Ramtidings, dear friends! It is I, your dutiful lord and master, the eternal GM. My sabbatical proved most fruitful, having figured out some depth mechanics for 3 dimensional combat in my pet project, Blood & Thunder, a maritime piracy RPG that has been both a joy and a nerve-wracking nightmare to create. If you want to see what's going on with that, you can swing by patreon.com/BlackFlagPrintingPress to take a look or support my endeavors. But I digress, because I did not come here today to talk about Blood & Thunder, no. I came here with something else in mind, good friends, for while I have been writing my bread and butter, you have gone without your beard and butter, and this is unacceptable! And so, I have trawled the depths of my memory to bring you yet another TAAAAAALE FROM THE TABLETOP, lovingly subtitled A Prologue Into Poverty.
Life is not an easy thing. There was a time when life was very difficult for me. I had far less than most, and I went without frequently, my entire life loaded into a backpack of bare necessities. Joys were few and times were hard, but I made the best of it. I traveled the countryside, mostly alone, making friends where I could amongst the other forgotten souls who haunt the streets of the United States. I met a good number of people, many of them listless drifters in their own right, who became fast friends. We would hang out for a time, but like all drifters, we would eventually part ways, called to different places to do different things. I had just come from North Carolina. I had been in Asheville, playing bluegrass to make money with friends who eventually proved dishonest, and so I parted ways with them. While in Asheville, I had met a girl, also on the road like myself, and I developed a massive crush on her. Fortune would have it that our time together was short lived, as she disappeared on a freighter down the train tracks, and I layed curled up in a bush sick as a dog for the next 3 days.
You can't get a ride from a freighter with 8 people without getting pulled off by johnny law. Our group had fractured, and myself and one other soul continued on our own, until we parted ways in Atlanta. Now, on my own, clueless and green, I wandered aimlessly, until a friend of mine at the time reached out to me by way of the internet. He had work for me, back in California, if I could just make it there. What's 3000 miles? I've got this. I walked out of Atlanta, hitched a series of rides to Arkansas, and then caught a freighter myself, all the way back to the west coast while UP did the driving. I laid on the back of that train for 3 days until I finally ran out of water and decided to get off. I was in Los Angeles. After a bit of panhandling, I got a bus into the central valley, and my friend came and scooped me up. I worked on my friends farm for a bit, building green houses and stacking money until the time came for me to once again depart. During that time, my crush from North Carolina had found me on Facebook. We got to talking.
She told me she had gone back home to Wisconsin and was working in some greasy spoon trying to save up money to afford a bus. She'd been back for awhile now, but wasn't making any headway. Her vices were getting the best of her, and she couldn't seem to get ahead. I told her she needed to knock that shit off and clean up her act. After a long enough time talking, however, things started to get flirty and dirty.
I wanted to see her, and it's actually amazing what a guy will do for love. You're how far away? Piece of cake. Hold my beer. With the work season coming to a close, I took my pay and my leave of my old friend, and he dropped me off in Modesto at the Greyhound. On the way out, he loaded me up with gifts for my travels - a new backpack, socks, a sleeping bag, some snacks for the ride... and naturally, he gave me a gift that I always treasure. He gave me a set of RPG dice. I gave my boy a hug, wished him well in his endeavors, and promised I'd be back in the fall to help him with the harvest and gathering firewood. So I went on my merry way.
I absolutely despise Greyhounds. Have you ever been on one? It's miserable. There's no room to stretch out unless you sit in the back, right by the toilet. Some asshole is always blaring garbage mumble rap on his phone all day long. It doesn't matter who you are - at the end of the trip you exude the pungent aroma of a neckbeard. This didn't bother me too much - personal hygiene suffers when you have no way to bathe regularly, so I was used to being dirty, and my friends from the road were usually very dirty people in their own right at the time, so I could handle a certain degree of grossness... within limits. I did shower at my friend's farm before I boarded that bus, though, and was feeling rather spiffy - clean body, clean clothes. Life was good and I was on my way to see my woman.
I did my best to zone out. I tried to sleep as much as I could and ignore the general atmosphere of the bus, but that was no longer an option after a layover in Las Vegas. We boarded the bus once more after an almost 24 hour delay on our schedules, and finally got moving again. I sat in the back near the toilet, as I was no stranger to this game and wanted that bench seat, and foul smells at the time didn't bother me much... or so I thought. With the bus filling up and the seats reducing to slim pickings, it dawned on me that my coveted back seat bench was going to get shared. Then, I saw him... the Busbeard.
I'm usually a pretty nice person, but I did not want my coveted backseat benchseat getting taken up, let alone by this massive lardass that now lumbered towards me. I did everything in my power to seem as big and hostile as I could. This was all in vain, however, as some people cannot read social cues. I stared at him, dripping hostility, mentally repeating sit somewhere else like it was a Zen mantra. However, nobody wanted him to sit by them either, and so, he made his way, closer and closer, as he asked people if seats were taken until he got to me at the back. He shifted to sit into the seat, angling his ass in the general direction of my face. The smell of soggy feces-laden underwear wafted up as he slid his bulk onto the bench.
Did I mention that personal hygiene suffers on a greyhound bus ride, especially when you've been riding for days? I've taken my fair share of Greyhounds, and it's unlikely that this new arrival had been riding for awhile. He was eastbound, like the rest of us, and we were in Las Vegas. His point of origin was... not very far east. I had only been on the bus for approximately a day so far, minus the extended layover time of course, so I was getting a ittle sweaty myself, but this guy smelled as if he not only lived on this bus, but was born in the blue poop goop of the latrine. It was a question worthy of debate as to whether this man had actually employed the use of a speed stick in his life. His patchy jowels jiggled at me as he said, hi.
I responded with a gruff and monotone hello, and then turned my attentions to the window, watching the bus depot workers loading up suitcases beneath. My fate was sealed. This man was to be my travel companion all the way to Denver. I decided then that maybe it would be best to ignore him. I plugged in my phone, booted up an emulator I had downloaded, and started to play some Pokemon to whittle away the hours. It didn't take long, however, before I could feel his olfactory looming become physical looming as he examined the screen upon which I played from over my shoulder.
Busbeard: Pokemon? I fucking love Pokemon! I didn't know you could play it on a phone. How are you doing that?
His heavy respirations were like an infusion of green spearmint and halitosis.
GM: Emulators.
I went back to my game, trying to angle myself away from him in such a way that he couldn't lean over my shoulder and watch me as I trained my team, but I was effectively sandwiched between him and the wall, forced to sit straight as he leaned over and watched me play. I debated then, what I ought to do. Playing Pokemon would make the time fly, but I would be crushed between the window and a sweaty fat man. Not playing Pokemon would save me the physical agony of being squished, but I would be painfully bored for seemingly endless miles, and he may use it as an opportunity to interact further. A decision needed to be made.
I shut the emulator off and put away my phone, turning my attention back out the window as the bus pulled out of the Las Vegas terminal and began down the freeway. It was not long after we had pulled out of the station, however, when that wheezing, rasping voice chirped up again.
Busbeard: So where are you going?
I ignored him, focusing on the casinos towering in the distance of the skyline, pretending as if I hadn't heard the question, or as if it weren't addressed at me. With insistance, he repeated his question at my turned back again, searching for a response within my stony exterior. I mumbled, the Midwest, and he questioningly grunted, and asked me to repeat myself. I guess we're doing this.
GM: I'm going to the Midwest.
Busbeard: Where in the Midwest?
GM: Wisconsin.
Busbeard: I've never been to Wisconsin before, but I know they got really good cheese! Hyuk hyuk... Is that why you're going there?
Judging by his smell, he must have been an excessively avid connosieur of fine Wisconsinite cheese. However, cheese was the last thing on my mind at the time.I was enamored with my lady love.
GM: I'm going to see an old friend.
Busbeard: Oh, that's cool... who is it?
The odds of this man knowing the person who I was on my way to visit were astronomically low. Your odds of getting struck by lightning, winning the lottery, and becoming president in the same day were probably higher than this cretin knowing the one specific person whom I was going to go visit in some backwater Wisconsin town. Still, I humored him, and in the same flat voice, answered his question, and told him I was on my way to see my sweetheart.
This caught Busbeard's attention. For a grown man in his mid 30s, he let out a loud "oooooooo" like a middle schooler would when he finds out his friend has a crush. I contemplated execution methods and the subjective severity of their barbarism as he excitedly asked me where she was from.
GM: Wisconsin.
Busbeard: Yeah... but, where in Wiconsin?
GM: Fuck off, dude. I'm not going to tell you the town where she lives.
Busbeard: Heh! I'd be terrified of telling a superior male like me where my girlfriend lives, too. A little kid like you wouldn't stand a chance next to a man like me. Her panties would hit the floor from one whiff of my pheromones. It happens all the time, bro, I swear. I could have any woman on this bus. They just can't resist me. They can sense my manhood, I know it.
I shouldn't stir the pot. All common sense tells me that I should just stop myself while I'm ahead, but sometimes... sometimes I just can't help myself. I've always been a pretty reserved and self-contained person for the most part, and I just want to be left alone 90% of the time to do my thing. Apparently, that's a lot to ask, because every now and then, somebody comes and invades my personal space with their protruding belly, bad breath, and self-aggrandizement, and then I find it really hard to resist my inclination to fuck with them. I know, I know, it's wrong of me to do that, but I'm human, damnit, and something good was cooking in the kitchen. What's the harm in dipping a spoon into this self-important concoction of body odor and bravado?
GM: Any woman, huh? Tell ya what, Busbeard, I just got paid, and you seem really confident in the power of your, ahhhhh, pheromones, so... how about a wager.
I laid out the terms of my devil's bargain. With a wager of 100 dollars, I would pick a lady on the bus at the next break. Busbeard would then have to seduce her. He MUST "present" his pheromones to her, naturally. If he recovered her phone number, or anything in excess thereof, like a kiss or a consensual toilet stall consummation, it would suffice to meet my criteria and loose my grasp from the freshly printed Franklin in my wallet. He agreed enthusiastically to my terms, insisting I was going to loose and he was going to get his dick sucked in a Greyhound portajohn "blumpkin style".
We rode along in silence for the next hour or so. The sun was high in the sky when we made our next stop at some gas station in Utah, and everyone filed off the bus to stretch their legs and get their snacks. I wandered around, huffing down my smoke, chatting it up with people and making friends, seeing just who they were, asking them questions - where they were going, who they were going there with. I got to talking with one guy and his girlfriend.
The guy, who we will call Sarge, was built like a brick shithouse and was a former infantry man who served 2 tours of duty in the middle east. He was traveling with his wife, a young and pretty little thing who we will call Alexandra. They were on their way back to the east coast to stay with family. Alexandra's mom was getting old and had asked them to move in to help take care of her. They were on their way out there to steward her aging mother's estate. I remarked that that was awfully kind of them, and sincerely wished them the best on taking care of Alexandra's aging mom. I told them a little bit about myself, as well... that I was effectively living on the road, playing life by ear, and on the way to see a loved one of mine for a bit before the wind blew me somewhere else.
Eventually, the bus driver gave everyone a 5 minute warning before departure, and we all filed on board. I moved back to my seat and waited for Busbeard to arrive. He came back, cradling piles of gas station sandwiches, bags of chips, and a couple of sodas in his massive paws. He sat down beside me with a loud "oof" and offered me a drink, saying that it's the least he could do before he took my money. I took that beverage. It was both cold and delicious.
GM: Well, Busbeard, I've done my rounds, and I've come to a decision.
Busbeard: Who is it? She better be hot. I swear to God, if you make me waste my time on some dried up roastie, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed at you dude.
GM: Why would I do that dude? Naturally, I only want the best for you. No, she's very pretty. You see that girl over there, in the aisle seat? That's the one. Make your move whenever you're ready.
I pointed out Alexandra to him. I already knew this was going to end very poorly. There was no way in Hell that Alexandra would express any interest in this disgusting lardass whatsoever when she had a stable and solid man like Sarge, and Sarge wasn't about to take guff from anyone. Add on to it that Sarge was easily the size of, if not bigger than, the prodigious Busbeard himself. Sarge was also trained to kill and hardened by years of combat in the graveyard of empires. I can fight - I've fought a lot - and I would not want to square up against him under any circumstances. Busbeard was going to get the snot beat out of him and pay me 100 dollars for that privilege.
The bus took off and I listened to the disgusting sounds of Busbeard inhaling the equivalent of 5 pounds of gas station food. I was only halfway through my soda, when Busbeard emitted a satisfied belch that rumbled the seats, and the feeding frenzy had ended in an effervesence of curdling bile and preservatives just as fast as it had begun. He then started to pump himself up for the task at hand. He started to sweat with excitement and latent cardiac arrest as he prepared his pheromonal aura about himself, and then with a gruff, alright, let's do this, he stood up from his seat and waddled down the aisle, his greasy belly bumping into everybody who had chosen an aisle seat.
He approached Alexandra. They were near the front end of the bus, and so I couldn't hear a word that they were saying. I watched Busbeard as he extended an arm and held on to the overhead luggage rack, exposing the damp miasma of corn-syrup infused armpit sweat to his unsuspecting victim. His pheromones were beginning to work their magic over the unsuspecting Alexandra who would soon be enraptured by its juicy spell. I waited, leaning forward intently, when a loud shout broke the silence.
Sarge: BACK THE FUCK UP.
Alexandra started to shout, too, yelling "get the fuck away from me!"
The driver turned back and yelled for everyone to sit down and shut the hell up or he would pull the bus over.
Sarge: Please do! I'm gonna beat this fucking lardass into the pavement! Saying shit like that to my wife? Who the fuck do you think you are?
The bus driver repeated his warning, and Busbeard began to shout his protests, insisting upon his innocence.
Busbeard: B-but, I was put up to it! It was that guy, in the back seat! He said---
He pointed back at me. I yelled back, I don't fucking know that guy.
The bus driver meant his threat, and pulled the bus over. We were on a long and empty stretch on the I-15 somewhere in rural Utah. The last town I had seen was about 20 miles back. It was late spring, and it was getting hot outside that afternoon. The bus driver got out of his seat, walked up to Busbeard, and told him to get the Hell off of his bus. Busbeard kept protesting, when Sarge moved past his wife, and started forcing Busbeard towards the front door.
I've heard the threat of getting kicked off maybe a thousand times on a Greyhound, but I had never seen it play out before. Busbeard was thrown off the bus. Sarge did not join him outside and pummel him into the asphalt, regrettably, as I would have loved to have watched it. Busbeard kept pleading with the bus driver as the driver shut the door on him, sealing him out on the shoulder of a lonely stretch of highway. I breathed a sigh of relief, and stretched out my legs. It was another 15 miles before we saw signs of civilization. A part of me felt bad for Busbeard, but the other part of me said, "if I can walk 20 miles in a day with 60 lbs of shit on my back, he can do an unencumbered 15 and be fine."
The ride continued on in sweet, reclined silence for me until we reached Denver, werein there was another changeover, and this bus was much, much more desolate. The rest of the Greyhound voyage passed without incident, and I spent my time flirting with my lady love and training some Pokemons. At long last, I finally arrived in Wisconsin. She came to pick me up at the bus station, and when we approached each other, we made out like long lost lovers for a good 5 minutes before we finally caught our breath enough to say hello. I got in her car, and spent maybe a week or so with her, before it was time to take my leave. I couldn't live there forever, and so, as fast as I had drifted into her life, once again, it was time for me to disappear. We said goodbye, and she dropped me off at a lonely interstate overpass on the edge of town. I put my thumb out to catch a ride to Anywhere But Here USA.
I planned my next move, and I figured that there were some friends of hers and mine that lived not too far away in the Dakotas, and maybe I would pay them a visit next. I was in the neighborhood, and figured that I might as well say hello. I reached out to them online, and then made my way west again. They were excited for me to come see them. It was only a day into the voyage when I received a message from Janet. It said, "wait for me, I'm catching up." She had packed her backpack again, and was coming after me, hot on my tail. I told her we could meet up at our mutual friend's house.
I dialed ahead to our friends, who we shall call Sarah and Queenie. Sarah used to travel together with Janet for many months before she stabilized, and then settled down. Queenie was one of my friends from North Carolina. He was a loveable chucklefuck of a drifter, missing a few teeth, wore a skirt, and spoke in the most haggard voice you could imagine. Still... he insisted on being called Queenie. He had settled down with Sarah after they hooked up, and they were living at Sarah's house. He was on thin ice there, however, and she was threatening to kick him out.
I arrived at Sarah's and Queenie's, and spent the next few days waiting for Janet to come up on my heels. During that time, Queenie and I played a lot of Magic (he had just gotten into it), and I remembered the dice that my friend in California had given me that were laying unusued in my backpack. I asked him if he had ever played tabletop RPG's before, to which he answered no. I told him that, maybe next time I see him and I'm in a better spot, we could run a game. Eventually Janet caught up, and we prepared to leave Sarah's for good towards our own new horizons. Queenie, however, had finally broken through the thin ice upon which he skated, and was getting thrown out. On the day of our departure, we asked him if he wanted to join us in our travels so he wouldn't have to go it alone.
Thus we began from Sarah's house out into the unknown once again, a cheerful trio, and true to my word, I began to teach not only Queenie, but Janet as well, the joys of tabletop RPGs.
As I'm sure you can surmise, dear friends, that this is not the end of our story, but only the beginning of another chapter. Is Busbeard still alive? What does the future hold for Ramtide's love life? How do a gaggle of vagabond drifters play tabetop games without a table? Some of these questions will be answered, my dear friends, in our next installment of TAAAAAALES FROM THE TABLETOP.
A shoutout to my lovely patrons, Tatoferret and Sillibits. You guys are wonderful. Thank you for believing in the dream.
submitted by Here are the requested courtblogs from WFRV as requested by the one whose username starts with 4 letters and ends with 2 numbers. Reddit character limit forces me to split the blogs in two posts. This is only a partial archive, going back in time 11 years does have it's limitations :). Enjoy.
Will Steven Avery testify? That’s a question many people are wondering as the defense continues its case. So far we’ve heard from a bus driver who saw a woman taking photos near the Avery property, but can’t say with any certainty when. Next a propane delivery driver who was on Avery road on Halloween of 2005, who claims to have seen a green SUV driving away from the Avery Salvage yard between 3:30 and 4pm, an hour after the prosecution says Teresa Halbach was murdered. But again, he can’t say if the driver was a man or woman. Plus a man who owns the trailer where Avery lived and the .22 caliber rifle inside the home, thought to be the murder weapon. He says he fired over 3,000 shots over the years on the property, and the defense wants the jury to believe he‘s the possible source of 11 shell casings recovered by investigators.
We would expect to hear from a forensic expert to contradict the bone fragments in the burn pit or the DNA on the bullet pulled from the garage. You would hope for direct evidence of two vengeful law enforcement officers out to get Avery, for the shame they felt about prolonging his time in prison for a wrongful rape conviction. But where’s that one piece of evidence that shows the prosecution has got it all wrong straight from the mouth of the accused? Where’s Steven Avery?
If Avery took the witness stand, he could tell all what happened on Halloween of 2005. He’s really the only one who knows.
If you were facing life behind bars, wouldn’t you want to speak on your own behalf? If I were on the jury, I would want to hear what he has to say. But it obviously would be a huge gamble, and it’s still unclear if the defense is ready to take that chance.
Posted by Kris Schuller at Mar 9, 2007 11:09 am False Imprisonment Charge Thrown Out The false imprisonment charge Steve Avery faced has been thrown out.
The decision came Monday morning as Judge Patrick Willis ruled on three motions filed by the defense last Friday. The judge ruled there simply wasn’t enough evidence presented during the trial to support the charge. The prosecution had argued that Teresa Halbach had to have been held against her will and forced into the garage, where they say she was murdered by at least two shots to the head from a .22 caliber rifle by Avery. The defense had argued that charge was only added after the other suspect charged in Halbachs murder, but facing a separate trial, Brendan Dassey, confessed back in March of last year of being involved in the murder. He later recanted his confession and faces trial in April.
But the court ruled against dismissing all of the charges as requested by the defense. The court also ruled the DNA evidence found on the bullet inside Avery’s garage would not be suppressed and that the police did nothing wrong during their week long search of the Avery property. So motions to suppress evidence collected from the burn pit and other areas of the Avery Salvage yard can still be considered by the jury.
The judge is now individually talking to jurors to make sure they have been following his order not to watch, read, of listen to media coverage of this case.
This case is quickly winding down. Expect it to go to the jury within the next few days.
Posted by Kris Schuller at Mar 12, 2007 9:12 am Motions To Supress 'Magic Bullet' Denied False Imprisonment Charge Dropped, Motions to Supress Evidence, “Magic” Bullet: Denied Steven Avery’s attorneys won one battle today. Judge Willis agreed that the State did not present enough evidence to prove the charge.
Dean Strang and Jerry Buting lost the motions asking to suppress the bullet with Teresa Halbach’s DNA on it, and the motion asking to throw out the evidence in the burn barrel and burn pit, since authorities did not obtain a new search warrant when they searched those areas. Judge Willis said the cops had five days to execute that warrant.
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 12, 2007 1:19 pm What About Teresa Halbach? Everyday, I drive to the Calumet County Courthouse by myself. It’s a nice, pretty drive, and it gives me some “alone” time before and after work. And many times, I drive through Teresa Halbach’s neighborhood to get there.
Calumet County is Halbach Country. This is where the Halbach family lives, and you can feel the pain that still lingers here from her Teresa’s death.
Over the last several weeks, we’ve heard a lot of testimony about Teresa’s bones, her DNA, her Daisy Fuentes jeans and even her teeth. Sprinkled in between all of that was testimony from her mom (which broke my heart), her younger sister Katie, and her brother Mike. They bring you the human face to the person some of us never knew. But other than that, at times it seems Teresa Halbach gets lost among the science lessons about chemicals and vials of blood and the difference between tires with steel belts and those without.
I was sitting upstairs yesterday, while Judge Willis conducted individual voir dire of the jurors. I parked myself outside of Judge Willis’s chambers and talked with Mike Halbach for a few minutes. He’s a real sweetie and he’s getting married this summer, without his sister to stand by him. It really got me thinking. I don’t know how this family does it. They sit through these long days in court, and their lives will never be the same. We could all learn something from the Halbachs... and from Teresa.
There’s a photo of Teresa that I first saw the day Ken Kratz announced that Steven Avery would be charged with her murder. My colleague, Olga Halaburda, attended the news conference, and I went to a prayer service at St. John Sacred Hearth Church in Sherwood. I remember sitting in the church as the Halbachs filed in, sitting in the first pew. Mike wasn’t there, but all of the other siblings were in attendance. The hymn “On Eagle’s Wings” played as the service ended. That song will always remind me of Teresa Halbach.
That day, I was live at 5 and 6 outside of the church, near a candle that had been lit several days before as the community prayed for Teresa’s safe return. Next to the candle sat the cutest photo of a little girl that I think I’ve ever seen. It was Teresa Halbach, clad in a blue dress, sitting inside of a tractor tire. Next to it, sat a Reader’s Digest with The Beatles on the cover (that was Teresa’s favorite band). The magazine was sealed in a Ziploc bag with a post it stating, “May angels be with you on your journey.” Every time that I see that photo, it reminds me why we are here. Not that I’ve ever forgotten, but in between the talk of burn barrels and finger prints and DNA, sometimes you have to put her out of your mind, or at least tuck her in the back. Sometimes, you just have to do that to get through the day, so you can do your job and meet your deadline. But we must remember one thing: If the Halbachs can sit through court and listen to this, then we can, too. We must.
I snapped a picture of this photo using my digital camera at Seven Angels Restaurant here in Chilton. The Halbachs are regular customers there, and the Sabani family owns it. They’re some of the nicest people that I’ve ever met. They make me feel at home every time I go there, and it’s nice to sit there and get a feel for what the community is thinking and feeling. People are very interested in the outcome of this trial, and they love the Halbach family and Teresa. This photo is hanging in the front entrance of the restaurant. You can’t miss it; it’s right above the gum ball machine as you walk in.
But, maybe the next time we hear expert testimony about teeth, and bone fragments and “magic bullets”, this picture will come into our minds. Teresa Halbach is a little girl who grew up to be a photographer, but never lived to comb grey hair. In a way, she’s everyone’s little sister, daughter, niece, granddaughter and friend. Her’s was a life taken too soon, and for what?
I don’t think we’ll ever really know.
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 13, 2007 10:20 am The Chilton Hilton That’s what some of us reporters have affectionately dubbed our media room down here. It’s a big conference room in the basement of the Calumet County Courthouse. The officials here, led by Sheriff Jerry Pagel and County Administrator Bill Craig (if I’m leaving anyone out, I apologize) allowed us to transform it into a newsroom. They’ve been so nice to let us do that, because let me tell you, it beats sitting out in the truck in the middle of winter!
The time has just flown by down here. Sometimes, it seems like hours fly by like minutes. I liken this room to a casino in Las Vegas. There aren’t any windows, no clocks on the walls. You sit all day long and listen to testimony and crank out stories and before you know it, you’re sitting in front of a camera, doing live shots for the 5, and going to a news conference and slamming it together for a 6 o’clock live shot. It’s almost like they keep us fueled by pumping this place full of oxygen and feeding us a constant stream of coffee. It’s like in Vegas when the cocktail servers keep the drinks coming, free of charge, just so you’ll keep gambling!
The other day, I wrote out a check and I asked the cashier for the date, and she said, “it’s March 10.” I nearly fell over. I couldn’t believe it was March. And, there have been more than a few days when I got home around 8:30 p.m. or later, and I couldn’t remember what day it was.
We have a lot of really nice people down here in the Chilton Hilton, and we all get along. It’s a shame that we’re always so busy, and that we don’t get to talk more. We have fun when we get to chat. Mick from TMJ4 sits in front of Kris and I. Peter from FOX 6 in Milwaukee sits behind me; very nice guys. Dan from TMJ radio sits across the way with Tom from The Journal Sentinel. We go out to lunch sometimes and we’ve gone out after work a couple of times. Carrie from the AP sits at the end of my table, but she was gone for a while, which was a bummer. Colleen Henry from WISN sits across the room, and I wish that she was closer to us. She’s really interesting and I’d like to talk to her more.
Then, there are my print pals, like John Lee from the Post-Crescent! He’s my bud! I do a lot of my live shots over at the Gannett table, otherwise known as Andy Nelesen’s “front porch.” I usually leave stuff on his desk, my glasses and make up, and he always returns them. He doesn’t like it when I leave my stuff at his “house” but he puts up with me.
All of the Green Bay TV stations have people here, too. A few of us have been on this case since day one, and it’s like we’re all in it together. We’ve spent a lot of time together, whether it’s in the courtroom, or at news conferences, or in the parking lot at the Manitowoc County Courthouse, which seemed like the entire summer. We have to see it through to the end.
Everyday after court, we flock to the podium together and for the news conferences, which can be a lot of fun! The attorneys and Mike Halbach are always nice to us, and they all have good senses of humor.
I’ll get some pics of our digs posted.
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 16, 2007 8:33 pm Jury Is Done For The Night 6:28 p.m. – The jury ordered cold cuts for dinner, and then called it quits for the night.
They’ll start back up again at 8:30 a.m. and we’ll be here!
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 16, 2007 8:34 pm Juror Question #2 We learned that the jurors had a question. We're in hurry up in wait mode. So, we all arose from whatever we were doing and got into position. I wouldn’t call it organized chaos, more like just getting ready (this is what we do, so it’s pretty routine). Judge Willis was in chambers with the attorneys for a while, and then around 3:15 p.m., Judge Willis read the question.
The jurors wanted a portion of Sherry Culhane’s testimony read back to them. Culhane is the DNA analyst with the State Crime lab. She worked on Avery’s wrongful conviction case in 1985. She testified at that time that the hairs found on the victim in that case, were Steven Avery’s. DNA testing in 2003 (again conducted by Culhane) on those hairs showed they actually belonged to Gregory Allen. Culhane conducted all of the testing in this case.
The jurors wanted the testimony from Jerry Buting’s cross examination of Culhane read back to them, when she answered questions regarding the DNA testing of the .22 caliber rifle found hanging above Steven’s bed. Prosecutors say Avery used that rifle to murder Teresa Halbach. Roland Johnson, who actually owns the trailer where Avery lived, testified that gun actually belonged to him. Johnson said that he must have fired that gun 3,000 times. He liked to shoot gophers at his “weekend getaway” adjacent to the Salvage Yard.
Ok, so in the testimony, Culhane said that she swabbed several parts of the gun, including the barrel and the trigger. Culhane testified that she found neither Teresa Halbach’s nor Steven Avery’s DNA on the rifle, including the trigger guard.
The jurors returned to their deliberations.
From our count down here, Sherry Culhane was the 33rd prosecution witness to testify. If the jurors are taking this chronologically, then that means they’re just over half way through.
What do you think the question means, if anything? What do you think any of this means, if anything?
Email me and I will post your entries.
Angenette Levy: [email protected] Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 17, 2007 5:22 pm Sunday Morning at the Courthouse, Deliberations Resume Good Sunday Morning everyone! The jury arrived at 11 a.m. and resumed deliberations. They stopped at 5 p.m. last night. I heard that Sheriff Pagel offered to order some hot meals for them, and they declined. They ate the leftover cold cuts from Friday for lunch yesterday.
Some people are speculating that we’ll have a verdict by 1:00 because the Badgers game starts shortly after that. I don’t see that happening.
Anyway, Everyone is here and accounted for. Colleen Henry from WISN brought donuts for everyone. We’ve all brought food in at one point or another, and it’s always something tasty like donuts or cupcakes or something like that! Many of us are listening to music this morning as we work. It’s nice to listen to some music for the first time in a long time!
I was driving here this morning on my usual route and the Lionel Richie song, “Easy Like Sunday Morning” started playing in my head. It stopped when I drove past Sacred Heart Church in Sherwood. Cars were pulling in for church. It was sad to see all of the blue ribbons by the church, even though I’ve seen them many times before.
I want to thank everyone who has emailed me. I really enjoy reading your emails, and as I’ve said before, keep ‘em comin’.
Here are some of you responses regarding Juror Question #2 and other items dealing with the trial.
More later, I promise. Sounds like to me a mistrial or years and years of appeals is in the offing. I would very much like to see what odds Vegas would put on this trial if they even knew about it.
Tim
It scares me. I think they DO find serious doubt in the truth of Sherry Culhane's testimony. I know if I were on the jury, I would doubt her, no questions asked! She ONLY deviated on THIS case in how many years? I find HIGH doubt in that. Like the 'evidence' shows, the cops left her a message stating they wanted her to place Teresa in his house. But, as for other evidence, it just seems fishy. No, I don't actually think the police planted evidence, but I also am not 100% convinced Steven Avery did it! I have watched about 99% of the trial on the live stream. What an exhausting case. I do enjoy reading your journal and wanted to tell you so! Glad you got a cushion for at least some comfort. Hope this trial is over soon, for the sake of the Halbach's and all involved. As I said, I am on the fence and either way the jury decides, I can see how they would be unsure and glad I'm not one of them!!! I DO think he could have done it and may get away with it because 18 years in prison-he wasn't just sitting there...it probably warped him (more) and possibly gave him ways to get away with it! I also can't wait for his nephew, Brendan's, trial to get under way. I wonder how long that will take. In my opinion, I don't care how mentally unfit, nobody (hardly anyone) says they did that sort of thing if they didn't. That also is why I think more than not the Steven did do it.
OH-I also think Judge Willis is AWESOME! He's SO fair, I was surprised by that, to see such a fair judge-yeah, rare, isn't it. No Judge Ito here! (Thank God)
Mary Howard’s Grove, WI
I think the question is favorable to Steven Avery. They are piecing together the obvious things. If he raped her and did whatever in his trailer, there would have to be DNA of her in there somewhere (be it a single hair on the bed or in the carpet). If he shot her in the head from close range, the would be splatter in the barrel, which there wasn't.
I think based on the fact the jury is out this long and that type of question was asked, there are more people in the jury room trying to sway a not guilty verdict then the other way around.
Mark in Charlotte, NC
Quite a defense Avery put up--huh? Let me see, a gopher shooting, absentee dementiated landlord, some wicken lab auditor who could not definiately contradict the lab analysis but was probably paid very well just to put up some smoke, and some other bozos that could NOT factually impeach any of the prosecutions evidence or exhibits. Now, if you were Avery and truely innocent--would you not want to take the stand and try to convince the jurors? I would demand it. So would any innocent person. But he did not want the opportunity.
I thought both sides did a good job in their closing. The defense had little to work with, but created as much smoke as they could. Contrary to what you think, I want the defense to do a good job, in that way there is little chance of winning a new trial on appeal. Ken did a good job also, considering the magnitutude of all the evidence. I just wish he had a lower and stronger voice--sorta sounds like a cross between a whiney Wayne Newton and Michael Jackson at times. Some well placed theatrics should also have been used. Ken is pretty square.
I heard that if Avery gets off, that he is moving in to an apartment with Robert Blake and OJ Simpson, so they can pool their resources searching for the "real killers". I am moving to Canada where they have Smith and Wesson justice. Just kidding.
The Hallbach family is one class act. Sometimes in the heat of the battle, we lose sight of their grief. I tell this to everyone: if that had been my daughter, there would not be an Avery trial, and I would be behind bars charged and awaiting sentencing--because I would admit to everything. Eye for an eye...well, it even goes beyond that.
Mark from the Valley
I also get chuckles out of Mr. Buting. I have said to more than one person,"If I ever get in trouble I want those two guys defending me". Now, I do not ever anticipate that, but I think the defense has done a superb job of making the reasonable doubt a real possibility with the jurors. It has been fascinating for me to listen to both sides while at work through your network, and I am so glad I am not on that jury. I have my beliefs both ways of Mr. Avery but I will keep my thoughts to myself and see what the jury does.
T
Like him? About as much as a 10 foot cobra! The man is condescending, vastly rude and can take any fact and twist it to his version of the truth.
Why is everyone else stupid except him?
Both Mr. Buting and Mr. Strang have played on the sympathy of "poor" Mr. Avery, sent to prison for all those years for something he didn't do. That has no relevance to what was done to Ms. Halbach and to this crime. Does the fact of being sent to prison unjustly exonerate one from brutally murdering an innocent person? And if you have intelligently followed this trial, you will know that Mr. Avery did, without a doubt, commit this crime.
Both Mr. Buting and Mr. Strang just leave a very sour taste in one's mouth. Their smug superiority is very irritating and I feel detracts from their message.
I think if I were a juror, Mr. Kratz's famous powerpoint presentation would be helpful. Verbal and visual reminder of what was presented. I liked his style, he was easier to listen to than the defense. Although at times, I felt maybe a bit too ingratiating. But overall, I think he did an exemplary job of laying out the facts.
Barb S. Green Bay
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 19, 2007 4:38 pm When The Verdict Came In Around 3:00 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, everyone down in the Calumet Casino (a.k.a. The Chilton Hilton) started to wonder, “what in the world are we going to do for a story today?” None of us anticipated a verdict, and we were all brainstorming. We thought, “well, maybe they’ll (the jurors) come up with a question.” I wanted to do a story with all of the attorneys, asking them what was the longest they’d ever waited for a verdict. None of them seemed interested, then I approached Sheriff Pagel and he didn’t think he would be allowed to comment due to the gag order.
So, I started to walk upstairs around my best estimate of 4:44 p.m. to fish around for another story. I was on the phone with my producer Michael as I approached the stairwell leading to the lobby and was met by Sheriff Pagel, a line of reporters trailing after him. Colleen was directly behind him and I can’t remember who else was there, but I joined the line of reporters and followed them inside, and told Michael that I would call him back.
I expected Sheriff Pagel to say, “the jury’s done for the day.” Instead, he said, “ok, we have a verdict.” I flipped open my cell phone, got the phone tree going and started to get ready. Everyone dropped what he or she was doing, and picked up phones. Remember, this is what we do. It’s our “hurry up and wait” mode, and when the waiting’s over, we spring into action. It’s an autopilot type thing, and it’s hard to describe, but your heart kind of pounds and you get this tunnel vision, and forget about everything else. You have one focus, and that’s get the story right, and get it on the air as soon as possible. For example, I had been suffering from shooting pain in my back and legs for two days prior to this, and the second Sheriff Pagel made the announcement, all of the pain disappeared.
I was to be stationed outside but I had time to watch the verdict from the media room off of the courtroom. I’ve been on this case since the beginning, so I had to see it up close. There wasn’t room in the courtroom for me, but the media room was just fine with me. John and Dewey from the Post-Crescent were in there, along with Morry from the AP (nice guy, great still photographer) and so was Fred Berry from WOMT.
We’d been waiting for this for nearly 18 months. It was judgement day. The courtroom was packed with Halbach family members. Steven Avery’s mom Dolores arrived, but her husband, Allan, was not present. Dolores’s brother was there, along with Steve’s aunt Ivonne. They’ve been in this spot with Steve before and the last time he went to prison for 18 years.
I was looking around and the attorneys appeared calm, yet tense. Some Calumet cops kept peeking into the media room, I think they were just making sure everything was okay. Then, I saw a couple of faces that I hadn’t seen in weeks, but they were two faces I’d seen many times before: Manitowoc County Sheriff Rob Hermann and Inspector Gregg Schetter, the Manty County Cops. I greeted Sheriff Hermann, who I’d met at a news conference nearly a year and a half ago. He’s a nice guy and I’ve seen him a lot over the last several months. Rob was standing next to me, it was pretty much standing room only in our media room. Morry climbed up on a chair to get a picture or 10 of Steve as they brought him in.
To quote Simon and Garfunkel, the only thing that you could hear was the “sound of silence” and camera clicking.
Everyone in the courtroom sat down, the jury was brought in. I watched as they walked in because I wanted to see whether they would look at Steve. I’ve often heard that jurors delivering a not guilty verdict will look at the defendant. These jurors did not appear to look at Steve as they walked in, but we had no idea of what the verdict would be.
The papers were handed to Judge Willis and he started to read, “We the jury find the defendant Steven A. Avery guilty of first degree intentional homicide.” I stood there frozen, and I didn’t even hear the second count being read, when Judge Willis said the jurors reached a not guilty verdict on the mutilation of a corpse charge. By all appearances, the courtroom was silent.
Judge Willis thanked the jurors for their service. That was my cue to get outside. I marched down the hallway with another reporter, and we walked outside, and got into position in front of our cameras. Chelly Boutott was there and she was trying to get interviews with people leaving the courthouse.
We then went down to the media room and Mike Halbach was speaking. It was very touching. He said that his family would be keeping the Averys in their prayers, since they too have suffered a great loss. What a class act, with all they’ve been through.
Then Dean Strang and Jerome Buting spoke. They were disappointed. They believe in Steven. I’ve never seen two attorneys advocate so strongly for a client. They worked very hard for Steven Avery.They are to be commended. They’re very nice guys.
Then Special Prosecutor Ken Kratz and the Calumet and Manitowoc County cops came down. It’s been a long road for them, and they’ve worked hard to see that justice would be served for Teresa Halbach and her family. They all look tired. It was weird sitting there , watching this Wall O’ Law Enforcement. I feel like I’ve spent a lot of time with these guys over the last 18 months whether it was at court or at news conferences. Cops sometimes get a bad wrap, but I can tell you, these cops the Manitowoc and Calumet guys were thinking of one thing throughout this case, and that was: Teresa Halbach.
What did you think of the verdict? Did you watch? We may post your response.
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 20, 2007 8:47 pm Cross Examination of Dr. Gordon Ken Kratz accused Dr. Gordon of “cherry picking” by choosing to put things in his report that would favor Brendan Dassey’s assertion that his confession was false, and the result of suggestion by investigators.
Ken Kratz cited a question Dassey was asked. Dassey said that he believed it was true that anyone would lie to keep out of trouble. Gordon said that the testing he used was not suitable to determine whether Dassey could be diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder, or anti-social tendencies. Anti-social personality disorder is defined as:
“A psychiatric diagnosis in the DSM-IV-TR recognizable by the disordered individual's disregard for social rules and norms, impulsive behavior, and indifference to the rights and feelings of others.”
Kratz also cited the difference between suggestibility and a truly false confession. He pointed out studies about false confessions.
There are three types of confessions:
1) Voluntary 2) Coerced, compliant – the subject perceives a gain 3) Coerced, internalized – the subject convinces herself or himself that they committed the crime
Kratz: Their studies indicate that most false confessions are the result of very long interrogations, sometimes that last into the days, rather than just an hour.
Gordon: True.
Kratz said Dassey started to make admissions about 60 minutes into his 3 to 4 hour interrogation.
Gordon conceded that Dassey’s low IQ which has been estimated between 73 and 81, his shyness and other personality traits, could make him susceptible to giving a true or false confession.
Gordon reiterated that his testing was designed to show how suggestible Dassey might be, not the truthfulness of his statement.
Apr 24, 2007 9:38 pm The Dane County 15 Let me tell you, Brendan Dassey couldn’t ask for a better jury, in my opinion. These people are a smart, smart bunch. They seem attentive and considerate and open-minded.
11 women and four men sit on the jury. A woman was dismissed last Friday due to illness. I have watched them when I’ve been in the courtroom. A few look a little tired, but otherwise they seem to be holding up well. They listened carefully as Brendan Dassey testified yesterday. They also watched the confession; some took notes while I was in the courtroom. The day after the confession played, it seemed many of them couldn’t even look at Brendan, though. Some of the women just stared at him, skeptically. Some of the men did not look at him.
The jury is staying at a local hotel in Manitowoc. I’ve stopped by the bar there after work a couple of times to meet reporters who are also staying there . The jury always has a great spread set out for them. Last night, I walked by and there was some awesome Strawberry Shortcake on the dessert tray.
They arrive every morning looking fairly chipper. Tomorrow, they should have the case by late afternoon or early evening.
Does anyone want to guess how long they’ll deliberate?
Apr 25, 2007 10:30 am Sexual Assault Charge: Amended This morning, Special Prosecutor Ken Kratz asked the court to amend the criminal complaint and change the first degree sexual assault charge as a party to a crime to second degree sexual assault as a party to a crime.
Judge Fox granted the motion. Then, Mark Fremgen asked to have that charge dismissed, citing a lack of physical evidence. Fremgen said there is no physical evidence to support the charge. In fact, he said the only evidence to support it is the confession, and according to the law, some evidence must be offered aside from the confession.
Special Prosecutor Norm Gahn said there isn’t a lot of physical evidence because Steven and Brendan burned Teresa’s body. However, he said the discovery of handcuffs and leg irons in Steve’s bedroom, along with Teresa’s DNA on the bullet found in Steve’s garage is sufficient evidence to corroborate the confession. Gahn also noted how the furniture in Avery’s bedroom had been rearranged, which Brendan said in his confession, and Jodi Stachowski, Avery’s girlfriend testified too, which supports the claim that the bedroom was cleaned thoroughly to destroy evidence.
Judge Fox said there’s enough evidence to have the jury consider the charge. Motion to dismiss, denied.
Apr 25, 2007 5:10 pm More of Your Emails Thanks for writing in again, everyone! And, as I’ve said, keep ‘em comin’! I want to know what you’re thinking.
Brendan’s Testimony
Dug that hole a mile deep. That's why I find it quite interesting why a defense attorney would let his client go up on the stand, put a noose around his neck and hang himself. My past experiences were a defendant NEVER makes a good witness. The phone call to his mother seems to me to be the deal sealer.
Tim, De Pere
I think every word he confessed to is true. Steven Avery is the one that should pay dearly for this kid, I think he made a wrong choice but Steven is the real problem. Too bad Wisconsin doesn't have the death penalty.
Marie
How long do you think the jury will deliberate?
I say once the jury gets the instructions, they will be out no more than 4 hours before they return their verdict. I can't help but feel that when Brendan took the stand Monday that he lost all possible hope for any "sympathy" from the jury to possibly convict on a lesser charge.
Tammi, Green Bay
1 hour
Dan
I think the jury will be out about 10 minutes...
Mark
I think the Jury will deliberate and reach a verdict in less than 2 hours. The evidence is clear. The decision should be easy.
MN DePere, WI
Tom Fallon’s Closing Argument
I caught most of it....compelling to say the least ? Is it just me or has Brendan "perked" up a little bit since his testimony Monday ? I sure hope this kid doesn't think that he is going home after all this....breaks my heart for both families.
Tammi
Angenette, Apr 25, 2007 7:28 pm We’re on Verdict Watch I’ve received some emails asking about what’s going on out here in Manitowoc County.
We’re all sitting in the parking lot of the courthouse or hanging out in the parking lot. It’s really, really cold out here!
The jury got the case around 4:30 p.m. after some pretty impressive closing arguments from the State and the defense.
The Dane County jury now consists of 13 people – 12 jurors and 1 alternate composed of four men and two women. Two women were relieved of their duties today.
They just got dinner. It’s Italian consisting of pizza and other stuff. It smelled delicious!
It could be a long night, or a short one. We’re in hurry up and wait mode. When we were in Madison for jury selection, the deputies at the Dane County Courthouse said that a jury their deliberated until 6:00 a.m. several weeks ago, and returned a verdict then.
We could be in a for a short wait, or a long night.
I’ll do my best to keep you updated.
Apr 25, 2007 7:35 pm Two Mothers – Polar Opposites Karen Halbach -- Teresa’s Mom
Everyday for the last 18 months or so, I can imagine that Karen Halbach has awakened to milk her cows and see her two teenage daughters off to school. As she walks toward her barn, does she look across that farm field and see the home that used to be occupied by Teresa? I wonder what it must be like for her, to open her eyes every morning. Is Teresa the first thing that comes to mind? Is she the last thing she thinks about before going to sleep?
I know that my mom always says there’s probably nothing worse that a parent can go through, than to lose his or her child. Losing a child is a totally unnatural experience. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children; they’re supposed to watch them grow up, have their own children -- or not -- and grow to middle age, and in some instances, old age. But, Karen Halbach was robbed of that by Steven Avery -- and now, Brendan Dassey.
I’ve heard over and over again that the Halbachs have a deep faith that has guided them through the last 18 months. Mike Halbach has often said that he gets his strength from his mother. I don’t know whether it’s faith or life experience or a combination of both, but I know that I don’t understand how this family has kept it together.
Imagine for months, turning on the news and listening to the man you believe to be the murderer of your daughter, granting interviews and suggesting that your daughter might still be alive. Imagine Karen Halbach, listening to Steven Avery talk about how cops might have planted his blood to frame them for her daughter’s murder. To listen to him say, “she was here for 5 minutes, and left” even after his nephew gives a three-hour recorded confession.
I feel for Karen Halbach and the rest of the Halbach family. My younger sister is Teresa’s age, and let me tell you, if that had been my sister, I would have lost it a long time ago. The first time Steven Avery walked into the courtroom smirking my way, I might have lost it. But then in a way he wins. I might be in a straight jacket by now, if something like that happened to my sister. But, then again, you never know how you’ll handle a situation, until you’re in it.
I don’t know whether the phrase “grace under pressure” adequately describes Karen Halbach -- it seems like it’s not good enough. We could all learn a thing or two from Karen Halbach and her family. They’ve got more class in their little finger than some people could ever hope to have.
Barbara Tadych
I met Barb Tadych on the evening of March 1, 2006. It was the night that her son, Brendan Dassey, confessed to helping rape and murder Teresa Halbach and then burn her body.
I stumbled upon Barb and she agreed to talk with me. Standing outside, she looked absolutely stunned. She told me about her baby, Brendan and how her brother threatened him to go through with it. I stood outside in the cold, it was misting a bit, and listened to her as she poured out her heart to me. She told me about how badly she felt for the Halbach family. She didn’t understand how someone could “take an innocent life.”
Barb told me that Brendan had a learning disability and that “he does as he’s told.” I had no idea at this point that Brendan had confessed to the things he did -- I thought that he had confessed to helping burn Teresa’s body, nothing more.
I’ll never forget what it was like to look into her eyes as she realized what her brother had dragged her son into that Halloween day. She said that she was “numb.” She looked into the camera and spoke to her brother and said, “Steven, I know you’re going to be watching this and I hate you for what you did to my son, so you can rot in hell, alright. And I’m gonna get you for it.”
That night, I would learn that Brendan Dassey had confessed to murder and implicated Steven Avery in the crime. I was stunned. I remember thinking, “a 16-year-old kid did this?” Of course it’s possible, but how could a kid do this?
As I’ve said before, only Brendan Dassey can answer the “why” question. And, if he did do it, and if it was simply because he “wanted to see what if felt like”as far as sex goes, then why did Steven Avery bring his young, impressionable nephew into this?
How could he do this not only to Teresa Halbach, but to his sister and his nephew? Only Avery can answer that question and right now he’s saying that he didn’t do it.
I’ve watched Barb over the last 13 months. This has worn on her terribly. She wants her son to come home and the truth of the matter is, he may never see the light of day again once that jury returns with a verdict.
It’s very, very sad. If Brendan Dassey did this then he must be punished, he must be held accountable. But, Barb didn’t do anything and it’s hard to watch a mother who may lose her child -- albeit in a much different way than the Halbachs.
In talking to Barb I can tell that she’s tried to be a good mother and that she loves her children. We all have to play with the hand we’re dealt, and sometimes it just seems like Barb got a really bad hand.
It’s also terribly sad that most of the time Barb comes to court by herself. Brendan’s dad Peter has been here in the mornings, but he has to work in the afternoon. When Steve was on trial, many of the Avery family members showed up for court everyday. It’s sad to see that Brendan’s grandparents, Dolores and Allan, and his uncles choose to stay home for his court appearances. Why all the support for Steve and none for Brendan?
It must be awful to feel like no one’s behind you, or your son. She also trusted her brother with her son, and now look what’s happened, if what Brendan said is true.
P.S. -- Karen Halbach and Barb Tadych share the same birthday.
Angenette Apr 30, 2007 3:34 pm submitted by Not quite a week but close enough. Eau Claire, WI is surprisingly depressing. Maybe it was the wrong side of town. 86,000 people live in Eau Claire, which is about half the size of Naperville. That makes Eau Claire the biggest city in Wisconsin for about 150 miles in any direction. There must be a nice part of Eau Claire. Must be. Motel 6 can't pay too much in taxes if they want to sell me a $44 motel room and turn a profit. Eau Claire has sort of an opioid epidemic feel to it. The liquor store that sold me the Fat Tire was a dank little shop run by an old guy who looked like he had a shotgun under the counter. Only one of the two doors was unlocked. I kept an eye on my car out my Motel 6 window until I fell asleep and I got the fuck out of Eau Claire by 7AM Sunday.
Superior, WI and Duluth, MN are sort of shoulder-to-shoulder on the southwest corner of Lake Superior. I'd been through before on my way to the Boundary Waters, and before that on my way to Canada to fish with my dad in the mid-70s. Shipping, mining, lumber centers and the whole fucking area has a tired, rusty, we used to be a real hot place vibe. These must be the people who turned up at the Trump rally. These must be the fucking knuckleheads who think Trump is going to bring back the glory days of shipping, mining, and lumber.
The next stretch of road was half the reason for the trip. Couldn't wait to drive 150 miles up the northern shores of Gitche Gumme. I'm sure it's lovely. When it's not cobalt skies and drizzle. You drive through a tunnel of trees basically and so rather than Lake Superior out the passenger side window you see trees. Some lovely old homes set back in those trees, and I'm sure they have a lovely view out their back windows on Lake Superior. Only when there's a break in the trees do you see the lake and I'll say this much for Lake Superior. It's fucking huge. You can just feel it. At a glance it's no different than Lake Michigan. A water horizon that may as well be the ocean. Maybe it's just because I learned as a young boy just how big Superior is and so I had that in the back of my mind but holy shit. Big. The mist was hanging so low that I could only see a couple of miles out but I knew that I was heading northwest and out the right window was basically a straight line of Superior's full east-west width. That fucking lake goes as far as Illinois and Indiana combined. If I shoved off in a rowboat from here I could paddle 350 fucking miles east. It gets over 1300 feet deep. Never gives up her dead and all that other Lightfoot stuff. There's a reason those homes on Minnesota Rte 61 are built up on bluffs 75 or 100 feet above the water. I can just imagine what that lake looks like when it gets nasty. Those shipping places down in Duluth are right on the water. Cavernous joints the size of jumbo jet hangars. Must be a hell of a place to ride out a bad blow on Lake Superior.
Lutsen, Tofte, Grand Marais are the mapworthy names of the towns along 61 north of Duluth. Holiday gas station mini-marts and Kwik-Trip gas station mini-marts seem to be doing a Macs/Burger King duel in the woods. Nice little towns. Lots of arts & crafts people and laid-back tourism types who sell $9.75 foldable maps to Minnesota's Arrowhead. Laminated in plastic so yeah, sure. Had to buy one. And that $11 pack of Castle Danger Creamy Ale. And some of those naked lady tees. And oh that hat, who would buy that hat?
Had I kept going up 61 for another 40 or so miles I'd have run out of US and A. Instead I turned due north up the Sawbill Trail.
Google Maps & Google Earth were incredibly helpful for the planning of this trip. Never before had I been able to use my satellites to zoom down from space on my actual campsite. (I checked after I got home. The fallen tree that I tight-roped for 15 feet out into the lake so I could cast farther is fucking visible from space.) So as I was driving north up Sawbill Trail I had a fairly good idea of which way the road goes and where I want to turn right onto The Grade, which is the name of the east-west road that snakes all the way around to, eventually, the Canadian border. I was thinking that as I was driving along Sawbill Trail. Google Earth is fucking awesome. Only they didn't say anything about this "pavement ends" sign on this bridge as I cross Temperance River.
Thank God I haven't gotten my January in Colorado tire chain damage repaired yet. You ever drive 55 mph on gravel? Like driving a boat. There's no sure footing. And the road curves around through the forest and shit so you don't want to have to snap a quick turn because that isn't happening. Newton explained it well. Your car wants to maintain going straight ahead and with gravel under your tires that "I'd like to turn now" friction isn't there. So you slow down a little. And listen as the rocks bounce off the undercarriage and the fenders and the paint and I don't give a fuck because tire chain damage is already there!
45 miles of gravel road through the Superior National Forest. Some interesting signage. Logging going on in these here woods since 1838. Older than Chicago? Fuck me. There's possibly a locomotive abandoned in these woods and can I find it? No time to stop and look for a lost locomotive but thanks for the trivia. They laid hundreds of miles of track in these woods back in the 19th century. None of it is visible from Google Earth now. I'll tell you what you do see up in the Arrowhead of Minnesota. Logging trucks. Doubles and even triples. They have signs in the forest telling truckers how many tons they can weigh if they're cab-trailer-trailer-trailer. How in the fuck can somebody drive a triple trailer load of logs through here? Holy shit what a challenge.
Crescent Lake is a fucking gem. I plan on returning often. Annually if I can. I've already tried booking next July 4th week. Can't do it until January.
Tranquil, beautiful, and so fucking quiet at night you cannot believe it. Absolute silence is rare and man is it palpable when you're laying in a tent in the middle of the woods. The lake is like glass but I can still hear the slight sloshing of the water every so often and that's 50 feet from my tent. An owl sounds like an M80. It's just amazing.
And after the 1st night I started to unwind. By day 3 I had my camp set up the way I like. Tarps over everything because rain. With very little warning. So many memories of my BWCA trips and yet I'd forgotten how quickly the weather turns up there. July 5th I slept in a sleeping bag and wore a hoodie. 55-60 degrees tops. 95 down here in Chicago and I'm wearing a hoodie to bed. Yes!
By day 4 I had put Donald Trump out of my mind. Occasionally I would look out over that terrain and that amazing natural beauty and get pissed off. This is the part of my country I love the most and that douchebag is fucking with it. I had sort of an "enjoy it while I still can" feeling and that made me fucking sad. It's amazing how quickly our wilderness areas can be transformed to commercial enterprises. Fuck the eagles and the loons and the silence and here's a Ho Chunk Casino.
I can't recall the last time I went 5 days without talking to someone. Aside from Jack the camp host (who sells wet firewood for $6.50 a bundle) the only other person I talked to all week was the girl at Sawbill who called the ruffed grouse a bastard bird. There's no cell reception in the Superior National Forest so turn the phone off. Useless. If it goes bad on a gravel road out here I could be in for a real adventure. My campsite never felt more like a home. The BWCA trips back in the day was me and 5 friends. 3 canoes. 3 tents. Conversation. Laughter. LSD. Weed. Whiskey. Fart jokes. Lies about conquests among 18 year old idiots. This is all kinds of different. 3 nights alone is the longest I've ever gone. This is twice that. Like night and day. I literally lost track of what day it was by Wednesday. I have a tendency to mumble to myself when I'm alone and thinking about something. It feels one way when I'm home, but talking to myself feels completely different when laying in a tent in the woods. It's a reminder of the aloneness.
For whatever reason I brought an old Sony Walkman radio. Fuck your Ipods. Picked up a Minnesota NPR station out of Grand Marais. David Brooks was giving a speech in Aspen. I turned it off quickly but made a mental note to check back in an hour. Boots Riley is my new favorite rapper. Which is cool because he's my first favorite rapper. Great interview with Terry Gross. And then came the news. Scott Pruitt has stepped down at EPA.
I fucking smiled from ear to ear. I looked out at the lake as if expecting it to smile back at me. I spent that entire day smiling about it. Giggling even. Small victory but I'll take it and deal with Trump's "next douchebag up" game plan later. Wheeler? Coal lobbyist? OK I hate him now but still. Scott Pruitt. So delicious. I hope his pocket-lining gets exposed and he gets charged criminally.
Grice, eagles, hummingbirds, a grebe, ducks, loons, jays, crows, so many different small birds that I didn't even bother cracking David Sibley real-time. How can anybody identify these things? They never sit still. So many birds buzzing around up there I have to figure half the tourism is birders. Still not entirely sure if those were juvenile eagles or ospreys. Jack the host assures me they're all eagles. They all hang around what has come to be called "Eagle Island." I shot 5 minutes of eagle video, and spent another 25 minutes just sitting on shore and watching them circling and dive-bombing and fucking around with each other. Only 3 or 4 show up on the video but there are more like 9 of them. A half hour I'll never forget for as long as I live.
I like to break down camp a day early, leaving just the bare bones stuff for the last night. Tent, air mattress, sleeping bag, food, coffee pot. It makes for a quick exit in the morning. No need to stay until noon when I have 10 hours of driving ahead of me. I got a little melancholy that last morning when I shot that dawn video. Didn't feel like leaving yet. I usually get that feeling that I'm ready to go home a couple of days before a vacation is over. I never got it this time. I still haven't gotten it. I wish I was still up there.
submitted by Map showing location of casinos in Wisconsin with hotel room discounts and information on slot machines, blackjack, craps and poker plus amenities like casino entertainment, golf, hotel spas casino promotions. Browse our selection of 4 Casino hotels & resorts in Superior, WI for the ultimate stay & play vacation. Make your casino vacation a sure bet with Expedia and save your money & time. Casino with slots and blackjack; 50-room lodge; rustic restaurant or all-you-can-eat buffet; catering for meeting, dinner and party events for up to 200 guests. Soak up the excitement at a Wisconsin casino or gaming venue! Play bingo, slots, table games and more at one of the many locations around the state. Superior Casino is an online casino home to a range of games from Rival and Betsoft. Members will have access to video slots, I-Slots, Video Pokers, Table Games and Live Games. The site can be reached in several languages which include English, French, Spanish, Italian and others and can be played instantly or downloaded. Black Bear Casino is located approximately 17 miles from Superior. They are regarded as one of the best Casinos in Superior area. If you need more information, call them: (218) 878-2327. The population of Wisconsin (WI) is estimated at nearly 6 million. There are 25 casinos in activity within the territory of Wisconsin (WI). Therefore, players can find more than 19,000 slot machines, 300 gaming tables and 60 poker tables. The biggest gaming establishment of the State is the Potawatomi Hotel & Casino of Milwaukee. Scroll down for RV Friendly casinos in Wisconsin Click here for more information on all Wisconsin casinos from the World Casino Directory. Adding markers to the map Search Advanced search. Filters. 14 results - showing 1 - 14. Ordering. Details. Ratings. Bad River Lodge and Casino. 17035 0 2 0 0. Free RV Parking Superior, Wisconsin, United States of America Thu, Jan 28 - Fri, Jan 29 2 guests, 1 room. Destination Clear field: Destination . Field you should because we have killer Superior casino hotels deals. Imagine relaxing in a cushy plush pad, and then sauntering downstairs to win it big at the tables with the cash you saved on your stay Jerry Lewis Costley, 78, of Superior, died Friday, January 1, 2021 at his residence, surrounded by his family. He was born September 4, 1942 in Memphis, TN, son of Raymond and Sadie Hawkins Costley. Jerry proudly served his country with the U.S. Air Force, as a jet engine mechanic. On
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