No offense to any magicians out there, but I can’t stand magic.
No offense to any magicians out there, but I can’t stand magic. It’s not the magic (or the magicians by any means) per se, but it’s more because I can’t enjoy it. I can’t enjoy it because I can’t figure it out.
I realize it’s supposed to be a trick and in turn, fun, but not being able to figure it out drives me crazy.
I have the most difficult time watching any unsolved mystery- geared-show because there is no finality. Who did what and how and why and are they rotting away in prison?
To the core of my very being I want; no, I NEED to know these things.
I’m usually pretty adept at figuring things out. Within the first few minutes of watching any documentary or news show (i.e. 20/20, 48 hours) revolving around a murder that’s been solved I can generally pick out the perpetrator within the first five to 10 minutes.
Ask anyone who knows me well and they will vouch I have good instincts and my gut feelings are generally spot on.
Several years ago when I was stringer for a Quad Cities publication (which I loved), a murder occurred in Viola.
Melissa White was found dead by one of her young children. She had been beaten to death.
At the time she had an order of protection against her estranged husband, Pete White.
Estranged spouses are automatically on the police radar if one ends up dead. Given the past history of domestic violence between the two and my past history with my own domestic violence I said I didn’t want to take any chances of appearing to be biased.
However, that didn’t stop my interest in the case. Two little kids lost their mom and an estranged husband was all over the media pleading with the public to help find the killer.
Little information was released, but it was noted authorities were looking for a weapon, but there was no indication what sort of weapon it could possibly be.
It’s difficult to explain, but I continually had the feeling of a crowbar. For example, I would get fleeting images of a crowbar coming in contact with a head.
After a day or so the murder weapon was found-a crowbar.
There were some deputies who were, of course, skeptical, but not for long.
I don’t know how to explain it. I could have easily come up with a baseball bat, club or some other weapon, but it was a crowbar that kept coming to mind.
It took a bit, but her ex was convicted of first degree murder saying he was under the influence of a case of beer and pain pills the day he beat her to death, “I had a crowbar to break into the garage. That’s when it just went wrong.”
He had ignored the order of protection and, according to him trespassed on the property to get some property of his out of the garage.
White went on to say he swung the crowbar once to ward off the family dog and hit Melissa once—then, again, according to him, he swung and continued to swing, “I was swinging and God knows, I don’t remember swinging. I loved Melissa with all my heart. It was not intentional.”
What he did remember was taking off and throwing his bloody clothes in ditches just outside of town.
He decided to confess and plead guilty to the crime after three years of denial, because of police pressure, a guilty conscience, and repeated nightmares, “I was just tired, mentally strung out, thinking about this. My kids coming to me in my sleep, Melissa coming to me in my sleep. Screaming, ‘I love you! Why!?’”
According to his plea deal he must spend 25 years in prison.
“Why couldn’t I stop drinking for my wife and kids?”
I have some thoughts on that, but I digress.
“I was hooked on the pills too, by then. Somebody like me, if you’re lonely in the head, lonely in your heart, you’ll stop at nothing to keep from losing everything you’ve got. I just didn’t want to lose her. Doing drugs, not coming home at night for days, spending out money. She always forgave me. I put her through so much from the day we met.”
“But, I’m not a monster.”
I’m sure there are vastly different options regarding his last statement, but I’m grateful he’s sitting where he should be.
Late last year I was contacted regarding an unsolved murder here in Canton.
I had never heard of it, which I’m surprised Charlie Wright never brought it up to me.
I’ve been fascinated with this since learning about it.
According to the Feb. 24, 1967 issue of Time Magazine, in the fall afternoon of 1955, 8 year old Janice Elizabeth May was found raped and beaten beside the railroad tracks. She died an hour later. Subsequently, Canton cab driver, Lloyd Miller Jr., 28, was sentenced to death for the crime, BUT the United States Supreme Court overturned his conviction 15 years later.
In 1971, Miller won a federal writ of habeas corpus (which is so much more difficult to accomplish in this day age) essentially exonerating him. Thus, the prosecution dropped all charges.
There is exceedingly more to this story.
In the newsroom, individually, we attempt to focus on a year long project in addition to all of our other responsibilities.
I am focusing on Janice Elizabeth May. I am sure each and every person familiar with this has their own theory. I’ve been researching different avenues for the last few months and I have my own, but I’ve been able to poke holes into all of them, which I’m sure anyone who’s attempted to find her killer has had happen.
I imagine there are plenty of people who still believe Lloyd Eldon Miller killed her. I’ve thought of that, too.
The thing is, I don’t know.
I would sure like to know, though.
I think at the very least Janice deserves that.
If you have information and would like to give me a hand, shoot me an email, firstname.lastname@example.org.