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My Old Kentucky Bones

This happened over a year before the Jason Ellis murder. I know this family quite well.

Initially local police ruled it a suicide, but the state police saw otherwise as there was no ladder present for the hanging, and no way he could have climbed up to those rafters unaided. His twin brother was his emergency contact, and at first he could not be found, until the hospital was checked. On the same day, he had been shot by a passing car while he was walking through a field on his way home from work. Both incidents remain unsolved.

Their mother Joan, a sweet woman and longtime resident of Nazareth Villages, told me Daniel had been arrested for possession and trafficking, and had cut a deal with local police to avoid jail-time so he wouldn’t lose his son. He was to snitch. She thinks when he was no longer useful, the police no longer protected him from the outcome of said deal. Daniel’s brother and co-workers on the other hand, said he was pressured to be a fake witness to frame certain others. To orchestrate scapegoats. Likely for matters incriminating said local police themselves. So, unsolved, presumably dead by local druggies burnt, or by the police wanting to nullify competition in the game and upset he wouldn’t accuse innocent people with a little harmless sleight of hand.

A few years prior to this, there was a very similar incident, involving the son of a local woman named Janie Newton. He had been busted with a joint or two, and according to Janie was pressured into tattling out every name he could muster up. When he said the wrong names, others were provided, persons he had never encountered. He confessed all of this to his mother and to an ex-girlfriend, troubled that he had to get strangers into trouble. Then he vanished and, days later, was found dead in a field. Ruled a suicide by self-inflicted gunshot despite no gun at the scene. Janie tried pushing local police to consider it a homicide. And was harassed to such extent by the blue-blood family she had to move, changing her number and even legally changing her name.

When a brick gets thrown through your living-room window in the middle of the night, and parked coolly out front is not one but two police cars, lights and sirens off, who do you call?

Janie’s story never even made the papers, because this happened years before unsolved murders were trending in the area. To this day she believes police were trying to cover their own tracks, wanting to incriminate and falsely accuse others for their own dealings.

Proof of life, life of proof.

If I just wanted to attack Rick McCubbin, I’d open up about the 2 different women I know who he’s groped, neither one even half his age; or about what goes on at his family party shack out Brothers lane in Boston. He is a lying piece of shit. The one and only reason the rumor that he messed around with the widow of Jason Ellis spread like wildfire, was not because there was any truth to it, but because *so many* people in Bardstown have seen how he is around younger women. We can’t talk about such things though.

I want answers as much as anyone else, but I see no logic in giving a free pass to several dozen able-bodied men and women trained in the use of firearms and with direct access to resources necessary for evading arrest. It’s no coincidence answers remain beyond our reach when we refuse to look into that tiny subset of the community. The one and only polygraph demanded of a badge in any of these investigations resulted in his termination, from the discovery he had tampered with evidence. Polygraph the rest of them, especially as they have been gifted long years to develop their cover stories. Call it a good will gesture to end this dark bit of the whodunnit debate once and for all.

In all my years and all my travels, including prolonged bouts of homelessness, I have only ever encountered one decent cop. Paul Schweizer, name likely misspelled, in Louisville. When my big sister was murdered, he met me there with keys so I could clean out her apartment. But he also stayed to help me carry her soiled bed from the scene of the crime, down 2 flights of stairs and out into the rain to the dumpster in the alley round the way. Just so my younger sister, intent on helping with the cleanup, wouldn’t have to see it. After the fact I learned it had actually been his day off, that he was filling in for a fellow officer who had extended her maternity leave.

His kindness almost made me forget the cop in Massachusetts 1 year earlier, who broke my nose with his fists for daring to sleep in a parking garage in the dead of winter. Before taking his cock out to piss all over me. A zillion comparable experiences, and one Paul Schweizer. If there be chips on my shoulder, it sure as shit isn’t a fashion statement.

I know Schweizer only acted from embarrassment, because if warrants had been served by his department against a repeat offender my sister would still be alive. Cops are fallible creatures, susceptible to diverse temptations the same as the rest of us. But among us they alone have license to kill.