Stacyhs
Penultimate Amazing
I called the Washington State Police back in 1998. The conversation went like this:
Me: So, uh, you guys have any missing young people from a camp ground where long-term campers stay?
Cops: Do you have a specific camp ground?
Me: No. My friend told me he killed noisy neighbors at a camp ground a while back.
Cops: Do you have a date?
Me: No. I don't think he realized what he said, and I was too scared to press for details.
[I proceed to tell them his name, his background as a Section-8 from the US Navy, other things]
Cops: Okay, well, thanks for calling. We'll look into it.
After medical discharge from the US Navy, my friend lived in Florida with his parents for a while. His last year in the navy had been spent in a mental hospital. He bought a van, which he lived out of for the next six years. He traveled around the country, mostly in the Pacific Northwest. He later got a cabin in Felton. From 2000, through 2004, he started printing his manifestoes and stuffing them inside of newspaper vending machines as inserts in places like Santa Cruz, San Jose, San Francisco, and Monterey (That I know of).
His mental decline has left him with a hairpin trigger. He has become deeply racist, and has a problem with women, and is a physical threat to both. His friends have all cut him out of their lives, but I didn't know why until I spent time with him and saw how unglued he'd become. I had to talk him down from beating up some African-American kid who was taking too long to give him change at a checkout counter. He ranted for almost forty minutes about how he felt the black kid was messing with him, and he he needed to "straighten him out". The last time I saw him was in 2002. Just bumped into him, and by then I was scared of him. The conversation was polite, he gave me one of his manifestos. He started to walk away, but spun around and marched back to get in my face. In a flash he was angry, and was ranting about how I shouldn't believe the stories about him raping a mutual friend because she's a liar, and all women lie about rape. I told him I'd never heard that, and hadn't seen her in years. The way he looked at me made my blood run cold.
I later called a friend to ask if this had happened, and explained the situation. I was told he'd raped her and another friend back in the 1990s, before he'd lost his mind in the navy. This was why everyone had distanced themselves from him.
I don't make things up. He told me he killed "some kids" at a camp ground in Washington. I reported what I knew, which wasn't much. This guy doesn't joke around, if he said killed someone, he killed someone. His manifestoes suggested he'd killed others. But the police can't do a lot with second-hand reporting from a guy on the phone, in a different state. I'll be happy to talk with them again if they ask.
It is a very strange story, but I have no reason to disbelieve you. There are all kinds of nuts out there. My late FIL was friends with Jay Sebring, one of the victims of the Manson cult murders at Sharon Tate's house back in 1969.