The Brew Goes To the Movies; Murder Mystery Dinner

I posted the first film article "The State Of Film in America" by Keith Evers (new author) on The Brew.

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Murder Mystery Dinner

So I went to a murder mystery dinner at the Cattleman’s Steakhouse in Dallas for my birthday.

It was pretty cool and not too cheesy. A few actors were mixed in with the sixty or so other dinner guests and slowly died off during dinner.

The guests quickly became just as entertaining as the show throughout the night.
There was a drunk dad there with his two teenage boys. The dad would joke around, scream and yell, “He did it!” while pointing at someone at random. And then he got into an argument with an Indian guy and asked him to step outside with him (the emcees stopped anything from happening).

Then my date and I shared a table with a lesbian couple. They were celebrating their 5th anniversary in Dallas. An ex-husband of one of them was best friends with the other and that is apparently how they met.

During a short time where all the dinner guests were instructed to look around the room for clues to a murder that took place during our salads, some thought they might find a clue in my date’s purse (which she had left hanging on the back of her chair at the table).
She realized that she left it there two or three minutes into the search of the room. The purse was open and sitting on the floor when we got back to the table. Talk about truly frightening.

To make the night interactive, regular guests were made to stand up and be interrogated by the actor playing a detective (other actors mixed in with the crowd were the actual victims and murderers in the show). Because it was my birthday, someone gave the people in charge of the show some dirt on me.

Here’s how my interrogation went:

Detective: “So, I hear you used to be a criminal reporter in Chicago.”
Me: “Yes.”
D: “And you moved around a lot. Sounds like you’re a little shifty.”
E: “Uh, yeah.”
D: “So it seems like you might have a good means and background to be able to kill someone.”
E: “Sure (There was a gasp, some chuckles, and a “That’s a confession!” heard among the other dinner guests.).”

I met an older couple in their 50s who were missionaries in Romania with Christ for the Nations (which is headquartered in south Dallas). It was also the husband’s birthday and he was wearing a bow-tie.

La Villita Drive-By - Real Crime Series

School had just let out in the Little Village neighborhood of Chicago and kids were walking home or taking buses. I was working in the press room that City News had at the Chicago Police Headquarters on the South Side. I had a computer monitor in front of me and two police radios squawking to my right.

Little Village, also known as La Vallita to it’s many Mexican residents, had many gangs, one of which reared its head that afternoon when someone shot a high school student walking with his girlfriend.

One of the police radios squawked up when the report came into Chicago’s 9-11 center. Person shot in the 3100 block of South Kedvale. I wrote down the address and then got online to check out the address at whitepages.com, a sort of online phonebook where you can put in a generic address, such as 3100 South Kedvale, and get all addresses and phone numbers to match.

I punch in the numbers and get around five addresses and phone numbers. I pick one that seems to be in the middle of the block and call them up. A middle-aged man answers the phone.

In as understanding a voice as I can muster, I tell him that I am a reporter from the City News Service of Chicago. Then I say that a shooting had occurred on his block and ask if he had seen or heard anything.

He pauses and then tells me that a kid was shot on his front lawn.

I can’t believe my luck. Sometimes people hang up on you or say they didn’t see anything. Or they answer the phone with “Bueno,” giving you the signal that they probably don’t speak English.

So I keep talking to him, asking questions and catching a great news story that just fell out of the sky.

Some vehicle drove down his street and shot the boy (what you have to call males under 18 in news copy) who was walking with his girlfriend. The boy fell onto the lawn of the homeowner, whose kids saw the shooting and then went outside to help. The father grabbed some towels and blankets to help the boy until the paramedics arrived.

Police and the fire department (which sends the paramedics and ambulances) came to question witnesses and help the boy. They talked to the girlfriend, the homeowner, his kids and other neighbors.

I asked the homeowner if his kids would be wiling to talk and, luckily, they were. I put on my “Sorry-to-have-to-do-this” voice and heard from a son and daughter what they saw. They heard a couple loud pops from a gun and then looked outside to see the boy fall into their yard. They told their dad what happened and were outside to help the boy and his girlfriend, who escaped unharmed.

The kids’ voices wavered while trying to tell me about all the blood. I held my bulky phone between my head and my shoulder while scribbling down all I could on some paper at my desk.

The dad was put back on the phone and told me about the girlfriend’s bookbag, which cops initially took as evidence but then tossed away near some garbage cans. He had picked this up to take it back to the girlfriend, who has since gone home.

Thinking quickly, I asked the dad if there was an ID card in the bookbag. He found one and read me the name and address of the girlfriend. I double checked this info with him and thanked him for all his help. To make me seem more caring of their situation, I told them that their info, which included a description of the vehicle the shooter rode in, would hopefully help catch the people who did this.

I then used the White Pages website to get the girlfriend’s phone number. An elderly lady answered and I gingerly asked if the girlfriend was there. I did another slow introduction and then asked if the girl could answer a few questions about the shooting. She declined, which I was fine with, having been able to talk to an eyewitness to the shooting.

This was one of around five times when a story fell in my lap or I was able to put together a great story.

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On a different note, I think I'm addicted to Facebook.

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The newest Brew article will be posted tomorrow; Lonnie wrote another amazing, beautiful and raw article. Check it out on Monday.

I'll putting together two articles for this month: one on the end of Arrested Development and on the end of my journalism career.

A Quickie

A Quickie
I had some Costa Rican coffee this week that was smoov as butta. Tasted like bittersweet cocoa and was delicious.
Also got a free sample to brew of some Ethiopia from Dunn Brothers Coffee. I had to compare it to the Ethiopia at the Coffee-Chain-That-Shall-Remain-Nameless, which I'm used to. The sample, which was not roasted as dark, had smack-you-in-the-face grapefruit flavor; the stuff I'm used to has more of a lemony flavor and an herbal smell.
And yeah, you really can get all this just from drinking coffee. Kinda like getting an earthy flavor or roundmouth feel in wine. And, yeah, 'roundmouth' is truly a word.
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I posted the full version of my article, Re-Entering the Faith, which I previewed this past week, on The Brew. I also posted an article by Lonnie Smith (Mishraile) on figuring out the balance of focusing on God and yourself when trying to heal from a mental health issue. It's pretty solid.
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I'm working up another Real Crime Series installment about a drive-by in Chicago that I covered. I updated to the beta version of Blogspot and began categorizing the blogs so you can look up certain ones by theme. For a listing of all the Real Crime series, check out the "Coming Soon" post from Feb. 10, '06.

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Watched the first disc of 30 Days, a tv series by Morgan Spurlock of Supersize Me fame. Pretty well done. The episode on Muslims in America (Disc 1) is certainly worth a view.

True Crime Series --- Belmont Avenue Eyeball

This was an actual story that ran at the newswire service I worked for. It could possibly not be for the faint of heart. This is an example of how oddities make the news and (since it is barely a news story) then disappear from existance; except for those who were grossed out enough by it that they may never forget reading the story. Us reporters stopped checking on whether or not it was a human eyeball after a few days and many long sighs from the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office workers when we asked about it.

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An eyeball was found stuck to the bumper of a Toyota and authorities were trying to determine its source.

Police got the call about the discovery, which happened in the parking lot of a Dunkin’ Donuts at 3801 W. Belmont Av., at about 9 a.m. said a west side police officer who didn’t want to be named. Police did not know if the eyeball was human or if it belonged to an animal.

A citizen called police after finding the eyeball stuck to the bumper of a white Toyota Tercel. The Cook County medical examiner’s office was scheduled to examine the eyeball the next day to make a determination.

The police didn’t know how the eyeball ended up on the bumper and an employee at the Dunkin Donuts had not heard about the eyeball.

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Check out the next big thing in Texas at the Son Of A Beach.

John Woo on the Dan Ryan Pt. 2

So I'm writing down details as fast as possible and as legibly as numbed-by-the-cold-fingers can manage while standing in the northbound lanes of the Dan Ryan expressway around 45th Street.

The cutting wind is numbing my face at 3:30 a.m. as the mess that has blocked off the northbound local lanes of highway is explained.

About an hour before, the silver Pontiac-looking car was seen driving "suspiciously" around 50th and Clark Streets ("suspiciously" is one of those vague words that police use to say as little as possible when talking to reporters). When a squad car tried to pull the vehicle over, it sped off toward 47th Street and the entrance to the Dan Ryan Expressway. The squad car "pursued" the silver vehicle onto the expressway ("pursued" is the preferred term used by police instead of "chase," which is way too sensational).

The silver car sped into the express lanes of the Dan Ryan, trying to escape police, who followed it closely. The silver car, being in the far left lane of the express lane, attempted to cross all four of these lanes to enter get back into the two local lanes. The speeding car didn’t quite make it but instead crashed through four yellow sand barrels near the entrance to the local lanes in order to enter them. The silver car lost control as it entered the local lanes, sideswiping the driver’s side cab of a semi-tractor trailer in those lanes.

The car then sped ahead of the truck and then flipped over onto the on-ramp for 43rd Street. It settled right-side up and the passengers fled, obviously dazed. One sizeable passenger wearing a puffy, yellow coat exited the car and stumbled around.

The "pursuing" police officers did not follow the silver car’s drastic moves but instead pulled over to the shoulder of the express lanes across from where the silver car came to rest. The officer hopped over the cement barrier separating the express from the local lanes and drew his weapon. He saw the large, staggering man get out of the silver car and the others run up the on-ramp (The officer by now had already called for backup, who were on their way to the location of the accident).

The puffy-coated man dropped a small, silver revolver on the ground near the wrecked vehicle, prompting the officer (who was crossing the local lanes to apprehend the man) to put his gun away. The officer, seeing the largess of the man, got out his yellow stun gun and ordered the man put his hands over his head. The massive man instead reached into his coat to pull out a silver-colored, semi-automatic assault rifle (the aforementioned silver pencil box with a clip and a barrel shoved into it) and began firing at the officer.

Seeing that the stun gun may not be as effective against this semi-automatic, the officer threw it down, got out his gun and returned fire. The gun battle moved from the expressway to the grassy embankment of the 43rd Street on-ramp, where (by this time) backup had arrived. These officers joined in the firefight from the top of the ramp and fatally shot the large man.

After receiving the explanation from the director of Police News Affairs (who was the authority whenever police fired their weapons), I was led through the crime scene with the freelance videographers. I saw the shells littering the local lanes, the revolver, the stun gun and the shiny semi-automatic. And then there was the yellow, and now red, puffy coat formerly worn by the man shot by police.

During the gun battle, the puffy-coated man was the only person to be shot. Unlike movies like Face Off of Hard Target, people in the heat of a firefight don’t necessarily take time to aim (least of all an untrained man who may have bough the gun off the street). Officers are trained to do so but (without assuming that the man shot was one) gang members are not.

I took in the entire scene and realized that not too many people would be able to say they surveyed a crime scene in the middle of one of the busiest interstates in the country. This was one memory of my City News Days that I won’t soon forget.


Editor's Note: To find out what would happen if a fire alarm went off while swimming at a gym, check out the latest Sonofa3.

In Memory of Clark Stacy

The Picayune will pause its normal service to remember Clark Stacy, a friend who is no longer with us, during the next week. Beginning on Sat. the 18th, The Picayune will feature memories of Clark by those who knew him.

John Woo on the Dan Ryan Pt. 2 will run after the memorial ends.

John Woo on the Dan Ryan (Another in the True Crime Series)

That’s what I first thought when I saw a long stretch of the Dan Ryan Expressway (otherwise known as 90-94) blocked off at around three in the morning last winter. Did they just film some over-the-top action sequence from some overblown project by the high brow director John Woo, famous for such masterpieces as Hard Target and Mission Impossible II? Or was this just another night of crime that will fade with time and only be remembered on some reporter’s notepad?

I was working the night shift again at the New City News Service in Chicago when I heard of the police-involved shooting and car chase on the expressway.

I parked my car on a parallel street and walked down a steep embankment to the northbound local lanes of the expressway. These slower lanes, where semi-tractor trailer trucks were always forced to drive, were closed off beginning around 47th Street and off limits until around 35th Street. Squad cars blocked off the entrances to the local lanes while police tape billowed in the wind across the two lanes at least one hundred feet in front of and behind the crime scene.

I took a moment to take in the scene. There was a semi parked on the shoulder of the local lanes with the driver’s side cab smashed in. Ahead of that on the on-ramp to 43rd Street, a silver Pontiac Sunfire-looking sports car lie upside down, looking like someone had just rolled it like a die. Another squad car was parked on the right shoulder of the express lanes, directly across from the crumpled car on the on ramp.

Bunches of numbered cards were being placed all over the expressway, near the car and in the grass between the on ramp and the expressway. Cards were placed near spent ammunition casings, near a revolver that lie next to the silver car, near a semi-automatic Mac10 assault rifle (those guns that look like a pencil box with a barrel sticking out of one end and an ammunition clip shoved into the bottom), next to a puffy, yellow coat that had blood on it and near other bits of stuff that I couldn’t make out.

It happened to be about ten degrees out that crisp morning. I had on some bulky gloves that made it impossible to write with and was also completely bundled up. Past experiences in the bitter cold and piercing wind of Chicago taught me to have a pencil handy during such times. During such extreme cold, the ink in ball point pens freezes up, making it useless. And the only thing that can you can speedily scribble illegible notes with is a good, old fashioned pencil.

I learned this from one of the freelance videographers, who ruled the night shift in capturing the news. Well, that is if us City Newsers didn’t get there first. But more often than not, they would beat us to it. These videographers would call us up and give us tips from the scene and we would even exchange info at the scene (They helped out in the Sheridan Road Serial Killer).

These guys would film the police spokesman as he told us a version of the events while standing on the piercing wind on the Dan Ryan Expressway. They would catch on tape the man explaining the chase, the shootout between a man with the Mac10 from the silver car and other police and how no cops were shot in the gun battle.

And the explanation is just as thrilling as a John Woo movie. Which, since this blog is already too long, will be concluded in our next issue.


Editor’s note: The editorial staff at the Picayune apologizes for the delay between issues. Due to recent events, the home office of the Picayune will be moving to Dallas, TX in June. Much reorganization for the moves has tied up our editorial staff. We regret the lapse in service.

Coming Soon...

A Review of Blue Like Jazz is soon to to come.

In the mean time, check out some other True Crime stories in the Archives: Under the Radar, originally posted on Tuesday Feb. 15, 2005; Man Shot 9 Times in Good Condition, originally published on Feb. 1, 2005; Crouching What?, originally published on Tues. March 8, 2005; and True or False?, originally published on Wed. Jan. 12, 2005.

Sheridan Road Pt. 2

So I’m walking towards the groups of detectives at around 1 a.m. outside a building where a serial killer may have struck twice. And it is because of this that there isn’t a single squad car light flashing or police tape around any section of the building.

I just put my press pass around my neck in plan view of CPD’s finest, hoping that they would be willing to talk to a wet-nosed reporter trying to confirm that someone was murdered in an apartment one floor above another murder scene that was barely a month old.

Such things can be expected when working for a 24-hour newswire service in Chicago. After the 10 o’clock news broadcasts, myself and other City News reporters had free reign to any mayhem that took place until about 4 a.m., when the day began again and other reporters began competing with us again.

One detective sees me coming and lets the others know. All look in my direction and they try to casually disperse. I identify myself (standard procedure) but each one ignores me. They walk back to their hibernating squad cars and then drive off, one by one.

No other cops talk to me but then I spot another guy just standing near the building. He’s not huddled up with anyone and I guess that he’s somehow involved with the building. He’s the landlord/handyman. He’s upset because now people will move out and no one will want to live in the building. I eventually ask him about what happened in the apartment the CSIs are looking through with flashlights.

I’ve seen people covered in what look like surgical gowns, along with shoe covers, coming in and out of the building. Make me wonder what it looks like inside there if everyone has to suit up like that.

Yes, the landlord/handyman says. Somebody was killed. His name was this. I didn’t know him too well. He was in apartment 3D or something like that. Yes, about a month ago someone else was killed in 2D.

Bingo. That makes it a story. I get the handyman’s name, thank him for his time and try to empathize with him, in spite of my excitement that I was able to turn a tip into a pretty good news story.

And months later, I was talking to the people at the Cook County Medical Examiner’s office and they mentioned in passing that serial killer on Sheridan.

“The one on the 7300 block of Sheridan?” I asked, astonished and excited.

“Yeah. Oh wait,” they said.

True Crime Series

Instead of leaving all the wonderful stories of serial killers, dramatic shootings of high school students, or police chases that would put John Woo to shame in the pages of my notebooks from my City News Days, these stories will become part of the Picayune beginning today.

Sheridan Road Serial Killer

I was nearing the end of my mid-shift coverage of the North Side while camped out at Area 3 headquarters (also known as the 19th District of the Chicago Police Department) at the corner of Belmont and Western.

The overnight editor paged me, and I called him back to hear, “You better not screw this up. We got a tip from the ME’s (Cook County Medical Examiner’s Office) that there’s a death investigation in the apartment building where someone else was killed only a month earlier.”

This was an actual tip that a creative reporter had to weed out of people to make a story out of. I couldn’t just show up at some address with my pen, tablet and digital recorder in hand. I had to corroborate the tip through beating the street and shooting the shit with cops who were working that night. This is where I figured out how good a reporter I was.

The apartment building was around 7000 N. Sheridan Rd., placing the crime scene in the Rogers Park District (24). Luckily, a grandpa-like captain was working that night that I had a good relationship with. He would tell me anything that he had in front of him and he always made my job easier. So I call him up and act like I’m making a routine check on his neck of the woods for the typical murder and mayhem that night.

“So what’s going on tonight?” I ask after the usual introductions and pleasantries. “Any robberies, any…investigations?” Investigation was the key word, as homicides are often classified as death investigations until it can be determined that they are suspicious.

“Well, yeah,” said the captain. “They got a death investigation up on Sheridan. And looks like they sent a crime lab van up there.” I could tell he was reading to me right off the paper in front of him.

"Oh yeah?” I ask, trying to hide my excitement. “Where’s that at?” And then the captain confirmed the address.

Bingo.

That was what I needed: confirmation of the address and that something suspicious enough to need a crime lab van had happened there. So my editor sent me to the scene around 1 a.m.

I parked behind a building near the scene, not knowing that it was the building in question, and that cops were already wandering around inside with flashlights. I came around the corner of the building onto Sheridan Road and then realized that it might be smart to wear my press badge. It would probably prevent me from being arrested for appearing out of nowhere at the scene of the crime in the middle of the night.

A group of men I guessed to be detectives were standing in a group near the entrance of the building. As I approached, I noticed that there were three squad cars, two unmarked police cars and the crime scene van at the scene. The odd thing was that not a single light from any of the cars was flashing. There was no police tape roping off the area, no onlookers gawking at the scene, no noise other than the normal silence of the night. People didn’t seem to know that a serial killer had struck the same building twice in a month’s time and the police wanted to keep it that way.

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Due to a shortage of column space on the page and people’s need to not spend all day reading blogs, the rest of the story will be continued next week.

True or false

Would this really happen in Chicago or is it just a guy trying to pass the early morning hours? You decide and post.

A car driving erratically on the South Side led to a shootout in which police shot and killed a murder suspect from a three-month old homicide.

The car fled police as officers tried to pull it over. The suspect car then sped onto the express lanes of the Dan Ryan expressway and crossed all four lanes to veer into the local lanes, during which it hit a sand barrel, side-swipped a semi truck and then rolled over onto an off ramp. Police crossed the expressway to arrest the driver, who dropped a revolver onto the ground after climbing out of the crumpled car. Police tried to use an electric taser gun to apprehend the hefty driver until the man pulled out a semi-automatic MAC 10 gun and fired at the officer.

A gun battle ensued on the expressway until backup officers arriving at the scene shot and killed the man. No officers were hit in the exchange of gunfire on the expressway.

The suspect was first misidentified at the morgue and found to be a non-criminal. However, police later rightly identified the man and found he was wanted for a three month-old homicide.

Hmmm. Sound like something from a John Woo movie or an actual police shootout?

A would-be bank robber at a Far South Side bank was shot and paralyzed by a bank rent-a-cop while trying to rob the place with an accomplice.

Would a rent-a-cop have that good of a shot?

A man who didn't want to pay a cab fare died after leaping from a moving taxi on the Kennedy Expressway and was then hit by another car.

Are there really people that stupid living in Chicago?

A truck with Mexico license plates was found parked in a private parking spot. Sitting on the front seat was 50 pounds of marijuana in a black trash bag. On the rear bumper was a sticker that read, "Report all drug smuggling to U.S. customs."

Too ironic to be true?

A woman came to a police station, claiming that police had arrested her son for cutting off a tracking bracelet from his leg. The woman didn't realize that Chicago police don't give leg bracelets, which are controlled by the Cook County sheriff's. She became extremely belligerent after the desk officers repeatedly told her that the bracelet was not handled by the Chicago Police Department. Police had to threaten her with a taser gun to get her to leave the station as she refused to listen to them, insisting that officers had beat her son.

She began praying loudly in the lobby for her son, whom she thought police had beaten. She then began to pray against the police officers and that the blood of her son would be stained on all the officers in the station. She came within two minutes of being arrested by officers for no reason other than causing a disruption at the station.

Too imprecatory to be authentic?