Teodora Hadjiyska, co-author of the book, “1079–The Overwhelming Force of Dyatlov Pass,” said in 2018 on her dyatlovpass.com forum,

“That’s the problem with this case. Unless 12 jurors agree on something and even then it’s arbitrary. In Russia, the decision is made by judges, not jurors. We will never agree on anything. I am not saying it because I think I’m right and you are wrong, but because I don’t even know what ‘solving the case’ means anymore.”


Thursday, February 27, 2020, to Friday, April 23, 2021

421 quasi house arrest harrowing fear-fueled days and nights, and I didn’t even commit a crime.

On Friday, April 23rd at noon, I breathed for the very first time since COVID-19 hit my corner of the planet.

February 27th I remember well. I shouldn’t have, as it was not a special day, but it was the last day I went outside into my world, shopping, and carefree, without a mask and a fear of dying.

You see, my fear rests deeper than most.

On December 12, 2011, I suffered a pulmonary…

February 13, 2017, wasn’t a good day in the wee hamlet of Delphi, Indiana.

Two teenage girls were brutally murdered in a peaceful, tranquil setting, and for the first time ever in criminal history, thanks to technological innovation, we who survive to witness the aftermath saw what the victims — those wonderful teenage girls — saw, and the reality shakes us to our very core.

Usually, after a murder takes place, all that remains is the crime scene, the evidentiary remnants of evil acts perpetrated upon the innocent. We shudder, block from our mind’s eye, the victim’s final time, as…

Once in a while I find treasure in this world, as wonderful and precious as an heirloom quilt or a warm cup of Joe on a frosty morn. Something that sticks to your bones, like the feeling you get when you walk up your parent’s driveway, and you know you’re home.

The treasure of which I speak are two men.

As the bells toll at the darkest hour, a golden light shines, for the Happy Warrior cannot do good works in the dark. ~ Me.

Winter 1941.

Although an exact time cannot be set as to the darkest period in World War II, by year’s end 1941, the world was pretty darn bleak.

England had endured the Nazi bombing Blitz for the last eight months, the island nation literally surviving on Canadian and American supplies ferried across the Atlantic in freighters lucky enough to avoid Hitler’s U-boat wolf pack torpedoes. A mere 18 days before Christmas, Americans got their first…

Close to four years the world has been mired in the Fear of the Unknown, as the United States took its democracy to the brink.

Bit-by-bit, American’s rights and freedoms slowly eroded with a tweet or the stroke of a Sharpie pen upon an errant Executive Order, edging the nation ever closer to an autocracy through the consequential decision to vote Donald Trump in as president. The days of America being a shining democratic beacon upon the North American hill along with Canada were fading fast, and the world watched helplessly as the U.S.’s global strength slowly ebbed away.


Time has not forgot,
Me, that sweet Dutch girl, so terribly sought,
For my youth, and my charm,
and my wet sensuality,
Men hovered and coveted,
That ended me, eventually.

D.R. was my nickname,
A loved one once used,
Dorothy, many did whisper,
when hot males so mused,
On my innocence, my light, and my lusty skill,
Then, why, oh God why,
did a man want to kill?

Beauty, to me, is to the beastly Elephant Man,
All the eyes, they did stare,
All the glares from drooling fans.

My life cut so short,
My life lived so tough,
A magazine centerfold would never be enough.

Oh, how I wish I didn't go that hot summer's…

Yes, Elisa Lam’s sad end has been covered from stem to stern over the turbulent internet waves; from video to book, from blog to magazine article, from breaking news to final op-eds, but as with all horrendous ends, red herring fish jump and conspiracy theorists rant, when all the while there’s a calm, quiet, and cold end to this woeful tale.

The online world is sick. There is a worldwide “Infodemic.” And its scourge is burning me up to a fever pitch.

(NOTE: Before you start reading, I want you to know that I’ve set this post to FREE. I will NOT make one red cent off of you for anyone else reading this Medium dot com article.)


Last week, without even trying, I bumped into online quack info. Three times I found posts or ads from people either flogging useless products to defend against or counteract Covid-19 or people sharing false information regarding the virus.

The medicinal quacks who…

Books by B. J. Thompson

North-Irish-Canadian literary novelist who yearns to hack out tales on either side of Cocktail Hour...

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