Discernment

To everyone who’s not following the Michelle Parker/Dale Smith case, this post will be meaningless.

But for those of you who are, these may help a little by showing the entire white van.

Inside his garage is a red pickup truck. That is the everyday vehicle. Notice that it is a two-vehicle garage and on the day Michelle was last seen, the white van was parked in the driveway and then on the street. It could mean nothing if he needed to move it out of the way to go out in his pickup. The photo of the camera is the one watching the entrance, looking out toward Goldenrod Road.

All photos taken with 16mp camera with 15x optical zoom. These three images reduced in scale from originals. Free to use.

Whatever it takes

I had some running around to do in south Orlando on Saturday, so when I finished, I zig-zagged my way north and east. Of course, I had a reason for that. Let’s say I was a man with a purpose and there was one place in particular I wanted to go — East Oak Ridge Road. Why? You see, after Michelle Parker’s mother, family and friends had first set up their command center in the vacant parking lot of the now defunct Jesse Black Saloon, they later moved it to The Barn in Sanford, where she worked as a bartender. When they left that location, it was as if they were in limbo, with no clear home. Sure, they went to the Daytona Beach area and then Kissimmee to pass out fliers with information on Michelle, but where did they go from there? Early Saturday morning, I saw a report on the news that they had returned to the Oak Ridge location.

I was somewhat concerned about morale after all this time. It was November 17 — 7 weeks ago — that Michelle was last seen. How were they holding up? I’ve got to tell you, morale was very high. There’s no way anyone will ever give up. Granted, most people had to go back to work and the search force has dwindled. Life goes on, you might say, but instead of letting the command center fizzle, they now set it up every Saturday morning at the original location. “This is where she was. It is here, all around here, where we feel closest to her, not in Sanford.”

Yvonne Stewart is Michelle’s mother. Every day she sorts through bits and pieces of information, hoping that something will click.

One of the first people I saw and recognized was Matt Morgan, son of John and Ultima Morgan, of the Morgan & Morgan law firm. I first met Matt at the last hearing (I attended) for their client, Zenaida Gonzalez, back on October 21, at the Orange County Courthouse. One thing that struck me in a good way that day was that Matt was exceptionally polite and compassionate. That’s an incredible asset and it showed me firsthand what kind of an upbringing he had. This day was no different, and I learned something more than that. Morgan & Morgan also represents the interests of Michelle’s immediate family. How many attorneys do you know that would hang around lending a helping hand on a Saturday afternoon? No suit. No tie. Wearing a MISSING t-shirt and blue jeans.

One of the key questions I had, along with many of you, concerned Michelle’s cell phone. Where was it found in relation to the Nela Avenue bridge? Yvonne and her husband, Jeff Stewart, were more than happy to point the spot out for me on a map of Orange County. Jeff, of course, is Michelle’s stepfather.

From the location, it would appear that the person who threw the phone into Lake Conway was crossing the bridge from east to west. That is, if the person maintained the proper lane and threw it out of the passenger side window.

While I was there, some of the day’s searchers arrived back to home base. The gentleman wearing the white visor (third from the right) is Jeff Stewart, a very affable person. News also broke that Dale Smith, Sr., was arrested and charged with the sale or manufacture of a controlled substance, possession of cannabis, less than 20 grams, and possession of drug paraphernalia. We’ll leave that one alone for now.

Yvonne told me, quite emphatically, that she could use your help. Any help! I asked her when searchers should show up on Saturday mornings. She said about 9:30 - 10:00, but to make sure that you wear comfortable clothes - old clothes, or something that will protect your body from heavy brush, sharp prickles and thorns. Old shoes, too, because of the good possibility of wading through a few inches of mud in some areas.

Please take a look at Michelle’s Facebook page, Michelle Parker Missing Person and hit the “Like” button to show your support. And if you can donate something to help defray the costs of food for the helpers and other incidentals, like printing fliers and t-shirts, it would be very much appreciated. You can do that no matter where you live. $5.00? $10.00? Whatever you can afford. This is the direct link to the Michelle Loree Parker Trust, and it’s strictly handled by the Morgan & Morgan law firm, meaning that every penny will go to the effort to find her.

This is the face of a very determined woman, and considering what Yvonne has been going through, I think she’s holding up well. It’s due to one main thing — she will never give up! Neither will any of Michelle’s family and friends, especially Angela, one of Michelle’s closest friends. These are all good people and if you can do something - anything - they will be indebted, and so will I. Believe me, you cannot go to the command center without feeling some sort of compassion, but don’t confuse it with sympathy. Help is what they need.

As I headed out, I needed to eat. Driving north on Hansel Avenue to Orange, I saw a pizza restaurant called The Original Anthony’s. I knew all about the original Anthony’s in Casselberry from when I moved here in 1981. Could this really be the same family? Yes, it was, and I spoke at length with the owner, Mike. Good guy. While the command center was located on Oak Ridge in the beginning, he had donated large pizzas to help out, because, he said, “it was the right thing to do.”

It’s nice to know that people from all walks of life are willing to get involved. In my case, I wish I could do more, but the least I could do is this… keep Michelle in my mind and in the minds of my readers. Whatever it takes to bring her home.

Look, Listen & Learn

Watch this video, which has been released on the CaseyAnthonyisinnocent.com Website. Judge for yourself and feel free to express your thoughts here, in comments.

To me, it looks like she’s sitting in an office somewhere. Also, she says this is the first of many videos, but trust me, I won’t be posting them unless you express otherwise.

Quiet Observations, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

“There is no reason for a 2-year-old child to decompose in a field in a plastic bag with duct tape over its face.”

“I don’t understand people who think Elvis is still alive. I don’t understand people who think we never landed on the moon. I don’t get those people. So I don’t get these people [the jury] either.”

— Dr. Jan Garavaglia, on Sunday night’s program on TLC, The Learning Channel

Yes, I watched it, and yes, it was exceptionally well done, but did I learn anything new? Not much, really. It served to reiterate and fortify the state of Florida’s substantive and well grounded claims made against the mother of Caylee Marie Anthony, charged with her murder and found not guilty by a jury of her peers. I think, mostly, it allowed Dr. G to get some things off her chest. In the end, Caylee’s death was a homicide, regardless of the end result, and it tore at the very fabric of the Orange-Osceola chief medical examiner. This is a case that will forever haunt everyone involved, especially law enforcement, investigators on all levels, and prosecutors, who spent countless hours going to bat for Caylee. Yes, us, too.

God knows we’ve had countless what ifs to ponder; things that never made it into the courtroom and ones that did that didn’t pan out, like the phone call between Erica Gonzalez and the defendant on July 15, 2008, when Casey (I broke my own rule) was on her way to pick up Amy Huizenga at the airport. Gonzalez claimed she heard Caylee being scolded by her mother during that call, but that was impossible because, in his opening statement, Jose Baez said that Caylee was dead on June 16, 2008, a full month earlier.

CLICK IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Why wasn’t that phone call used to it’s fullest advantage at trial? Yes, Gonzalez was questioned on the stand by Assistant State Attorney Frank George, but she couldn’t remember the details at the time. OK, fine, but at that point, she should have been shown the document above to help remind her of what she told law enforcement. She wasn’t. Anyway, that was a key piece of evidence in my opinion, that went nowhere. As a matter of fact, it worked to the defense’s advantage. Why? Surely, a “grieving” mother would have no reason to make up a silly lie about scolding her dead child, right? What would be the point? Why talk to an imaginary person, something she did very well? The state should have expanded on it. (Watch Erica Gonzalez’s testimony here)

Sadly, there are no more points to make because it’s way too late for that. Case closed. I just needed to get that off my chest.

Of course, it’s never too late to remind everyone that, although the case may be closed, the memories are permanently etched in the minds of all of us who lived through it, and history will look as kindly on Casey Anthony as it has on Lizzie Borden, scorned to this day, yet dating all the way back to the 1890s. You know, the nursery rhyme about the 40 whacks she gave her mother that’s still recited. And like the one for Lizzie, I wrote one for you know who over a year ago - 6 months before the trial began, when no one knew the outcome would be similar to Lizzie’s…

THE BALLAD OF CASEY

For the rest of her life

Her name will be mud

For taking the life

Of her own flesh and blood.

For what lies ahead

Is a brewing storm.

Her Caylee long dead

Was fed chloroform.

I did change a few words from my original, but I hope it lasts a hundred years or more. Oh no, not because of me. I don’t care if anyone remembers who wrote it, I just want people to remember Caylee. Whether her mother murdered her or not, she was solely responsible for her death.

Moving on, we come to one of the prosecutors from the Anthony trial, Jeff Ashton, now retired. Today, he’s a best selling author and there are some misconceptions about him making the rounds on the Internet. I’m going to do my best to give you the truth. For sure, Ashton must have been working on his book during the trial, right? Perhaps, before it began, you think? I mean, how else could anyone explain how it was written and published in what seemed like record time? It was roughly 5 months after the trial ended that Imperfect Justice was on bookshelves across America. What gives? According to Suzanne Fox of VeroNews.com, the book wasn’t crafted until after the trial ended, and according to Ashton, not before he took his wife and children on a much needed vacation.

“When we started, I had no frame of reference,” Ashton said. “I figured the timeframe was short, but I didn’t really understand how short until the lawyer who vetted the book for HarperCollins told me that we’d done in three months what usually takes eighteen.”

“I couldn’t have taken on the book project if I was still working,” he added. “Even if the State Attorney would have authorized me to do it, there wouldn’t have been time.”

Of course, having Lisa Pulitzer, a seasoned professional crime writer on hand, helped tremendously. So did a very serious-minded editor, something I learned about while writing for Mike Boslet, Editor-in-Chief of Orlando magazine, during the trial. Get the job done.

That leads me to Ashton’s latest announcement that he’s going to challenge his former boss, Lawson Lamar, for the office of Orange-Osceola State Attorney. Alas, I would strongly consider voting for him except for one thing. I live in Seminole County, home of the 18th District Court. He’s in the 9th, and I can’t vote there. However, I can still offer my thoughts regarding his background and qualifications.

The Super Bowl comes once a year. Half of us don’t remember who won last year when the new one comes around. But after the big event, we look at the losing team as a bunch of, well, losers, not taking into account that they came in second in a field of 32 teams. Out of those teams, Number 2 stands out like a sore thumb. Why? In real life, Number 2 is not a pathetic loser. Yes, the Super Bowl is all about hype leading up to the main event and the media sucks it up like a sponge. Yes, it’s like any great battle, but so was the Anthony case, in a sense, and that one lasted nearly 3 years. Wow! What a build up and what a let down. The only thing is, we can’t obscure facts by skewing history and the truth.

Jeff Ashton was but one of three assistant state attorneys that took on the mammoth and monumental task of prosecuting Casey Anthony. That’s one third, folks, not one person. He was merely a co-prosecutor. Sure, the State should have won, but it didn’t, and we now have a retired prosecutor with a rather sterling 30 year career who is running for political office. I’m hearing some reverberations from several detractors around the Web. I do find it amazing that some people look upon him as a loser because of one case, but that’s the way we live today - for the here and the now, and everyone has personality conflicts. One thing we need to remember is that, during his 30 year career, he tried “some 70 homicide cases” and won all 12 of his “capital murder trials.” (See: Orlando magazine, Dec., 2011., The Prosecution Can’t Rest)

Ashton was the first prosecutor in the nation to gain the conviction of a rapist as a result of DNA evidence. In 1987, Tommy Lee Andrews was found guilty and sentenced to 22 years in prison. That was just over 24 years ago, when he was a young man around 30-years-old. A Florida appeals court upheld the conviction and the state became the first in the nation to affirm DNA evidence. That’s quite a statement, folks. And he’s not one to back away from anything.

Here’s my opinion — take it or leave it. Jeff Ashton is a fierce competitor. Here is a man who did his best for Caylee Anthony. What do you think he would do in the wake of that loss? Quit? Just write books? Do speaking tours? Sure, he could do that, and he should, but he now chooses to stick around and fight for future Caylees and everyone else in Orange and Osceola counties seeking justice. That shows you he’s dedicated and determined and not a quitter. I dare say he doesn’t know how to quit — not the driven man that I have learned to know and respect. Tomorrow morning at 11:00 am, I will be standing on the courthouse steps when he officially announces his candidacy and I will urge him on. 

(Also see Orlando Sentinel)

Jeff Ashton to run for State Attorney?

The Orlando Sentinel and WESH are reporting that Jeff Ashton is poised to announce his run for state attorney. He will make his announcement on the steps of the Orange County Courthouse on Tuesday morning at 11:00 AM. WESH quoted Ashton and the Sentinel speculated.

Lawson Lamar is the present state attorney for the Ninth Circuit Court. He has enjoyed running unopposed in the past, so this should be interesting. Personally, I think Ashton would be a great choice. At present, he is taking care of his best-selling book responsibilities (Imperfect Justice) and, since the trial ended, working as a consultant for the Maitland, FL law firm of Troum & Wallsh.

Just after 6:00 pm today, this statement was made on his official Facebook page: “Please stay tuned we will be releasing more information on what next and how everyone can help, in the next few days. Till then have a happy new year.

Incidentally, Judge Stan Strickland left the bench today. We all wish him the very best in his future endeavors.

Hot off the press!

Anthony Colarossi is the senior court reporter for the Orlando Sentinel. While attending the court proceedings during the Anthony case, both the hearings and trial, we got to know and respect each other. I guess it’s because we were, pretty much, the only ones who actually published our stories instead of presenting them on-air - not to take away from Steve Helling of People magazine. Of course, Anthony is a well-respected journalist and I was just a blogger until I was hired by Orlando magazine to cover the story. One day during the trial, a CNN producer followed me around and wrote about it on the CNN Website. She told me I went into this as a journalist without portfolio and transformed myself into a journalist with portfolio. That’s not easy to do, she added, and I never forgot those words.

Anthony is someone I not only respect, I genuinely like him as a person. I think we talked every single day, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s someone you’d like to call a friend, and say so proudly. He’s a consummate professional and he, too, appreciated my writing on a professional level. I would not consider myself in the same league as him for a couple of reasons. We are different types of writers. Where I could write in-depth articles, newspapers won’t allow it while reporting on day-to-day events. An extreme example of this would be USA Today. Short and sweet. What you read there could be read off a telepromptor by a TV personality. Anthony’s articles go deeper than that, but not as deep as mine. Even so, he’s a better writer overall and there’s no real way to compare us.

In today’s edition of the paper, in print and online, he published a very compelling article (and more in-depth) about the Anthony trial and how much the case consumed us in 2011. It’s spread out over two pages and it’s an excellent read…

Casey Anthony case consumed Orlando, nation in 2011

Mike Plumadore, Big Daddy Fake Buster

Poor Tarah Souders. I feel terrible about what happened to her family and I’m not going to question what type of parent she is. In other words, I’m sure she loves her children more than anything in the world, but soon after her father became ill with emphysema, she had to downsize. Money was getting harder to come by, so she moved her three daughters and dear old dad into a ragtag trailer park in rural Indiana. She was aware that the small community held very, very real threats to her girls’ safety. She knew 15 registered sex offenders were the type of trash that lived there, but her own father assured her that all would be okay. Just before moving in, she mentioned two men in particular she was fearful of. One of them was 39-year-old Michael Plumadore. Her father reiterated his claim that no one would ever touch her children, especially Plumadore. So she decided to trust him.

What happened to Aliahna Lemmon was a real travesty, but it’s also a shame that grandpa didn’t live long enough to witness the inevitable; the murder of one of his grandchildren by the man he put so much faith in. Too bad he didn’t have the opportunity to find out the pretty, little, 9-year-old girl was dismembered and disposed of by the man he gave his blessing to; the one who bludgeoned her head with a brick. Too bad grandpa was a registered sex offender, just like Plumadore, and that they both had spent time together in jail. It was also a shame that Aliahna and her two sisters had been staying with Plumadore because mom had been too sick with the flu to care for them. Maybe she just needed a temporary break.

Why would a mother put her faith in any man who lived eons away from an exemplary lifestyle? Was she aware that daddy dearest was also a sexual deviant? Did she believe him because it takes one to know one? We may never know the answers, but common sense should have told her to stay miles away from that perverted playground for convicted child molesters. Who in their right mind would walk into a hornet’s nest of iniquity? With young girls?

For a woman who has her own Facebook account and some knowledge of the Internet, why didn’t it ever dawn on Tarah to look into the friend list of the man who confessed to killing her sweet daughter? In her time of grief, I’m sure she now realizes that she had no common sense or she would have known to look first. Any parent would do that, right?

Last night, I took a look at Plumadore’s Facebook page before it was taken down. What I saw were hundreds of impressionable young girls that made up a fair amount of his friend list. I didn’t have a chance to register each and every one of them in my mind, but a clear pattern emerged. The majority were young girls known as fake busters. Fake busters go after site models.

Fake busters and site models? Yes, and until last night, I didn’t know a thing about them. Site models, according to the Urban Dictionary description, are “average-looking girls who take pictures of themselves making kissy lips and peace signs and edit them excessively with Photoshop.”

“Someone who is insecure and unattractive and just wants other people to say that they’re good looking; someone who fishes for compliments but isn’t attractive enough to get them in person so they take pictures of themselves at indirect angles and over-edits them and uploads them to a site on myspace or facebook.”

Fake busters are trolls that go after site models. They, too, are mostly pre-teen and early teen girls and just like any other other Internet troll, their only mission is to “out” the site models for what they are not - world-class models, as if it’s anyone’s business. There is no difference between them and the trolls who go after anyone anonymously online. They are on a mission of empowerment. So one of them told me. Their goal is to rid the world of online people because they have nothing better to do. And they have certain things in common, like immaturity, low self-esteem and complete jealousy. Believe me, I have first-hand experience with trolls. I know how awful it is to have total strangers do everything they can to destroy someone they know nothing about. It’s lie after lie after lie. I also know how impressionable young people can be, especially girls. No sexism implied.

If only someone in the neighborhood - family and friends - had the insight to look into Plumadore’s past and Internet presence, they would have found a man obsessed with pre- and post-pubescent girls. I have no idea how he befriended most of them, but I saw scads and scads of them adding him to their list around the same time-frame, as if he was on a rampage for young and tender flesh. Who knows how he set them up… “I hate site models, just like you! Let’s go after them!”

His Facebook list of friends was 570 when I first saw it. How could the parents nearly 500 girls not know about this monster? Mr. Big Daddy Fake Buster, the grandest one of all!

If any school-age children were living in my household, you’d better believe I would know who they wanted to mingle with online, and until I could do a background check and whatever else I had available to research them, my children would not have permission to connect with anyone. Chat rooms would be SO off-limits. Period. I’m sure Tarah couldn’t afford a real background check, but she could have asked law enforcement what they knew about the men living in the neighborhood. I would be suspicious of any 39-year-old man, let alone asking or allowing him to babysit my children. And to be alone with little girls? In a deviant-infested trailer park? You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s horrible that Tarah had to learn the hard way - to meet the police this way - but after all, her father, her own flesh and blood, assured her over and over again that no one would touch her girls. He must have been the scrupled one - the one who would never go after his own grandchildren.

Yeah, right. And I’ve got a nice mobile home you can live in for free. Plus, all the candy you can eat!

Pictures from Mike Plumadore’s Facebook account

FOUND MURDERED!

Merry Christmas from Marinade Dave

This video is a combination of my work and cakefilm out of The Netherlands. The scenes of the hunter are cake’s work. The music and build-up after the final shot are my work. And the credits, of course. My friend Frank Foran sent it to me and I couldn’t resist.

Snakes and Rats and Spiders, Oh My!

Dr. Eddie DelValle is a humble man. He is the CEO and president of TBC Productions, which focuses on natural healing. He also runs With Love Ministries, a traveling Christian community service organization. Late Saturday afternoon, he was cleaning up the grounds on Suburban Drive, where Caylee Anthony’s remains were found on December 11, 2008. He does this at the request of the Chickasaw Oaks neighborhood, where George and Cindy reside, and for Bring Kids Home, the public charity that aspires to build a memorial on the Suburban site. While you may not recognize Eddie, he organized the Peace Walk for Caylee just hours after her mother was released from jail on July 17 of this year. He also put together the Suburban Drive balloon release, which I did attend, on August 5, Caylee’s 6th birthday. When Michelle Parker went missing, he was in charge of the candlelight vigil held for her on November 20. She disappeared 3-days earlier, on the 17th.

Since I began writing about the Caylee Anthony case, way back in 2008, I have been as pragmatic as possible. I can’t tell you how many times I said that a memorial for her on the site where she was found was not only impractical, it was downright dangerous. I still believe that, but after seeing what Bring Kids Home wants to do, I have softened a bit. While I still believe a memorial would be better served elsewhere, I do admire the plans put forth by the charity. However, one of my main arguments remains the same - that Caylee did not die there, and a memorial would only serve to remind us that she was tossed out like a bag of trash. Literally.

Speaking of Trash

While the Bring Kids Home plan still remains a dream, reality brings me back to the same message I preached when countless people wanted it to be a permanent shrine. There’s a school at the east end of Suburban Drive. Children walk by it during the school year. Granted, the sidewalk is across the street, but leaving countless stuffed animals is very enticing to children. They act as magnets. The ground drops down several feet, and it’s sometimes flooded. In the world we live in today, you could say it’s not user friendly.

I was there Saturday afternoon, watching Eddie clean up. All of the stuffed animals, save one, were tossed into garbage bags. He takes them home and slowly has them, piece-by-piece, hauled away with his household trash. There’s just too much to take at one time. I told him I had a problem with the type of memorial that’s there now because it invites rats, snakes, and other types of vermin that could harm school-age children and unsuspecting visitors who just stop by to pay their respects. Eddie’s wife was sitting in the van, but she told me she had seen a huge spider earlier. Eddie made a good-sized fist and said it was all of that, if not bigger. We all agreed that it’s not the kind of environment conducive for a memorial. Not in its present form, anyway. The new memorial plan is to elevate the land and keep it clean. I’ve seen architectural renderings and they look magnificent, but now, it’s just a repository for filthy stuffed animals and one more very important thing… MOLD. Yes, bags and bags of moldy stuffed animals are thrown away each time Eddie makes the rounds. Mold and mildew is not good for the lungs. It is unhealthy and his message was clear - if you want to bring something in honor of Caylee, bring flowers. Almost every stuffed animal is thrown away, so your money is going to waste. Some of the animals were large, too, probably costing $50 or more, only to be hauled away to spend the their remaining days in a landfill. What a nice reminder.

Why not donate the money spent to a good charity instead? Why not donate money to Bring kids Home if you want the location to be a permanent marker for Caylee? Like I said, only one was good enough to save. Eddie told me that the good ones go to homeless or domestic violence shelters. Why don’t visitors do just that? Stop by and pay your respects; then give. Help others instead of the vermin. I noticed that some of those stuffed animals were ripped into, and stuffing was coming out. What a perfect for rats to collect bedding! Better yet, Eddie said, what a great place to make a bed. How inviting.

Let the pictures tell the story…

CLICK ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Eddie said he watched a hawk follow me as I drove up, and as I was walking around taking pictures, he tried to point it out to me. He seemed somewhat amazed because the hawk kept it’s eyes on me. “He keeps watching you,” he said. I was rather unfazed, but it was an interesting part of my visit to Suburban Drive. I told him it was the same lightpole OCSO used for measuring where Caylee’s skull rested. It was a fixed point. I distinctly remember those coordinates. 89’ east of the lightpole, 19’8” due south. It’s the 6th photo down in this series - the one with the light brown teddy bear at its base. When I took the pictures of the hawk, his (or her) stare shifted away from me, but he knew I was there. It’s almost as if he proudly posed for my camera. In the bottom image, he seems to be keeping a watchful eye over that sad and lonely place in the woods.

Cautious Observations

I drove down to Carter Glen Condominiums and Townhomes late Saturday afternoon to poke around Dale Smith II’s neighborhood. When I put his address into my iPad 2 TeleNav GPS Plus app, it only directed me to the entrance of the development. While I had no problem gaining entry, I had no idea where to find his building, so I drove around. Fortunately, I did know the number and it didn’t take long to single it out.

Of utmost importance to me is to remind everyone that, while Smith is OPD’s only suspect in the disappearance of his ex-fiancée, Michelle Parker, he is innocent until (or if) a jury finds him guilty of a crime. Also, I cannot forget George and Cindy Anthony in one sense because, like Smith, they declined to take a polygraph test, and it really caused great consternation and suspicion. A lot of people decided right then and there that they were somehow involved in the murder of their granddaughter and of helping to dispose of the body, none of which turned out to be true. To this day, some still believe it. When people begin to argue with me, and they can be quite adamant and boisterous, I tell them to call law enforcement and the State Attorney’s Office to fight. Tell them they got it all wrong. Include Jeff Ashton please, because he exonerated them, too, in his book, Imperfect Justice. In Smith’s case, I’m not going to proclaim him innocent of anything, but since he is the only suspect, I want to look into whether he could be capable of being involved in Michelle Parker’s disappearance. Wherever it leads, my job at this point is not to be opinionated to any extreme; it is to present the facts for your consideration.

First, here are two overhead views of Carter Glen, Phase 2, where Smith resides. In the close-up shot, you can clearly make out his white van sitting in the driveway.

CLICK ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE

It wasn’t until I was ready to leave that I noticed a camera mounted near the entrance gate. I did not see one for exiting the complex. If the Orlando Police Department has a copy of the video showing Michelle pulling into the drive and putting in a code, or if she used an electronic gate opener, that would help to establish when she actually arrived.

While shooting the above pictures, I spoke with a man who had been walking nearby. I asked him if he was familiar with the case and he said he was, but not all that much. I was curious about the buildings. It was my understanding that the complex was made up of condos and townhouses. Were there any apartments? No, he replied. The two ends, on either side, are town homes with 2 levels. They have a single car garage. The middle two are condos and they share a two car garage. When I asked him what he thought happened to Michelle, he didn’t really have a clue.

Moments earlier, when I was in front of Dale’s building, there wasn’t much activity, but some children were playing in the driveway of the next building, to the left of his. I wasn’t about to confront them. Driving around, I did observe other people milling about, but for a Saturday afternoon, it was rather quiet. I was trying to see if it would be easy to commit the sort of crime Dale is suspected of, and to be able to escape unnoticed. On the surface, no, it couldn’t be done, but there were other factors at play. For one thing, he lives in a townhome and he has a two car garage, not a single. Secondly, the neighbor directly next to him has a security camera mounted on the small balcony that overlooks the driveway and street. Surely, Dale must have been aware of that camera on the afternoon Michelle dropped off her twins.

The next image is a still taken from the video shot by the neighbor’s security camera. You can see Michelle’s Hummer as it arrives at 3:18 PM on November 17, the time she was last seen by anyone other than Dale. The photo below that depicts the back of her Hummer with the GLOW decals in place. I took that photo where the vehicle was found abandoned, the next day. The last still shows a Hummer driving in the direction of the exit. It also shows the neighbor’s car in his/her respective driveway. The car has a spoiler that helps identify it. There are a few other observations I’ve made…

There is no GLOW decal or any other decal on the exiting Hummer. This is the only inconsistency reported by media, and it directly implicates Dale. However, I observed two more things that may help Dale. Or maybe not. Please understand, my only job is to find facts, and nothing more.

In the first still, the van is not parked on the street. Where was it? In the driveway? In the second still, the van is parked along the street. Why? Where did Michelle park when she arrived? Why was the van moved at all?

You can speculate all you want about it. You can assume that the Hummer was moved into the garage and the door was shut behind it in order to strip it of anything that directly links it to Michelle, but does anyone really know for sure?

Take a close look at the Hummer as it drives away. Do you notice anything other than the missing decals? How about the spare tire cover, as seen in the photo of fliers attached to the tree as a reference. This Hummer has no cover. Why? Was it removed, too, along with the decals? Or was it an altogether different vehicle?

Clearly, OPD has information we are not privy to. How many people living in Carter Glen own a black Hummer? Or are there visitors? How many black Hummers drove into the complex that day? If it’s not Michelle’s, it had to come from one of the buildings abutting the woods on the west side of the development because there’s no other reason why it would be driven past Dale’s, who lives on a corner lot. Assuming it is Michelle’s, 4:40 PM is a far cry from the time Dale gave police - that he and Michelle both left ten minutes after she arrived, around 3:30. It also negates his statement that he was at his parent’s house at 4:30. From the still, we can’t read the license plate. Most security cameras are not that good. Could law enforcement technicians use software to enhance the tag? All I know is that Dale could not drive the Hummer out of the complex alone. In order to dump it on the other side of town, over 12 miles away someone had to pick him up. Or someone else did it. He had no idea his home would be raided, so why wouldn’t he have driven it off the premises after darkness fell, knowing full well that his neighbor had a security camera that would capture it during the day?

When I left, and since I was down in the area of Suburban Drive, I took a ride over there, and I’m glad I did. That should be my next post. Meanwhile, let’s not jump to any conclusions. Not yet, anyway. Refusing to take a polygraph test is not an admission of guilt. Ask the state of Florida about George and Cindy’s involvement in Caylee’s death. As far as any other evidence that surfaces regarding this case, most definitely, have at it.

A Crowning Achievement

At the bottom of this article is a picture of my sister, Maggie, and my brother-in-law, Bud, taken today, December 16, 2011. Bud, many of you may recall, was diagnosed with AML (acute myelogenous leukemia) in December of 2003. His initial treatment, a brand new clinical trial, began in April, 2004, and ran through January, 2005. It failed.

Bud underwent a bone marrow transplant on April 19, 2005. The host donor remains anonymous, but he and my sister did find out the marrow came from a man in Europe. In April of 2012, they will be celebrating 7 years in remission. This is due to Bud’s incredible focus and will to live, my sister’s unrequited love and resolve, and the exemplary work and tenacity of the dedicated professionals at the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas and Orlando, Florida, who saved his life.

In commemoration of Bud’s crowning achievement, Maggie made him a little blinking-light tiara, which he wore today when we ate lunch at Bahama Breeze on International Drive in Orlando. The “M” in AML used to stand for Myelogenous, but today it stands for Miracle.

I will be writing more about Bud’s journey in the near future, along with the work of St. Baldrick’s Foundation, which was brought to my attention by Simon Barrett. YES! That Simon Barrett. (See: DVD Review: Jingle Hell)

This holiday season, the St. Baldrick’s Foundation and the producers of the independent film “Jingle Hell,” in conjunction with the film’s distributor Janson Media, are teaming up to raise money for kids’ cancer research.

If you would like to learn more about becoming a bone marrow donor, please visit the National Marrow Donor Program.

Maggie & Bud - December 16, 2011 - Bahama Breeze, Orlando

Lunch with Mom, Dad & Dave

For Michelle

I had a rather busy Saturday this past weekend, but before I go into that, I want to clarify a couple of things. One, Jeff Ashton is aware of my contest. There are no hidden agendas whatsoever, so don’t be afraid to enter. Two, the original media reports focused on the Hoffner Avenue bridge as the location where Michelle Parker’s cell phone was tossed and discovered after police received a tip. That information is incorrect. It is the Nela Avenue bridge location, and I made the correction on my Over Hell and Dale report. The maps now reflect that change. Sorry for the confusion.

•

On Saturday morning, I drove to Costco in Winter Park to have copies of Jeff Ashton’s book signed. You know, Imperfect Justice… the one I want you to win. From there, I drove down to the area where Michelle Parker’s Hummer H3 was found on November 18, the day after she disappeared. My trusty iPad GPS app guided the way to the 4700 block of Walden Circle, in southwest Orlando. While there, I had the opportunity to speak to several people who actually live in the immediate neighborhood. On the outside perimeter, I asked three or four men if they knew where the vehicle was found and what, if anything, did they know about it. The consensus was clear about where it was found and two of them stated that they had seen the Hummer parked in proximity of that spot 3 or 4 times over the past month. They said, because of her tanning business, she may have had a customer living on that side. They told me they had been questioned by law enforcement and that’s what they told them. If true, it could point to someone other than Dale Smith II as the perp. On the other hand, why would someone in that complex be involved and point evidence their way? The men all agreed that they had seen the vehicle with the “GLOW Mobile Airbrush Tanning” decal clearly visible. This time, they said, the decal was gone.

When they pointed to the spot where the Hummer was found, I drove across the street, parked my car, and walked around. Several men were sitting on their small enclosed porches. I asked them what they knew. I told them about the men across the way and what they said. They showed me exactly where it was found, and a couple of them told me there was another black Hummer that used to park toward the back area as the apartments (or condos/townhouses) extended inside the perimeter.

CLICK ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE - LARGER IMAGES ARE HIGHER QUALITY

HUMMER FOUND HERE

AREA WHERE OTHER HUMMER PARKED

My real point of Walden Circle and what I found out is very important in one sense. Dale and Michelle had been broken up for a fair amount of time by then. How would Dale know about the Walden Circle location unless he was stalking her? Or if she had this very customer while they were still together, as in long-term, why wouldn’t the witnesses have said they saw it over a longer course of time than a month? Something isn’t quite adding up as far as I’m concerned.

After I left the complex, I drove to the intersection of Vineland and Conroy Roads. On the southeast corner is a patch of woods, and on Vineland, there is a utility road into those woods that’s used to access two elevated billboards. If I was in the neighborhood looking to hide evidence, there’s a place I would consider, so I decided to take a look. Don’t let the overhead view fool you. The brush is a lot thicker in there, as the photos will show.

LOOKING INTO WOODED AREA

I didn’t investigate further because of the tangled brush and, well, the place just gave me the creeps. I left.

What an Incredible Outpouring of Support

From there, I hopped on I-4 and drove up to The Barn in Sanford, where she tends bar. I milled around snapping photos. There was a $10 admission charge and all of the gate money was to go to Michelle’s children and family for search efforts. [This could be a legal issue if Dale Smith II demands the money as father of the twins.]

There were plenty of vendors plying their goods, and they all donated a percentage of the take, mostly 50%, to the same worthy cause. There was food, music, clothing for sale, a bounce house, face painting and more. Lots of fun! I didn’t hang around too long because I’m not much into large crowds any longer and my health cuts into the amount of time I am out and about. I stayed for an hour or so, and when I left, the nice woman at the gate answered “at least a thousand by now” when I asked her how many people were there. I was really hoping for a second wind so I could return, but it just wasn’t in me. Anyway, the festivities continued until 2:00 am after it was moved inside around early in the evening. Not only was the parking lot filled with people, the very large bar also held quite a few. There was a silent auction that you could bid on all day, with donated goods and services, and highest bids picked that night. There was a truck tug-of-war and other challenges, including a cornhole contest.

SILENT AUCTION

Like I said, I wish I could have spent more time at The Barn, but by late afternoon, I was beat. Yesterday on the local news, one station reported that at least 2,000 people showed up. The event was a huge success, in other words. Now, if we could just have the same success with Michelle, she’ll be back to her bar this week, waiting on her loyal customers.

NEVER GIVE UP!

It was 3 Years Ago Today...

Over Hell and Dale

November 17

Until I carefully studied a map of the areas where Dale Smith II lives, where Michelle Parker’s cell phone was found, where Dale’s parent’s live, and where Michelle’s Hummer H3 was found, I couldn’t really make a solid assessment of the particulars in the case. Everything was so spread out and information was sporadic at times. Now, it’s all becoming clear. Take the text message made from Michelle’s iPhone when her brother asked her where she was. The response was simple - one single word: Waterford.

Waterford is located in east Orlando, around the Colonial Drive (S.R. 50) and Alafaya Trail (S.R. 434) neighborhood. Most sources affirm that Michelle was not there; that it was a ploy to confuse law enforcement later on, after she was reported missing. If it did, it wasn’t for long.

The reference to Waterford came at 4:26 pm, moments after her brother, Dustin Erickson, asked for her location. Why that text message is so important is because it establishes that Michelle was not in control of her cell phone by that time. It means that sometime between 3:18, the time she dropped her twins off at Smith’s condo, and 4:26, just over an hour later, something happened to the pretty mother of 3 children.

Smith’s attorney, Mark NeJame, said that he had taken his children to visit their grandparents at 4:30, minutes after the ficticious text message. What transpired in his life between 3:18 and then is anyone’s guess.

We do know that the day Dale & Michelle’s legal row over a lost engagement ring appeared on The People’s Court, she was never seen again. How do we know? A security camera recorded her dropping off her twins at the condo just off Goldenrod Road. Because of the camera angle, her departure was not recorded and no one else reported seeing her subsequent to that time. Three minutes earlier, at 3:15, she and her boyfriend, Nathan Mitchell, exchanged flirty text messages. They had enjoyed breakfast together in the morning.

At the moment, I’m not going to second-guess anyone - not Mr. NeJame, Smith’s attorney - and certainly not law enforcement. While Dale Smith is innocent until a criminal court deems otherwise, if ever, the maps I’m providing sure do implicate him in a big way. What it looks like to me is that he is either very stupid for leaving a huge clue next to a bridge, along the most convenient path between his place and his parent’s, or someone else is setting him up to cause his macro-downfall from grace. Other than well documented anger management issues and run-ins with the law, nothing directly implicates him of any wrongdoing. However, in 2009, Michelle tried to obtain a restraining order against him, but it was denied due to lack of evidence.

Any way you look at it, assuming Dale Smith was somehow involved, where Michelle Parker’s vehicle was found sure does point to an accomplice, in my opinion. The drive from his parents to the drop off point is 3.5 miles. Something tells me the real perpetrator or accomplice did not walk away from there unless he/she lives nearby, within walking distance. There’s just too much traffic in Orlando to escape being seen, although the dark of night does offer a practical cover. Still, it’s a long walk, and remember, the longer a person is exposed to the public, the greater the odds of witnesses.

The Orlando Police Department is keeping tight-lipped about what it has, and rightfully so. My understanding is that it’s a lot, but not necessarily enough. In law enforcement’s favor at this time, because this is an ongoing investigation, is that Florida’s sunshine law does not apply. Not yet, anyway. Meanwhile, let’s hope Michelle’s iPhone and cell phone pings offer up enough evidence that justice will be done. Most of all, let’s pray for Michelle and her loved ones.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

Maps courtesy of Google

Missing Michelle

I had to take care of a few things in the Sanford/Lake Mary area today, so I decided to stop by The Barn, a famous country music nightclub known for hosting some of the genre’s best artists. It’s right up the road a spell from where I live, but in the 30-plus years I’ve been here, I’ve never been there. I stopped by to take a couple of photos of the exterior to show you where Michelle Parker works as a bartender. Michelle, in case you are not aware, disappeared without a trace 2 weeks ago, on the day she and her ex-fiancé, Dale Smith II, appeared on a taped episode of The People’s Court. On that day, she dropped off the one-time couple’s 3-year-old twins at his residence and was never seen again. (Michelle also has an 11-year-old son from a previous relationship.) The Orlando Police Department recently named Smith as the only suspect.

When I arrived at The Barn, two men were about to enter the establishment. I decided to walk up to them to explain why I was there. One seemed to be the in-charge, go-to person. I told him who I was and that my only intent was to do whatever I could to get her name out, not that I expected my site to do all that much, but you never know. Every little bit helps. He invited me in and said he would show me Michelle’s bar. This was about 3:30 and the bar doesn’t open for business until 6:00, so the interior wasn’t all that well lit. Certainly, it was enough to see how large it is inside. I told him I’d never set foot in the place, but I’ve always wanted to. We walked past a main bar and I could clearly see that it was big enough to accommodate several bars, and it does. The Website touts seven in all, including one in an upstairs loft that overlooks the dance floor.

I haven’t been hanging around any bars these days, but there’s an aroma that you can only detect inside a place that pours alcoholic beverages. I guess it’s from all of the liquor bottles and spilled drinks over the years. This place had no carpet that I recollect, so there was nothing to soak up the spilled drinks. Still, it was there. We walked all the way across to the other side, and there it was - where Michelle tends bar.

I could sense the anguish and desperation in this man’s heart. As a person in my position, that of a journalist, I asked him a few questions. He told me he couldn’t really say much, and I understood that. This is, after all, an ongoing investigation. He wasn’t really told by law enforcement to remain quiet, he said, but I know it would do no good for him to tell me his true thoughts of what went down. I told him I had read on one of the Orlando Sentinel threads where several people were stating that if it wasn’t her ex-boyfriend, it could surely have been someone who had been stalking her at the bar. Of course, there’s no really good reason or need for anyone to speculate like this. I did say it sure seemed strange that she would disappear on the same day the court segment aired. Yes, he said, and we mentioned another couple of peculiarities, but we left it at that, with neither of us voicing any sort of strong opinion one way or another.

He told me something that really stuck. He said that Michelle is a really good girl. By that, I knew exactly what he meant. She’s got it all. Aside from being very pretty, she’s a great friend, a loving mother, and an all-around caring soul. The girl has no enemies. She’s incredibly popular and none of it makes any sense, but it never does. I’ve never had someone I know go missing, nor have I ever felt that kind of frustration and helplessness. But throughout my years of dating and befriending many bartenders, their bosses always treated them like family. That’s precisely what this man was all about. It’s as if a chunk of his heart has been torn out, and to a person, his staff feels the same way. Everyone loves and misses Michelle.

I asked him if he managed or owned the bar. He told me he owns it. Eric Thims is his name. He’s a very proud man, and he’s doing whatever it takes to bring Michelle home. This is what’s posted on today’s Website:

PLEASE READ AND REPOST!!!!!!!!!!!! WE LOVE YOU MICHELLE!!!!!!!!!!!

Tonight is Thirsty Thursday as always with all you can drink at The Barn in Sanford, but tonight it is about soooo much more than that! We are having a benefit to raise money for Michelle Parker. It will help the continued search efforts for her as well as her children and family.

Tonight we are having a Bartender Handoff where bartenders from all over Central Florida that know or have worked with Michelle in the past will stand in to support Michelle and work in her place. ALL TIPS raised on Michelle’s bar tonight will go directly to her family.

We are asking that anybody who has a Missing Person shirt with Michelles picture on it wears it tonight! We will have national coverage here like the Today Show and others and we want to be sure that Michelle’s face is EVERYWHERE that they turn their cameras!

So come show your support for Michelle with your shirt and checking out all the bartenders rotating through Michelles bar by the DJ booth. They will be happy to make you a drink and your tips will help bring this AMAZING woman home!

We have the following bartenders standing in for her tonight so come show some love!

Michelle’s sister Lauren
Michelle’s best friend Heather (from Manny’s Chophouse, and worked with Michelle at Cowboys)
Erica (from Hooter’s)
Jess (from Hooter’s)
Carrie (from Cowboys)
Brandi (from Lavish Photography, and formerly from The Barn)
April (The Barn)
Carrie (The Barn)
Dracy (The Barn)
Michelle W (The Barn)
Lisa (The Barn)
Erica (The Barn)
Krissi (The Barn)
Liz (The Barn)
John (The Barn)
Crystal (The Barn)
One Bartender from Rodeo’s in Mount Dora

And if any of her other previous co workers would like to join us we would still love to have you!

See you all there, come help us support Michelle!

Tomorrow night, there will be a silent auction. Local firemen will be auctioned off for dinner. So will Eric. Ladies only. Anyone willing to help out, please do. On Saturday, Dec. 10, a big benefit will also be held all day and night. I may try to attend for a few hours. I wish I could do more because this is eating away at me, too. I never met her, but she’s my neighbor and yours, because this happens every single day somewhere around the world, including your own back yard. Now, I do feel like I know her better. Look at all the countless hearts she’s touched.

Watch the Today Show for more on Michelle. Tim Miller from Texas EquuSearch arrived in Orlando today at the behest of Mark NeJame, who is representing Dale Smith.

Happy Thanksgiving

Come Ye Thankful People, Come

Performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in Music and the Spoken Word on November 22, 2009.

Walter E. and Anne Foran

The image below was a pencil sketch I did of the late Senator Walter E. Foran and his wife, Anne, in the early 1980s. The senator died of lung cancer in 1986. I did this portrait for my close friend, Frank, the senator’s son, who faithfully visits his mother in a care facility each and every week. I just returned from New Jersey and spent my last night at his home, where the picture hangs in his dining room. 30 years of sunlight have taken a toll, but it’s still in pretty good shape.

Walter’s brother Dick was a Hollywood actor who starred in, predominantly, westerns. He was considered one of Hollywood’s singing cowboys during the 30s and 40s. Frank and I have been close friends for nearly 40-years.

The actual drawing is larger and not cropped like this one, but this was the one that had the least reflection on the glass.

From the Department of 'Things Don't Always Appear as They Seem'

I ran across this today…

The Night I Screamed On Halloween

A few years ago, I told my mother about the scariest Halloween I ever had. I was with a friend from the neighborhood. She questioned whether she would have let me venture out without her at the tender age of 6, but I wasn’t alone, I reminded her. Besides, times were different then. We left our windows open all day and night during hot summer months because air conditioning was a luxury. Screens were what separated us from the outside world. Crime wasn’t something that was ever present in our minds. Heck, we left our front doors unlocked. It was a different era…

It was a chilly autumn night, that Halloween of 1958. It was my first foray out alone. Well, not really alone. I was with a classmate, Harold. We had planned on doing this, by hook or by crook, and no mothers were going to be allowed to come with us! We were out to prove we were men that night, or so I thought, as we ventured out into the early evening. Harold and I were instructed to make our rounds and come home after full darkness fell.

There were lots of other children in all sorts of costumes roaming around, stopping at most of the two story homes in our close knit community. Many were decorated and they seemed like the most inviting - the ones that would give out the best candy!

I remember watching candlelit pumpkins flicker with each eerie twist and turn throughout the neighborhood. Skeletons hung from trees and porches, swaying in the cool, gentle breezes. We spoke of ghosts and goblins and stayed away from dark alleys and back yards — not to mention the houses with no lights — because it meant they were going to grab us and take us down into the dank basement where we’d never be seen again. Or else it meant they weren’t home, but we weren’t going to take any chances.

I had a big brown double paper shopping bag to fill up. That was my mission. There were no paper or plastic options at the grocery store back then. Those were the days when milkmen left glass bottles at your doorstep and rabbit ears or rooftop antennas were the best way to watch black & white televisions. Color TV? Hahahahaha!

Harold wanted to finish the night at his house. After all, we did start at mine. I had never been there before. He lived a handful of houses up; across street from me, and when you’re only six, that’s pretty far away. I wasn’t too crazy about being almost out of sight of my own place. At that tender age, the world isn’t all that big.

Around and around the neighborhood we went. Back and forth, up and down paved streets; to the left and to the right, including places we’d never been. We visited hundreds of homes, or so it seemed. Eventually, we worked our way to his house. It was now dark and I remembered what my mother told me. We’d been out long enough and both of us had plenty of goodies to last a long time. Most importantly, it was a school night.

When we arrived, we walked up the sidewalk and climbed the stairs of his front porch. The porch light was off and it was downright sinister. Pure evil was lurking about. I knew it.

“Are you sure your parents are home?” I asked. We knocked and, in a snap, the door swung open. There stood Harold’s father.

“TRICK OR TREAT!” We screamed in unison.

“I want to see a trick,” he responded. A trick? I didn’t know what he was talking about. Saying trick or treat meant that we were going to get candy. That’s it. What was this trick thing all about?

“When you say trick or treat, I can ask you to do a trick first. Then I give you a treat. Do you have a trick for me?”

Harold and I gave each other a puzzled look and said, “Huh? Nooooo???”

“Well, then, I have a trick for you,” and just like that, his top teeth jutted far out of his mouth and quickly slid back in. I froze dead in my tracks and just stared up at him. Then… he did it again! Those teeth popped out of his face and dangled for a second before disappearing back inside his mouth.

WHOA!!! I let out a blood curdling scream that must have awakened the dead. Today, anyone within hearing range would have called 911 after hearing the panic in my voice. I turned to run but, suddenly, Harold’s mother appeared from behind the door. She quickly came out to comfort me.

“Did you see what he did? He… he…”

“Yes, yes,” she answered, as she wrapped her arms around me. Whatever his name was, she sure did scold him.

“He shouldn’t have done that.” The guy was rolling on the floor, laughing like crazy. I didn’t know what to do, but I wanted to get away from there fast. “When people’s teeth go bad, the dentist has to pull them out. Then, he gives you new ones - FALSE ONES - to chew your food and have a nice smile. They come out of your mouth and you put them back in over your toothless gums. They’re not real.” 

She turned to him and demanded an apology. Me? I was trying to figure out why a grown man didn’t have any teeth, but I was too frightened to give it much thought.

I don’t remember if he said I’m sorry or not, but I doubt it. He was still laughing, I’m sure, and I was still shaking in my boots. She said she would walk me home. I was not about ready to tremble back by myself. Not after that! When I got home, she explained the incident to my mother. What a horror! I think I sensed a snicker or two.

Anyway, I know that my mother reminded me to brush my teeth before going to bed, especially after eating candy. I do remember telling her I would never go back to that house and I never did. Before the following fall, we moved away and that was the unfortunate demise of our friendship. I never saw Harold’s father after that fateful and frightening night. When I was old enough to understand what false teeth were all about, I wondered how the father of a six-year-old boy could have lost his teeth so young. He couldn’t have been that old.

Perhaps, he ate too much candy when he was young. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t bother to brush his teeth.