Never judge a book.....

I wrote this post back in February quite innocently. I figured it was just another part of my life, and I wanted to share it. To me it seems quite relevant to the topic of this blog.

What I didn’t expect was to find that it is this post that draws the most readers from Google searches. Each and every day I will get at least one hit from someone looking for information on this story.

I did not think much of it until I got a nasty comment the other night, from someone who was disturbed by what I had wrote, accusing me of bragging about a rather sick subject, telling me I was “out of my fucking head”.

I have also received many comments from those offended by the fact that I have used the names of the people involved that I did not know. I have since removed those names.

I’ve had nasty comments before, and just shrugged them off. We all do that. But this one sat with me, kind of bothered me, so I tried to look at it from the readers perspective. I came to the conclusion that this could be disturbing if you did not really know me. I also re-read the post, and decided it was not some of my best writing, it was rushed, and my true feelings were not really conveyed properly.

So I have decided to edit the post, and re-post it. I hope that from now on, anyone that does read it takes it for what it is. It is just an account of an event from my past. I am not trying to minimize the tragedy; I am just recalling it from my perspective.



When I was younger I knew all sorts of different people, from all sorts of different groups, schools and even towns. Being kids, we did stupid things, got into trouble, made some really big mistakes.

There were two people that I knew that unfortunately got themselves into the worst kind of trouble. This is not so much the story of what they did, but the story of how I knew them, and how it affected the way I look at people even today.

The first was Steve Olah. Steve went to my high school, and hung around many of the same people I did. He had this mop of red curls atop his head, always was hamming it up, and generally was fun to be around. In my case, he was a regular supplier of my burgeoning drug habit, even supplied me with my first hit of LSD. On occasion we hung out together or ended up at the same parties. Truthfully I thought he was really cute, and would have jumped at the chance to go out with him, but he never really showed much more than a friendly interest in me.

I can recall one night hanging out with Steve and a few other guys at a park behind M. M. Robinson. We were getting high, and having a very deep and meaningful conversation about whatever would be important to a bunch of stoned teenagers at the time. We were out quite late, sitting on the climbers, enjoying the summer night. Steve seemed very concerned of my welfare...wanting to make sure that I got home safe that night, saying there were too many crazy people out there to worry about.

Mostly I remember Steve as a regular mall rat, usually you could find him in the Burlington Mall Food Court, one of many people you could hang around with. I even had a picture of him in my wallet, one taken from the Photo Booth by the Sears store. He was just part of the crowd.

So needless to say, the day I saw the newspaper headlines that Steve was wanted for murder, I was more than a little shocked. I remember the moment clearly, standing on the front porch of a friend’s house, waiting for someone to answer the door. I picked up the Hamilton Spectator that was sitting on the porch and there was Steve on the front cover, with headlines declaring there was a manhunt for three Burlington teens, wanted for murder.

We've all heard of things like this, mostly manifesting themselves in School Shootings, or a group of kids beating someone up "just to see what it feels like". The newspapers were calling it a “Thrill-Kill” But it had never happened in a small city like Burlington before. Not good kids, from good families.

I don't know all the facts. I only know what I read in books and newspapers. They were at a gas station where one of them worked. I read they chose someone at random, someone who looked like he might have some money, and a good car. The poor unfortunate man was a husband, a father, a well liked and respected local business man. They took his life without what seems to be any consideration for the lives they would destroy.

I did not know how to take it then, or even now. I, like everyone else in the community mourned for that poor family, and for the family of Steve and the people he was with. My friends were dumbfounded, how could someone we knew do this? How did we not know there was something wrong?

I even felt sorry for Steve. I liked him, but I hated what he had done. He obviously had some mental problems and I later found out it was believed he suffered from Paranoid Schizophrenia. He had begged for help, and no one listened. But he violently took another man's life. How does someone do something like that? It was incomprehensible. His Dad was quoted at the trial as saying "As sure as hell, he's going to kill again if he does not get treatment".

The two kids Steve was with that night have served their time and have been released from jail. Steve on the other hand must still have a few years to go. I really hope that while he was in there he got some help, and has received proper treatment. I still to this day feel sad for that poor boy with the curly red hair.

The second Murderer in My Midst....good name for a novel, I'll have to remember that, was a guy named Johnny Walker. Yes just like the whiskey.

This story is different, as it did not involve someone I liked at all. And it disturbs me on a different level, because of the situation I was in.

Johnny was not the type of guy I would have normally hung around. He was a friend of the boy my friend Michelle was dating, and Michelle wanted me to entertain him so she could be alone with her guy. I personally thought he was really creepy, and was not really interested in being around this guy, but Michelle was my friend, and I wanted to help her out.

So while Michelle was off with whatshisname, I got stuck, alone in my car feigning off this creeps advances. Luckily it was not too hard, he was drunk, and not too bright. I was able to endure a few slobbery kisses and a hand up my top before convincing him I was not interested.

The worst part about these guys was where they lived. They had a roach infested apartment in a seedy part of Hamilton, and lived there with Johnny's girlfriend. She was a real classy dame who spent her nights walking the streets of Hamilton, making enough money to pay for Johnny’s booze and her drug habit. I can remember being in that apartment, feeling like a fish out of water, hearing crying babies and couples yelling at each other down the hall. Smelling booze and piss in the stairwell. Honestly, sometimes I had a hard time figuring out Michelle’s taste in guys.

Luckily, Michelle got bored of whatshisname pretty quickly, so I only had to see him an Johnny a few times. But believe me that was enough.

About a year later, in the middle section of the Hamilton Spectator was an article about a hooker in Hamilton who had been found dead, murdered by her boyfriend, Johnny Walker. I don’t remember the details, but I do know that after reading it, I barely made it to the toilet before I threw up. I was working that day, and I was so upset I had to leave. I was disgusted, revolted that I had let that guy touch me. It was not a high point of my life.

I look back now and see how differently I reacted to both of these murders. I guess that is human nature. Why I was so understanding of Steve’s actions and yet so revolted by Johnny’s is hard to explain. Have you ever watched a movie and found yourself hoping the bad guy didn’t get caught, or if he did that he would get help? Well that is how I felt when it came to Steve.

In Johnny’s case however, was just relieved that I came out of that situation unscathed. If anything, it was just one more thing that added to my motivation to clean up and make a better life for myself, so that I didn’t end up in some roach infested, piss smelling apartment, selling myself to get my next fix.

And that is the story how it happened to me. I really hope that anyone who reads this is not offended, and I am truly sorry if you are. It is just my point of view, reflections of how I felt at the time. Just like every other story in this Blog. And just like with every other story, I welcome your comments, good or bad.