• When you click on links to various merchants on this site and make a purchase, this can result in this site earning a commission. Affiliate programs and affiliations include, but are not limited to, the eBay Partner Network.

When you meet someone famous and didn't even know it.

65RoadRacer

Well-Known Member
Local time
12:08 AM
Joined
Aug 19, 2013
Messages
1,110
Reaction score
2,277
Location
somewhere else
Just a little story I wanted to share about my youth and someone famous that I met nearly 40 years ago. I should probably say...

When you meet someone infamous and you didn't even know it

Back in 1979 when I was 17 living in Maryland, due to some family issues I ran away from home and hitchhiked across the country. I met my fair share of crazies and other questionable individuals along the way, but one night in particular I got into a car I shouldn't have gotten into.

It was a dark, side road off the freeway north of Los Angeles about midnight, and it was pitch black. The car came along after hours of walking and pulled over when I stuck out my thumb. When I got in the car, I could tell the guy was high and had been drinking - he reeked of it. He started to ask about me, and then started to go into graphic detail about what he likes, and told me that he liked boys and girls, but mostly boys. I was small, and probably looked to be about 14.

Yeah, I got kinda scared, and I didn't like how the conversation was going, so when we got to an intersection I reached for the door handle and told him I would just get out there. He reached over and grabbed me by the collar, and said something to me like, "Stay in the car, please. If you try to get out I'm going to cut you into pieces." I remember 'please' and the part about 'cutting me into pieces' very well, the rest of the interaction is a little fuzzy.

I complied with his request; after all, I was about 5'6" and all of 110 pounds soaking wet so I didn't fight him. I was even more scared at that point. He turned left - away from the freeway - and headed down a dark road. Up ahead there was a vacant service station, all I can remember is a large woodpile, and it was dark. I wasn't sure what was going to happen.

He got out to relieve himself, and told me to stay in the car. That time I wasn't going to comply, so as I watched him walk away I quietly opened the door and I ran towards the freeway. I got to the overpass and ran down the ramp, and continued to run down the shoulder, heading south. Then I heard that car coming up behind me; it was a VW bug so I could distinguish it from the other cars. The car had only one headlight functioning, so when I turned to see it I froze in my tracks. I couldn't move, but as the car went past me I figured he kept going because there was a bit of traffic.

I started walking on the shoulder of the freeway and a CHP car pulled up ahead of me; I was afraid I would get in trouble being a hitchhiker, so I darted across the freeway, jumped a fence, and walked through a neighborhood to get away from the cops.

I had a blue ski jacket that was tan on the inside, and had removable sleeves; so I unzipped the sleeves and stuffed them in my back and reversed the jacket in case the cops came after me. They did, but I heard one say, "nah, he had a blue jacket" and they went ahead. In a case of 20/20 hindsight, I probably shouldn't have run from them and told them what had just happened.

I never really told anyone about that night until about 1994, when I heard that some guy who was on death row was going to be the first person in California to die by lethal injection. It was a big deal to the state, but something else about him caught my attention. He was in prison for picking up young hitchhikers in Southern California in the late 1970s and early 1980s and killing them. The man's name was William Bonin, the infamous Freeway Killer.

It was too eerie, so I started doing some research and found a former detective named John St. John - he was the man that caught Bonin and arrested him. We talked about my experience back in 1979; of the five men who were killing kids at that time, two were incarcerated, one was out of town, and the other two - William Bonin and Randy Kraft - were possible suspects. I described the guy as having long, darker hair and a mustache, St. John told me that he felt it was William Bonin that was driving the car I got into. Finally seeing a picture of what Bonin looked like at the time of his arrest sent shivers down my spine.

Fast forward to last year, I started talking with a guy who was known as the "only survivor of William Bonin" - his name is David. Bonin kidnapped David in the mid 1970s and raped him and tortured him. In an odd display of conscience, Bonin apologized to David and let him go. David was in a few media stories, and was involved not only in putting Bonin and others away, but in helping to keep them behind bars to this very day - over 40 years after his own attack. As a result of his testimony and involvement, he is still getting death threats from those still incarcerated.

He and I have chatted a few times; he probably knows more about these guys than anyone alive right now. After telling him about that night and things that were said, he, too, feels that I got into the car with William Bonin that night in 1979.

The timing fits, as Bonin was released from jail in October 1978, and started killing again in early 1979. His first known victim was killed on May 28, 1979. Had I not run away from him, I very well could have been his first victim after his release from prison. The group of known people who got away from Bonin was presumed to be only one person: David. I can't say there was nobody else as fortunate as me, David told me there was another guy that they found who also got away from Bonin. So maybe it's 3 people who got away from the guy who killed over 20 kids back then, and I am one of the three.

It makes me look back on my life, and how my mother's reaction when I had told her about that night was less than I would expect from a parent. She basically told me that I got myself into that situation. I sort of feel like she didn't believe it really happened, as I had told her there were a number of older men who attempted to have sex with me, or offered to take me home.

One guy had reached over and grabbed my crotch while he was driving and pleaded with me to go home with him, so I opened the door and stepped out of the moving car, tumbling on the pavement. When he stopped, I got up and nearly broke the door off the hinges, slamming it so hard forward that it bounced back and slammed shut. I never spoke to my father about what happened, not that he would care or listen anyway. Both of my parents have since passed away, so I never really got to tell either of them just how insane that night was back in February, 1979.

I believe most people would think, "wow, you sure are lucky" if they believed my story at all, but it's deeper than that. I was thisclose to one of the most infamous serial killers in modern times - he actually grabbed me and pulled me back into the car. For nearly 15 years I didn't know anything about William Bonin, or that I had gotten into a car with a guy who would start killing teenage hitchhikers just like me a couple months after the night I met him.

But it's okay... if someone else told me this story I might be skeptical too, and I really wouldn't know what to say. I guess it's comforting that when I told David about what happened and how it's been heavy on my mind, he said he understands why I reached out to him to talk about it. Of all people I could talk to, he's surely someone who would get it; however, my situation is a mere drop in the bucket compared to what he endured just a couple years earlier. Looking back.... to think that night could have been my last night alive, it kinda blows me away.

Thanks for letting me share it. I've been in some weird situations, but this one was definitely one to remember.
 
Last edited:
Takes a lot of courage to share such a story; for that you are surely to be commended. Thank you for doing this.
I don't to this day understand why these subhuman pieces of garbage are kept alive on the taxpayers' dime. I really don't. At all.
There's no rehabilitation happening with them; you can't fix that level of evil in a man, don't care what anyone says.
It's divine intervention that you didn't become yet another victim of them.
You're living proof that it's risky as hell getting in cars with strangers, just like our parents taught us.
A lot of that was going on in those days just the same. I'm roughly your age sounds like, so I have similar knowledge of society
in those days.

That being said, I'm going to ask a couple questions here. Please understand there's no malice or judgement intended here
and you don't have to answer if you don't want to obviously:
1. How often were you hitchhiking with strangers back then? Was it a different scene for such in different regions of the country?
2. How much personal responsibility have you reconciled in your own heart for what happened, if any?

Ed
 
Takes a lot of courage to share such a story; for that you are surely to be commended. Thank you for doing this.
I don't to this day understand why these subhuman pieces of garbage are kept alive on the taxpayers' dime. I really don't. At all.
There's no rehabilitation happening with them; you can't fix that level of evil in a man, don't care what anyone says.
James Munro is one of the guys incarcerated, and he has said that he would continue killing if he gets out. He's been denied several times, but I heard that by 2021 our governor is concocting a plan to them him and many others out of prison. It's a scary situation.

It's divine intervention that you didn't become yet another victim of them.
You're living proof that it's risky as hell getting in cars with strangers, just like our parents taught us.
A lot of that was going on in those days just the same. I'm roughly your age sounds like, so I have similar knowledge of society
in those days.
I'm almost 58, and it was probably a lot less risky than it is now.

That being said, I'm going to ask a couple questions here. Please understand there's no malice or judgement intended here
and you don't have to answer if you don't want to obviously:
1. How often were you hitchhiking with strangers back then? Was it a different scene for such in different regions of the country?
It was hard talking long ago, I've come to grips with it, so no worries at all. I had never hitchhiked before that night because, you know, it's dangerous. :) The first ride was a guy in a red bug who wanted me to help distribute his 'product' to all my friends in school. He handed me a back with a bunch of colorful pills, but I rejected it. I've never done any sort of drugs, and wasn't going to start. He told me it was a promising career for me, that I could make lots of money.

The second guy who gave me a ride tried to talk me out of it, especially when I told him I had 28 cents and the clothes on my back. He told me I would die - that I'd never make it, and if I did it would take months. That just encouraged me to try it; I camped out in a motel for the night Frederick, Maryland. There was a US map on the wall so I plotted my route and on Monday morning I headed north to I80.

A trucker was heading to Chicago, he offered to smoke some hash with me. He dropped me off when his plans changed, so I kept heading north and got a ride from PA to Utah from a guy in a hurry to get back to Oregon. That was a cool story in itself (I have a few from that ordeal alone). A couple more rides and I arrived in Sacramento, California, on Thursday morning - just 3 days later. It was the beginning of a huge snowfall in Maryland/Pennsylvania.

Not until I arrived in California did anyone 'try' anything. He said he was out of town on business and wanted to have a beer with me like he did with his son, so we grabbed some brews and went back to his hotel. He kept trying to get me to sit next to him on the bed, I drank my last beer and told him he better take me to where he said he would or I'd call the cops. I got back in the car and he took me where he said, we didn't talk.

A lot of old men wanted to give me a blow job, a few reached over and grabbed at me. Nothing ever happened, fortunately, but I was jaded for many years about gays because of my experience. I wouldn't even let my male friends hug me, and if someone called me a 'fag' I got pissed off.

Incidentally, one gay man stopped in the bay area because it was raining and he felt bad, thinking I was 14. We talked, he asked if I had offers and I told him I did and refused them all. He told me he was gay, but that he'd been dating a woman for 4 months and liked it. We had a great conversation, he offered to buy me dinner - no strings attached - because I told him I hadn't eaten in a day or so. He had a nice Monte Carlo. We parted and he was the only 'gay' guy I met who didn't try anything.

2. How much personal responsibility have you reconciled in your own heart for what happened, if any?

Ed
See, that's the hard part. I stuck my thumb out for a ride and I don't think that meant anything other than that, so I've always had a problem with people saying things like, "You put yourself into that situation". I was a kid (still 17 and looked younger) and didn't think anything bad would happen (naïve, too). Not sure if that's an answer, or the one you were looking for, but I more feel bad that I ran from the cops and didn't tell them - but then, I had no idea the guy was serious about wanting to kill me.

I hitchhiked a few times after that, up and down the coast from northern California to southern, staying with an Aunt and Uncle between trips, then my uncle sent me back to Maryland on a plane because he was tired of me showing up and leaving all the time.
 
Last edited:
Incidentally, one reason (aside from the obvious) that I was determined to stay alive was earlier that day when a guy in a Chevy truck stopped to give me a ride. We talked, and he offered a beer from his opened 12-pack of Budweiser. I gulped that down and he offered more, I kept drinking, we kept talking. He stopped to get another 12-pack and we finished that off too. I had about 10 beers at that point when he was turning off the highway towards Guerneville, Calif.

He pulled over and asked me how much money I had, and I said George and I were making the trip. He said I'd never get to LA on a buck, I told him I got there on 28 cents. He rifled through his wallet, $5, $10... then pulled out a twenty and handed it to me. He insisted I take it, and I told him I would find him and pay him back. I said, "If I don't pay you back in 20 years, I'm either dead or I just can't find you." He told me, "Don't put a time limit on it and don't worry about it, just survive - stay alive."

In 1999, thanks to the internet, I almost found him... but the guy I spoke to hadn't seen him since he moved a few years prior. I kept trying and always a dead end. Finally, in 2016 I was on Facebook and stumbled on a comment that was interesting and hovered over the woman's name (profile appeared) and she was from Guerneville. I clicked her profile and she had posted on her brother's photo - I couldn't believe what I saw: It was the guy who stopped to give me a ride in 1979.

I reached out to her, told her the story and she said it was just like him to do something like that. Turns out he was just 20 - three years older than me - and he's the nicest guy, does the nicest things for people. We talked, and he said he doesn't want the money back, but said something that literally brought a tear to my eye: "I'm just glad you stayed alive, I remember you ran away because of your father being abusive and you were afraid of him. I'm proud of you for surviving."

I never heard those words from my own father, and here this guy who met me 37 years prior for about 40 minutes was proud of me. We talked about getting together, I've been trying to do something grand for him and telling the story, but no media sources are interested. So I'll probably just make the drive up there some day and we'll barbecue. I had written his name down but lost the paper, however, I never forgot his name.
 
Good stuff..... definitely a different era. I was a teen in the 80's, and hitch hiking was something you did if you did not have a car.
Nowadays, I would l not try it nor pick someone up, too many "movies" about that :)
 
Wow, that's quite a story. I've never heard of this guy, but worthy of a book I would think… You had good sense and fortune to run at the first opportunity. So sad that there were kids killed by these sick predators.


I can relate on a small scale.

As it turns out, we lived around the corner from Paul Bernado, called the Scarborough Rapist at the time in the mid to late 80's. He was terrorizing the city of Scarborough (later amalgamated into Toronto), preying on young women as they got off the bus.

My father remembers seeing someone playing touch football in the school yard behind our house at the time that matched the police sketches, but he never reported it however. I shudder to think of how dangerous it was for my teenage sister who regularly got off the bus and walked through a dark path in the woods and then came out between two houses on an adjacent street; which would have been very close to Bernado’s house at the time. Paul Bernado would of course later kill and dismember several young women in Ontario assisted by his girlfriend Karla Homolka before being caught.

While unknowingly living close to a serial killer was uneventful, we had our own share of terror however in 1974. While walking home from school one day, I was confronted by a man who was standing in front of some new trucks in a Ford dealer’s lot, smoking a cigarette. I recall that he wore a hat and dark sunglasses, but I can’t remember much more about what he was wearing other than that his pants were flared. As I was about to walk past him, he looked at me and said, “Hey kid, do you have a sister?”. I replied yes and carried on. I can’t remember if he said anything else. Scary?…not really, but unnerving to a 9 year old. I ran home and told my mother about the event. My 7 year old sister was fine.

Some time passed, perhaps weeks, before another event occurred. While walking home from school again, a car was driving slowly towards me. From the sidewalk, I could see that a man was driving, either a vega or pinto as I recall and another man was sort of hanging outside the hatchback which was open. As they approached me, the fat bearded man started yelling “I’m going to get you and your sister!”. I can’t remember if he said much else. I sort of hid behind the concrete light pole as they passed me. Terrified, I ran home once they were out of site. Told my mother about the event and she called the police. This happened again while walking down the street near some stores in the area, where I crouched down beside some parked cars out of their line of sight. No further events thankfully and my sister was never threatened. Bizarre I know!

My parents theorized that this may have been a guy that was sent to jail about 5 years prior for punching and breaking my father’s nose; when my father returned home from the store, where he went to buy milk. The guy was drunk and/or high at the time and clocked my 26 year old father for no apparent reason. He was arrested and jailed for the offence.
 
Wow, that's quite a story. I've never heard of this guy, but worthy of a book I would think… You had good sense and fortune to run at the first opportunity. So sad that there were kids killed by these sick predators.


I can relate on a small scale.

As it turns out, we lived around the corner from Paul Bernado, called the Scarborough Rapist at the time in the mid to late 80's. He was terrorizing the city of Scarborough (later amalgamated into Toronto), preying on young women as they got off the bus.

My father remembers seeing someone playing touch football in the school yard behind our house at the time that matched the police sketches, but he never reported it however. I shudder to think of how dangerous it was for my teenage sister who regularly got off the bus and walked through a dark path in the woods and then came out between two houses on an adjacent street; which would have been very close to Bernado’s house at the time. Paul Bernado would of course later kill and dismember several young women in Ontario assisted by his girlfriend Karla Homolka before being caught.

While unknowingly living close to a serial killer was uneventful, we had our own share of terror however in 1974. While walking home from school one day, I was confronted by a man who was standing in front of some new trucks in a Ford dealer’s lot, smoking a cigarette. I recall that he wore a hat and dark sunglasses, but I can’t remember much more about what he was wearing other than that his pants were flared. As I was about to walk past him, he looked at me and said, “Hey kid, do you have a sister?”. I replied yes and carried on. I can’t remember if he said anything else. Scary?…not really, but unnerving to a 9 year old. I ran home and told my mother about the event. My 7 year old sister was fine.

Some time passed, perhaps weeks, before another event occurred. While walking home from school again, a car was driving slowly towards me. From the sidewalk, I could see that a man was driving, either a vega or pinto as I recall and another man was sort of hanging outside the hatchback which was open. As they approached me, the fat bearded man started yelling “I’m going to get you and your sister!”. I can’t remember if he said much else. I sort of hid behind the concrete light pole as they passed me. Terrified, I ran home once they were out of site. Told my mother about the event and she called the police. This happened again while walking down the street near some stores in the area, where I crouched down beside some parked cars out of their line of sight. No further events thankfully and my sister was never threatened. Bizarre I know!

My parents theorized that this may have been a guy that was sent to jail about 5 years prior for punching and breaking my father’s nose; when my father returned home from the store, where he went to buy milk. The guy was drunk and/or high at the time and clocked my 26 year old father for no apparent reason. He was arrested and jailed for the offence.
Damn... that's some scary stuff, especially to a 9 year old. Seems to me that he was kinda familiar with your family and making sure you were your dad's kid by asking about your sister. What a warped individual, and I thought back then people brushed these sort of things off a little more easily... I guess not.

We walked through heavily wooded areas when I was a kid, going to school, football or baseball practice, lots of bad things happening in those woods, which were thick (think Blair Witch Project - which took place in Maryland.) I know that eerie feeling going through the woods, especially at night. I always said the last 20 yards were more scary than the rest of the trip because you would see the edge of the woods, your safe zone, and realize, "If someone's going to get me, he's got 20 yards to do it". lol We always ran the last 20 yards.

Glad everyone was okay... 'cept your dad, that sucked. Thanks for sharing...
 
for us it was cutting through a large graveyard at night during the summer when we left the local high school summer recreation center. Spooky out there without much light and all of those gravestones. 'Dead' quiet as they say. We always sprinted the last 20-30 yards lol!
 
WOW , thanks for sharing, I was one of those kids that had busy parents so I hitchhiked everywhere. I still pick them up to this day if they look legit, I even picked up a guy on christmas eve once that looked like Santa, Told him that too , he laughed, had my kids convinced it was, told them his slay broke down lol. But I have been in cars with drunks, old horney ladies, but luckily in rural Nova scotia there aren't too many bad apples.
20171223_134821.jpg
 
Very powerful story! Thanks for sharing!

You were very lucky you didn't become a victim! It's one of those situations when your survival instincts kick in and yours more than likely saved your life.

I graduated in 1974 on a Saturday, started a job at a dealership Monday morning. I was on cloud nine! The service manager wanted me to do things to customers cars that I refused to be a part of, so after a month I ended up quitting. My parents were upset with my decision and I was becoming more frustrated everyday with things happening at home and what direction my life was headed.

A friend of mine was going through the same thing at home so we decided to leave Maryland and see the country. He had an old pickup with a cap on the back. We made it to Florida in a few days and he became homesick and wanted to head back. I wanted to continue on the journey so we parted ways.

I learned real quick what hitchhiking was all about. I took I-10 all the way to California. I learned to only stand at the beginning of an onramp and not on the interstate itself unless you wanted to get arrested. Most states have a vagrant law that requires you to have a certain amount of money on you like $20 which I rarely had.

When someone stopped to give me a ride, I normally asked how far they were going, to make it as far as I could. When opening a stranger's car door you try to size them up the best that you can. I said "no thank you" to quite a few. Some people were just too weird, some were just plain scary. Who knows who's car door I closed at any given time!

My first ride was a guy in his twenties who was from a wealthy family and he was tired of living that lifestyle. Well we ran out of money, food, and gas by time we got to New Orleans. He left a real nice New Yorker at a truck stop that we were at. He signed the title and left it in the glove box! (No I never went back)

We both got a ride with this gorgeous blonde that had driven down from Michigan. She was on speed and was scaring the crap out of us. We asked her to drop us off at the next town just to get out of her car.

We split up after that and I got a ride from a guy that said he was going through Houston. When we arrived right in the middle of Houston he kicked me out. Now I'm stuck in this big city with no money, no place to stay. The cops gave me a hard time. I'm not sure what's going to happen. Sitting on a bus stop bench, trying to blend in, a weird looking guy tells me about the Salvation Army. He offered to pay my bus ticket and my first night's stay. I told him I don't have anyway of paying him back. He said you'll get a job in the morning. So I took him up on it, got a shower, food, good nights rest. Next morning took a ride to the Social Security building, got a job with Peak Load. Worked for two weeks, saved up a little money, took a bus ride out to the interstate and continued on to California. (Yep, paid him back and bought him dinner!)

My last ride was by an elderly couple. I got into the back seat and the guy pulls out a 45 and places it on the console. I didn't say anything thinking if it makes him feel safer so be it. When I got to my destination, I thanked him for the ride and told him what he did with the 45 wasn't too smart. I could have grabbed it and held him up. He thanked me for pointing that out. (crazy)

Actually I did quite well with only four rides and total traveling time of one week to arrive near San Francisco. Once there I stayed with a friend of the family for a couple of days. Then I called my mother and had her wire me money for a four day bus ride back through the middle of the country to Fredrick Maryland. No way was I going back I-10 and winter was settling into the central states. The bus ride is another story!

I saw some crazy things, met some crazy people. I came back a changed person and often resort back to that time period in my life. One of those learning experiences that sticks with you forever.

School never teaches you how to deal with different people and the things that you'll run into and have to deal with in everyday life. I'm glad I did it but I always advised anyone that mentioned trying it, not to. It was way too dangerous back then and it could be deadly to try it these days. Picking up someone could be just as bad and you rarely even see that happening anymore.

Glad you shared your story. Brought back memories.
 
Wow, sounds like a crazy time, with some fun times sprinkled in. I agree with you... I did it and it was an experience of a lifetime, but even then, if someone asked if I think they should hitchhike across the country, I would tell them they would be crazy to do so. I was lucky in many ways, a few guys who grabbed at me didn't push it when I told them I wasn't interested, stepping out of a moving car (about 30mph) I could have seriously gotten hurt, and then there's the guy who threatened to cut me up... who knows how far it would have gotten if he didn't have to recycle all that beer he drank.

More hindsight: I should have taken the southern route, but then that one ride from PA to Utah... of course, I should have gone all the way to Oregon with him (where he was going) because I would have been only 6 hours from where I was ultimately heading! lol

Thanks for sharing the story... it brought back some memories I had of other trips, too.
 
Well if I would have been grabbed by someone I probably would of high tailed it back home!
 
Every time iI think of someone famous . I keep reminding my self that Im paying them to stay famous .whether its overpaying for cable or just spending to much at the theatres to catch there aweful drama. So Ill go back in my hole till something good happens to me. :D
 
Wow, that's quite a story. I've never heard of this guy, but worthy of a book I would think… You had good sense and fortune to run at the first opportunity. So sad that there were kids killed by these sick predators.


I can relate on a small scale.

As it turns out, we lived around the corner from Paul Bernado, called the Scarborough Rapist at the time in the mid to late 80's. He was terrorizing the city of Scarborough (later amalgamated into Toronto), preying on young women as they got off the bus.

My father remembers seeing someone playing touch football in the school yard behind our house at the time that matched the police sketches, but he never reported it however. I shudder to think of how dangerous it was for my teenage sister who regularly got off the bus and walked through a dark path in the woods and then came out between two houses on an adjacent street; which would have been very close to Bernado’s house at the time. Paul Bernado would of course later kill and dismember several young women in Ontario assisted by his girlfriend Karla Homolka before being caught.

While unknowingly living close to a serial killer was uneventful, we had our own share of terror however in 1974. While walking home from school one day, I was confronted by a man who was standing in front of some new trucks in a Ford dealer’s lot, smoking a cigarette. I recall that he wore a hat and dark sunglasses, but I can’t remember much more about what he was wearing other than that his pants were flared. As I was about to walk past him, he looked at me and said, “Hey kid, do you have a sister?”. I replied yes and carried on. I can’t remember if he said anything else. Scary?…not really, but unnerving to a 9 year old. I ran home and told my mother about the event. My 7 year old sister was fine.

Some time passed, perhaps weeks, before another event occurred. While walking home from school again, a car was driving slowly towards me. From the sidewalk, I could see that a man was driving, either a vega or pinto as I recall and another man was sort of hanging outside the hatchback which was open. As they approached me, the fat bearded man started yelling “I’m going to get you and your sister!”. I can’t remember if he said much else. I sort of hid behind the concrete light pole as they passed me. Terrified, I ran home once they were out of site. Told my mother about the event and she called the police. This happened again while walking down the street near some stores in the area, where I crouched down beside some parked cars out of their line of sight. No further events thankfully and my sister was never threatened. Bizarre I know!

My parents theorized that this may have been a guy that was sent to jail about 5 years prior for punching and breaking my father’s nose; when my father returned home from the store, where he went to buy milk. The guy was drunk and/or high at the time and clocked my 26 year old father for no apparent reason. He was arrested and jailed for the offence.
thats a real piece of **** and his ******* gf Carlas hamolka . she lives reportedly in chateguay 20 miles from Montreal
I remember a radio talk show host saying that if she crossed the street in front of him he would look the other way.
she got Lucky the POLICE ARE COMPLETE IDIOTS and didn't tear down the walls of the house to find evidence ,
so she pleaded against Paul . then they found the video of the rape and muders of leslie mahafie and christian french
what scum! and like TRUMP said BRING BACK THDE DEATH PENALTY. these people need to die
 
Auto Transport Service
Back
Top