By Day or By Night

by M. Glenn Aldridge

  ***

  It was only a couple of days later when Betsy came back to her husband with more concerns:

  "Joe, I was down to the coffee shop this mornin' and I don't think things are calmin' down a'tall," Betsy had stress in her voice as well as wearing it on her face. When she was calm she nearly always worked to cover up her southern accent, but when Betsy was stressed it always seemed to come out very thick.

  "What's that Betsy," Joe tried to act very matter of fact about her concerns but inside he was churning.

  "Brad ? you know Brad Barber right? Of course you do you're the Mayor you know everybody don't you. Anyway you know Brad Barber don't you?" Betsy Tolson seemed a little hyper, probably overstressed about recent events.

  "Yeah Betsy ? I know Brad. He tends to put his nose into everything in town. He also tends to stretch facts a bit if I remember correctly." Mayor Tolson was already trying to diminish what his wife had heard at the coffee shop by cutting down what most people in town would refer to as an honest man; Brad Barber.

  "Well Brad was telling me about how Dale Shaw was hanging from the oil well naked, and how there was a star cut into his chest; said his throat was cut and? oh my God Joe ? his ears were cut off! Can you believe someone would do that?" Betsy sounded very upset.

  "No I can't Betsy," Joe had a pessimistic look on his face.

  "What ? ah ? what do you mean 'no I can't'?"

  "Just what I said honey, no I can't. No I can't believe his ears were cut off because they weren't. Nor was he hanging from the oil well or naked. I guess I don't really know for sure if there was a star cut into his chest 'cause he had a shirt on, but surely not. I mean the Osage County Coroner would have mentioned something like that I'm sure." Joe said this calmly, trying to bring some sanity to the blown up story his wife had heard. Joe thought, goodness wasn't what really happened bad enough!

  "But Brad said ?" Joe interrupted.

  "Betsy ?"

  "But Brad ?" Joe interrupted again.

  "Betsy; Betsy please now." While Joe was speaking softly he also sounded a bit condescending in his tone.

  "But Brad ? well Ok what then Joe?" Betsy let Joe have the floor, but she thought to herself how Joe always seems to have the floor, or the politician's podium; or better termed "soap box".

  "Betsy ? did you see the incident? Did you see Dale Shaw up there at the oil well?" Betsy knew Joe already knew the answer to this question. She felt like she was in for one of those "lessons" her husband likes to teach.

  "Joe you know I didn't ?" Joe interrupted.

  "Did you see Dale Shaw up there at the oil well?" Joe repeated this time with a bit more force in his voice.

  "No Joe ? no I did not," replied Betsy meekly; almost sounding embarrassed.

  "Ok then ? well I doubt Brad did either ?" Betsy took a turn at interrupting.

  "But Brad said ?" Betsy tried to talk but Joe started to speak over her.

  "What I was saying was, I doubt Brad Barber did either because he's got it all wrong. See Betsy I did see Dale Shaw up there at the oil well. I saw how he was hanging from the fence and how he was fully clothed. He had a good pair of ears and no cut throat either. Think about it Betsy; why would folks be calling it a crucifixion if he was hanging from the neck? They're calling it crucifixion because of the way he was hung from the fence by his wrists and dangling down in a pose like a ? well like a crucifixion ? duh!" Joe sounded very condescending now.

  "Well goodness Joe, you don't have to be rude," Betsy felt her face getting a little flush.

  "Oh I'm not trying to be honey, it's just that all these rumors and blown up stories about what really happened do seem to be wearing on me. It would be helpful if you wouldn't feed into them by repeating these stories. I mean Brad Barber ? Brad Barber! How could anyone believe that man?"

  "Well Joe, I guess I'm just gullible," Betsy was feeling sorry for herself.

  "Oh hon, you know what I mean. Don't you?" Joe's voice sounded tired and worn down, like he was looking for some sympathy; but really inside he was angry. As a politician he has learned to mask this emotion well.

  "Yeah Joe, I know what you mean," Betsy said calmly.

  "Good, well then can we just drop the subject?" Joe started to turn away from his wife.

  "Well what about this then?" Betsy wasn't ready to "drop the subject" just yet.

  "You know Harvey Alexander don't you?"

  "Yes Betsy ? yes I know Harvey Alexander," Joe sounded completely put out when he answered his wife's question.

  "Now Harvey was tellin' me 'bout how long it took the authorities to get up there and close of the crime scene; said by the time the Chief and ambulance folk and such got up there to close off the scene, there were people roamin' through it, messin' ever'thing up and so many kids had seen Dale Shaw all hangin' there like he was ? it was a ? well a damn shame." Betsy Tolson put her hand over her mouth just after she cussed; like she was ashamed of herself. She seemed flustered because her tone was very high pitched and her thick southern accent was shining through.

  "Hmm, is that right? That's what you heard? That's what Harvey Alexander told you?" Joe didn't sound like he didn't believe his wife; no, more just that he didn't want to talk about it.

  "Yes Joe, that's what he said. Now you trust Harvey don't you? I mean you may not trust Brad, but surely you trust Harvey!"

  "Yeah hon ? yeah I trust ole' Harvey. We go way back and he's a good ole' boy." Joe truly did trust Harvey; trusted and liked Harvey.

  "Well then, is what he said true?" Betsy's high pitched tone had not dissipated.

  "Now don't get me wrong Betsy ? I trust Harvey and all, but he may have his timing off or his facts a little mixed up." Joe was lying through his teeth for no apparent good reason. It's not even certain that he knew why he was lying; he just was. Joe had learned to lie so well he could even lie to himself; a true politician at heart.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just what I said Betsy ? that he got his facts askew." Joe had that confident tone in his voice.

  "You mean a lot of people didn't see that terrible thing?" Betsy sounded confused.

  "That's right Betsy, hardly anybody saw the actual crime scene; they just heard about it. And you know how people can grow a tall tale." Mayor Tolson knew darn good and well that a lot, more than a lot really, of folks saw Dale Shaw up there at the oil well, but he wouldn't acknowledge it. Not in his town. Not while he was Mayor.

  "Oh ? ok," Betsy seemed to come to terms with Joe's words as facts. "Then you mean there weren't a bunch of people roaming through the crime scene messin' it up and all? That Chief of Police John Long wasn't slow to the scene to keep ever'body out?"

  "Well now Betsy ? I'm not gonna praise John Long for his speed, but there weren't too many people roaming around up there and nothing got messed up. Don't you worry, the crime scene wasn't messed up. They'll be plenty of good evidence to find the killer and bring them to justice. We just have to push that lazy John Long hard to get busy and catch who ever did this." Joe was again working hard to shift blame onto law enforcement. It didn't matter that Mayor Tolson was clearly contradicting some of the things he'd told his wife earlier; he was just that convincing of a politician.

  "Oh .. well then why ?" Joe interrupted.

  "I know what you're wondering Betsy. You're wondering why people would be saying they saw such a terrible thing if they really didn't." It was quite presumptuous of Joe Tolson to assume he knew what his wife was thinking ? but he was right.

  "Yeah," Betsy replied softly.

  "Am I right?" Joe asked confidentially.

  "Yes Joe, that's exactly what I'm wondering," Betsy sounded impressed at his intuitiveness.

  "Well Betsy, let's just chalk it up to human nature. I mean people want to feel important. They want to feel like they have some good information to share. Most importantly they want to let other people know that they are ? well "in the know". You know what I me
an?" Joe had placed a hand on his wife's back.

  "Yes ? yes I do," and indeed Betsy did understand her husband's point. He had a good point, she thought.

  "Well that's really all it is. People reciting a story and growing it each time they repeat it; just so they can feel involved and important. Nothing more than that."

  "Oh ? ok," Betsy replied softly.

  And with that the conversation ended. Even Joe was surprised at how easily his wife let go of the subject with just a few helpful lies.

  Truth be told, Mayor Joe Tolson knew the response time to the scene was embarrassing; that many, many folks saw it, and worst of all the crime scene had been hoofed through by so many idiots that no good evidence would probably be retrievable. Joe was angry about this, but very happy with his political ability to get away with lies to his wife. He enjoys getting away with lies.

  Later that night, just before he fell asleep, Joe pondered hard on whom really did commit that terrible murder. It worried him, but not nearly as much as his worries about how long his lies will hold off folks if John Long doesn't hurry up and catch that killer!

  Daddy, What Do You Think?

  I went out to Daddy's work shed to ask him what he thought about the terrible murder. He hadn't talked much about it, which surprised me, so I really had no idea what he was doing about it. Was he hot on the trail? Did he have someone in mind? Why's he out there workin' on that old junk car instead of lookin' for the murder anyway? I was determined to get some answers.

  As I approached the work shed I noticed he had the door closed, but underneath the door I could see little flecks of light going on and off. I figured he must be welding on somethin'; I'd seen him do it before and I know not to look directly at the welding flame. Daddy taught me that.

  As I got even closer to the door I could hear that tell tale sound of the welding torch. It's kind of like a whooshing sound of hot air turning to flame, if you know what I mean. I knocked pretty hard figuring it might be hard for Daddy to hear me over the welding; along with his old folks rockin' roll he had on the radio. He listens to this band called Leonard's skin something or other. He says it's real southern rock! Its ok I guess, but probably better for old folks.

  I got no answer with the first knock so I knocked again even harder. Still no answer, so I turned the door knob. Well I tried to anyways; see the door was locked. I thought that strange, Daddy didn't usually lock his shed door. I mean he often closed it, but I really can't remember another time when he actually locked it.

  I banged harder and started yelling "Daddy! Daddy! you in there?" This, finally, got an answer. I heard Daddy put down his torch with a clank, then I heard his big footsteps approach the door. I shouted out "Daddy! you in there?" one more time for good measure. I heard the click as he unlocked the door.

  Daddy stuck his head out the door and said "yeah hon, I'm in here". He said it real softly like he was telling a secret or somethin'. "What can I do for ya?" he asked with a bland look on his face. Not a look of being mad that I interrupted him; no more just a bored look, like he was tired and bored or somethin'. My first thought was that maybe, since the murder, he hadn't been sleeping very well; you know up nights workin' and worryin' and stuff.

  "I just wanted to come out and see what you were doin'," I replied with a big grin. Oh that and pick your brain on what you think about the murder ? but I didn't say that, I just thought it.

  "I'm doin' what I always do out here Jess ? workin' on my Hemi-Cuda." He tossed his head back toward the car as if pointing.

  "Oh ? oh oookkkkk," I said being completely obvious that I wanted to join him.

  "Wanta come in and help out?" Daddy asked already knowing the answer.

  He barely got the words out of his mouth when I snapped off: "Sure!" and then, strategically, nudged my way in the door and past him towards his little mini frig he had on the other side of the shed. Yeah, of course, it's full of those nasty beers he drinks, but he always keeps a couple of Pepsi colas in there for me too. Sure enough there was an ice cold one in there with my name on it.

  When I popped the top of the can and turned around Daddy was already back to work on his fish car; hemi-cuda, barracuda, tuna fish sandwich whatever it's all the same to me. But he has shown me pictures of a couple of finished cars, and I guess they look pretty neat. I really like the one he showed me in plum crazy purple. Plum crazy purple ha ha, that's funny! But Daddy's car is far from finished. It's more of a bare metal car body with a bunch of car parts lyin' around it really.

  "What ya doin' Daddy?" I asked just as Daddy started to weld again.

  "Weldin'", Daddy replied.

  I thought, Duh ? like I didn't already know that!

  "No Daddy ? I just meant, whatcha doin' out here ? you know what's you thinkin' about?"

  "I'm thinkin' 'bout welding Jessi. You know it ain't smart to think of other things when you got fire in your hands. I thought I taught you better th'n that." Daddy smirked a little and just kept welding.

  "Daddy! You know what I mean." I giggled as I said this and Daddy just kept on welding. After a long moment he stopped and set his torch down.

  "What's on your mind Jessi?" Daddy knew I had somethin' up my sleeve. He's pretty good at knowing that sort-a thing.

  "Oh nothin' really, just wondering how things are goin' for ya. I mean with everything that's been goin' on and all. You must be pretty tired, huh?"

  "I'm fine honey, but thanks for asking," replied Daddy calmly. He then turned to pick up his torch again.

  "But ?" I just didn't want him to go back to his work ? not just now; I hadn't gotten any answers yet.

  "Oh was there somethin' else Jessi?" Daddy knew darn good and well that there was. He was playin' a game on me.

  "Daddy!" I said this with my best whinny daughter voice that said: "come on now help me out here".

  "Ok then Jessi ? ok ? why don't you come over here and sit down and let's have a chat." Daddy started to walk over to his work bench.

  "Why don't we go for a walk down by the creek Daddy? This place smells like oil, beer and lava soap! Yuk." It did too, it always did.

  "A wonderful aroma in my opinion honey," Daddy grinned and ruffled my hair with his greasy hand. I don't think he even realized he got me dirty though.

  "Come on Daddy," I took him by his hand and led him out into the back yard.

  As we made our way into the alley and over the fence into Mr. Johnson's pasture I noticed how distant Daddy seemed. Detached ? no that's a better word, detached.

  "So what's on your mind Jessi? You got me down by the creek without a fishin' pole, that's not much fun." Daddy picked up a rock and threw it clean across the creek. I picked up a small pebble and tried to skip it but to no avail.

  "Daddy ? what do you think about that terrible murder?"

  "What's that Jessi?" Daddy asked this almost as if he had no idea what I was talking about. As if it was the furthest thing from his mind. Surely not?

  "Well you know how ever'body's calling it the world's only Main Street oil well crucifixion and all." I figured that was enough information to at least get him started; maybe.

  "Oh that ? yeah that's a conversation now isn't it." With this Daddy just turned and started walkin' down the creek bank. Following him, he looked like a man without a care in the world. He had picked up several rocks and was softly pitching them in the creek and just moseying right on along. To that point in my life I really couldn't ever recall seeing Daddy "mosey".

  I kept waitin' for Daddy to say something but he didn't. So I picked up a small stick and tossed it at his bottom. It hit him a little harder than I intended.

  "Ouch Jessi, what the hell was that for?" Daddy kind of laughed. He knew exactly why I threw that stick!

  "Oh come on Daddy talk to me a little. Tell me about what's been goin' on ? pleeeease." I'm not much for beggin', but oh well.

  "Well I've been workin' on the Hemi-Cuda an
d just enjoying life really," he had a big grin on his face and a smile in his voice as he said this.

  "Come on Daddy," I punched him in the arm; kind of like taking a swing at an oak tree trunk. "Cut it out ? you know what I mean."

  "Ok, ok Jessi ? if it'll keep you from beating me with sticks and fists I'll try to lay it out for ya," he seemed more serious now.

  "Good," I replied as I sat down on the creek bank.

  "It's been a long time since a murder happened in Barnsdall Oklahoma ? a long, long time honey. Folks are scared and angry about it ? I don't know which emotion is winnin' out really." Daddy paused for a minute ? looked like he was thinkin' hard. "Of course it's a terrible thing." Daddy sort of trailed off as he said this.

  "Yeah Daddy, I hear a lot of folks talkin' 'bout it."

  "That right Jessi?" Daddy was lookin' across Bird Creek at nothing particularly important; well that I could see anyway.

  "Yep Daddy, they're lots of folks that saw Dale Shaw up there, but they're not the one's doing most of the talkin'."

  "That's usually the case hon," Daddy replied as he glanced at me then sat down beside me.

  "See Daddy, it's the folks that didn't see the ? crucifi ? the, the ? murder that are doin' most of the talking about it."

  "Yeah Jessi, it's usually the folks that don't know what they're talkin' 'bout that like to do most of the talkin' in this world; seems they get some calming feeling out of hearin' their own voices or something." Daddy skipped a flat rock across the creek. I counted twelve skips; not bad.

  "I guess that's true," I said in partial agreement.

  "You better learn to know its true honey," Daddy ruffled my hair. You remember this honey: Believe half of what you read and none of what you hear. You'll be a wise person if you follow that simple rule."

  "Are people really that bad about lying Daddy?" I probably already knew the true answer was yes, but figured it was a good question to ask at this point of the conversation. At least Daddy was talkin' to me now.

  "Well Jessi there are a lot of liars in this world ? a whole lot, but even the one's that don't intend to lie need to watched closely." Another skip, but only ten this time by my count.

  "What's that Daddy?" I was interested in his train of thought.

  "Well folks tend to rationalize blowing things out of proportion or tellin' a little white lie ? you know for their own benefit or purpose. They sort of convince themselves that it's not a real lie; no rather the ends justify the means. Like for the "greater good" their point of view, while not the actual truth, serves a better purpose with their spin on it. Know what I mean honey?"

  "I think so Daddy." Indeed I did think I got it, though it was only later on that I fully understood it. I liked Daddy's perspective on this. It was nice not to have to think of liars as necessarily being bad people; rather instead to think of folks as simply telling the truth they thought was best, even though in reality it wasn't the truth at all and in many cases an out and out lie.

  "Well let me explain it to ya like this Jessi: If a police officer stops someone for speeding their initial reaction is denial; they say things like "I wasn't speeding!". When you finally show them the radar gun they know the truth is they were speeding, but they often hold to their story because it fits their purpose. They figure telling the lie might get them out of a ticket, so the ends justify the means. Some folks even figure they've already learned their lesson and they won't do it again, so why not just tell the lie and get out of the ticket."

  All this made pretty good sense I thought. Daddy was on to something I think.

  "But let me tell you somethin' Jessi, and you listen real good now: There's no small lie. There's no harmless lie. Unfortunately lies make the world go round and that's not a good thing. See they spread like wild fire and most folks tell them. Lies grow faster than you can contain them. They spread like a virus. Tell one and you have to tell another to cover up that one. It's never ending." Daddy looked real serious and said: "Got it honey?"

  "I sure do Daddy." Daddy was way more articulate in explaining this than he usually is at the dinner table when he's telling his police stories. It really surprised me.

  "Good Jessi," Daddy said as he tossed a small rock way up in the air and watched it "curplunk" down right in the middle of the creek.

  "So Daddy, what do you think about what happened to Dale Shaw?" I still wanted this answered.

  "Well honey it's a terrible thing ? awful thing indeed." Daddy paused for a long moment; "An awful thing to happen to the best person possible." Daddy stood up and started walking back up towards the house.

  I didn't quite catch Daddy's meaning at first, but after thinking about for a while I think he meant that he wouldn't want to see anybody murdered but if someone was to be it might as well be someone like Dale Shaw; a law breaker, trouble maker. Don't know for sure though if that's what he really meant 'cause I didn't ask him any more questions about it. I probably could have, but just felt like Daddy had most likely already said all he wanted to.

  Sleeping With The Fishes

  As written in the Tulsa World - FRONT PAGE news article

  Just shortly after the first murder in Barnsdall Oklahoma (approximately forty-five miles north of Tulsa and just slightly to the west) in over fifty years there has been a double homicide.

  Due to the fact that Barnsdall has been thought to have the world's only Main Street oil well, along with the gruesome nature of the murder itself; the first murder is now being referred to as "The World's Only Main Street Oil Well Crucifixion". To date the murderer(s) in this case have not been identified and it is not known if this murder is connected to the recent double homicide.

  Local area resident Trent Dillbeck describes the scene:

  "Well I was just headin' down to Big Hole [local fishing area with large rocks and rapids, just north of Barnsdall, OK on Bird Creek], some folks call it Rock Hole but I calls it Big Hole 'cause that's what my Grandpa called it. Yeah I was headin' down to Big Hole just about day break to do some cat fishin', best fishin's in the mornin' ya know.

  I got down there by the [Bird] creek and headed up to the top of the rapids to drown a worm or two. I usually like to start at the top and work my way down 'til I finds the big ones. I tell ya there are some big flathead down in that creek!

  Anyways, like I was sayin', I'd gotten my hook wet and was settlin' down on a nice soft rock when I got my first bite. Catfish can be kinda tricky ya know, playing with the bait and all, so I just kept sippin' my coffee and dippin' my chew ? and awatchin' that line real close. As it took the bait I jumps to my feet and yanked on the line. I thought I'd set the hook real good, it fought [expletive] hard. But when I go it up close to the bank it slipped off the barb or somethin' 'cause the hook came flying back and nearly hit me in the eye. It was big too! I mean it had to be a forty pounder if it was an ounce ? blue cat instead of a flat head, but good none the less really.

  Where was I, oh yeah ? the hook came flying back at me and woulda taken my sight probably if I hadn't turned my head real fast. Instead it hit me in the ear. Luckily it didn't hook me ? no just fell down to the ground. Quite a stinger though it was ? it sure was.

  Well that turnin' my head was what made me notice what was down there at the bottom of the rapids. At first I didn't realize what it was. I guess I was too focused on my [expletive] stingin' ear. But after a short while I started to realize what I was seeing. Couldn't believe it I tell ya ? couldn't believe it at all; had to go get closer to get a better look.

  Now Big Hole's a pretty treacherous place to walk around. I mean there's a lot of big rocks and rapids, so if you don't watch your footin' then you might end up in the drink [Bird Creek] if you know what I means.

  Well I took my time and made my way down to the end of the rapids; nearly slipped a couple a times and spilled my [expletive] coffee ta' boot. But ? well I got down there in one piece.

  See down at the bottom of the rapids ther
e's an old water pipe that stretches across the creek; way up in the air like ? oh maybe 30 feet off the water or somethin'. Don't know if any water still flows through that line but just know it's there; hung up on big A-frame poles on either side of the [Bird] creek. I don't recommend it but, it being a pretty big water pipe, I've seen a few kids walk across it. If you ask me they're nuts.

  It's what was hangin' off that water pipe, right in the middle of the [Bird] creek, that had caught my eye. My eyes ain't as good as they used to be, so when I'se up there at the top of the rapids I just told myself I wasn't seein' what I thought I was. But ? when I got down there closer there was really no mistaken it.

  It's real bad, but I'll tell ya'll what I seen that mornin' down at Big Hole. It ain't somethin' you expect to find on a fishin' trip I'll tell ya that right now ? [expletive] right.

  What I seen nearly made me lose my ham and egg breakfast; woulda' done that to anybody I'm sure. I couldn't make out who the two fella's were 'cause they were so messed up ya know ? only found out who they were later.

  Well there they were ? two men hanging upside down by their feet from that water pipe. Now I don't know how graphic ya'll want the details ? so I'll just tell ya what I saw and you can edit it if you need to.

  They were tied by both feet to the pole upside down with their arms dangling down toward the water. They're faces were all bashed in and dripping blood ? so I guess they couldn't a' been dead too awful long. If I'd not been in such shock over the whole thing I might a been worried that the killers were still around, but I wasn't.

  But the faces wasn't the worst thing ? no not by a long shot. See these two fellas had their belly's slit open and their guts was all spilled out and hanging down into the water. Hanging down all that way into the water ? man it was nasty. Them guts were still connected to the guys but they had unraveled out the slit in their belly's and was hangin' down into the water.

  What's more is how there were turtles and what looked like some pretty big cat fish eatin' those portions of guts that were down in the water; it was almost too much to stomach, ha ha. Sorry for the joke but have to find some way to keep it together after seein' such a thing. A little more gallows humor would be to cast out a line and see if ya couldn't catch some of them big cat fish that were eatin' at the chum. I didn't do that though.

  Let me tell ya'll this ? who ever done such a thing's pretty darn crazy. Have to be wouldn't they? I bet it's that same crazy that did that kid up there at the oil well. Seems connected to me; I mean we hadn't had a murder 'round these parts in so long, now to have two; well three really, a single and a double murder, in such a short period a time. Well it just has to be connected. Don't take a rocket scientist to know that ? no it don't.

  Well after I'd stared at them two fella's hanging there like that for a while ? didn't really mean to, it's just kinda like how you can't look away from a car wreck when you pass by it ? sorta rubberneckin'. Well after I did that for a while I made my way back up to my pickup to get to soundin' the alarm ya know.

  I hung 'round to answer questions as all the police, volunteer fireman, paramedics and such showed up. It took them a long while to get those two fella's down from that pipe. You can imagine; it bein' way up in the air and right in the middle a the [Bird] creek. I thought it was gonna take'm 'bout half the day just to decide how to go about gettin' 'em down. But of course they first had to do all that crime scene stuff ? took a long while ? sure did.

  Well anyways, when they got 'em down I overheard one of them volunteer fireman say he thought the guys wallets must've fallen out of their pockets into the creek; being upside down and all, so there was no identification. But that volunteer fireman, I won't mention his name, said he thought the two murdered guys were Dave Jenson and Mike Hostetler; guess he knew them 'cause he seemed pretty sure of it, and pretty shook up about it to. I'd probably be pretty well shaken and stirred if a couple of my buddies were killed like that; or like anyway I suppose. Now I heard that Dave and Mike were like two peas in a pod; always together. And trouble ? boy let me tell ya, those two were always causin' a ruckus.

  Well after that I asked if I could get on home to the wife and they asked me to stay so they could ask me some more questions. So I hung around ? and I hung around ? and I waited and waited. They kept me waitin' a long time, then just to ask me a bunch a dumb questions about how often I fish here, why didn't I report this right away instead a doin' some fishing first and stuff like that. I told 'em I didn't see the [expletive] guys hangin' down there from the pipe until after I'd done some fishin'. I told 'em to stop wastin' my time now and let me go ? so they did ? eventually. [expletive]! The whole thing ruined my fishin' ? didn't catch a [expletive] thing!"

  I (James Mann, Reporter for the Tulsa World) was there to see first hand the horrid details explained by local fisherman, Mr. Trent Dillbeck. It indeed was a terrible scene. I might add to the quotes by Mr. Dillbeck:

  I arrived at the crime scene within approximately forty-five minutes of Mr. Dillbeck's report of the two men hanging from the water pipe. In fact I traveled from Tulsa to Barnsdall, while obeying all of the posted speed limits. I was surprised to find, other than Mr. Dillbeck and a few volunteer fireman (or first responders), I was the first to arrive on scene.

  It's not for this reporter to judge or point fingers; merely to report facts. However, it seems to be a very poor response time by both the Barnsdall Police Department as well as the local ambulance service; although the ambulance service clearly didn't have anyone to save in this instance, they could not have known that for certain before arriving on scene. The ambulance service should have arrived earlier. Furthermore; perhaps this poor effort by the local police has something to do with the recent outbreak of lawlessness in and around the town of Barnsdall, OK.

  If these three murders in Osage County are connected, and there is a serial killer on the loose; we should all be concerned. Barnsdall is just a short drive, a very short drive, from Tulsa, and what happened in Barnsdall could easily spread to Tulsa and other surrounding communities. It is obvious to this reporter that something needs to be done about the recent rash of murders as well as the poor response from the local police.

  Chief of Police John Long arrived at the "Big Hole" (just north of Barnsdall, OK on Bird Creek) crime scene shortly after this reporter did. Recalling that this reporter traveled from Tulsa to arrive on scene, and that the Barnsdall Police Station is less than a five minute drive from "Big Hole", illustrates just how poor the police response was.

  Chief John Long did not make himself immediately available for questioning. Rather, this reporter observed him communicating with the volunteer fireman and ambulance personnel, as well as several local residents that were milling around simply to see what had occurred. Chief John Long appeared to have no control over the crime scene or who was allowed in or out of said crime scene.

  Upon further requests Chief John Long provided the following quote: "Get the hell out of here and let us do our jobs. We don't have time to answer any stupid questions by nosey reporters"!

  Chief John Long then followed up this eloquent quote with a threatening shove to this reporter's chest. He then requested one of his policemen, who refused to provide his name, to escort this reporter away from "Big Hole". The policeman was later identified as Eli Folson, a part-time officer for the Barnsdall Police Department.

  This reporter has something to share with the Barnsdall Police Department, and especially Chief of Police John Long: If you don't understand "freedom of the press" then bear down and learn about it, because it is inappropriate to exclude the press unnecessarily. Also, while digging into the topic you so clearly do not understand (the first amendment), try to look into jurisdiction. It is clear to this reporter that the Barnsdall Police Department did not, and does not, have full jurisdiction of the area known as "Big Hole". Abuse of power in many ways, along with a poor response time should leave the residents of Barnsdall, OK and
surrounding communities feeling very shaky about how their being served by the Barnsdall Police Department.

  In fact there are many residents of Barnsdall, OK concerned:

  Barnsdall resident Matt Davidson expressed his concerns when this reporter interviewed him at Ella's Coffee Shop in Barnsdall:

  "I'm very concerned about what's been goin' on in Barnsdall; seems like we might have a serial killer on our hands. Like someone, or possibly someone's, gone crazy and started killin' folks in some [expletive] bad ways.

  I mean yeah ? of course I'm concerned. What's happened to our law 'round these parts anyways? Don't get me wrong, up until just recently I thought Chief o' Police Long's been doin' a fine job; you know keeping things quiet and the kids from runnin' too wild and stuff. But now I just don't know.

  Talkin' to my friends around town I know a lot of them feel the same way. Lots a folks aren't lettin' their kids out after dark, and some of them aren't lettin' 'em out at all really; well not until an arrest is made. This is a town of not even two thousand folks ? how hard could it be to weed out a suspect? I don't even think they've done that yet! It's getting' out a hand real fast ? it sure is.

  I'm not sure why Chief Long is draggin' his feet like this or what Mayor Tolson's doin' 'bout it, but somethin' has to be done and quick like. Ever'body's real scared around here and for good reason. We don't feel like we are bein' protected by the law and that's not a good thing ? not good at all. Bunch of us are thinkin' 'bout puttin' together a petition or somethin' to bring about some changes. We need stronger leadership and better law 'round here. Someone who'll get off their butts and get busy ? get to work!"

  It is clear that Barnsdall resident Matt Davidson has strong feelings about what needs to be done, and he is not alone:

  Another Barnsdall resident (actually from Wrangle Heights) Diane Chesterfield expressed similar concerns when interviewed by this reporter while coming out of the Barnsdall Market:

  "I'm just terrified! I live alone over in Wrangle Heights, just across Bird Creek, and if there's no safety in Barnsdall their sure isn't over there either. I have a dog but how much good would that do with some psycho? I mean we've got a real nut runnin' around here.

  My brother Steve said he'd give me one of his guns to protect myself, but I just don't know. I'm not very good with those things and it might be more dangerous than the murderer [laughs]. But yeah ? we're all real scared around here.

  I wish they'd bring in some expert lawmen that know how to deal with a situation like this. I mean Chief Long's been good for Barnsdall, but with somethin' like this you'd think he'd be in over his head. I hear he hasn't even really started workin' on it yet, but I don't know. Surely he's working on it, but maybe he's just not barking up the right trees.

  You know most folks 'round here know who the crazy's are. Most folks know who probably did it, but are just too afraid to say. Chief Long should look into those folks first and make an arrest. That would set ever'body's mind at ease ? yeah a quick arrest.

  Me ? I'm gonna make sure my doors and windows are locked up tight at night and that I keep a clear path to the telephone in case somethin' comes up. Other than that what can we do? I mean it's kinda out of our hands as simple residents."

  This reporter believes it is far from out of the Barnsdall, and surrounding community, resident's hands. Instead it is clearly within their grasp to stand up and let their voices be heard for better political leadership and especially law enforcement leadership under these circumstances. Either Chief of Police John Long step up and do his job or step aside and let an outside expert come in and do it for him; it is in the town's best interest.

  I hope Chief Long reads this newspaper and makes the right decision. It is entirely possible that Barnsdall, OK has a serial killer on its hands.

  Time For A Plan

  As told to me by David Spencer at school ? not sure where he heard about it, or if I trust his facts bein' straight? I'm not quoting him, just givin' you the gist of it ? 'cause who could really understand David's gibberish anyways?