Years ago, my brothers company relinquished control of a log cabin home that he had built by hand, north of Vancouver, Canada, to my family. He wanted us to have it, as he had decided to spend more time in the U.S, at his residence in Scottsdale, Arizona, as he was no longer able to contend with the Canadian winters.
Recently, during an extensive inventory, and cleanup of the vast grounds that comprise the sanctuary that was bequeathed to my family, my adult age children came upon a secret room within a small wooden, military style building that my brother used to hold the extensive collection of military gear, equipment, uniforms (tactical, and dress) that he used, and wore over the course of his ten years of service in the American Army.
In this room, were numerous pictures of him in his youth, with his comrades. These pictures, were framed, and revealed him in various locales of the Italian Alps, on skis, solo, or in small clusters of soldiers pulling snow sleds with equipment.
There were pictures of him repelling off towers, and mountain sides. Plus many more of him, with his comrades, dressed in camouflage uniforms, gathered up, all smiles, holding their weapons. It was the most unique opportunity to see him, in this obviously important period of his life.
A period that for the most part, I was not privy to. He had not shared photographs of himself in uniform, of his mates, nor mentioned in any great detail the experiences that he had partook in while in the Army.
All that he failed to share, was adequately depicted in the many photographs that my children and I took great delight in spending hours looking over. It brought me closer to the older brother that I had never truly known, over the course of my life. The pictures revealed much about him.
There was a seriousness to him, that I saw in person. A smile was rare for him to display. That's what I recall of him. A man, who rarely revealed joy. Always serious. But, in the group pictures there could be seen a smirk, and in some a broad smile.
It touched my heart, to know that in the period when he was in Europe (which he loved deeply) serving as a red beret, in a paratrooper battalion, that he seemed at ease, confident, and happy.
The pictures revealed much, but the larger treasure was found in the filing cabinets in the room. Inside were scrapbooks, containing more images of his military service, the military documents of the training schools that he attended (Airborne School, French Commando School, and Ranger School, being some of the more prominent courses) and journals of his travels.
As I have discovered, after reviewing the documents, scrapbooks, and his personal papers, and files, he was a prolific writer. It would seem, that many of his stories were very graphic of his past life.
One of my sons, then unearthed what I found to be most important. An Apple iMac computer, that surprisingly, was in working order when plugged in, and my only daughter, managed to use her wit, to somehow gain access to the files and the extensive pictorial collection.
It was then, that we learned that he had worked as a professional photographer long ago. He seemed to have a favorite model. A young woman, petite, well endowed, with dark eyes, and a radiant smile, that I honestly found extremely alluring. Married, though I am, I must confess, my being drawn to her.
There were hundreds of pictures of this woman, so beautiful that I found myself captivated by her. It was easy to understand what drew my brother to her. Eventually, I came across many pictures of the two of them, in various locales through out Europe, and the states.
He loved her. It was obvious, by the closeness, the radiance in his eyes, which I had never seen. He looked, foreign to me. There was a smile, in all of these pictures. He appeared to be a man who only knew joy. I, did not know the man in these pictures.
My children and I spent hours over the course of a week, going through the computer, discovering new pictures, and finding ourselves completely amazed by this side of my older brother, that we never knew.
Then, once again, my daughter managed to locate an email account of his, and somehow gained access to it (she's a very clever girl, works for the RCMP, thats the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, for those of you not, in the know).
It was here, that she uncovered his emails. Inside a draft email, she found the messages that he created over the course of just less than a years time. In reading this, we learned of the dark side, of my brother.
He, was distant from the family for a reason. My daughter, has suggested that this document be made available as a public service announcement. To give the public some insight into the motivations and personality of a serial killer.
My brother, was never caught, and there has been no accounting for his criminal past. His name has been changed, only to protect the family of which he was estranged for most of his life. We, in no way, condone his actions of long ago. We condemn him. You, may judge him for yourself.
1 February
Moscow, Russa
I was dancing at "The Gulag," when I ran into "Naughty Nelly," of all people! She, as expected was surrounded by many admirers. Despite that, she saw me on the dance floor, and made her way to me in the chaos, and the moment that I saw her, her face radiated that explosive energy, her eyes were on fire. Like I remembered!
Instantly, I thought of you, and a surge went through my body. A euphoria that perhaps, possibly I could find you. If only, she was still in contact with you. And, if she would be willing to provide me with that information. An uncertainty.
It was good to see her! We danced for a while, and she led me to the private chat booths on the top floor. They weren't there when we visited last, years ago. If you recall, there was the private poker rooms, at the rear of the club, behind the group sex room. The room, that I keep you at arms length from...
They've broken those rooms up and made them intimate booths for couples to meet and speak in private, with large flat screen TV's. The walls are sound proofed so irregardless of the noise generated within the confines of the club, you can enter one of those booths, and it's like you're in the back of a luxury car, alone with someone special.
She held my hand, and pushed her way through the crowd, and then used a special code to enter, and the deafening level of music just evaporated, and I was speechless. Seeing her, dressed as she was, reminded me of the many times that we spent at clubs throughout Europe, and the U.S., which caused my heart to ache, for you.
I know, that you're involved with someone presently. Nelly gave me a solid update on what has gone on with you over the last seven years. When she told me, my heart, sank. I just listened to her, and barely spoke, for minutes. But, I knew, that since she was willing to openly reveal partial details of your life to date, that there was a reason.
That underneath it all, you had not let go of me, in your heart. That despite the manner in which our relationship ended, the way that I allowed it to crumble, and watched you walk out that door, that one last time, that you had not let go. That you must have confided in her, and she was releasing vital information that you wanted me to have.
It hurt me, to hear that you have children with someone else. It hurt, because I wanted that with you, and I realize that, now, that I will most likely never, father children. Never, know that joy.
There was a major misunderstanding. Nelly provided some very intimate information that caused me to become very emotional. I lost it. Tears flowed, and would not stop. A difficult moment. Very sad.
She said that, you had mentioned me, recently, and that she felt, though you had not said anything directly, that you would possibly welcome an overture from me.
But, she warned me. She said, that you still harbored resentment, and anger. That you felt abandoned at that moment, and that the feeling still lingered, these years later.
So, I would like to speak to that, but in an e-mail, it seems as if there is a lack of emotional connection to that very important moment. In person would be better, but that seems impossible, considering the particulars of the situation.
What to do? You may not even care to respond to this? Or, you might? Hopefully, you will. Hopefully, you are able to forgive, my misguided, youthful lack of awareness of matters.
My cell phone number is included below. Texting, or a phone call, is most likely beyond what you would be willing to do? It would be far too risky. Your spouse, I hear is an IT specialist, an engineer well known for past work with some of Silicon Valley's biggest names.
Therefore, he would be someone who would no doubt put that expertise to use by placing you under some sense of virtual surveillance that you most likely would not be able to detect.
Hence why, I am creating this account, for you to come to. The messages are here, waiting for you. If you care to respond, then I will be extremely grateful. In fact, I would be ecstatic if you did. If you don't care to involve yourself, and place yourself potentially at risk, then I would understand.
If so, please thank Nelly, for the time spent with her, and the opportunity to listen to what is happening in your life. There isn't truly, a day that goes by, that I don't think of you, have an image of gestures or words that you would say, or recall very special, highly erotic moments from our extremely intimate past.
At the moment I am listening to the INXS music video, "Never Tear Us Apart." Though we were far removed from the 80's, we did enjoy listening to the music from that era! That video, always reminded me of the Italian vacation that we took in November. Cold, snow, bundled up in heavy coats.
There you were, with that black skirt that hugged your hips, long black stockings, Victorian booties (with skulls attached), tight, tit hugging white blouse, and black cape. The spiked hair, with blue in it, was an excellent touch. I recall, being in Milano with you, very much because of that look.
