attorney after we got the off the phone and will have him ready to paperwork.
Then he would go home with his an attorney as witness, hand his wife the pictures and tell her to leave.
If she gives him any trouble, he said, they will call the police.
He told me did some background on her before he hired me and found a warrant in her name.
He said he could use that as leverage to make her leave.
I asked why he didn't do the background before he married her.
"Love is blind," he said.
"But our family attorney wasn't. The house, all the money, it's tied up nice and tight in a pre-nup that kicks her to the curb for cheating."
"Sweet" was all I could think to say... which in hindsight was fairly stupid.
Particularly since the line, "love is blind" is so profound and worthy of a greater response.
What most attracts some people to a person in the beginning, is what most repels some later on.
That's why it's so important to look inside the book before you judge it by its cover.
My client was clearly a wealthy target, his woman was beautiful and used her looks as the instrument of his capture.
He was lucky. He got off with his life and most of his assets.
Many are nowhere as fortunate as my sushi loving client was.
The whole thing reminded me of an older well-known case I probed at great depth involving Sonia Rios.
Only this case ended in three murders.
The next blog post leads you to that case.
He was the owner of a rather large business on the Peninsula where I live.
He was silver-haired, handsome, retired military and happily married when we first met.
He sat to my immediate right, I was eating my usual odd assortment of sushi, which I ordered in Japanese.
He asked me if I speak Japanese.
I said, "No, I just speak sushi."
He laughed and the rapport of friendship was instantly established.
We talked about his marriage then... it was about two years old.
And it was his second marriage.
She was 15 years younger than him.
He said he met his wife on, "of all places" he said "the internet."
He said she was the perfect woman for him, beautiful, attentive, foreign, was a hair stylist he planned to set up in business.
He brought her to America, she got citizenship.
He said eventually, she wanted to bring her whole family to the USA and she suggested he build a new house for all of them.
It was then that I pressed my business card in his hand and said, "Hold on to this card. You may need it one day."
I recall him looking at my card with amusement and his reply.
"I never met a P.I. before."
"Well" I said, "Hope you never need one. But just in case..."
And so it went.
The last time I was in the at sushi bar was about one year ago.
Hadn't heard from him until last week.
He wanted an immediate surveillance.
He was leaving home for four days on a business trip.
He suspected his wife was having an affair.
He said he was almost 100 percent sure.
So he planned an out of town trip and wanted an investigator on the house.
He wanted pictures, from dawn to 9:00 AM, when she went to work.... and also at the end of the work day. He wanted photos of everyone entering and exiting.
Normally I rarely, take these cases.
After way too many years of domestic surveillance, it is not my favorite thing to do.
However, this guy was a friend and I see anyone who betrays a friend as an enemy.
I agreed.
And it was one of those moments investigators live for.
I got to the area about 5:00 a.m.
Not only did I find the perfect surveillance spot to sit unnoticed in my vehicle, I didn't have to sit the endless hours, or days, I anticipated.
Within the first two hours of my arrival, the front door of the house opened.
A man stepped out, his arm around a woman in a white bathrobe.
There was a long lingering kiss.
I got the shot.
As I zoomed in on the kiss, then their individual faces, I could see he appeared much younger than her. I knew she was 35, he looked to be in his early twenties.
He walked to his car just in front of the front door.
It was new model 350 Pick-Up parked right next to her brand new Lexus.
I got his plate, followed him to his place of business -- an Auto Repair Shop -- and then stopped at at drug store and processed the photos.
Later that night I returned.
He arrived at her door, she greeted him in a tank shirt, jeans and wine glass in her hand.
I stuck around until the lights went out and returned pre-dawn.
Again he exited the house, again she was in the white robe.
Again I got photos, processed them and then... called my friend, the client.
"You were right," I said. "She's had a young guy at the house. He works at the auto shop down the road from your house."
He was silent and then said,
"Is he very tall, dark-skinned, curly hair?"
"Yes"
"Joe," he said.
There was more silence, then he said quietly,
"damn, he fixed my car last week. Maybe I better check my brake lines," he pretended to laugh.
I told him that was not an bad idea. I also told him I had photos.
We agreed I would meet at the sushi bar and I would hand him the envelope.
He would hand me a check.
And (bonus!) he said, he'd like to buy me sushi dinner, for finding the truth.
He said he'd felt something was very wrong with his marriage for over a year
We discussed what he intended to do with the info and photos.
He said he'd be calling his attorney after we got the off the phone and will have him ready to paperwork.
Then he would go home with his an attorney as witness, hand his wife the pictures and tell her to leave.
If she gives him any trouble, he said, they will call the police.
He told me did some background on her before he hired me and found a warrant in her name.
He said he could use that as leverage to make her leave.
I asked why he didn't do the background before he married her.
"Love is blind," he said.
"But our family attorney wasn't. The house, all the money, it's tied up nice and tight in a pre-nup that kicks her to the curb for cheating."
"Sweet" was all I could think to say... which in hindsight was fairly stupid.
Particularly since the line, "love is blind" is so profound and worthy of a greater response.
What most attracts some people to a person in the beginning, is what most repels some later on.
That's why it's so important to look inside the book before you judge it by its cover.
My client was clearly a wealthy target, his woman was beautiful and used her looks as the instrument of his capture.
He was lucky. He got off with his life and most of his assets.
Many are nowhere as fortunate as my sushi loving client was.
The whole thing reminded me of an older well-known case I probed at great depth involving Sonia Rios.
Only this case ended in three murders.
The next blog post leads you to that case.
Sonia Rios - Black Widow Gets Squished
She was called the "Black Widow of Lomito."
Sonia Rios married two military husbands.
Her second husband, Larry Risken was shot, execution-style, when they were estranged and she convinced him to go to the Philippines pre-divorce, without her.
Her first husband, Earl Bourdeau was also killed in the Philippines.
The P.I. on the case is convinced her family was involved in that murder and paid the police $1,000 to make it go away .
Earl and Sonia were going through a rough patch.
She told Earl to go to the Philippines to take care of business.
Earl told his brother he didn't want to go.
She convinced Earl.... and he was executed in his bed while she slept comfortably in hers in the states.
Then, as karma has a way of working....
after a failed first attempt, a gunman came into her salon and missed her.
The second attempt, a shot to the head, was successful.
Sonia Rios herself was killed.
Here's a link to the storyline.
Dateline is covering it this week....
This article, one year old, appears to be a transcript of the actual show.
Link to Black Widow of Lomito
Sonia Rios married two military husbands.
Her second husband, Larry Risken was shot, execution-style, when they were estranged and she convinced him to go to the Philippines pre-divorce, without her.
Her first husband, Earl Bourdeau was also killed in the Philippines.
The P.I. on the case is convinced her family was involved in that murder and paid the police $1,000 to make it go away .
Earl and Sonia were going through a rough patch.
She told Earl to go to the Philippines to take care of business.
Earl told his brother he didn't want to go.
She convinced Earl.... and he was executed in his bed while she slept comfortably in hers in the states.
Then, as karma has a way of working....
after a failed first attempt, a gunman came into her salon and missed her.
The second attempt, a shot to the head, was successful.
Sonia Rios herself was killed.
Here's a link to the storyline.
Dateline is covering it this week....
This article, one year old, appears to be a transcript of the actual show.
Link to Black Widow of Lomito
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Sugar Mama
She died recently.
I heard about it about from a mutual friend. She had been dead for almost two years and I didn't know. Even though she was a client of mine once, my work for her had long been done and we just went our separate ways.
I usually work directly for attorneys who are hired by regular folks like you and me who need help.
I tend not to work directly for regular people because attorneys afford their investigators a certain protection... one being attorney/investigator confidentiality.
What that means is, the confidential memos and reports I write to the Attorney about the case are not "discoverable" by the opposing side in a legal action or trial.
This allows me, an investigator, to travel under the radar and often go undetected in certain legal proceedings.
Which always comes in handy when you are going after a bad guy.
So this former client of mine, I accepted her case under one condition. We bring in an attorney.
It was a big case, it was dangerous and it needed the protection of an attorney... and possibly, the police.
It was started as a civil action. She just wanted her money back. It ended up with her in intensive care.
She a beautiful, wealthy, white woman from the "Eastside" of town, across the bridge where the software companies and some very wealthy folks live.
She was one of those gorgeous women married for decades who found herself in a angry, heated divorce after she found her husband in bed with his secretary.
Washington is a "no fault" divorce state and it sure wasn't her fault anyway... so the divorce went smooth as sandpaper. Which is smoother than most.
She ended up financially diminished, albeit fine. She got the house, about a million dollar nest egg, and since their one child was grown and married, custody was no issue.
She became single... though never adjusted to it.
She felt she she needed a man.
And that's where the trouble and I came in.
Because the man she picked was a very handsome younger black man who picked her golden haired head and Chanel dress and Jimmy Choo shoes out of the crowd during an art show.
She found him enchanting, she told me.
"He was in Armani" she added.
She said he spoke eloquently about art and music, was quite amusing and quite profund all at one.
He was 15 years younger than her (she was 48).
He was a musician she said. "One of those struggling types" she told me, "Though he is very good. I heard one of his raps."
He said until he got "picked up by a label", he was working as a handy man and offered to help her ougt around the house.
She needed the help most certainly, changing lightbulbs, weather-poofing the deck,clearing the gutters, taking the garbage to the end of the long driveway. He was eager to help.
She paid him well.
And.... she told me, he was drop dead gorgeous.
I have no issues with co-mingling of races.
I do however have issues with liars and thieves.
So to make this potentially long story quite short...
Dude was a hustler who made his money meeting rich white women at piano bars and museums and in the upscale supermarkets where they shop.
He insinuated himself in their lives like a pimp.... only he didn't pimp her out, he pimped himself in.
And she became his Sugar Mama.
All said and done, by the time we got him extricated from her life, she had given him $650,000 for a new business he convinced her to invest in. The money is all gone, much of it, up his and others noses.
She drank alot, which altered her personality and made her feisty and volatile.
She had an air of self entitlement, which pissed him off. She had a mouth that wouldn't quit. They fought all the time, until the final round.
It was then that she spit and and hissed the "n word" and suggest he move back to his ghetto.
His response was instantaneous.
He punched her smack in the nose, broke it, dropped kicked her in the stomach, and got it a few more stomps to various body parts after she went down.
The next day he had flowers sent to her hospital room.
The card said, "I'm so sorry. Take me back."
We needed to extricate him from her life which meant restraining orders, background work, surveillance, selling the huge house she didn't need anymore and moving into a secure new residence where she could not be found.
We got the police on him and found out there were were warrants all over the place for this guy and his many aliases.
The problem was no one could find him.
And that's what had us so concerned.
Sugar Mama had a very sour baby on the loose.
This is one of those stories with a confusing ending.
Allegedly, he never harmed her again.
The police never found him and she never got her money back.
Yet one night she was found dead alone in her home.
I didn't know this until we parted ways and until a mutual friend told me.
The death was called a suicide.
No sign of a struggle,
They found a two empty bottles of powerful pills prescribed to her and an empty bottle of vodka layed on the pillow next to her.
Tox levels were enough to kill a small army, yet consistent with the medication around her.
She also put a plastic bag untied over head.
She was fully made up underneath.
No signs of foul play, no discreetly hidden needle marks anywhere.
Even so, I think he killed her. Albiet indirectly.
I also believe she was implicit in her own demise.
The moment she let an unknown into her life, then started lending him money, she signed a potential death sentence.
As a P.I., I have discovered a sad universal truth. Some people feed off others.
Some are parasites, like plankton on the back of a whale. They have a function (to clean the whale) and they also eat. It appears to be a mutually parasitical relationship.
Other people are more like ticks, they burrow in and suck money and energy out of their victims.
That's why we all have to be very careful who we allow into our lives, doors, homes and confidence.
A measure of protection/self preservation is always in order because really.... you never know who is a parasite or predator.
Everybody thought Ted Bundy was a charmer.... once.
I heard about it about from a mutual friend. She had been dead for almost two years and I didn't know. Even though she was a client of mine once, my work for her had long been done and we just went our separate ways.
I usually work directly for attorneys who are hired by regular folks like you and me who need help.
I tend not to work directly for regular people because attorneys afford their investigators a certain protection... one being attorney/investigator confidentiality.
What that means is, the confidential memos and reports I write to the Attorney about the case are not "discoverable" by the opposing side in a legal action or trial.
This allows me, an investigator, to travel under the radar and often go undetected in certain legal proceedings.
Which always comes in handy when you are going after a bad guy.
So this former client of mine, I accepted her case under one condition. We bring in an attorney.
It was a big case, it was dangerous and it needed the protection of an attorney... and possibly, the police.
It was started as a civil action. She just wanted her money back. It ended up with her in intensive care.
She a beautiful, wealthy, white woman from the "Eastside" of town, across the bridge where the software companies and some very wealthy folks live.
She was one of those gorgeous women married for decades who found herself in a angry, heated divorce after she found her husband in bed with his secretary.
Washington is a "no fault" divorce state and it sure wasn't her fault anyway... so the divorce went smooth as sandpaper. Which is smoother than most.
She ended up financially diminished, albeit fine. She got the house, about a million dollar nest egg, and since their one child was grown and married, custody was no issue.
She became single... though never adjusted to it.
She felt she she needed a man.
And that's where the trouble and I came in.
Because the man she picked was a very handsome younger black man who picked her golden haired head and Chanel dress and Jimmy Choo shoes out of the crowd during an art show.
She found him enchanting, she told me.
"He was in Armani" she added.
She said he spoke eloquently about art and music, was quite amusing and quite profund all at one.
He was 15 years younger than her (she was 48).
He was a musician she said. "One of those struggling types" she told me, "Though he is very good. I heard one of his raps."
He said until he got "picked up by a label", he was working as a handy man and offered to help her ougt around the house.
She needed the help most certainly, changing lightbulbs, weather-poofing the deck,clearing the gutters, taking the garbage to the end of the long driveway. He was eager to help.
She paid him well.
And.... she told me, he was drop dead gorgeous.
I have no issues with co-mingling of races.
I do however have issues with liars and thieves.
So to make this potentially long story quite short...
Dude was a hustler who made his money meeting rich white women at piano bars and museums and in the upscale supermarkets where they shop.
He insinuated himself in their lives like a pimp.... only he didn't pimp her out, he pimped himself in.
And she became his Sugar Mama.
All said and done, by the time we got him extricated from her life, she had given him $650,000 for a new business he convinced her to invest in. The money is all gone, much of it, up his and others noses.
She drank alot, which altered her personality and made her feisty and volatile.
She had an air of self entitlement, which pissed him off. She had a mouth that wouldn't quit. They fought all the time, until the final round.
It was then that she spit and and hissed the "n word" and suggest he move back to his ghetto.
His response was instantaneous.
He punched her smack in the nose, broke it, dropped kicked her in the stomach, and got it a few more stomps to various body parts after she went down.
The next day he had flowers sent to her hospital room.
The card said, "I'm so sorry. Take me back."
We needed to extricate him from her life which meant restraining orders, background work, surveillance, selling the huge house she didn't need anymore and moving into a secure new residence where she could not be found.
We got the police on him and found out there were were warrants all over the place for this guy and his many aliases.
The problem was no one could find him.
And that's what had us so concerned.
Sugar Mama had a very sour baby on the loose.
This is one of those stories with a confusing ending.
Allegedly, he never harmed her again.
The police never found him and she never got her money back.
Yet one night she was found dead alone in her home.
I didn't know this until we parted ways and until a mutual friend told me.
The death was called a suicide.
No sign of a struggle,
They found a two empty bottles of powerful pills prescribed to her and an empty bottle of vodka layed on the pillow next to her.
Tox levels were enough to kill a small army, yet consistent with the medication around her.
She also put a plastic bag untied over head.
She was fully made up underneath.
No signs of foul play, no discreetly hidden needle marks anywhere.
Even so, I think he killed her. Albiet indirectly.
I also believe she was implicit in her own demise.
The moment she let an unknown into her life, then started lending him money, she signed a potential death sentence.
As a P.I., I have discovered a sad universal truth. Some people feed off others.
Some are parasites, like plankton on the back of a whale. They have a function (to clean the whale) and they also eat. It appears to be a mutually parasitical relationship.
Other people are more like ticks, they burrow in and suck money and energy out of their victims.
That's why we all have to be very careful who we allow into our lives, doors, homes and confidence.
A measure of protection/self preservation is always in order because really.... you never know who is a parasite or predator.
Everybody thought Ted Bundy was a charmer.... once.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
On Suicide Scene: Craiglist Killer Wrote Fiancee's Name in Blood.
I probably should have added the word "alleged" before the words "Craigslist Killer" in the title of this post.
However, in my opinion, it's evident, Philip Markoff did it...
the murder(s) and the suicide.
After I read the link attached to this post, two key questions popped to mind.
1. Is "pocket" a reference to a person... or something he stuck in a pocket?
2. And who else did he kill?
A lot of killers are narcissists who savor the limelight.
The one clearly wanted out and got his way.
Craigslist suspect wrote name in Boston cell « WBZ AM
However, in my opinion, it's evident, Philip Markoff did it...
the murder(s) and the suicide.
After I read the link attached to this post, two key questions popped to mind.
1. Is "pocket" a reference to a person... or something he stuck in a pocket?
2. And who else did he kill?
A lot of killers are narcissists who savor the limelight.
The one clearly wanted out and got his way.
Craigslist suspect wrote name in Boston cell « WBZ AM
One Way Bad Way To Avoid Court
Isn't karma a hoot?
You do something you know is bad, wrong, illegal.... and just wait.
Sooner or later...and almost always, at the worst possible time....
that bad thing you did comes right back at ya' like a pie in the face.
In Michael Rosen's clever... albeit illiterate... attempt to avoid court, he compounded the situation he was trying to avoid.
He not only got court time, he will likely get some jail time.
Man Fakes Death To Avoid Court Date - News Story - WISN Milwaukee
You do something you know is bad, wrong, illegal.... and just wait.
Sooner or later...and almost always, at the worst possible time....
that bad thing you did comes right back at ya' like a pie in the face.
In Michael Rosen's clever... albeit illiterate... attempt to avoid court, he compounded the situation he was trying to avoid.
He not only got court time, he will likely get some jail time.
Man Fakes Death To Avoid Court Date - News Story - WISN Milwaukee
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Facebook Dislike Button Story
It appears to be such an innocuous little Facebook button.
Just like the"Thumbs Up" like button after people's posts,
You just push it and voila!
Someone knows you don't like what they don't like.
Or maybe someone wants to let you know they don't like what you have to say at all.
It's spreading fast, that new "dislike" button on Facebook.
I was intrigued when I noticed it appearing on others' walls
Yet something about it didn't make sense to me.
It was a separate component from the complete Facebook package.
It appeared too quickly out of nowhere.
It had the aura of a data-mining, pyramid scheme.
To me, it was a button that opened a potentially dangerous portal.
Now I know why.
Please read this story before you push that little Dislike button.
And even if you don't read the story, don't push the button.
Warning: Fake Facebook ‘Dislike’ Button Plagues Facebook Users
Just like the"Thumbs Up" like button after people's posts,
You just push it and voila!
Someone knows you don't like what they don't like.
Or maybe someone wants to let you know they don't like what you have to say at all.
It's spreading fast, that new "dislike" button on Facebook.
I was intrigued when I noticed it appearing on others' walls
Yet something about it didn't make sense to me.
It was a separate component from the complete Facebook package.
It appeared too quickly out of nowhere.
It had the aura of a data-mining, pyramid scheme.
To me, it was a button that opened a potentially dangerous portal.
Now I know why.
Please read this story before you push that little Dislike button.
And even if you don't read the story, don't push the button.
Warning: Fake Facebook ‘Dislike’ Button Plagues Facebook Users
Monday, August 16, 2010
RE: Philip Markoff, "Craig's List" Killer's Suicide
He hollowed out a Grey's Anatomy text book and buried his gun inside.
He gathered up panties from his victims and hid them in his secret places.
He had an apartment overloaded with evidence... and a beautiful fiance, loving family, friends and classmates who had no clue.
He was tall, blond, handsome... the promising Boston University medical student.
He was also the Craig's List Killer.
Yesterday, Philip Markhoff was found dead, allegedly of suicide.
The stories leaking out now are that he slit his wrists, when his fiancee first heard about the killing.
He also tied shoelaces around his throat in jail.
He was on suicide watch when it happened.
However, this time, word is... the medical student used his medical prowess to come up with a technique that would make the suicide more than attempt.
Julia Brisman's family, his final victim, is devastated.
Again.
First Philip Markhoff killed their daughter.
Now almost a year later, they won't have to opportunity to see his killer on trial.
To learn the details of their daughter's last moments.
To see this man finally brought to justice.
They will miss the "perp walks", the opening arguments, the trial... they're what every family member and friend of a murder victim hungers for. There is a faith amongst the victim's loved ones that trial and sentencing will bring closure.
However, I have learned, there is never closure after a killing. And trial.
Even if someone's is sentenced to life...or death.
One's life is inextricably altered the moment murder touches someone they know or love.
Did Markoff kill others? I believe so. The first time you catch someone doesn't mean it was the first time they did it. I have studied enough about murder.... and met a few murderers along the way.... to know when a killing is a one time, aberrant act... or a lifelong addiction. And anyone can be a murderer. Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief.
Was Jack the Ripper a surgeon? Some think so.
Same thing with the Black Dahlia's killer. One of the investigators working that case believes his dad may have been the killer.
And the Zodiac killer's son was the one who discovered and firmly believes his own dad was the killer.
All these murderers, the young ones... the fathers... the good looking guys and the social rejects... they are all defective, in my opinion.
They are aberrant chromosomes in our society... which over the years, over the generations, only grow stronger.
Yesterday, I spoke with some investigators, one who told us about a murder in the family, that still hasn't been solved 10 years later.
I personally know of one man, right now, who I believe with complete certainty killed my friend's sister more than a decade ago.
The family of the victim knows it... and so do a few homicide investigators, police officers, newspaper reporters and people like me close to the case.
But there was not enough evidence for the grand jury to indict him.
That's because he's a lawyer, he was so good at hiding his smoking gun, we could not find it.
Fortunately, there is no statute of limitations on murder.
So one day... the tide will turn against him.
One day, he will will have his day in court... this time, not as an attorney, as a Defendant.
Until then.... he gets the word "alleged" before the word "murderer."
Even though I and others believe he killed her, beyond a reasonable doubt.
Philip Markoff evidently had the courage to kill, yet was chicken when it came to facing up to his errant ways.
I believe BTK, and Gary Ridgeway, notorious serial killers, savored their talks with the police, investigators, psychologists as much as they savored their killings.
Jeffrey Dahmer, who bears a physical resemblance to Markoff, took his killings to incredible extremes. Beyond introducing substances directly into his victims' brain, he disassembled and stored parts of their bodies in the fridge or barrels. He also made meals of his victims
And when Dahmer's time for justice came, Dahmer told his story, in great depth to everyone who so desperately wanted to listen and understand.
Not Philip Markoff.
He was a whole different breed of killer. The kind who wanted to take other's lives, then his own, rather than ultimately face his demons.
And for those who believe in hell, Markhoff is there.
Me...I believe he's in the big dark sleep of death.
There is no peace there, nor is there pain. There is nothingness.
Yet Philip Markoff's victims' families... and his own family... will never sleep peacefully again.
For them, life is a living hell knowing now what they didn't know then.
Some people are just rotten to the core.... even though they have a fascade of perfection.
I'm following this post with a great story from the Daily Beast that gives you more insight into the case.
He gathered up panties from his victims and hid them in his secret places.
He had an apartment overloaded with evidence... and a beautiful fiance, loving family, friends and classmates who had no clue.
He was tall, blond, handsome... the promising Boston University medical student.
He was also the Craig's List Killer.
Yesterday, Philip Markhoff was found dead, allegedly of suicide.
The stories leaking out now are that he slit his wrists, when his fiancee first heard about the killing.
He also tied shoelaces around his throat in jail.
He was on suicide watch when it happened.
However, this time, word is... the medical student used his medical prowess to come up with a technique that would make the suicide more than attempt.
Julia Brisman's family, his final victim, is devastated.
Again.
First Philip Markhoff killed their daughter.
Now almost a year later, they won't have to opportunity to see his killer on trial.
To learn the details of their daughter's last moments.
To see this man finally brought to justice.
They will miss the "perp walks", the opening arguments, the trial... they're what every family member and friend of a murder victim hungers for. There is a faith amongst the victim's loved ones that trial and sentencing will bring closure.
However, I have learned, there is never closure after a killing. And trial.
Even if someone's is sentenced to life...or death.
One's life is inextricably altered the moment murder touches someone they know or love.
Did Markoff kill others? I believe so. The first time you catch someone doesn't mean it was the first time they did it. I have studied enough about murder.... and met a few murderers along the way.... to know when a killing is a one time, aberrant act... or a lifelong addiction. And anyone can be a murderer. Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief.
Was Jack the Ripper a surgeon? Some think so.
Same thing with the Black Dahlia's killer. One of the investigators working that case believes his dad may have been the killer.
And the Zodiac killer's son was the one who discovered and firmly believes his own dad was the killer.
All these murderers, the young ones... the fathers... the good looking guys and the social rejects... they are all defective, in my opinion.
They are aberrant chromosomes in our society... which over the years, over the generations, only grow stronger.
Yesterday, I spoke with some investigators, one who told us about a murder in the family, that still hasn't been solved 10 years later.
I personally know of one man, right now, who I believe with complete certainty killed my friend's sister more than a decade ago.
The family of the victim knows it... and so do a few homicide investigators, police officers, newspaper reporters and people like me close to the case.
But there was not enough evidence for the grand jury to indict him.
That's because he's a lawyer, he was so good at hiding his smoking gun, we could not find it.
Fortunately, there is no statute of limitations on murder.
So one day... the tide will turn against him.
One day, he will will have his day in court... this time, not as an attorney, as a Defendant.
Until then.... he gets the word "alleged" before the word "murderer."
Even though I and others believe he killed her, beyond a reasonable doubt.
Philip Markoff evidently had the courage to kill, yet was chicken when it came to facing up to his errant ways.
I believe BTK, and Gary Ridgeway, notorious serial killers, savored their talks with the police, investigators, psychologists as much as they savored their killings.
Jeffrey Dahmer, who bears a physical resemblance to Markoff, took his killings to incredible extremes. Beyond introducing substances directly into his victims' brain, he disassembled and stored parts of their bodies in the fridge or barrels. He also made meals of his victims
And when Dahmer's time for justice came, Dahmer told his story, in great depth to everyone who so desperately wanted to listen and understand.
Not Philip Markoff.
He was a whole different breed of killer. The kind who wanted to take other's lives, then his own, rather than ultimately face his demons.
And for those who believe in hell, Markhoff is there.
Me...I believe he's in the big dark sleep of death.
There is no peace there, nor is there pain. There is nothingness.
Yet Philip Markoff's victims' families... and his own family... will never sleep peacefully again.
For them, life is a living hell knowing now what they didn't know then.
Some people are just rotten to the core.... even though they have a fascade of perfection.
I'm following this post with a great story from the Daily Beast that gives you more insight into the case.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Introducing My First Investigator Guest Blogger: Rick B. Gurley
After a way too long hiatus from this blog, I decided to post a blog written by another investigator, Rick Gurley. Rick is, as he put it "miffed" by an outrage in the criminal justice system.
Once I read his post, just as he predicted, I too was miffed.
So Rick graciously allowed to me lift his story and post it here.
Remember, some Private Investigators generalize, handle all kinds of cases.
Some do Criminal Defense Investigation and represent the accused.
Others like me, focus primarily on civil cases representing victims, or Plaintiffs.
I think what all good, legitimate, licensed investigators have in common is the truth. Nothing but.
I also believe Rick speaks that. You can hear hear the outrage loud and clear in his writing.
Once I read his post, just as he predicted, I too was miffed.
So Rick graciously allowed to me lift his story and post it here.
Remember, some Private Investigators generalize, handle all kinds of cases.
Some do Criminal Defense Investigation and represent the accused.
Others like me, focus primarily on civil cases representing victims, or Plaintiffs.
I think what all good, legitimate, licensed investigators have in common is the truth. Nothing but.
I also believe Rick speaks that. You can hear hear the outrage loud and clear in his writing.
"The Interesting Case Of David Riley; The Arrest" by Rick Gurley
Private Investigations Blog
After much thought and consideration, I have decided to do something that I would not normally do. I typically don’t share my cases with the public. In this particular case, I believe that the public needs to be made aware of how an innocent person can be coerced into entering a plea to a charge that they are actually not guilty of. I believe that it is necessary to show these types of flaws in our Judicial System so that perhaps something can be done to correct them.
This post is about David Riley, a resident of Columbia, Missouri. Now before I go any further, I want to say a few things about David Riley. David Riley has had a rough life all of his life. David came up as an abused child and has made some bad decisions in his life, that have had some bad consequences for him. David Riley is not what one would call a “personable fellow”, he is “stand-offish”, and has a “rough exterior”. It is easy to want to dislike David Riley. But at the core of his personality, despite his exterior he is a generous person that does care about others. Make no mistake, if you were to meet David Riley and talk to him for just ten minutes, you’d probably come away not liking him. But you also would not have an accurate read on who David Riley really is.
On 09/29/2009 David Riley and Desiree Kemp went to the Ultra Mart at 2102 Paris Rd., Columbia, MO. 65202 to buy beer. David Riley had been drinking alcoholic beverages throughout the day. David seemed to be intoxicated, but he was not doing anything illegal. David had a designated driver that was sober.This was just a typical day for David Riley. He had been working at this car lot, had gotten off of work, started drinking, ran out of beer and went to the store to buy more beer. David Riley had a financial means to purchase his beer; he purchased his beer with a
Now I know that on the face, this article makes David Riley look like some sort of a “thug”; but understand that this article is not accurate. If you willFirst let me make my allegations as to what happened and what did not happen that night:continue reading this I think I can give you an alternate view of what happened that night.
(1) David Riley was drunk and belligerent that night.Okay, for right now, I am just going to try to prove up these allegations as they pertain to the specific incident that occurred on the night of 09/29/2009.
(2) David Riley DID make an intimidating comment to the Undercover Officer that night.
(3) David Riley NEVER at anytime attempted to rob this Officer.
(4) David Riley initially believed that he was being robbed at the beginning of this incident.
(5) David Riley was completely compliant with this Officer’s commands once he realized that this was a Police Officer.
(6) David Riley at no time attempted to resist arrest.
(7) Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow abused his authority as a Police Officer.
(8) Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow did not identify himself as a Police Officer until after David Riley was already face down on the ground in complete compliance with the Officer.
(9) Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow did not even attempt to handcuff David Riley while he was face down on the ground to try to safely control this situation.
(10) Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow DID kick David Riley while he was on the ground and in complete compliance with his commands, so hard that it rolled David Riley over.
(11) After Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow’s back up arrived, the Police Officers from the Columbia Police Department proceeded to beat David Riley so bad that they gave him a concussion, a black eye, and a fractured arm.
Now to see what really occurred, watch the video at this link: David Riley Arrest Video
Here is a picture that was taken of David Riley about five hours after this incident occurred:
David Riley Approximately 5 Hours After Arrest
A key element of this case is what was actually communicated between David Riley and Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow the night this incident occurred. Officer Chris Hessenflow claims that David said “Give me your wallet”, which could make David Riley culpable for the charge of Attempted Robbery. One important note to make here is that both Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow and the informant that he was using to perform these alcohol compliance checks were wired for sound when this incident occurred. MYSTERIOUSLY, the audio recording from the informant was erased, and Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow’s recording was unintelligible, and could not be clearly heard. Which would normally make this a situation of Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow’s word against David Riley’s word. But, not so fast……..
David Riley claims that Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow, who was working in plain clothes and undercover that night was staring him down and said something to him, for which David Riley claims he responded with “What in the fuck are you looking at”? Now typically, we would be inclined to believe the Police Officer over a person that was intoxicated and clearly rude to the Officer. But in this case there is further evidence that supports what David Riley claims happened. Remember that David Riley had another person with him? Remember that she was in the car with the windows down and the door opened when this verbal exchange took place between Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow and David Riley? Well this person with David Riley is a lady named Desiree Kemp; and Desiree was close enough to clearly hear the words that were being exchanged between Officer Christopher Allen Hessenflow and David Riley.
Below is a three page witness statement given by Desiree Kemp and the recorded audio interview between RMRI, Inc. P.I. Karen Giboney and Desiree Kemp.
Desiree Kemp Witness Statement Page 1
Desiree Kemp Witness Statement Page 2
Desiree Kemp Witness Statement Page 3
For now, I think the reader can see that there is a little more to this case than what the public has been made aware of. I am going to present this case in segments. This is the first segment titled “The Interesting Case Of David Riley; The Arrest” and I will be adding more information to this first segment in the near future. The next segment will be titled “The Interesting Case Of David Riley; The Prosecution” and we’ll examine some of the “dirty tricks” the Prosecutor used to scare David Riley into this ridiculous plea. It is my belief that what the prosecutor did in this case was so egregious that it bordered on Prosecutorial Misconduct.
Stay tuned.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)