The McCaulay Culkin Tidbit Will Have to Wait

Some day I'll tell the story about the small McCauley Culkin gathering in Montreal where a very drunk writer for a very popular TV show was aggressively lunging after my butt. But today, I'll just tell you some news I've kept from you: I officially have a literary agent.

I'm super excited! But now I must write day and night. Yikes!

Anyone Have LexisNexis?

Thanks to the eagle-eyed Stacy (who I just happily met at the Laff Stop in Houston), we know the name of the murdered bartender from Conroe that my mom silently wondered if Dad killed. Stacy actually found the info through the very link I provided in my earlier entry:

Anyone know how I might research such a thing? I Googled 2854 San Jacinto River Murdered but it yielded other results. The possible hit & run is too broad to even begin a search.

Turns out that link wasn't useless. Third result down is this site. You have to scroll down the very bottom before coming across an article from the 6/25/85 Houston Chronicle that includes this excerpt:

Eason said his office is also investigating whether Ward could have been involved in the strangulation of a Conroe barmaid in September. The body of Brenda Maureen Hackett, 25, was found under a railroad trestle near FM 2854 by a train conductor. Hackett had been sexually assaulted before she was strangled with a stocking.

So there it is. Pretty much exactly as Mom remembered minus the San Jacinto River part since the SJR doesn't actually run under that bridge or road that I can tell. The "Ward" in the article was a man who was suspected in her murder but killed himself in Las Vegas. According to my Mom, though, Hackett's ex-husband from California was charged.

So, I feel confident* that the police investigated the matter thoroughly enough to have excluded Ward and pinned it on the Ex Mr. Hackett. Dad just happened to know her.

--Kambri
*I've watched too many shows about wrongly convicted men. I still sure would like to see the case file. Is LexisNexis the answer?

I'm Exhausted

I'm spent. Emotionally and physically spent. It was a GREAT time spent with Christian. One night we hung out with Stacey (pre-order her book!) and an old family friend. My mom used to babysit him and he and his sister used to babysit me. Then there was the mini-reunion of me and a few friends from Elementary/Jr. High/High School. That was a load of fun and a nice reminder of just why I love Montgomery so much.

And then yesterday, of course, there was the four hour visit with My Jailed Deaf Dad followed by a nearly three hour dinner "interview" with my mom. Yesterday was overwhelming emotionally -- a lot of painful memories and domestic violence mixed in with such fond memories of my life there. A complex oxymoron. Just as I was thinking I need a few days to recover before I get back to the business of writing, I get a phone call from a literary agent. There's no rest for the weary.

Maybe when I get back from the "Just for Laughs" comedy festival in Montreal I'll be back to myself. That's a lot of amazing comedy and networking with the biggest big wigs in the business in one weekend. If I can't recover after a trip there, then I'm a lost cause.

Check out my blog entries from last year's festival on the Comedy Central Insider blog.

--Kambri
Feeling confused and melancholy and motivated and excited all at once. I'm a mess.

I Told You So

When you get married at 17 no one really expects it to last. I didn't. Even when I was repeating the vows administered by the judge one frigid January evening after school.

It was Friday the 13th but I wasn't superstitious. Rob and I had waited for my mom to come home from work so she could be there for the ceremony. Well that and I needed her to sign the "permission slip" and be the official witness. She could do double duty. Mom brought along a friend but I don't remember who or why. Moral support? I wasn't pregnant or anything, just a good sales person.

"Why don't you wait until after you graduate from high school?" Mom had asked.

She and I were seated at a small dining table in our newly rented apartment. We had moved in a hurry since we got evicted for "excessive noise disturbance" for all the ruckus Dad caused when he was trying to kill Mom a few weeks earlier. Our old dining table was too big for the new place so it had to go.

"That's only a few months from now! The Navy will pay Rob more if he's married AND he'll get to move off base which means they'll pay us housing money, too."

It didn't take much persuasion really. When you have nearly been killed by your husband, then are stalked by him and are in the midst of filing bankruptcy, I guess you aren't wearing your "#1 Mom" hat when your daughter --the only tie left binding you-- offers you a "Get out of jail free" card.

So on Friday the 13th of January, Mom, Rob and I piled into her blue Dodge Omni and drove to the court house. Six years later when my divorce was final, I got a letter from Dad:

I'm not sorry for you get divorced because I told [your mom], I don't want you get married to Rob., I know that was too young for you and I hope that you could go to College without ties to Rob. I gave up. She let you get married without me know. you remember it. Now [your mom] get shit in her pant. But forget it. Now it is past.

Watch out with aids. no trust with men who are neat personal But They can fool you with aids. you better care with dating with men. (use condoms!)

I had hoped to go to college, too, without ties to a husband then Dad had to go all OJ Simpson on us. Guess he forgot about that part. Details, details.

Private Dick

Tons of friends old and older are coming out to the Houston Laff Stop this weekend to hang out to see Christian headline, and I truly only have fun planned. And perhaps a light hearted interrogation in a prison yard. You know, your typical family vacay.

I've been wearing my private dick hat (very loosely, mind you) and have found a few things regarding possible murder and mayhem by My Jailed Deaf Dad. Thank you to everyone who gave awesome and most useful ideas, many of which have actually led to other things. But I still need to gather some basic info from the "perp" (heh) that will help in the investigation.

I always wanted to be a PI. So much so that my brother and I even (briefly) talked of going into business as such and I actually "stalked" a couple of people (more in the paper sense of the word) to hone my "skills". I was collecting on multi-million commercial dollar loans and in a toxic personal relationship at the time and kind of got addicted to just how much time I could spend to find out about someone and how to turn that obsession into a $$$ making business. Always the entrepreneur, I guess, but ultimately it's a lot of time spent alone.

The scenario below might actually be real and it's making me DIZZY with the possibilities. Unfortunately the internet hasn't fully caught up with us, but I know all about microfiche and hours at the library. I'm not afraid! Hear me, potential falsely convicted person murder case?

I'll let you know what Dad has to say about the Donna, her dead bartender and the like. I expect a tall, "I once caught a fish this big" kind of story. It's the same kind he's told me about how he didn't try to kill my mom. (He was only arguing with her because she was letting the 16 yr old me have a man {my future husband} sleep over. I guess when he was telling me this big fish version he forgot that I WAS THERE and was the one who called 911! First rule of lying: Don't lie. Second rule of lying: If you do lie, don't lie to the person who was there in the fu*king room!) Or like how he didn't try to kill his 3rd wife "G" she was actually trying to kill herself. Never mind that the cops stone cold busted his ass straddled on top of her while he was stabbing her. Doh! Third rule of lying: Don't try to kill people in front of the police.

So don't hold your breath that any truth will come of it -- maybe just some leads. I'm going to ask him a crap load of other questions so rather than smuggle in a What-A-Burger, I might aim for a pencil and paper to take notes.

--Kambri
It's freaking hot as balls out anyway, where the hell am I going to stuff a sizzling cheeseburger??

All in the Family

I just confirmed with Inmate Records that Christian is officially marked as "son-in-law" on Dad's approved visitor list. For some reason this tickles me silly.

When told of this new status change and asked, "What are you going to do to celebrate?" Christian replied, "Cut a bitch."

Now that's the family spirit!

Cold Case File?

I just had the longest phone call with my mom which included some re-hashing of stories past and a few new revelations. I was so excited about these new gems when Christian came through the door that I launched into a diarrhea-of-the-mouth episode before I even thought to ask how his night was.

"How was your set?" I asked since I knew he was trying out some jokes he had written just this afternoon.

"Awful! Not because of the jokes themselves but more because I hadn't committed them to memory. I talked about Paquita."

"You did?! What? About how she's God's mistake?" I asked, using one of Christian's favorite derogatory descriptions of our Chihuahua.

"Yes, about how I wish Darwin were alive so I could hold her up and ask how she eeked through. How God must have been drunk when he created her since she's essentially a four pound eyeball and ear caddy. The dodo bird must be pissed up in Heaven. 'I was wiped out as a species for this?'"

"But she's smarter than a dodo bird! See? Be cute, Paquita, be cute!" I argue to which Paquita flopped on her back and rubbed her eyes in the cutest possible way. I showered her in kisses and said, "Yes, you're sooooo cute! You're soooo cute!"

"Oh, so I guess since the topic isn't on you we're done talking now?" Christian said as he walks out of the room.

"I'm sorry!" I pleaded after I realized my high adrenline has given me a late night bout with A.D.D. "But did your dad possibly murder a woman with a nylon then dump her off a bridge?"

Yes, tonight I just learned that Mom suspected Dad of maybe killing another young woman. A woman who worked as a bartender at one of Donna's other bars. A woman Dad obsessively teased and hovered over. She was found strangled with her own nylon stocking and dumped over a bridge on Hwy 2854 down into the San Jacinto River. When her body was found, Mom wondered if Dad had anything to do with it but she didn't ask. She didn't want to know. The dead bartender's ex-husband from California was blamed.

I'm gonna ask Dad about this when I see him on Sunday. Stay tuned for some interesting "spin" since I don't know if he knows that I know about Donna let alone some young, dead bartender. Oh yeah, and he may have and struck and killed a pedestrian in a hit & run in Ft. Worth with our Thunderbird.

Anyone know how I might research such a thing? I Googled 2854 San Jacinto River Murdered but it yielded other results. The possible hit & run is too broad to even begin a search.

Long time readers will know that I'm obsessed with (a) forensic science, (b) mysteries, (c) Court TV, (d) solving puzzles in general, and (e) I was such a fanatic that I was the first fan interview for Court TV's newsletter. Read my original blog posted interview here. And while I'm at it, how does one go about getting transcripts of 911 calls and/or recordings?

--Kambri
Going to write my Court TV pals for some assitance.

Yesterday

I left the house calling out to Christian, "Bye, honey. I'm off to go fail upwards!" It's a quote from a little pep talk he gave me a long time ago when I was just forming Ballyhoo Promotions. "Life is full of frustrating disappointments, lost opportunities and little failures but the key is we keep failing upwards." Basically meaning that sure he might not get the part but the point is he was up for a role in an Eddie Murphy movie. Or I might not yet be able to snag a big client like say, Ri*hard L*wis, but Ri*hard knows who I am and would vouch for my work.

Turns out, I didn't fail yesterday. I just have a lot of work ahead of me. After discussing my memoir proposal, the literary agent said, "Let's get this ball rolling!" The publishing industry is virtually dead in the summertime so I am going to spend the next two months trying to write like a mad woman. I certainly was not in the position to meet with book agents 10 years ago or even 5 years ago. So even if I do fail at that and nothing ever comes of the proposal, I will have failed upwards.

With another visit to My Jailed Deaf Dad right around the corner, I hope to have some fresh new perspective and inspiration though I will NOT be smuggling in any more contraband. Yes, Dad, I am a "pussy" as you declared the last time I saw you.

Happy 4th of July!

The summer I turned 13, I worked at a Fireworks stand on the side of the road in Montgomery, Texas with my mom. I didn't know it then but Donna, the woman who owned the stand, was Dad's mistress. She also owned a night club and had a cute son named Cash Price who drove a convertible Mercedes. Cash would let me sit on the top of the back seat as he drove with the top down to his other stands to pick up the day's take.

He really liked the song "Easy Lover" and would blast it as loud as he could every time it came on the radio. I had a fleeting thought that maybe he thought of me as the girl in the song but dismissed the idea quickly because who would want to be an easy lover? Besides he was 21 and rich and I was only a kid who hardly needed a bra and had a beat up VW Bug.

One day our dog, a fawn Chihuahua mix, was walking along the side of the road and a car swerved to hit her. She flew through the air, hit a tree and landed at the roots. I screamed "PAMIE!" as my mom and I ran to her. She was alive but she took her last breath with my mom and I at her side. Dad buried her for us, but I don't remember where.

The next day Cash came to the fireworks stand. He said he was sorry about Pamie and gave me a stuffed Gizmo from the movie Gremlins that made cute noises when you shook it. A gift from Cash made me smile a little, but I was inconsolable. I held on to Gizmo, though. I had him until I was 19 and decided that my dog, a Rottweiler named "Magnum", could have it as a chew toy. He liked making the Gizmo squeak and would shake it furiously until finally the squeaker thing came out and I had to throw it away. I felt guilty about it. That somehow I wasn't honoring Pamie's memory. She was a good dog.

The next summer I worked at the stand again. This time I never saw Cash. I spent most of my time holed up in an office that let us use their bathroom prank calling my friend Tina Yamaguchi. The cops traced the calls and figured out it was me. I had to go down to the police station and explain myself. I told them that Tina had been prank calling me first, so I decided turn about was fair play. A couple of days later they told me that Tina had confessed that I was telling the truth and her parents weren't going to press charges.

Cash and his mom never asked us back to work their stands after that. I don't know if it was because of the trouble I caused or if Dad and Donna had ended their affair. I do know that for two years, we had the best 4th of July fireworks display anyone could ever ask for.