I am Mary Ivonne's daughter Rosie and am interested in learning more about what happened between my mother and her mother. Please contact me at rosiepsych@yahoo.com.
Triumph
Lifer
- Oct 9, 1999
- 15,031
- 14
- 81
brianmanahan
Lifer
- Sep 2, 2006
- 24,546
- 5,958
- 136
AyashiKaibutsu
Diamond Member
- Jan 24, 2004
- 9,306
- 3
- 81
Jean McKay Jackson, aka Wombatwoman, has not been here since 07-02-2002 08:57 PM
gaidensensei
Banned
- May 31, 2003
- 2,851
- 2
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I did a search and the necroer's aunt is on facebook, I think. You have to admit even though it is a necro, imagine the information treasured behind here that can help out random googlers.
Don Vito Corleone
Elite
- Feb 10, 2000
- 30,029
- 67
- 91
I am presently representing a man who drowned his infant son. It's not accurate to call him a murderer - he was found not guilty by reason of mental illness - but still . . .
Last edited:
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,730
- 10,254
- 146
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,730
- 10,254
- 146
My cousin was murdered while sitting on his couch in his living room, shot twice and left to bleed out and die. Most all of my cousins were really smart go-getters and made a lot out of themselves, but Tim really just wasn't that bright.
He was big, racist, and he looked and acted gruff like a mean biker, but I knew him from a little kid and he was really soft -- a pussy as a little kid, actually.
He went to restaurant school to be a chef, and somehow ended up in Nevada where, because of his size and looks I guess, he told me that one day that 4-5 big guys in shiny suits with bulges under their armpits came into his kitchen and told him to come with them.
He was taken to an office, given a large, fat envelope, and told to deliver it to another office where another 4-5 big guys in shiny suits with bulges under their armpits took it from him.
He was then told he had a new job, delivering these packages. He got a raise, and said he only worked 2-3 days a week. Later, he said, he was given literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash and a car and told to drive around Nevada and buy up restaurants. Before credit cards totally took over, I guess, restaurants, with their steady cash flow, were a great way for the mob to launder their money.
Anyway, he came back home for his Dad's, my Uncle Ed's, funeral. Uncle Ed was a WWII infantry combat vet, and an ATF agent, which I had always thought back then meant that he worked in a office, which might have been the case, I don't know.
Anyway, we took a walk after the funeral reception, and he told me his story. He said he wanted to quit, but didn't know what to do. I told these guys, the mob, were not his true friends, and that if he could get out, he should.
A year or so later, he did move back, and opened a born-to-fail electronics store. One of the first things he did was "arrange" a break-in of his own store, so he could collect insurance on his inventory while fencing the stuff himself.
In one of those weird, weird, coincidences, I later found out that the jamoke he had carry out his "break-in" was the SAME guy who, a couple of years later, stopped at the gas station where I was getting my six volt, sunroof, VW bug inspected and asked me where the SPCA was. At that time I didn't know. He then proceeded to bring an absolutely gorgeous, champion pedigreed, 150 lb, 10 month old Great Dane out of his Camaro and said in his mullet voice, "I bought him for my girl friend, but she don't want him, you want him?"
I couldn't say no, and as I looked at Bogie (he was already named Bogart) across the tarmac heat shimmering in the August sun, I had to say to myself, "Till death do us part" because that's the way I have always felt about the responsibility of taking on a pet.
I did get his girl friend's address and later went and got his papers from her. Bogie went in and lay down in the exact same spot in the kitchen where she said he always had, but he did NOT even interact with her at all. Bogie had class, reserve, and presence!
Bogart and me. He's the big chested blonde:
Bogie letting this douche's inferior Dane try to sniff him while he regally ignores the cur:
Bogie the Rogue Yogi Doggie, the Hound of Renown. Never on leash, always under absolute voice control, even when I lived in West Philly.
But I digress.
My cousin Tim. He was into coke. I kept trying to tell him how stupid that was. He wouldn't listen. He had some mob guy "friend" fly in regularly to Philly from Nevada and supply him. He dealt. I told him that was even stupider. He didn't listen. I also told him keeping mob contacts was not a healthy idea. Again, he just didn't listen.
We drifted apart. I remember some time not that long before his death his saying he owed some punks money, but that they could go fuck themselves. He was always arrogant like that, this big scary guy that I knew I could take with one hand behind my back, my little pussy cousin Tim. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When I heard he'd been murdered, I went right over and his sister, my cousin, was stunned and just FUTILELY trying to scrub the blood out of the couch in the living room he'd been sitting on when he been shot to death, with a vacant, zombie look on her face, the stunned mask of uncomprehending grief. Sudden death is a weird thing to try and get your head around.
Getting all that blood out of the red soaked couch, it was never going to happen. But I couldn't stop her. She needed to be doing something. I'll never forget that.
Anyway, all these years later, and there's still links to the trial of his idiot punk murderer:
http://articles.philly.com/1988-02-26/news/26242025_1_preliminary-hearings-drugs-haverford
http://articles.philly.com/1987-09-24/news/26208280_1_police-cars-preliminary-hearing-slaying
I didn't go to his funeral, I don't know why. But I did write a long poem about Tim and gave it to his Mom, my Aunt Helen. Actually I just put it in her mailbox and drove away. I didn't keep a copy. I sorta' wish I had.
He was big, racist, and he looked and acted gruff like a mean biker, but I knew him from a little kid and he was really soft -- a pussy as a little kid, actually.
He went to restaurant school to be a chef, and somehow ended up in Nevada where, because of his size and looks I guess, he told me that one day that 4-5 big guys in shiny suits with bulges under their armpits came into his kitchen and told him to come with them.
He was taken to an office, given a large, fat envelope, and told to deliver it to another office where another 4-5 big guys in shiny suits with bulges under their armpits took it from him.
He was then told he had a new job, delivering these packages. He got a raise, and said he only worked 2-3 days a week. Later, he said, he was given literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash and a car and told to drive around Nevada and buy up restaurants. Before credit cards totally took over, I guess, restaurants, with their steady cash flow, were a great way for the mob to launder their money.
Anyway, he came back home for his Dad's, my Uncle Ed's, funeral. Uncle Ed was a WWII infantry combat vet, and an ATF agent, which I had always thought back then meant that he worked in a office, which might have been the case, I don't know.
Anyway, we took a walk after the funeral reception, and he told me his story. He said he wanted to quit, but didn't know what to do. I told these guys, the mob, were not his true friends, and that if he could get out, he should.
A year or so later, he did move back, and opened a born-to-fail electronics store. One of the first things he did was "arrange" a break-in of his own store, so he could collect insurance on his inventory while fencing the stuff himself.
In one of those weird, weird, coincidences, I later found out that the jamoke he had carry out his "break-in" was the SAME guy who, a couple of years later, stopped at the gas station where I was getting my six volt, sunroof, VW bug inspected and asked me where the SPCA was. At that time I didn't know. He then proceeded to bring an absolutely gorgeous, champion pedigreed, 150 lb, 10 month old Great Dane out of his Camaro and said in his mullet voice, "I bought him for my girl friend, but she don't want him, you want him?"
I couldn't say no, and as I looked at Bogie (he was already named Bogart) across the tarmac heat shimmering in the August sun, I had to say to myself, "Till death do us part" because that's the way I have always felt about the responsibility of taking on a pet.
I did get his girl friend's address and later went and got his papers from her. Bogie went in and lay down in the exact same spot in the kitchen where she said he always had, but he did NOT even interact with her at all. Bogie had class, reserve, and presence!
Bogart and me. He's the big chested blonde:
Bogie letting this douche's inferior Dane try to sniff him while he regally ignores the cur:
Bogie the Rogue Yogi Doggie, the Hound of Renown. Never on leash, always under absolute voice control, even when I lived in West Philly.
But I digress.
My cousin Tim. He was into coke. I kept trying to tell him how stupid that was. He wouldn't listen. He had some mob guy "friend" fly in regularly to Philly from Nevada and supply him. He dealt. I told him that was even stupider. He didn't listen. I also told him keeping mob contacts was not a healthy idea. Again, he just didn't listen.
We drifted apart. I remember some time not that long before his death his saying he owed some punks money, but that they could go fuck themselves. He was always arrogant like that, this big scary guy that I knew I could take with one hand behind my back, my little pussy cousin Tim. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When I heard he'd been murdered, I went right over and his sister, my cousin, was stunned and just FUTILELY trying to scrub the blood out of the couch in the living room he'd been sitting on when he been shot to death, with a vacant, zombie look on her face, the stunned mask of uncomprehending grief. Sudden death is a weird thing to try and get your head around.
Getting all that blood out of the red soaked couch, it was never going to happen. But I couldn't stop her. She needed to be doing something. I'll never forget that.
Anyway, all these years later, and there's still links to the trial of his idiot punk murderer:
http://articles.philly.com/1988-02-26/news/26242025_1_preliminary-hearings-drugs-haverford
http://articles.philly.com/1987-09-24/news/26208280_1_police-cars-preliminary-hearing-slaying
I didn't go to his funeral, I don't know why. But I did write a long poem about Tim and gave it to his Mom, my Aunt Helen. Actually I just put it in her mailbox and drove away. I didn't keep a copy. I sorta' wish I had.
These guys I went to high school with, apparently one murdered the other one in some sort of insurance scheme.
shortylickens
No Lifer
- Jul 15, 2003
- 80,287
- 17,080
- 136
Not exactly a murder but my scout master got drunk one night and brought a guy home with her. They were playing with her husbands gun and she shot him dead.
State tried to push for manslaughter charges but nothing happened. Since only two people know exactly what happened and one of them was dead they really didnt have a case.
Pretty scary situation for a house wife who never had anything happen to her in 45 years. Needless to say the marriage disintegrated as well. My dad was the pack secretary and knew her well. He tried to keep up with her but she disappeared after a while. Last time he spoke to her son she hadnt made contact with anyone in years.
State tried to push for manslaughter charges but nothing happened. Since only two people know exactly what happened and one of them was dead they really didnt have a case.
Pretty scary situation for a house wife who never had anything happen to her in 45 years. Needless to say the marriage disintegrated as well. My dad was the pack secretary and knew her well. He tried to keep up with her but she disappeared after a while. Last time he spoke to her son she hadnt made contact with anyone in years.
olds
Elite Member
- Mar 3, 2000
- 50,096
- 771
- 126
Cliffs:
Book:
It was a dark and stormy night. Literally, I was in a plow truck. I pulled into the closed CHP scales (I have a key) in Camino, CA to use the bathroom. As I pulled into them, I saw a person at the pay phone jumping up and down. I didn’t see a vehicle so I assumed he had walked there. I didn’t know why at the time, but he gave me the creeps.
I pulled past the building about 40? and positioned the truck so I could watch him in the mirror. I figured when he left, I’d go in the building. I reached way over and locked the passenger door. I thought I’d locked the driver’s door. I watched him dance (he was still jumping around) up to within 20’ of my door. He started yelling to me and I rolled the window a little more than half way down so I could hear him. He was rambling and he came over and stepped up onto the fuel tank step. I turned on the interior light and saw blood splatters all over his face and the front of his jacket.
I assumed he had been in a wreck (no car) and he had walked to the scales for help. I asked him if he had wrecked and was anyone else hurt? Speaking very quickly he said that he had to get down the hill. I asked him again where his car was at and did he need help. He’s holding on to the partially raised window and rocking back and forth saying he had to go down the hill.
I told him I’d call the CHP for him and get him a ride. He started yelling, NO COPS! NO COPS!?
Now I was wondering WTF? I told him to get down off the truck and to go around to the passenger door and I’d give him a ride. I figured when he got down, I’d drive away.
Instead, he tried to drag me through the window by my jacket. I knocked his hand off of me then punched him and knocked him off the truck. He hit the ground on both feet and was stumbling backwards. I hit the door lock with my left elbow to double check the lock and it clicked down. My butt puckered up and grabbed the seat cushion; I thought I had locked the door. I am releasing the brake, grabbing the radio mic and shifting all at the same time. As I am doing this I am looking at him to see if the is going to jump back on. Plow trucks have no acceleration. I see he has a wooded stick in his hands and I am wondering where that came from as he had both hands on the window. He doesn’t try to get back on and I head for next exit and call my lead worker and he tells me he heard on the scanner that there was a guy up there with an axe. Seems the guy tied to get a ride just before I got there and that person had called the cops. The guy didn’t try to jack his car, he just left.
I get to the next exit and turn back in the direction of the scales. I park on the shoulder and wait for the cops. A couple of minutes later, they (2 cars) go blowing by me on the way to the scales. I head back to the scales and as I enter them, they have him at gun point. He has his hands in the air and is turning in circles. I put my high beams on him and one of the cops holsters his weapon and attempts to hand cuff the guy. He resists and the fight is on.
I get out and they have him on his hands and knees and he’s not fighting but he is resisting. They can’t get him prone or cuff him. Another cops shows up and he starts nailing the guy with his baton. The sound is echoing off the building with each blow. And this cop was good sized. The guy on the ground isn’t even flinching. Another cop shows up and the four of them get him cuffed.
They get him in the back of the car and are interviewing me. I tell them what happened and about the stick I saw. One of the cops goes over to the building and comes back. He said, is this what you saw?? It was. What I had seen was the handle of a hatchet. I never saw the other end because of the light.
I went back to my station.
They took him to jail and on the way; he broke out the side window with his head. They stopped and hog tied him.
The next day, a man took his niece home to his sister’s house because the girl’s mom didn’t show up that morning to pick up her daughter. She lived below the scales just over the bank a ways. When they got there, there was blood everywhere and mom was dead.
Cops come and find a restraining order against the guy they had arrested the night before. Seems she got the order because he threatened to kill her with an axe.
I end up testifying in court and he’s found guilty.
Turns out he was on PCP and he already had two strikes.
Too top this off, two weeks after this happened I was parked down by the river getting a snack out of my lunch box. A deputy pulls up beside me and says: Hey Chris. You see a guys wearing a hockey mask and carrying a rifle running up and down the river bank?
I laugh because I think he is teasing me about the killer. He assures me that they have a report of the person. I tell him I hadn’t seen him but if he was there, head find me. So I left.
It's not all about dodging errant drivers.
In fact, in the last seven weeks, we have had 3 people killed on the job. All in Jule's neck of the woods....
I had a guy who had just chopped off his girlfriends head try to truck jack me.
Book:
It was a dark and stormy night. Literally, I was in a plow truck. I pulled into the closed CHP scales (I have a key) in Camino, CA to use the bathroom. As I pulled into them, I saw a person at the pay phone jumping up and down. I didn’t see a vehicle so I assumed he had walked there. I didn’t know why at the time, but he gave me the creeps.
I pulled past the building about 40? and positioned the truck so I could watch him in the mirror. I figured when he left, I’d go in the building. I reached way over and locked the passenger door. I thought I’d locked the driver’s door. I watched him dance (he was still jumping around) up to within 20’ of my door. He started yelling to me and I rolled the window a little more than half way down so I could hear him. He was rambling and he came over and stepped up onto the fuel tank step. I turned on the interior light and saw blood splatters all over his face and the front of his jacket.
I assumed he had been in a wreck (no car) and he had walked to the scales for help. I asked him if he had wrecked and was anyone else hurt? Speaking very quickly he said that he had to get down the hill. I asked him again where his car was at and did he need help. He’s holding on to the partially raised window and rocking back and forth saying he had to go down the hill.
I told him I’d call the CHP for him and get him a ride. He started yelling, NO COPS! NO COPS!?
Now I was wondering WTF? I told him to get down off the truck and to go around to the passenger door and I’d give him a ride. I figured when he got down, I’d drive away.
Instead, he tried to drag me through the window by my jacket. I knocked his hand off of me then punched him and knocked him off the truck. He hit the ground on both feet and was stumbling backwards. I hit the door lock with my left elbow to double check the lock and it clicked down. My butt puckered up and grabbed the seat cushion; I thought I had locked the door. I am releasing the brake, grabbing the radio mic and shifting all at the same time. As I am doing this I am looking at him to see if the is going to jump back on. Plow trucks have no acceleration. I see he has a wooded stick in his hands and I am wondering where that came from as he had both hands on the window. He doesn’t try to get back on and I head for next exit and call my lead worker and he tells me he heard on the scanner that there was a guy up there with an axe. Seems the guy tied to get a ride just before I got there and that person had called the cops. The guy didn’t try to jack his car, he just left.
I get to the next exit and turn back in the direction of the scales. I park on the shoulder and wait for the cops. A couple of minutes later, they (2 cars) go blowing by me on the way to the scales. I head back to the scales and as I enter them, they have him at gun point. He has his hands in the air and is turning in circles. I put my high beams on him and one of the cops holsters his weapon and attempts to hand cuff the guy. He resists and the fight is on.
I get out and they have him on his hands and knees and he’s not fighting but he is resisting. They can’t get him prone or cuff him. Another cops shows up and he starts nailing the guy with his baton. The sound is echoing off the building with each blow. And this cop was good sized. The guy on the ground isn’t even flinching. Another cop shows up and the four of them get him cuffed.
They get him in the back of the car and are interviewing me. I tell them what happened and about the stick I saw. One of the cops goes over to the building and comes back. He said, is this what you saw?? It was. What I had seen was the handle of a hatchet. I never saw the other end because of the light.
I went back to my station.
They took him to jail and on the way; he broke out the side window with his head. They stopped and hog tied him.
The next day, a man took his niece home to his sister’s house because the girl’s mom didn’t show up that morning to pick up her daughter. She lived below the scales just over the bank a ways. When they got there, there was blood everywhere and mom was dead.
Cops come and find a restraining order against the guy they had arrested the night before. Seems she got the order because he threatened to kill her with an axe.
I end up testifying in court and he’s found guilty.
Turns out he was on PCP and he already had two strikes.
Too top this off, two weeks after this happened I was parked down by the river getting a snack out of my lunch box. A deputy pulls up beside me and says: Hey Chris. You see a guys wearing a hockey mask and carrying a rifle running up and down the river bank?
I laugh because I think he is teasing me about the killer. He assures me that they have a report of the person. I tell him I hadn’t seen him but if he was there, head find me. So I left.
It's not all about dodging errant drivers.
In fact, in the last seven weeks, we have had 3 people killed on the job. All in Jule's neck of the woods....
Last edited:
Anubis
No Lifer
the brother of a friend of mine in HS killed his mother with a shotgun while she was sleeping because she found out he was skipping school and getting high.
he shot her in the morning and went to school like nothing happened
he shot her in the morning and went to school like nothing happened
we weren't best friends or anything, but a girl I went to summer camp with for a few years murdered some guy in Central Park when we were in high school.
SKORPI0
Lifer
- Jan 18, 2000
- 18,468
- 2,406
- 136
guyver01
Lifer
- Sep 25, 2000
- 22,135
- 5
- 61
So what is ATOTs Den Mother's new alias?
I hear she uses the nom de guerre of Hal9000
Hence the protection she seems to be afforded.
That explains all the watch for highway worker safety signs lit up. I'm a hghway worker and I've known a couple people that have been hit and countless vehicles damaged.
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,730
- 10,254
- 146
Wow. Can't believe I almost forgot. Sylvia Seegrist had lived in my house, and 6 months after I kicked her out for karate kicking in the side of my car, shot 8-9 people and killed 3 of them, including a 3 or 4 year old boy, at the nearby Springfield Mall.
She was full blown nutso. I should have been afraid of her, everyone else was, but I had done a ton of tramping (travel by hitch-hiking) both in the US and all over Europe, and I just wasn't afraid of anyone, even seemingly crazy people that other people naturally shied away from. I thought I could successfully talk with anyone.
Her car was still registered to my address and the cops had swarmed in looking for here and what they thought at the time was an accomplice (there was none.)
I was called at work and rushed home to a media circus.
My stories about how nuts she was are many and hilarious. I've posted them here before.
http://www.nytimes.com/1985/10/31/us/2-killed-in-shopping-mall-as-woman-fires-on-crowd.html
^^^ A third subsequently died. I guess the kid was 2. I testified at the trial. I also summarily turned down an offer from 60 minutes to be on the show.
She was full blown nutso. I should have been afraid of her, everyone else was, but I had done a ton of tramping (travel by hitch-hiking) both in the US and all over Europe, and I just wasn't afraid of anyone, even seemingly crazy people that other people naturally shied away from. I thought I could successfully talk with anyone.
Her car was still registered to my address and the cops had swarmed in looking for here and what they thought at the time was an accomplice (there was none.)
I was called at work and rushed home to a media circus.
My stories about how nuts she was are many and hilarious. I've posted them here before.
http://www.nytimes.com/1985/10/31/us/2-killed-in-shopping-mall-as-woman-fires-on-crowd.html
^^^ A third subsequently died. I guess the kid was 2. I testified at the trial. I also summarily turned down an offer from 60 minutes to be on the show.
Last edited:
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,730
- 10,254
- 146
So what is ATOTs Den Mother's new alias?
She doesn't really post. Her style is so distinctive, many here who knew and still miss her would instantly recognize it as her.
She sent me a link to a poem she had once written for my birthday but had never sent me.
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