Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Jun 19, 2007 - Entry #13

Jun 19, 2007 - Entry #13

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please scroll down and begin with Entry #1*

The police have no idea who I am…

I walked to the local police station soon after my last post. The officer on duty sat behind the front desk doing some kind of paperwork. I told him everything. He took me to a questioning room of sorts, gave me a glass of water and a few pastries. I handed over my ID and he left me alone with my thoughts.

It seemed like an eternity before he returned and sat down before me. My mouth hung open as he proceeded to talk…

According to him, there is no record of me being wanted for murder. No record of my wife missing. No record of anything. He told me he even called my place of work to ask if I have been missing. According to my supervisor (at the engineering firm) they have ‘never heard of me'

I stared at him and told him ‘that’s wrong.’ I’d call them myself. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed the office. The phone rang then answered with the ‘after hours’ recording. I slammed the phone shut and checked my watch. It was after 4pm. Closed for the day.

‘What about Claire? My son has been kidnapped for Christ sakes! What about my wife!'

He just stared at me.

I frantically pulled my laptop out and showed him the blog, scrolled to the picture of my wife and told him to read from the beginning. It was all there, ‘Why the hell would I make this up!’

He shook his head, closed my laptop case and asked me if I was taking any medication.

I used every ounce of my being to not explode and realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this condescending asshole. Maybe I wouldn’t believe me either. I glanced to my reflection in a window. I looked like I slept in a ditch for days and was wild with panic. Like some nut case that escaped from an asylum.

I calmed down and asked him to check the computers again. I described Claire and Julian in detail. I told him that she must have kidnapped him as well. He (reluctantly) took down all details then left me again.

I sat there fuming at the indifferent attitude of this prick. I contemplated giving him the contact info for the old guy at the farm. But decided that would be my last straw. I did not want to implicate that nice family in anyway.

I opened my laptop and checked my friend’s site for messages and was relieved to see he had responded to me.

He was on his way.

I compared times in his message and realized that he would most likely be pulling into town within the half hour. I had to get out of the station.

Thank God, small town police stations don’t have much staff. I opened the door to the room and checked the hallway. Nobody.

My heart pounded in my chest as I stepped from the room and made my way toward the exit.

A voice suddenly shouted from down the hall.


I froze in my tracks

‘Could you come back after dinner? I’ll see if I can help you then.’

At that moment, I didn’t know if I wanted to smile and shake his hand for not giving a shit, or drive my fist through his face for not giving a shit.

So I’m currently typing this beside my friend ‘Boyd’ as he drives. We are heading south and are 3 hours or so from the border. My only thread of a clue as to where Claire and my son might possibly be is the map the boys had made.

I’ve known Boyd since we were kids. One of a small handful of ‘best pals’ that grew up together. Some friends stayed around and camouflaged into their married lives, others left for bigger and better things.

Boyd’s always believed he was one of the smart ones to move out of that ‘shit-assed-inbred-mutherfuckin-town’ (his words).

Never married. No kids.

Only string of girlfriends that 'don't-know-how-to-cook-cause-it-don't-matter-that-they-don't-know-how-
to-cook’ (again, his words)

Despite his messed up taste in women, he is definitely one of the few good guys around these days and if he wouldn’t punch me in the nose, I’d kiss him on the cheek for showing up to help.

I am fully rested again and my head is much clearer.

Questions play over and over again in my head like some hellish merry go round...

Who the hell is Claire?

Why did she try kill me?

Why did she kidnap my son!

Is my wife alive?

Tomorrow morning we are going to try get across the border.

If anything has happened to my son...

...Claire is going to wish she was dead.


Thursday, June 14, 2007

Jun 14, 2007 - Entry #12

Jun 14, 2007 - Entry #12

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please begin with Entry #1*

Claire has kidnapped my son…

The morning after my last post, we had left a motel. While driving toward the next town I told Claire that Michael and I weren’t going to be going to South America with her and that we were parting ways with her and Julian at the next town.

She was very quiet for the entire ride.

When we reached the next town Claire pulled into a service station to get fuel. She said she needed to use the restroom while I unloaded my backpack from the back of the van.

The only thing she had asked me (earlier) was how I was going to get to where I had planned. I told her I was going to walk and possibly hitchhike. One thing I didn’t tell her was my friend (in the city) had planned on driving to meet us since he had acquired a car.

Not another word from her for the rest of the day.

While I unloaded bags to get at my backpack I overheard Julian say something to Michael that made the hairs on my neck stand up. Julian had asked Michael ‘why we had to leave them’.

Michael told him ‘Don’t worry’

Julian said he was scared and told Michael to ‘Make me stay'

Then, as Claire returned from the restroom I heard Julian whisper...

‘If you see my Mom, tell her I miss her’

I paused, wondering if I heard him right. I said ‘Julian, what did you say?’

Julian sat there silent, tears rolling down his cheeks, begging me with his eyes to not say anything.

Claire climbed behind the wheel as I closed the back door to the van. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked to the driver’s door window.

I told Michael to get out of the van and just as I was going to ask Claire about what Julian had said, I was staring straight into the barrel of a handgun.

Every muscle in my body froze and my hearing became strangely muffled. I could see Claire’s lips move with a curled bitterness that chilled my bones. Time slowed down for me as I could hear her say “Don’t move Michael!”

Her lips moved again 'You wouldn't understand.'

Then her eyes turned hard as stone. I could see a slight shift in them, knowing in an instant that she was going to pull the trigger.

A reflex kicked in and I jerked my backpack upward, ducking down. The blast of the gun ripped the backpack from my hands as my momentum carried me toward the back, side door. I grasped the handle and managed to yank it open.

Michael had just taken his seatbelt off and I reached for his arm.

But I wasn't fast enough. Claire punched the gas and the mini-van’s wheels churned in the gravel. Michael slipped backward away from me, back into the van as I fell to the ground.

I pulled myself to my feet, ears ringing from the gunshot. I watched in horror as the van sped away, with my son still inside.

I frantically searched around for someone, anything to help. I begged in my mind that someone had seen what happened.


I paced and tried desperately to calm down. I needed to think but my mind raced back and forth to every moment leading up to this.

My body lurched into a run into the direction that Claire drove off to. My heart thumped like a war drum in my head. Rage boiled to the point that my entire being wanted to rip her limbs off, one at a time until there was nothing left. Then my body couldn’t take it anymore. I stumbled to the ditch and stood there, no feeling whatsoever.

I've hitched one ride with a rancher and have walked for miles. I need a car and I’ve tried to get a hold of my friend. I was supposed to meet him yesterday (a days travel from where I am) but I’m guessing that since I didn’t show, he might have turned around and went home.

Hopefully he checks messages I’ve left on his site.

I haven’t eaten in 3 days now.

I can’t think straight

A broken record plays over and over in my head. 'I shouldn't have gone this far!'

I'm doing what I should have done the day this all began.

I'm turning myself in.

this could be my last post.


Friday, June 8, 2007

Jun 8, 2007 - Entry #11

Jun 8, 2007 - Entry #11

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please begin with Entry #1*

Two more days and we reach the border…

Driving to South America like this has me worried to no end. And I've told Claire that it’s probably not a good idea to go. In her mind, there’s no other option. But I’m starting to have serious doubts on all of this (and her mental state).

I’ve tried to tell her that we have no clear reason to drive to a foreign country other than the fact the kids say we have to. This is nuts. I can't believe I said yes in the first place. She won’t discuss it at all. In fact, now she won’t discuss anything.

I’ve decided I’m going to tell her tomorrow that I’m not going with her. I’m going to stay at the next town and figure out a way to get my son and myself heading back toward my friends place in the city.

Regarding my wife…

Today I’ve spent several hours trying to get any kind of information at all on her. All I can find is the fact that she is missing. I even called her sister and received nothing but accusations of doing ‘god knows what’ to her.

I know she’s alive. I can feel it in my bones.

I’ve decided to post a picture of her that I have on my camera phone.

I am doing this with the hope that someone who reads this might have come across her somehow, somewhere.

I’ve also posted an email address below her picture. if anyone has any information at all, please let me know.

I know posting this information is a possible risk and a shot in the dark.

I don't care...

I'm on my last straw.

Valarie C.

Last seen in Washington State, May 7, 2007

contact for info... dillankramer at gmail.com


Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Jun 5, 2007 - Entry #10

Jun 5, 2007 - Entry #10

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please begin with Entry #1*

Claire and I (and the boys) had left the farm on the 3rd and we are currently driving to South America.

Around 4 am, after my last post, Claire woke me.

I could see she had been crying (which she had been doing every night, alone, in her room). She had drifted off to sleep beside her son and woke to find him gone.

I noticed her hands were ice cold when she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the window. She desperately wanted to show me something outside.

Michael wasn’t beside me either and I panicked.

But before I could ask where Michael was she had yanked me over to the window and told me the boys were outside.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and initially had a hell of a time to focus…

Outside, under an amazingly bright moon, I could see Michael and Julian standing beside the barn. Both facing the wall in their pajamas.

I asked Claire, 'what the hell they were doing?'...'Michael should be in bed'...‘They should both be in bed’.

She pointed, told me to open my eyes and “Look.”

I rubbed my eyes again and could make out papers tacked to the side of the barn....Lots of papers.

I quickly threw some pants on, ran downstairs, and headed over to the boys.

The boys had kept to themselves over the last couple of days, drawing their strange, geometric pictures. They were content (with their strange behavior)...so I had left Michael alone while Claire and I talked and tried to figure out this whole mess.

The boys had finished their drawings, had got out of bed and tacked them up on the barn wall with a staple gun. Up close it was a strange collage. But when you stepped back several feet you could see that the separate images (on separate papers) made up the unmistakable shape of a South American country.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open beside Claire. I asked her what the hell it was for.

‘The boys said we will find answers there’

Michael walked over and pointed to one, well defined spot. “Here”.

So without any other options and having stayed at this farm way too long, we said our good-byes and have hit the road.

Before leaving, the old man told me he had ‘mowed down’ the strange impressions in the alfalfa and told me not to worry. whoever comes looking for us will ‘see the wrong end of his shotgun’.

I smiled, shook his hand and said goodbye.

We have been taking turns driving Claire’s mini-van for a day and a half now.

We have pulled into a small town now and have rented a motel room with two beds.

Claire hasn’t been talking much and, up until moments ago, she hasn’t slept (hardly at all) in days. Upon opening the motel room door she flopped onto one of the beds and instantly fell fast asleep. It was only minutes before I noticed a few tears roll down her cheeks.

I fed the boys some sandwiches and they have fallen asleep in front of the muted television.

It is quiet here now as I type this and search the internet for any news on anything at all.

Previous news reports on the net of me being 'hunted' are gone.

I keep trying to google my wife’s name. searching online newspapers for any sign of her being found.


It's like she never existed and I want to drive my fist through the wall.

driving to South America like this is insane.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

and I feel further from the truth

...more than ever before.


Saturday, June 2, 2007

Jun 2, 2007 - Entry #9

Jun 2, 2007 - Entry #9

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please begin with Entry #1*

Claire’s story...

She was born and raised in a small town (Tennessee). Above average grades. Moved away to attend University where she met her husband and graduated with a Masters Degree in Science, specializing in Materials.

She and her husband had adopted their son twelve years ago and have lived happy, productive lives until a couple of weeks ago.

Amazingly, their son has almost identical personality traits to Michael. Somewhat anti-social with other kids, high intelligence and spends hours in his room drawing these symbols on papers, (although more prolific than my son).

A couple of weeks ago, she had noticed her son glued to the television, flipping through channels with a vengeance. He stopped when he reached a news story on a farm in Tennessee.

A crop circle had appeared on May 25, (this year) in Monroe County. Julian was glued to the television for hours, flipping the channel to any news story he could find on it.

Claire showed me a drawing he had done of the crop circle. An elaborate series of circles (four large and four small) all joined with lines. In the middle was another circle with a triangle.

The next day, when she came home from picking up her son from school, she walked into her house and found it a total mess. Sofa’s turned upside down (cut open), sections of drywall cut out, carpets ripped up, all in all, just like how I had found my house.

She heard a loud noise rise from downstairs and then her husband yelled to her ‘Claire! Get out of here!’

She called out his name but no answer. She headed to the doorway to the basement and called his name again. Nothing.

She stood, frightened at the top of the stairs, looking down into darkness.

Suddenly a man in a suit rushed up the stairs after her with a large knife. Her reflexes grabbed the door to the stairs and slammed it shut before he reached the top. She turned and ran.

She called out for Julian as she ran outside. With a stroke of luck she found him still in the mini-van (looking for a calculator). She jumped in, started the engine and backed out of the driveway as the man with the knife burst out the front door.

Claire raced to the police station.

She arrived in hysterics and had a difficult time explaining to the officer at the front desk through her tears.

The police had gone to the house to investigate and found her husband hanging in the basement. Dead.

The official report concluded that he had a mental breakdown, destroyed the house and killed himself. Claire was furious.

She drove to her sister’s house and, while on the way, Julian told her they “had to go”.

He told her that it was dangerous to go anywhere but where the message said.

Claire asked what message he was talking about. He showed her the drawing of the crop circle. He then reached into the glove box, pulled out a road map booklet of the united states and circled a spot where he wanted to go.

She ignored this and told Julian not to worry.

Before she reached her sisters house she received a call from the police on her cell. The officer told her that she needed to come in to answer some questions regarding the investigation into her husbands ‘suicide’.

When she arrived, she pulled out front and parked. Julian was suddenly trembling in fear and tears began to roll down his face. He cried for her to please not go in. She hugged him and told him not to worry.

As she hugged him, she spotted a face, through the window of the police station. A man talking to an officer. It was the same man in a suit who raced up the stairs.

Claire’s entire being ached with adrenaline. She frantically shifted the car into drive and pulled slowly away from the curb.

The next thing she said she knew she was on the highway and didn’t know what to do or where to go.

Julian opened the map again pleaded with her. So she agreed with out any idea what else to do.

As they drove, Claire quizzed Julian more about the circles. He told her they were messages. This one was for him.

She asked how it could be a message; it was “only a drawing of circles”.

He simply replied, “It's math mom.”

Over the next couple of days as they traveled, the only other information that Julian would say was they knew they would be at the right spot when they found ‘this’. He handed over the drawing of the crop circle we found at the farm.

Claire asked him what message that image said and was taken aback when Julian smiled as bright as the sun.

“It’s another boy…like me”