Skip to main content

They think it's him

A retired police officer from a nearby town who wanted to do something to help his comrades in their work discovered a dead body under a blanket in Hickory Hill Park yesterday. Everyone believes they have found the poly sci professor accused of trading sexual favors for better grades.

The whole situation is so desperately sad. He had not only the 4-year-old classmate of my son, but a 4-month-old son as well. And a wife who believed him so much she went on record adamantly defending him, again and again.

So there's no mad gunman walking around with a high-powered rifle. There was just a sad, defeated guy who took a walk in the woods and ended it all to save himself from further shame.

The one thing that still puzzles and slightly infuriates me -- the body was found within a five-minute walk from the park's entrance and something like 20 feet away from where the prof had parked his car. The police searched with cadaver dogs for two days and found nothing. Even though the prof had covered himself with a bright yellow blanket before he pulled the trigger.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Holy Separated-At-Birth, Batman!

Gary Oldman...meet Uncle Knit-Knots from Imagination Movers.

So, I Changed My Mind

More than four years ago, the blog and I parted ways. I needed a change. A whole lot happened in my world since then. I switched jobs a couple times. My kid went from an elementary school tween to a teenage high schooler. We built a new house and moved. Both my parents and my sister have passed. The world around me changed as well. Mass shootings, racism, the #metoo movement, a misogynistic bigoted narcissist in the White House ... go ahead, add to the list. Toss your woes into this dumpster fire we call 2019.  I appreciate my previous sentiment, that I was no longer wandering. But let's be honest, we're all trying to find our way through this mess. I decided to reboot the blog to give myself a creative outlet, a way to sort through the confusion and frustration and attempt to make sense of it all. I have a voice, and I'm not keen to silence it anymore. Guess what? I'm back, bitches.

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...