Pamela Frost Dennis - Murder Blog 01 - Dead Girls Don't Blog
Page 26
To say I was astounded would have been an understatement. I was gobsmacked. “Too little, too late. Heather is a sweetheart, and you better take good care of her and your incoming kids, or you will have me to deal with, got it?”
“God, you’re so sexy when you’re mad.” He groaned again. “Remember how good make-up sex was?”
Oh puke!
“I swear I’ll do right by my children, but I’m going to win you back, Katy McKenna. I can’t live without you. You are my soulmate and I was too stupid to realize it.”
It was like being trapped in a cheesy soap opera, except it really hurt. I had no snappy comeback, nothing cerebral or cutting. It just plain hurt. And now I was hurting for two. Heather and me, or five if you counted the kids.
“Drop dead, Chad.” I turned and walked away, knowing the sleezeball would ogle my tush, so I sashayed. Not for him. For me.
Final destination was the police department to turn in the petitions. The desk clerk checked with Angela, then sent me down the hall to her office. I stuck my head in her open doorway. She sat at her desk and appeared busy. “Hi. Okay if I interrupt?”
“Katy! Come in. Sit down—no, wait. Your hair! Spin around so I can see the back.”
I did as told, inwardly grumbling about my new do.
“Kind of has a gypsy vibe to it. Very cute and still long enough to get into a ponytail. Love the bangs. They make your eyes look so big. Your mom really knows her stuff.”
I unconsciously fluffed my hair and caught my reflection in the window. Okay, maybe I could learn to like it. Maybe.
“Thanks. Still getting used to it.” I plunked my stack of petitions on the desk next to the impressive pile already sitting there and sat down. “Nine-thousand, eight-hundred and forty-two.”
“Wow! I was just counting what we have here, so let me add up these numbers. She punched the figures into a calculator. “Are you ready?”
“Yes! I can’t wait.”
“Drumroll, please.”
I drummed a rapid one-handed staccato on the edge of her oak desk.
“Fifteen-thousand, one-hundred and twenty-seven signatures!”
“Woo-hoo!” I shouted and we high-fived.
Angela straightened the thick stack and placed a paperweight on it. “Can you believe it? When this all began, I had no idea you’d wind up with this many. It’s way beyond my expectations.”
I laughed with a satisfied blend of pride and delight. “Way beyond mine, too.”
Angela stood up and leaned over to shake my hand. “Well done, Katy. Well done.”
She sat down again and held up a folder for me to see. “This is Belinda Moore’s file. Thanks to you, it’s now a closed case. Lindsay’s mom can finally rest in peace.”
A warm glow surged through me. I’d made a difference and it felt good. Maybe I could expand on this experience and become a force of good, like Wonder Woman or Mother Teresa. Selfless, caring, an advocate for all mankind.
Angela broke into my virtuous reverie. “Katy? Have you ever thought about joining the police force?”
EPILOGUE
1996
After Jake was found with Lindsay’s corpse in his lap, he never spoke another word. The horror of his actions had culminated in a complete disconnect from reality and a few days later, he committed suicide.
That left only Phil Hobart to stand trial for the rape, abduction, and murder of Lindsay Hobart. The public outcry and the ensuing media circus made a fair trial in Santa Lucia County impossible, so it was relocated to Monterey County. As the trial unfolded, it became apparent Erik had been the catalyst behind the crimes and had ultimately caused Lindsay’s death. The fact that Phil had tried to revive her weighed heavily in his favor. In determining punishment, factors taken into consideration included his age, his lack of prior criminal record, a good academic record, being an Eagle Scout, and that he had been well-regarded by various community leaders. Therefore, he was sentenced to life in prison with a possibility of parole.
Hobart was sent to Folsom State Prison in Sacramento and released into the general population, where for the first year he lived a nightmare beyond anything he ever could have imagined.
Now
Two weeks after the parole hearing, I received a letter from the state of California Board of Prison Terms.
Dear Ms. McKenna:
Re: HOBART, Phillip Adam F-1067
This will acknowledge your petition concerning Phillip Hobart.
The Board of Prison Terms is required by statute to conduct parole consideration hearings for persons serving life sentences with the possibility of parole, and it must consider the comments of all persons concerned with the granting or denial of parole to a prisoner.
According to our records, on July 12, Phillip Adam Hobart was found unsuitable for parole and denied further consideration for five years. We are forwarding your petitions to Mr. Hobart’s file at the institution so that your petitions will be considered by the next Board panel who hears this case.
You may be assured that your petitions will be given appropriate consideration in future hearings.
Sincerely,
Edmund K. Greene
Chairman
Bio-dad Bert came through on his promise to take me to Carmel. Maybe it’s never too late to grow up. I now have thirty-five Facebook friends.
One more thing before I close. Samantha, along with my folks, Grandma Ruby, and a few other close friends, begged me to let them read my blog after I told them I’d written about everything that happened during my petition misadventures, so I decided to share it with those closest to me. They’ve all given their solemn promise not to be mad at me after they read it. I hope I don’t live to regret it.
I’m glad I listened to Sam when she suggested the idea of keeping a blog. She was right. It really is cathartic. Who knew? I think I’ll keep doing it.
In 1996, Congress passed the Drug-Induced Rape Prevention and Punishment Act, as an amendment to the Controlled Substances Act. This amendment established federal penalties of up to twenty years imprisonment and fines for anyone convicted of committing a crime of violence, including rape, by administering a controlled substance without the victim’s knowledge or consent.
<<<<>>>>
Dear Reader,
Many years ago, I read a newspaper article about an upcoming parole hearing for a man who had raped, kidnapped and murdered a young girl in our community. Like Katy, I was incensed that someone could ever be eligible for parole after committing such heinous crimes—let alone after only fifteen years.
In the ensuing years, the girl’s mother had died and there were no other family members to speak for her at the parole hearing, so I decided I would speak for her. After researching the crime to ensure that there had been no miscarriage of justice, I started a petition and gathered thousands of signatures.
When it was time for the parole hearing, I wanted to attend, but the District Attorney told me it was too dangerous. He did not want this man to know my identity.
Years later, when I finally sat down to write a story loosely based on my experience, I knew that I wanted my protagonist to be fun and quirky because I plan to spend a lot of time with Katy in upcoming books.
But I had no idea that the criminals would turn out as they did—that’s one of the weird phenomenons of writing—characters tend to take on a life of their own. According to everyone I interviewed at the time I did my petition, the real criminal had no endearing or redeeming qualities what-so-ever.
I am happy to say that he is still in prison all these years later.
Respectfully yours,
Pamela Frost Dennis
About Me
In my previous lives, I worked as: a street singer in San Francisco, a telephone operator, a technical illustrator in the aerospace industry, a freelance graphic artist, an advertising director, a soccer mom and golf mom.
These days I live on the California Central Coast with my husband, Mike, and together we own two re
staurants. I also run a website for women: beautybloomers.com—“the grown-up girls’ guide to looking good and feeling great”.
I have two incredible sons, two wonderful daughters-in-law, three brilliant grandkids, and two crazy canine-kids, Gizmo and Gracie.
I wrote my first mystery, “The Road to Paris”, in fifth grade, and received a standing ovation from my fellow classmates. Heady stuff!
Any inquiries can be made to:
pamela@muderblogmysteries.com
www.murderblogmysteries.com
Table of Contents
Start Reading
Synopsis
About the Author
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapters
1 — 2 — 3 — 4 — 5 — 6 — 7 — 8 — 9 — 10 — 11 — 12 — 13 — 14 — 15 — 16 — 17 — 18 — 19 — 20 — 21 — 22 — 23 — 24 — 25 — 26 — 27 — 28 — 29 — 30 — 31 — 32 — 33 — 34 — 35 — 36 — 37 — 38 — 39 — 40 — 41 — Epilogue
Copyright
Dead Girls Don’t Blog
Copyright ©, 2014 by Pamela Frost Dennis
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, incidents, places and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.