#with all the near-identical press articles about his manchester show

[javelinbk]

Paul McCartney reading news coverage of The Beatles, February 1964 and January 1969

[strangerthanfiction]

Who: Rabastan & @mckinnon-strong​​ Where: A few blocks away from Plainview Apartments When: Friday, February 8th, near lunch time

The day after the incident at the Spiny Serpent, Rabastan had combed through newspaper clippings and old issues of Quidditch Weekly to figure out who this person was, finally stumbling upon the article Skeeter had published declaring her identity to the world. Rab had barely paid attention to the story when it had hit the papers, but now, he consumed it ravenously, trying to catch glimpses of who this person was through the fanfare surrounding her name, but that simply wasn’t enough. The Marlene that was being presented to the world was nothing like the woman he’d met, defanged and declawed, sanitized for the sake of the public, and Rabastan didn’t want the Marlene that was pleasant and easy to digest. He wanted the woman who’d nearly killed a man for sport, but she was nowhere to be found in these columns and interviews, so he supposed he’d just have to tease it out of her himself.

So, less than a day later, he went back to the Spiny Serpent and flirted with one of the other bartenders until she told him who worked what nights, until she let slip how annoying it was that Marlene was always late for her shifts even though she lived at Plainview, which was close enough that she could spit and probably hit Marlene’s window. And Rabastan laughed and drank and charmed and when poor Dottie left the bar at the end of her shift that night, Rab was waiting in the shadows with his wand out and an obliviate on the tip of his tongue. It shouldn’t be that easy, but it was, and sure enough, the next night, like clockwork, Marlene left the bar, cigarette between her lips, head bowed against the wind and Rabastan slithered out of the shadows, tailing her easily, his boots charmed to make no noise as they both crunched through a light layer of fresh snow. He was carrying a small satchel, which he’d enchanted to fit her broomstick into because he didn’t want anyone asking questions – her broom was far nicer than his own, but then again, he wasn’t a professional quidditch player, and he wanted no innocent bystander pointing that out. Besides, if she caught him and found her broom this way, instead of the way he’d meticulously planned, that’d be no fun, would it?

And it all went according to plan. Rabastan lingered outside the residence, watching as Marlene bounced inside, made polite small talk with the doorman, and then disappeared into the complex. He stayed there, waiting, regarding the whole building with a certain amount of disdain. If this was how the other half lived, Rab wanted nothing to do with it. But no matter. He knew where she worked, where she lived, and the way into her heart. He’d done a lot worse with less. Once it felt like an appropriate amount of time had passed since she returned home, Rab arranged his features into his best look of dewy eyed innocence, took her broom out of his satchel, and stepped inside, smiling abashedly at the doorman. “I’m sorry, is there any way you could let me up to see Marlene McKinnon?” he asked as politely as he could, batting his lashes in that naive, girlish way he’d seen Narcissa do their whole lives to get whatever she desired. “She left her broomstick behind at my place, you see, and I know how much it means to her, so if there’s any way–”

“Can’t let you up, I’m afraid, my good man. Just saw her, and she didn’t tell me she was expecting guests. Now, if you’d like me to call her back down here, more than happy to.” The doorman’s tone was calm but firm, and Rab knew that if he really wanted to, he could sidestep this aging sack of bones with one simple hex, but he knew well enough to leave it alone. Instead, he forced a flush of embarrassment up his neck and quickly shook his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “No, god, no, no need to inconvenience her like that. If I could leave this with you? And you can give it to her next time you see her? Here’s a note, too, so she knows who it’s from.” The doorman took the broom and the envelope, and if he was suspicious of the whole thing, he didn’t let on. He probably would open the note too, but Rabastan had anticipated that. Ride the wave, was all it said, and if she tried to use it to track him, it’d take her to Gringots, where, if she presented the note to a goblin along with his name, they’d been advised to give her a key to his apartment in Manchester. A challenge, yes, but if she was up for it, then perhaps they were just as well matched as he expected.

It had been days, almost weeks, since he dropped off her broom, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. Granted, he’d been fairly preoccupied doing the Dark Lord’s bidding and completing his mission with Bellatrix, so Marlene hadn’t necessarily been top of mind, but he’d still found herself thinking of her, obsessing over her, wondering where she was and what she was doing. And in the fall out of his mission, in being faced with his own failure, in feeling the way he’d pulled himself taut, forced his spine straight, shaved off his beard and sheered off his hair in an a pathetic attempt to feel more aligned with the person he ought to be rather than the person he was, he thought of her more and he thought of her often, this reckless, wild woman, who so desperately wanted to be free, who just needed someone to take her hand and show her the way through her own darkness. In a way, he needed her too – if he could make her like him, a monster carved in his own image, maybe he’d feel less alone.

Rabastan found himself in muggle London after visiting the Ministry on an errand for his father – dropping off a birthday gift for one of the higher ups in the Minister’s cabinet. Gaspard Lestrange, despite never having run for office, was a perfect politician, always knowing whose arse to kiss and when. Rabastan should have gone home, but he found himself dawdling, walking the streets and chain smoking cigarettes, trying to drown out his own thoughts with the hum of nicotine. His cheeks felt cold, the back of his neck felt exposed, and he felt different, like a doll, like a pretty, delicate version of himself, being paraded around like a lamb for slaughter. His mother, of course, had been the instigator behind the cleaner look, as she said he looked more wolf than man and shamed him until he begrudgingly let her take out the razor. No matter. Hair grows back.

But then, across the street, he saw her, standing in line at what appeared to be a muggle contraption, steam billowing out the top, people wandering away with plates of what looked like falafel, chatting idly, enjoying the brisk February day. Rabastan had to look away and then look back again to make sure it was, really, in fact her. But she was unmistakable: blonde hair stock straight and hiding her face like a curtain, tapping her fingers impatiently against her arm. He felt dawn to her immediately, crossing the street before he could come up with a proper plan, sidling up to her and saying, without missing a beat, “Fancy meeting you here, Killer.” He wanted to wind his hand around the small of her back, wanted to press their bodies close so he could feel the way her heart beat synchronized with his own, but they weren’t drunk now and the light of day was burning through them, sanitizing whatever this was, refusing to allow them to hide in the shadows. “What the hell is this heinous contraption?” he asked, gesturing at the truck, and then, upon seeing people getting food from one of the windows and shoveling it down their mouths, he shuddered, aghast at the peasantry of it all. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be eating this garbage. I have a very delicate stomach, and just thinking about you consuming something so vile is making me want to hurl. Absolutely not.”

Then, without waiting for her to respond, he offered a toothy, mischievous little grin before adding, “Did you get my present?”

[junker-town]

The Colorado Rapids canceled postgame fireworks because of ... THE PLAGUE!?!!?

Photo by Helen H. Richardson/The Denver Post via Getty Images

In the wild and absurd times that we live in, there’s little that happens now that is legitimately surprising. Glaciers are melting, the political world is descending into chaos, and Manchester United is paying record fees for Harry Maguire. We may as well exist in the Mad Max world.

Yet, something surprising did happen today. Just after noon, the Colorado Rapids tweeted out a press release regarding their upcoming Monday match, the post-game fireworks and parking situation:

Statement regarding tomorrow's match, fireworks and closures around @DSGpark due to plague. Release: https://t.co/ULtvZq0xVT FAQ: https://t.co/6ZNnTzxN9C#Rapids96 | #Elevate pic.twitter.com/EJMwRmHjIR

— Colorado Rapids (@ColoradoRapids) August 2, 2019

It’s easy to miss at first, but once you come back to read the tweet again, you’ll notice the word “plague”, which seems like something that deserves more than a standard press release. In the linked article, the team says:

“Following recommendations from the Tri-County Health Department and the City of Commerce City, the Colorado Rapids game with Montreal Impact on Saturday, August 3 at 7PM will go ahead as scheduled. However, it has been recommended that the post-game fireworks display be cancelled due to the confirmed presence of plague-infested fleas affecting prairie dog colonies in the surrounding areas.

Additionally, in accordance with the Tri-County Health Department’s recommendation for the safety of all attendees, parking lots at DICK’S Sporting Goods Park will be restricted to asphalt lots until further notice.”

I admit that I don’t have the most in-depth knowledge about the conditions of many cities in America, or in the world, but I really thought that the plague was a thing that existed between the 6th and 14th century. Not in Denver, Colorado in 2019. And certainly not something that is affecting people going to soccer games.

The CDC website says that there had been three types of plagues: the Justinian Plague in the 6th century, the most famous “Black Death” that started in China in 1334 and wiped out 60% of Europe, and the modern plague that started in China in 1890, spread to port cities around the world for the next 20 years. With the last version of the plague, scientists were able to identity that it was spread by infectious flea bites, and while the rat-associated plague was brought under control, the disease still spread to small mammals in America, Asia, and Africa.

Which brings us to the Denver metropolitan area, where apparently, the plague is just a thing that people are aware of and live with the knowledge of.

The CDC site states that:

“The most recent plague epidemics have been reported in India during the first half of the 20th century, and in Vietnam during wartime in the 1960s and 1970s. Plague is now commonly found in sub-Saharan Africa and Madagascar, areas which now account for over 95% of reported cases”

But when I tweeted my shock at the fact that Denver has the fucking plague, some of my followers who lived close to the Rapids stadium responded to say that it wasn’t as big of an event as it seemed to me, someone who doesn’t live in a place that has the plague.

So, I asked one of my followers, Timothy Edington, who lives a few blocks from the Rapids stadium for more information about living in a place that has the plague.

On the casual nature of living next to the plague:

“Yeah, all of eastern Colorado is basically a high prairie and we have prairie dogs like the south has kudzu. They get fleas that basically carry plague on them and every so often they have to do stuff like this so they don’t pass it on to humans. They are skittish little creature so direct transfer isn’t the problem, it’s more a worry that they’ll transfer their fleas to other animals that will transfer them to your pets, get. This is the first time I can remember it affecting an event at DSG though.”

On whether he’s ever heard or read about the disease being transferred to humans (earlier this year, a dog exposed over 100 people in Colorado to the plague):

“There aren’t any human transfers that I’m aware of, but I’ve only been living here for three years...Just asked my neighbor who’s lived here since the 50’s and she said she can’t remember any human transfers since the 70’s.”

On efforts to curb the problem:

“They are spraying the non-paved parking areas with a pesticide and that is why they are closing the areas. It’s some pretty nasty [things] that [they] don’t want people coming in contact with (also why they closed the wildlife refuge and several regional parks and open spaces).”

On his reaction when he first moved to Denver and found out that the plague was a thing there:

“I spend most of time out in the woods doing wild land firefighting and wildfire mitigation, so I’m pretty used to some weird nature shit, but the fact that the plague showed up a few blocks from my house was pretty fucking out there man. Also keeping dog as inside as possible for the next couple of days.”

On whether people around the area are at all freaked out about the plague, like the rest of us, who don’t live near the plague, are:

“They only talk about when stuff like this happens and it inconveniences folks. Everyone know the p-dogs are flea and disease infested little varmints, but they are also a crucial part of the local habitat so it’s a balancing act.”

On whether he’s still going to the game, since it’s only the post-match fireworks that’s cancelled:

“Nah, we’re in last place and My Morning Jacket is playing at Red Rocks.”

So there you have it. The plague is just a normal thing that people around the Rapids stadium barely talk about unless a big event happens. They just live there, around animals carrying the modern version of the disease that wiped out more than half of Europe. And this disease exists in prairie dogs, who might look cute, but apparently carry one of the most retro diseases ever.

The CDC says that the “plague can be treated with antibiotics, and can be prevented from spreading by prompt identification, treatment and management of human cases.” Yet, as normal and non-threatening as the CDC, Timothy, and the Rapids, have made the plague being a thing seem, I still can’t get away from the fact that, first, the plague is a thing still. Second, that the Rapids would cancel the fireworks, but not the match itself, considering the fact that it’s the plague. And third, that people are just going about their lives around there with the plague just chilling right outside.

No matter how much sense it makes that this is a normal situation, at least for people in Denver, and that it is under control, there’s still the small fact that it’s the fucking plague.

[rozebucket98-blog]

Mystery in Allenstown

For most people in New Hampshire, the story began in the fall of 1985 in the little town of Allenstown, population 4000ish and best known for being home to Bear Brook State Park.

It was there, on the outskirts of the park, that brothers out hunting discovered the remains of a woman and a girl wrapped in plastic near a 55-gallon barrel.

 The bodies were found on private property where a small camp store with an apartment above it had once operated. Bear Brook Store had burned in July of 1983 but the shell of the building remained, along with a mobile home, a camper, and various vehicles, barrels, and appliances scattered across the property. The hunter, himself the father of a young daughter, who spotted a foot sticking out of the plastic was so traumatized by his discovery that he said it took him ten years to go back into the woods.

 As NH did not have its own Medical Examiner's office, the bodies were flown to Maine to be examined. These sketches were released in the media and authorities covered a lot of ground hoping to identify what was assumed to be a mother and daughter. However, investigative efforts did not lead to answers and eventually, the two bodies were released for burial. Chief Connor organized a graveside service in the parish cemetery that was presided over by the town's Catholic priest and a Methodist minister.

 They were buried together in a steel casket so that they could be exhumed easily if someone came forward to claim their bodies. The owner of Epsom Memorials donated a granite stone for their grave and carved a rose and figures of the woman and child holding hands.

  Over the years, while investigators followed the leads that came in, Allenstown residents experienced a deep unease around the questions that lingered. Who were those girls? Who could have bludgeoned and dismembered and discarded them like trash?

Town officials wanted the Bear Brook Store property cleaned up and there was a Danger Notice attached to the 1997 tax record for map 407, Lot 023 that stated, "Posted Unfit." The following year, an assessment card states "mobile home uninhabitable" and "vacant vandalized." It is chilling in hindsight to read the accompanying dump site report which lists: abandoned vehicle Chrysler 4 door sedan (rust), HTG appliance (illegible), enclosure falling down, with wires and pipes, several 55 gallon drums some with trash in them, construction debris, old machines (axles, lawnmowers) strewn about, approx. 30 feet in from the road.

Fast forward fifteen years and

State Police Sgt John Cody was assigned to the case. New Hampshire did not yet have a cold case unit and troopers were assigned old cases to work.

On May 9th of 2000 while examining the area, Cody located another barrel about 100 yards from where the first one was found, and discovered that it, too, contained human remains. They were found to be the remains of two little girls. This led to the exhumation of the 1985 victims in order to have DNA comparisons done. The testing found that the woman was related biologically to the oldest child (who was found in the barrel with her) and to the 2-3 yr. old girl found in 2000. Authorities came to believe that the four victims were killed at or near the same time in the late 1970s to early 1980s. The realization that one child was not related to the other three victims was puzzling and led to speculation about the whereabouts and well-being of her mother. Later, isotope testing done on the victims showed that the woman and the two girls related to her may have lived in the areas highlighted in green on the map below (State abbreviations added by me)

The information was released for the first time that the two little girls had also been killed by blunt force trauma to their heads. The jolting images shown in May of 2016 of the caved-in skull of a little girl generated renewed speculation about what kind of individual was capable of this kind of violence against little children.

Little did we realize then that we were less than a year from getting our first glimpses into a back story that would bring together investigators on both coasts and yield a whole slew of new questions.

~ ~ ~

The first hints came on December 28th, 2016, when a story broke in New Hampshire about a woman named Denise Beaudin who moved away from Manchester with her infant daughter and her boyfriend Bob Evans in 1981 and was never heard from again. The article was entitled "35 years later, authorities call Manchester woman’s disappearance suspicious."

Although the story didn't mention anything about the Allenstown cold case, the name "Bob Evans" set off alarm bells for a number of Allenstown area folks. This was the same name that we (Oakhill Research) had been asking about for several years. In fact, ever since July 28th, 2014 when Ed Gallagher, the owner of the Allenstown property where the barrels were found, told us that he thought that one 'Bobby Evans' left the barrels on his property.

We went to the January 26, 2017 press conference in Concord NH with a a multitude of questions. Also attending were former Allenstown residents Paul Chevrette and Ron Sayles. Speaking that day were Michael Kokoski (Supervisor in the NH Cold Case Unit), Jeffery Strelzin (Senior Assistant Attorney General Chief, Homicide Unit), and Ryan Grant (Detective Captain in the Manchester Police Department).

 To assist in relating the story, the presenters distributed an informative summary of events that recounts how these cases on the east and west coasts were finally connected in the story of the man once known in NH as Bob Evans. The authorities presented a succinct timeline to help the public navigate what was known about Evans as well as a handout that listed aliases/characteristics/unconfirmed travels etc. that might have shed light on his true identity. They released pictures at the press conference as well as maps of Evans' travels and made the Power Point of the presentation available.

~~~ In brief, we learned the following:

The name 'Bob Evans' appeared to be an alias and his identity was still unknown. DNA testing revealed that he was the biological father of one of the little girls found in 2000 in a barrel, the child who was unrelated to the others. Her actual identity was still unknown and police were concerned that her mother might have been another victim.

The identities of the woman and the other two children were still unknown but DNA testing showed that Evans was not related to these two children, nor was Denise the woman in the barrel. Authorities now believed that it was likely that the victims found in Allenstown were all killed prior to December of 1981 when Evans disappeared from Manchester with Denise. A possible clue to the adult victim's identity might lie in the story shared about a mystery woman named Elizabeth.

Police feared that Evans likely killed Denise at some point and although he had also killed his own daughter, he spared the life of Denise's baby daughter Dawn. In a story that seemed surreal, we learned that Evans changed Dawn's name to Lisa and later gave her away to strangers. In an ironic twist, it was Lisa's own search for her identity that proved to be the catalyst for unraveling Evans' legacy of lies. She was recently reunited with her relatives in Manchester NH. Her survival was a happy note in a sordid story, although her mother's whereabouts are unknown.

The beginning of the end came for Evans when he was arrested in California in 2002 for the murder of his partner, Eunsoon Jun. He was living under one of his many aliases, when authorities, investigating Jun's disappearance, found her bludgeoned and partially dismembered body under a pile of cat litter in their home. A home he continued living in after he killed her.

'Bob Evans' died of natural causes in High Desert Prison in California in 2010. He left many mysteries in his wake, perhaps none more puzzling than that of his own identity. Who was this man who behaved so savagely to the women and children in his life? Where did he come from?  How many other victims did he leave scattered across the continent?

To have pictures and video, new victims, and a string of aliases now attached to the Allenstown killer was an odd turn of events when his identity was still unknown. All over the country, investigators, genealogists, and websleuths began trying to figure out the real identity of the bogeyman who now had a face.

Seven months later, the NH State Police issued a press release. 'Bob Evans' was in fact one Terry Peder Rasmussen. DNA had confirmed a match with a son of his. Exactly how the son had surfaced on the radar of authorities has not been disclosed. There was no opportunity for the media to ask that question as this time around, the detectives did not hold a press conference in conjunction with the release of new information. Suffice it to say, within minutes of the release of Rasmussen's name, websleuths around the country were scrolling through his family's Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace pages, fascinated to learn more about the history of this man of mystery and murder. An uneasy dance unfolded on the Websleuths forum where researchers posted information about him and administrators warned them about not posting information about his relatives, themselves victims of his mayhem.

The reaction from the people of Allenstown was a far cry from that of the websleuths. Learning that Rasmussen had four adult children, siblings to the little girl in the 2000 barrel, Oakhill Research was contacted and asked if there was a way that the people of Allenstown could reach out to his living children. To say that they had never forgotten the little girls in the barrels and had never stopped praying that they would be identified. To say that they had tended the grave and visited it over the years until the day family could come forward. To say that their hearts went out to Rasmussen's children for the difficult spot they found themselves in and that the people of Allenstown would now say prayers for their peace and comfort as they had for the other victims.

Works Cited: http://oakhillresearch.blogspot.de/

                     http://oakhillresearch.blogspot.de/2010/12/the-missng-theories.html

 Dig Deeper: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrNG9u3nncs

                    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpglC3B9FF8

                    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4F7yRA3Vms

*Dedicated to Maggie*