The SK story IT gave me this idea. You know like how The Bradley gang was in Derry. Does your town have any wierd or crazy things that happened in it?
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We had a deputy that was a serial killer. I was pretty young when this was going on but I remember him getting caught and the trial. How that for freaky? This was a really bad dude and I'm not sure why he is not more well known. He probably killed a lot of people.
Gerard John Schaefer - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Also, if I remember this correctly, Schaefer's attorney married Shaefer's wife (ex wife by then) after the trial(s). That's a little crazy too.
We had a deputy that was a serial killer. I was pretty young when this was going on but I remember him getting caught and the trial. How that for freaky? This was a really bad dude and I'm not sure why he is not more well known. He probably killed a lot of people.
Gerard John Schaefer - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Also, if I remember this correctly, Schaefer's attorney married Shaefer's wife (ex wife by then) after the trial(s). That's a little crazy too.
a serial killer cop Wow thats wild its like something out of a movie.
In the late 80s, a well-liked and respected math teacher at the high school here was having an affair with the principal, who was unmarried. They were also neighbors, and the teacher and her family and the principal all spent time together regularly.
The math teacher spent months, unbeknown to her lover, planning her husband's murder. She called her husband's place of work and disguised her voice and made vague threats, but never mentioned him by name. She called neighbors along their street to say there was a man roaming the neighborhood in overalls and hat, be careful, and called the police to complain about this mysterious stranger.
One weekend when the lover principal was out of town, and after spending the night at a basketball game with her family, she went to lover's house and took his gun. Dressed in overalls and hat and covered her face, she tied up her children and then tried to shoot her husband. She had loaded the gun with the wrong ammo, so that didn't work, and ended up stabbing him to death with a hunting knife.
Then she drove outside of town, stripped off the clothes and set fire to everything. Ran off into the prairie to hide. A passing motorist stopped and the fire was put out before everything burned. She was found and started telling this story of the mysterious stranger, he broke in, I ran.
It didn't take the police a full 24 hours to figure out what really happened. She was staying at a friend's house when someone let her know they were coming for her. She went into their bedroom, took a shotgun into the bathroom and killed herself. The principal resigned.
This happened well before we lived here, I wouldn't have known about it at all, but I guess one of those true crime shows is coming to town to film a story about it for their show. Saw a blurb in the paper so looked up the story.
That made me a little verklempt.Not a secret, not weird, not crazy, just sentimental.
Back in the '30s, the rough railroad workers in town adopted a stray pregnant dog, against depot policy. They called her Annie and made sure that her puppies got homes. In apparent gratitude, Annie hung out at the train station for the next 14 years, well into the '40s, and would greet travelers as they came off the train.
Everybody got to know Annie at the train station and from her many years of being the town's ambassador to the arrivals. Visitors would be surprised when people coming back home stopped to pet Annie before greeting their own families. Stories were told about military men returning from the war, weeping when Annie greeted them, because they knew they were home again, and her licking the tears from their faces.
When Annie died, the railroad men buried her and put up a marker with the inscription, "From the C&S men to Annie our dog, 1934-1948." When the town focused on the general locale for the new transit station, they proposed to respectfully relocate the grave. The ensuing public howl convinced them otherwise, and the new plans accommodated the grave, where it still sits today. A statue of Annie has a place outside the front door of the town library and is the starting point for the annual Annie's Walk.
Not a secret, not weird, not crazy, just sentimental.
Back in the '30s, the rough railroad workers in town adopted a stray pregnant dog, against depot policy. They called her Annie and made sure that her puppies got homes. In apparent gratitude, Annie hung out at the train station for the next 14 years, well into the '40s, and would greet travelers as they came off the train.
Everybody got to know Annie at the train station and from her many years of being the town's ambassador to the arrivals. Visitors would be surprised when people coming back home stopped to pet Annie before greeting their own families. Stories were told about military men returning from the war, weeping when Annie greeted them, because they knew they were home again, and her licking the tears from their faces.
When Annie died, the railroad men buried her and put up a marker with the inscription, "From the C&S men to Annie our dog, 1934-1948." When the town focused on the general locale for the new transit station, they proposed to respectfully relocate the grave. The ensuing public howl convinced them otherwise, and the new plans accommodated the grave, where it still sits today. A statue of Annie has a place outside the front door of the town library and is the starting point for the annual Annie's Walk.
Not a secret, not weird, not crazy, just sentimental.
Back in the '30s, the rough railroad workers in town adopted a stray pregnant dog, against depot policy. They called her Annie and made sure that her puppies got homes. In apparent gratitude, Annie hung out at the train station for the next 14 years, well into the '40s, and would greet travelers as they came off the train.
Everybody got to know Annie at the train station and from her many years of being the town's ambassador to the arrivals. Visitors would be surprised when people coming back home stopped to pet Annie before greeting their own families. Stories were told about military men returning from the war, weeping when Annie greeted them, because they knew they were home again, and her licking the tears from their faces.
When Annie died, the railroad men buried her and put up a marker with the inscription, "From the C&S men to Annie our dog, 1934-1948." When the town focused on the general locale for the new transit station, they proposed to respectfully relocate the grave. The ensuing public howl convinced them otherwise, and the new plans accommodated the grave, where it still sits today. A statue of Annie has a place outside the front door of the town library and is the starting point for the annual Annie's Walk.
Reminds me of this story:
Hachiko, an Akita from Tokyo.
Hachiko was brought to Tokyo in 1924 by his owner, a college professor named Hidesamuro Ueno. Each day, when Ueno left for work, Hachiko would stand by the door to watch him go. When the professor came home at 4 o’clock, Hachiko would go to the Shibuya Station to meet him.
Though this simple act alone shows a tremendous amount of loyalty, that’s not the end of it: The following year, Ueno died of a stroke while at the university. Hachiko didn’t realize that he was gone, and so the dog returned to the train station every single day to await his master. He became such a familiar presence there, in fact, that the station master set out food for the dog and gave him a bed in the station. Even so, Hachiko never shifted loyalties –every day at 4 o’clock, he hopefully waited by the tracks as the train pulled in, searching for his best friend’s face among the people getting off.
Hachiko’s love for his master impressed many people who passed through the station, including one of Ueno’s former students, who became fascinated by the Akita breed after seeing Hachiko. He discovered that there were only 30 Akitas living in Japan, and began to write articles about Hachiko and his remarkable breed, turning the world’s most loyal dog into a household name, and creating a resurgence in popularity for the Akita.
Hachiko died in 1935, after 10 long years of waiting for his master. But the dog would not be forgotten –a year before his death, Shibuya Station installed a bronze statue of the aging dog, to honor its mascot. Though the statue was melted down during World War II, a new version was created in 1948 by the son of the original artist. Go to the station now, and you’ll be able to see the bronze statue of Hachiko – still waiting, as ever, for his master to come home.
Houdini in Omaha