Saturday, August 20, 2005

Thoughts only understood by a few good men.

Top of the morning gents,

Not sure if I oughta celebrate or mourn.

Remember when the Echardts were busted for
distributing mondo meth here in Barrow? The teachers
that were indicted along with their amphetamine
subcontractor retailer, Mr. Thibideau.

Mr. Thibideau was also indicted on numerous MICS
felonies related to their crystal meth operation:
Bunnik sat on the grand jury.

Yesterday the whole town was gossiping incessantly
about some 'hit' that 'went down' in Barrow a few
blocks from my place. Do you smell bullshit too?

Ain't too many professionals that can create the
illusion of a suicide when the victim is found with a
Stevens 12 gauge in his hands and mouth.

Mr. Thibideau sorted his legal papers, phoned a buddy,
then ate 2 simultaneous charges from the business end
of a double barrel 12 gauge. Fuck, little chance of
surviving that kind of ear and skull shattering
explosion, just ask Edward Wayne Henry: welcome
graffiti artistry.

We've been clean up crew on a lot of suicides: some
weirder'n shit.

*Russell White/Nelson dude perplexed me even after
many discussions with Columbo.

Another weird suicide was when F1 Monson phoned me at
home on my day off and told me get in uniform cuz a
unit would be out front to pick me up in 20 minutes.

Sgt. Waller picked me up and drove me to the Fire Hall
where we met Fire Chief Monson. I asked Jeff what was
going on and he just shrugged and said we're working
for Ron that afternoon: orders from the Chief.

Who am I to bitch? It was all overtime pay.

(Gayle Rawlston always called me a Scandinavian Jew
and 'Monger' for overtime. That trailer dwelling
Christian dullard was dead to rights.)

Ron donned his F1 Fire Chiefs coat and said it's time
to go. Waller drove the patrol car, and I drove Monson
in the old Medic 1 ambulance van to June Nelson's
house. On the way, Monson explained to me that he had
a drug overdose on his hands, but he wanted an extra
set of eyes to take a look around then offer my views
as to whether we had an accidental overdose, or
suicide.

Am I the only guy that has a Ph.D. in black market
pharmacology, illegal drug manufacture and harvest,
and a resume with 10 years professional drug dealing
in the Pacific Northwest prior to my employment at the
Kotzebue Police Department and the Alaska State
Troopers?

Aren't all of us white niggers fleeing to Alaska
running from lives of crime? Alaska is where all of us
Seattle suburban punks flee to after we've "worn out
our welcome with random precision" (R. Waters-Pink
Floyd).

Come on. You don't believe all wiggers back home are
like us do you? Shit no, we're the dregs of Hitler's
wet dream of a cream of a hetero-sapien crop. We have
no other place to run and hide; Alaska is our own
penile colony, resource colony and private Idaho.

Sgt. Waller, F1 Monson and I walked into June Nelson's
house where I saw June lying asleep on her sofa, sort
of. After a nod from Ron, I snooped about the place
wearing the thinking cap of a 'prisky': an old slang
term from Mountlake Terrace denoting a hard-core
prescription drug abuser.

Mrs. Nelson had a small bookshelf like a shelved
nightstand with an impressive number of prescription
pill containers with very few listing June Nelson as
the patient.

Most pill bottles were labeled with local names of
people we know and love. Local folks that were
trading, selling or simply giving June an impressive
artillery of pain killers, sedatives, muscle
relaxants, including empty containers of Adderol and
Ritalin: amphetamine based meds for hyperactive
children (generic drug name is methylphenidate-a
cleaner pharmaceutical grade of methamphetamine).

1. Drug addicts tend to hide and conceal their stash.

2. Suicide scenes can occasionally have a shrine of
sorts; a special cabinet or shelf full of uniquely
depressing and morbid personal items.

The autopsy confirmed she died of complications
related to poor health (obesity, lung congestion from
50 years tobacco use), old age, and complications from
decades of alcohol and drug abuse.

The old gal may have chewed a lethal bucket of pills
intentionally; she functioned well and concealed her
opiate and non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug abuse.
The booze abuse was just plain dangerous atop her gut
full of pills daily.

We loaded the old gal onto a gurney, rolled her out
front to the Medic 1 ambulance van and loaded her up.

Sgt. Waller returned to his regular police duties,
while Ron and I delivered the dearly departed June
Nelson to MMC for drainage, radiator flush and fluid
replacement.

Despite my leaning towards suicide, the history of
chronic alcohol and drug abuse had obviously stripped
her tissues of an elasticity, vigor, and life. Even if
she did intentionally chew and crunch down a lethal
dose of really good drugs, the tag on heel specified
she was well past her pull date.

Extra note: the death scene was corrupted beyond
belief.

The reason we found no liquor bottles at the her death
scene is cuz her in-laws and outlaws came by and
picked her bones clean of her booze, loose cash, and
goodies we'll never know about. So native.

DA Bennedetto had neither the nads nor meat to go
after the family for such criminal robbery of Mrs.
Nelson. It was only after their pilphery, they phoned
in to report the death of their aunt, grandma, and
mum. Some of you remember seeing Captain Wallace rant
and rave, storm and stomp, and cuss and smoke with
attitude when Benedetto pussed out. I rather enjoyed
Larry's foul mouth and ripe attitude.

But not as much as the rank humor I miss bullshitting
with you guys in the squadroom, dispatch, and at the
KPD offsite bar somewhere in the 400 block.

Birds of feather fuck together, or some shit.

Right mates.


Karl.

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