AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY!
May 9, 2019
Yes, I did have salmon dinner at the Radka’s when I lived in Oregon. We sat at a dinner table, my family, and their family. If you look at the dinner table in the movie Meet Joe Black, I was seated where Allison sat, Bill Parish sat where their father sat, their mother sat where Death sat, and I could see the back of my house from where I sat, our backyard, our back porch, our windows.
In my bedroom, I had a television as a pre-teen and teenager. When President Reagan was shot, when the Space Shuttle with the first female teacher aboard was destroyed my television was on the wall opposite to the window, allowing anyone looking and spying through my window to see what I was watching on television.
Their daughter Shanda was my friend, her brother was a few years younger than her, is his name Chucky? When your 8 or 9 years old, a few years in age is a big difference. If you are nine years old, do you want to hang out with a five-year-old? You don’t. He will probably not like to read what I felt about him then, alarms went off in my head when I first met him. Alarms, this boy was younger than me, and he was already gone. What happened to him that allowed such a thing to happen? Alarms.
Their father was a lighter-skinned African American man, tall; however, all I remember until I was in my twenties, was he was very tall, and had very curly hair. I never remembered the color of his skin, I only remembered he had very curly hair. True story.
It is most odd considering we had a picture of their family in our hallway in our Plant City home, I walked past it every day, I looked at it all the time. I only understood that this man was not a white man like their mother, the daughter, and their son when my mother spoke about them somewhere around my early twenties. Nothing unusual, just conversation, yet she mentioned his skin color and I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. I never remembered him that way.
Their father worked for an airline, was it Northwest? The only explanation for my memory would be I saw past, Larry. Their father’s name, is it Larry? I saw past him and saw the man who lived down the street, he would be a white male. It might not have been his mailing address, or residence, but he lived down the street from them. He would have worked with their father at least for a few months. In appearance, he would not be the same-looking man that worked with their father, and the man that lived down the street.
When their father, as we were all seated at the dining table said we were having salmon for dinner, when he said the word salmon, it was like hearing a flat note that did not go away, a sound like a key on an organ. Someone holding a key down on an organ. And, it sounded flat. Not melodic, or musical – flat.
I must have made a face that would have looked as though I did not like fish, or salmon, and that was not what I was thinking about. Most likely, there was not someone spying from another house through mini-blinded windows to watch the dinner. Most likely, they would have placed cameras in the home and the occupants would not have been aware.
Their father leaned over me, for some reason while I was at the dining table, probably passing the food or something, and I remember, this is a really tall man. When you are a small child something like a tall man leaning over you feels differently than as a grown adult. I thought, wow, he’s really close, and wow, he’s really tall. They would have been working me and using me without the occupants of the house knowing of other intentions, and that is okay.
I would have really liked this man that worked with him and lived down the street, I would have thought he was funny too. As a small child, I was more comfortable having conversations with adults than children. My mind, my brain, was that advanced, and adults saw me this way. There was more than one man who lived down the street from them, they would have had men change, yet having the appearance that the same people were in the home.
When I first met Shanda, their daughter, I was standing at the edge of our vegetable garden and she was in her back yard. It took me several times walking around our vegetable garden before I said anything to her. It was my intention when I saw her to greet her, then as I got nearer to her, and I didn’t want to speak to her. There were other people, probably talking out loud in, most likely, the house next to hers. I wouldn’t be able to hear them as they were in a house, but I heard them because I stopped wanting to speak to her. Most likely, they were working a case, or talking about possible leads, and so on.
They lived catty-corner from our backyard. They did not live there very long. When we moved to Plant City, Florida, my mother emailed or communicated somehow with their mother. It was as an adult the information got to me that their daughter was a lesbian. When they moved from their home catty-corner to ours, when they moved out of Gresham, I stayed over-night at their new home, and that was the last time I ever wanted to be her friend.
You should ask the son about the house or houses across the street from theirs after they moved from Gresham, across the street and at the corner, if you are looking out their front windows of their next home from Gresham, to the left, ask him about the home and their occupants, you will get something from it.
The house, her, whatever it was, I was no longer interested in maintaining a friendship with her. I am a person that does not just allow every person to be my friend, nor do I allow every person to be a co-worker. I believe every person is like that. Otherwise, every person would be friends with every person. Life and people do not work like that.
Their son emancipated himself from his parents and family when he was very young. I had never heard of such a thing before. Was he thirteen? He was in juvenile jail a lot. It looks like he has spent time in jail and prison. Did he hurt that dog? Did he torture that dog that lived next to me, Pinto? Did he yell, poke things at him in his cage?
Did he come forward – it’s just a figure of speech people, get over yourselves – just because of what I wrote about The Lovely Bones? There would have been remotes, camera’s, in that gas station on undeveloped land. Undeveloped, someone owned that property. Unlikely, the man that built that old-fashioned gas station did not own that land. How did that arrangement happen? Or did he just build it without the owners of the property knowing about it?
Did their son come forward because he wants to help? This is what he looked like to me, humbling yourself, a woman, not a criminal or ex-con, before prisoners and other ex-cons is a huge thing in the prison world. It is something that is more than words. He is not the same boy he was when he lived near me, yet, he has not worked through all his crimes and done the head work, worked through the emotions and analyzed himself as to what got him into jail, and apologized sincerely, felt real and true remorse, and allowed himself to be seen as a man who understands the consequences of his actions.
I would suspect he’s done drugs before, several drugs. He’s clean now, and not interested in drugs anymore. He must have stopped when he was fairly young.
Nearly everyone sees the former convict and the veneer they wear to protect themselves, not many have I seen understand the difference between the façade and the truth in the depth of their own personal well of truth.
All is not lost on this man. Does he want to help, or did you just want to walk him in front of me? There is a difference. If he wants to help it looks like he would be able to help. He would have to realize, if he wants to work with me and help, I demand a lot from people, and he has work to do.
He would not be a man who would believe or want to hurt children. He has been not always kind as a boy to animals. Be careful here, most serial killers start with killing and hurting animals. I do not believe he is or will be a serial killer.
Again, be careful here, my brother did hurt our family cat Barney – Barney, who if he was a man was the perfect English gentleman – by closing a desk door shutting him in the desk and chopped off the tip of his tail when we lived in California.
I will always demand that the people I know, and love are better than they think they are.
I am Death.
I am relentless.
WE - DO NOT AGREE! 