Brush Creek Charlie, D. B. Reynolds [top non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

look like idiots.”
“We keep up all the hard work, it’ll all pay off in the end, and we’ll know that our day did come.”
Richard swung his head back “Jerry, you’ve been doing detective work for a lot of years. Answer this question for me if you can.”
“Go ahead and shoot.”
“The black woman found in Gillham Park the other day. Do you think our Brush Creek killer had anything to do with her murder?”
“Seriously, I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“The DNA patterns don’t match up.”
“Did forensics confirm that?”
“First, both women found in Brush Creek were white. They were killed and dismembered and then stuffed into trashbags before being dumped down into Brush Creek. Let’s look at the Gillham Park murders. The eleven black women found in the park were partially nude and were suffocated with mud and tree branches. Some were found stabbed after their attacker had raped and molested them.”
“Are you saying that the Brush Creek killer is just starting his killing career?”
“It’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Could you also be saying that our perp who’s been going around killing the black women in Gillham Park is black himself?”
“It’s quite a strong possibility.”
“Our streets have become a killing field.”
“We can’t let these homicides turn into cold cases.”
“Unless the chief and city hall give us the resources we need, these cases could turn as cold as the polar ice caps.”
“Which’ll give our perp a serious hard on.”
“You find out anything new, then let me know.”
“Will do.”
Detectives Overstreet and Schroeder, along with officers Richard Dolan and Seth Jacobson, were fully aware how they’d been faced with the biggest challenge of their law enforcement careers.


CHAPTER—35

For the vigilant women of S.A.V.E., human life transcended beyond racial and economical backgrounds. A special vigil organized by the Sisters Against Violent Encounters brought out more than a hundred women from all four corners of the city. From the elite suburbs of Johnson County to the harshest ghettos of Jackson County, women came out in full force to show their support. Those belonging to the female persuasion were sick and tired of men killing women simply for sport.
Nothing personal against men, but the crowd of mainly militant lesbians not only showed up to voice their own opinions, but to be a voice for the slain women who’d been dumped into non-descript areas like toxic waste. The one-hundred plus strong crowd gathered around the Gillham Park Fountain holding small white candles in cardboard holders. Women of different races stood and sat quietly around the concrete steps of the fountain. The saddest faces ever projected did nothing to spruce up any optimism.
Standing at the forefront of the fountain steps was the sponsor of the vigil. A loud microphone-speaker system and a podium were set up for Sandy Barnholtz to speak.
Sandy looked out amongst the crowd and felt their concern and grief. “First, thank you all for coming out to show your support. I think we are showing our communities what women can do when they unite. We as women, whether black, white, red, brown or yellow, we must say ‘no’ to acts of violence. Women, you do not have to be silent.”
An enormous applause pumped up the quiet crowd. A sudden adrenalin rush brought the angry women to life.
“Women, you don’t have to be victims,” Sandy continued while adjusting the microphone. “The Brush Creek killings, the Gillham Park killings, anyone with information should come forward. We’re looking at an overall attack on the dignity of women.”
Again, the intensity amongst the women shot up another level.
Standing a few yards in the brown Fall grass, wearing a KC Royals baseball hat with dark shades, was Charles “Charlie The Machete” Rastelli, the very monster responsible for both of the Brush Creek mutilations. Killers like him were quite clever. Memories between him and Sandy were far from being buried. He’d only hope she didn’t recognize him, even with the baseball cap and dark shades disguising his appearance.
“Help us by coming forward,” Sandy enforced with her words of plea. “We’re putting out a call to all communities for help. Someone knows who is strangling black women here around Gillham Park and dumping the bodies. Someone knows who killed and dismembered two women found floating in trashbags down in Brush Creek. These animals, these creeps, these monsters, they’ve got no regard for human life at all.”
Thunderous applauses and loud cheers brought the crowd to meteoric heights.
Charlie stood there as Sandy injected the crowd with venomous rhetoric. She’d become like a poisonous serpent. She sunk her fangs into the crowd and watched them surrender their full support. Blood boiled on the inside of Charlie like steaming hot kettles. He had regrets like any other killer. Not completing his mission of killing Sandy ate away at his psychotic ego.
“We’re not getting a lot of assistance,” Sandy pressed on. “The killing is getting so far out of hand, until our city’s been the recent topic of national news coverage. We need to run down leads and locate witnesses willing to talk. At this time, I’d like to open our prayer vigil to questions and concerns.”
The microphone was passed to a black woman who stood facing Gillham Road. “Miss Barnholtz, what is the name of the organization that you represent?”
“The group is called S.A.V.E., which is an acronym for Sisters Against Violent Encounters.”
“As a single black woman with two young daughters, what can I do to protect them from this killer who’s been terrorizing black women?”
Sandy dug deep inside for a plausible answer. “All communities should come together and double our efforts to have these killers captured. Take precaution when you’re out, especially at night. Carry mase, a stun gun, maybe even a firearm. Afterall, you do have the right to bear arms when you’re not a felon. Take self-defense classes. Always be aware of your surroundings.”
Sandy shot off some good advice to all the women attendees. Their ears were open wider than the Hoover Dam. By no coincidence, Charlie was the only man stashed away in the crowd of women. Some of them took offense to him attending the ‘all woman’ prayer vigil.
Try as he might, his ‘nightmare-of-a-face’ couldn’t be fully concealed.
Some of the women moved away from him after they looked upon the hideous pits that covered his entire face.
Another black woman moved to the front so her voice was heard. “These black women were found beaten and naked. Their killer wants to be downright lowdown and dirty. He wants to shove mud and sticks and rocks down their throats. He wants to beat up on them and probably thinks it’s funny. Not’a one of these murders have been solved.”
Sandy pointed to her immediate right. “We’re having very little success in getting people to talk. Brush Creek and Gillham Park are within the same vicinity. The killer of the black women around Gillham Park, and the killer of the two white women found mutilated down in Brush Creek, they’re very cold in their attacks on women of any race. The KCPD have told us over and over that they’re calculated with their method of killing.”
Yet another black woman thrusted to the forefront to be heard. “Don’t wanna conjure up race issues, but both white women found dismembered down in Brush Creek, more news and newspaper attention were given to them than all the black women found dead around Gillham Park. I’m led to believe that white people believe that black people don’t count at all.”
Sandy motioned in absolute disagreement. “Black or white, these women were someone’s sister, someone’s daughter, someone’s granddaughter, someone’s mother, someone’s aunt. In my eyes, all of their lives were valuable.”
Whispering to himself, Charlie unregrettably said, “None of those bitches’ lives had value.”
Charlie must’ve given off mixed signals that he possessed dangerous tendencies. Women standing close to him stepped further away. This surely escalated his anger. Remaining non-descript amongst the women was a must.
A third black woman weaved forward to be heard. “Okay, we all know that the black women found dead in Gillham Park were involved with drugs and prostitution. But one of the white women found in Brush Creek was tied to drugs and prostitution along Independence Avenue.”
“Sweetheart, death knows no color,” Sandy emphasized. “No matter what lifestyles these women led, they didn’t deserve to die in the manner they did. We’re here for one another, and our main purpose is to help the police catch these desensitized animals.”
Charlie trembled as though he’d been stung by a giant hornet. How dare a lesbian like Sandy call him a desensitized animal. Every word of it was true. Her words hit very close to home. Vicious overtones bounced off him. They’d been felt by the women within close radius.
“We’ve got to work with the police and with one another!” Sandy said with reinforcement. “We’re not going to stand for another woman being raped, beaten, or killed. Either we stand together as one, or we’ll die separately. Thank you for coming out to show your support for this prayer vigil.”
Sandy stepped away from the podium. A quick head rotation led her eyes in the direction of the only man in the all-woman crowd. The face looked very familiar. The features on the badly-scarred face rocketed her mind into the not-so-distant past. No doubt, it was the same monster she spoke of during her speech. The sick bastard who brutally murdered her precious dog Bolo. Sandy’s lover, Carol Wexler, walked side-by-side with her as they approached their car.
“Carol, don’t think I’m crazy,” Sandy cued to Carol. “But the guy standing over there in Royals cap with the dark shades on, he looks like the same motherfucker who killed Bolo, the same bastard who tried to attack me that night down in Brush Creek.”
Carol looked around until she spotted the subject. “Who, the guy in the faded jeans and the grey sweater?”
“Yes, the one walking towards Forty-Third Street.”
The crowd of women had already dispersed.
The candles were almost burned out.
“First of