Category Archives: Thrillseekerman

They Were Committing Crimes

Repost from the old site. This literary exercise has been praised by a publisher of short literary works and compared to a Peter Sotos novel, Special. Sotos is a notorious transgressive fiction writer who got arrested for child pornography for putting a kiddie porn picture on the cover of one of his novels as an artistic statement.

Special is out of print but has been republished in an anthology called Pornography 1991-2000. Funny overview here.

Yes, I have published fiction before, and it was praised by Avram Davidson, a famous novelist and personal friend, and Gary Snyder, a famous beatnik author. Some of it is available in a literary anthology.

I am just wondering, who are these Thrillseekerman and Internetman guys anyway? What are their initials?

They were committing crimes.

And no one ever caught.

Thrillseekerman sold dope for 14 years, and the cops never caught on. He finally quit, or did he? And now he’s scared to do it again, or is he? But the temptation is always there, because he so loved the outlaw dealer life where you never get caught and outsmart the law.

He also loved being a dealer because he loved being a criminal. As a dealer, you can be a criminal without hurting anyone else, so if you have a shred of guilt left, and Thrillseekerman does, it’s a great Catholic profession.

I mean, a few months ago, or earlier today, or 10 years ago, Internetman met 15-year-old girls on the Net, and they sent him nude pics without him even asking, and said they wanted to have sex with him right now, but they were too far away.

So what did he do with the pics? Delete them, call the cops and turn himself in, or keep them in an evil secret file to show it to his most evil friends? I bet they are gone now. Internetman is paranoid. Were they illegal? Internetman is thinking about it, and trembling.

Internetman went into a chatroom the other night, or was it five years ago? There was a teenage girl in there masturbating on cam, and everyone in the room was watching the fun. Well, she was 13, but she looked like a full-grown to him. The chat room was full, mostly kids but some adults too, both sexes. Was it illegal? Internetman is remembering it, and shaking. With terror, and excitement.

It was seven years ago, or seven weeks ago, or seven months ago, or seven days ago, and 14-year-old girls came to talk to Internetman in the chatrooms and ask for cybersex. What’s a man to do?

It was a while back, or the other day, or some time ago, or 4-7 years ago, and Internetman did the cybersex thing with them, the 14-yr-olds, the 15-yr-olds, and the 16-yr-olds, and of course the droves of legal-aged women as well, and it was all in good fun.

One of them begged and begged for him to send her porn, so he broke down and sent porn to a 14-yr-old girl. Was that illegal? Now he’s paranoid, and he’ll never do it again. Or will he? Maybe he better not.

In a chatroom, five days ago, or last year, or five years back, the 17-year-old girl saw he had a cam and asked him to turn it on. Internetman did so. She started whining for him to take his pants off so she could see his stuff, because she had never seen one before. “But I’ve never seeeeen one before,” she whined into Internetman’s headphones, but he chickened out again.

Internetman went into these really evil chatrooms, just on a wild dare, and people were all trying to do horrible and illegal stuff in there, men and women of all ages, normal folks and weird. Internetman tried not to do anything illegal. Did he succeed? Will he go there again? He doubts it.

Internetman went to this chatroom last year, or eight years ago, or yesterday, and met this guy in Kentucky, a psychopath I guess, who wanted someone to rape his wife. You had to break in, tie her up, rape her, and get away with it.

He described the sex acts he wanted Internetman to engage in with his wife. He said you could not hurt her in any way, and that she would secretly love it. Getting away with it was Internetman’s business, and the guy would not call the cops and report the rape.

So Internetman sat there and wondered whether or not he could be a criminal rapist and try to get get away with it, under special circumstances of course in which at least the victim’s husband consented, but he chickened out at the end.

Internetman met a girl once on the Net a few weeks ago, or was it seven years ago? She was 17 years and seven months old, lived close by, and wanted sex right now. She kept demanding and demanding, and she would not knock it off. She was a lesbian, but she wanted to try it with a guy to see what it felt like. Internetman figured it was an evil plot by one of his enemies trying to get him arrested for child molesting.

Good thing he was paranoid, so he never took her up.

The Internet is the most evil place Internetman knows.

You can do just about anything on here, and who knows if it’s even legal or what. Where are the cops? What’s a cop? There are bulletin boards right now where people are asking for child porn and bragging about their antisocial acts, and Internetman knows where they are. He’s been to them, lurking, but he didn’t do anything illegal. Or did he?

Internetman went to chatrooms where sex perverts traded porn pics. Mostly it was fun, but some people sent Internetman really illegal pics without him even asking, and he freaked out and deleted them about as quick as they hit the screen. Was that illegal? Did Internetman commit a crime?

One of his drug addict friends, Killerdude, came over the other day, or was it 22 years ago? He asked Thrillseekerman to be the getaway driver for an armed robbery, and Thrillseekerman considered it, but thank God he didn’t do it.

A few months back, or 18 years ago, one of Thrillseekerman’s doper friends drove the getaway car for an armed robbery and he told Thrillseekerman all about it.

Then the armed robber himself came over to Thrillseekerman’s house with his girlfriend and they sat around and took drugs. He seemed like a smiling psychopath, and those guys are always charming in a way. Later Thrillseekerman called the cops and told them the guy’s name, but there was not much they could do.

Last week, or 21 years ago, Thrillseekerman called the cops on his friends and tried to get them busted. Once for selling heroin, because Thrillseekerman thought that was shitty. The other time because Thrillseekerman was mad at his friend who sold pot and wanted to burn the guy.

Dopers work with narcs all the time, mostly for revenge reasons. Most people don’t know that. Without dopers to work alongside them, every narc in America would be unemployed.

Once, 11 years ago, or a few weeks back, Thrillseekerman stole Killerdude’s car, not to be a criminal or anything, but just because he was furious at him, but he brought it back when the cop’s son across the street was going to have him arrested.

One time, it was last month, last year, or it was 20 years ago, and Thrillseekerman drove by a business at 5 AM with a slingshot and blew out a window in a business that because he hated it and it was evil.

Committing street crimes like that, which was actually a revolutionary act in favor of people’s power and against the crooked businesses that rip off the people, is one of the biggest rushes that Thrillseekerman knows. You will shake like a leaf. You will shake so hard it will be hard to steer the car after you do it. You will be terrified and thrilled all at the same time, and when you get away with it, there will be no better feeling.

Killerdude came over a while back, or 25 years ago, or the other day, and said he was considering taking an offer to kill some guy, from a woman who was offering big money to have her husband knocked off. So they, Thrillseekerman and Killerdude, sat around for hours blasted out of their minds on dope and talked about whether or not you should murder someone for the money.

They discussed Christianity, as in whether or not a Christian should kill, and whether or not the would-be murder victim deserved it since he was a wife-beater, and Thrillseekerman tried to spy on Killerdude for the cops, but it did not work. Thrillseekerman didn’t like the idea of killing for money (even Thrillseekerman had some basic values) and thought his friend was degenerating morally.

They took lots of drugs, Thrillseekerman and Killerdude, while they talked about all this insane and evil stuff. It was last month, or was it 15 years ago?

They sat around for hours at night stoned out of their minds on chemicals, saying, “Yeah! I could play the role of the insane serial killer! I could play that role! I could play any role! I could play as many roles as you could! And that’s a lot of roles,” as they shook their heads and laughed demoniacally but didn’t really consider it, just fantasized about it. About what? Being a serial killer? How many people do that?

It was really weird back in those days, or the other day, or whenever it was, but not too many crimes happened.

Once they got loaded and made some bombs. It was a few months ago, or 13 years ago, or back in the 80’s. Thrillseekerman had these antisocial maniac friends, some of whom seemed like they might snap, but Thrillseekerman wasn’t worried, and they liked to make bombs, like all maniacs do. It’s so fun making illegal bombs. The psycho dudes showed Thrillseekerman how to make bombs, which is so easy it’s scary.

Then they took the bombs and blew up this dude’s windshield (who deserved it) with a fused time bomb, and they slashed his tires, then they took another bomb, this time sort of a firebomb that shoots up a flame, and threw it on some other guy’s lawn (who deserved it), and it burned a hole in the lawn.

Making little bombs is the easiest thing in whole world to do, and every revolutionary and maniac of any age might want to make them and set off them in the street at least, that is if you have the nerve, just to see what an explosion looks like and to piss off the neighbors.

They called themselves a gang and sat on the front porch of Thrillseekerman’s house and shot BB pellets and rocks and dirt clods at the neighbors’ house (who deserved it) and dared them to call the cops.

The people did call the cops, but the cops hardly cared because they thought Thrillseekerman was doing a civic duty by getting rid of the real criminal (the neighbor) he was attacking. In other words, Thrillseekerman was a public service vigilante ridding the neighborhood of scum as he saw fit.

The cops paid him a visit on the phone, told him to watch it, and told him to spend $10 to repair the door Thrillseekerman had smashed in with a baseball bat after laughing maniacally and running across the street in broad daylight as a joke just so the whole world could see it and to dare them to call the cops. If you’re doing a public service crime, do it in broad daylight. It was just the other day, or long, long ago.

Another time Thrillseekerman sneaked into the ladies room to take a crap because the criminal, feral, 13 year old Black youths were in the men’s room threatening with their eyes to attack anyone who came in. A woman called the cops, and the detectives threatened to kick Thrillseekerman’s ass if he did not confess to a perverted crime he did not commit.

He only wanted to confess to taking a crap, which was the only crime he did. Well, he was also trying to see if he could get away with it, so there was a thrillseeker aspect. The detectives quickly figured out he was not a pervert, but they kept on torturing him anyway and trying to get him to confess. Don’t you just love detectives? How many people in the US just confess unless the cops beat the shit out of them?

He was 20 again, or was he 50, or was he 35? He was jogging in the park, and Thrillseekerman met a 12 year old girl he had known from an old job for a long time, and they chatted a bit and smiled and laughed, and then she flat out asked Thrillseekerman to have sex with her, and smiled when she said it, just like that. Not only that, but she was beautiful, brilliant, wise and athletic.

And Thrillseekerman considered being the ultimate criminal that you can be, a child molesting sick evil scumbag piece of dirt, but then he decided against it. There are Lolitas and teenage girls that want it, 12 and up, with adult men, 18-45. And if you do it and get caught, you are going down in the worst way.

It was yesterday, or long ago in another lifetime. A whole crowd of gangsters came in the door. There had just been a gang fight, and people were hurt. The gangsters were underage, some of them, but they used an 18 year old girl to get in the door because they knew Thrillseekerman’s fatal weaknesses.

Later there were shots fired 50 yards from his door, and the cops didn’t even want to take any witnesses. They never do in gang crimes, and besides, in Greater Tijuana, here in California, there are pro-gang Hispanic spies everywhere.

Thrillseekerman’s White, and he claims Norteno, or does he? Or does the whole neighborhood? After all, he lives in a Norteno hood, so everyone more or less claims in a way. Thrillseekerman wears jogging shoes with N on them for a reason, or does he?

Three weeks ago, or nine months ago, or 12 years ago, someone came by and flashed a United Farm Workers shirt (Do you get it?) at Thrillseekerman and asked him to go out with a shotgun and kill some Surenos. Thrillseekerman had to think about it for a bit, because nothing would be so thrilling and dangerous, and Surenos probably deserved it anyway, but thank God he declined.

There were criminal opportunities all over the place for decades, right under your nose, people enticing him here and there to break the law and commit serious crimes, some of them felonies, if only one was psycho enough, and they seemed to dare you and egg you on. In the barrio anyway, no snitching was the rule, so you might even get away with it, but you could still get caught.

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Filed under Crime, Internetman, Not Robert Lindsay, Reposts From The Old Site, Thrillseekerman

Joseph Edward Duncan III

Repost from the old site Warning: very long.

This horrible case was back in the news again recently. Mr. Duncan was sentenced to death in his sentencing trial on ten federal charges for the homicides for four persons in Idaho in 2005. He has already pled guilty to the charges, but this hearing is the penalty part of the trial, and the government is seeking the death penalty.

I don’t know any of the principals in this case, but Thrillseekerman knows Steve Groene and Chris Groene, Doperman knows Chris Groene and not Steve and Sexmaniacman knows Steve Groene but not Chris. T-man went to elementary school with Steve Groene and his brother, Chris Groene.

Steve Groene is the father of Shasta Groene, Dylan Groene and Slade Groene. I called Thrillseekerman, Doperman and Sexmaniacman to get their recollections of these two guys, who I never really knew.

Joseph E. Duncan III broke into their house on May 15, 2005, tied everyone up and then bludgeoned Slade, 13, his mother Brenda, 39 and his stepfather, Mark McKenzie, 37 to death with a claw hammer. He took Dylan and Shasta so he could torture and molest them. Pictures of all victims and the killer here.

Police who came upon the scene were stunned by the sight. There was blood and gore everywhere and the faces were nearly unrecognizable. One officer who came upon the scene was so shocked by the sight that he quit police work for months afterward. An APB went out for Shasta and Dylan.

Duncan took them in a stolen 2000 Red Cherokee jeep with Missouri license plates to a very remote campsite in the Lolo National Forest and kept them there for a few weeks, having sex with both of them and torturing Dylan. He made a video of the crimes and the video was shown to jurors and those in the courtroom. He raped Shasta and forced Shasta and Dylan to perform sex acts on each other.

The video showed Duncan raping and torturing Dylan in various ways. At one point, he takes Dylan into an old shack, where he forced Dylan to perform a sex on him and whipped him with a belt.

Then he told Dylan to stand on a bench, hung a wire around his neck, and then masturbated as he watched Dylan nearly die from hanging. “Then Jet took him down and said, ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up,'” Shasta Groene said in a police interview.

She said Dylan screamed when he woke up because he thought he had been in heaven. He then offered the half-dead Dylan an opportunity to watch his “death” by hanging on tape. A little while later, he forced Shasta to drag the half-dead Dylan through the campfire with a rope around his neck, burning him horribly. Then Duncan “accidentally” shot Dylan in the stomach with a shotgun.

He was alive and possibly could have lived for a few hours, though his guts were hanging out. Duncan decided that there was no way to save him, so he shot him in the head. It was later determined that he probably did not shoot Dylan “accidentally” after all.

After Dylan was dead, he chopped his body into little pieces and filmed himself forcing Shasta to throw the body parts on the fire. Then he forced Shasta to pick the body parts out of the fire and filmed that too.

Whew. Wow. Whoa. This must set some sort of a record for evil, but I’m not sure. The FBI did say that this was the first time that they had ever heard of anyone murdering adults just to get at kids, so it does set a depravity record in that sense.

Details of whatever he did to Shasta have not been made available yet, but she was definitely raped. Normally, in this sort of thing, the names of the living kid, Shasta, would be kept secret, but her name was already out there as an APB Amber Alert, so the cat was out of the bag.

“The devil is here, boy, the devil himself. The demon couldn’t do what the devil sent him to do so the devil came himself,” Duncan yells in one of the videos. “The devil likes to watch children suffer and cry.” Duncan cracks sick jokes through the videos. In one video, Duncan jokes, “They kidnapped me – they won’t let me leave.”

In one video, he cracks, “I shouldn’t be taking pictures of you pulling up your pants like that young man – people might think I’m a pervert.” In another video, Duncan asks the kids about their wishes. Dylan says he just wants to go home.

I guess you are wondering why no one heard all this mess up in the mountains. The makeshift campsite is at the end of a very remote logging road. It’s a one-hour drive down a terrible road to get to the remote site at the bottom of a cliff. It seems like hardly anyone ever goes there.

There are a lot of remote places out in the Western forests where you can stay for weeks at a time and not see another human. This article says that the video was shot at a cabin, but I think it was just a campsite. They also went to various other campsites and drove long distances while Duncan bragged to Dylan and Shasta about killing the kids’ Mom, brother and stepdad.

Later, on July 2, 2005, Duncan went back to a Denny’s restaurant with Shasta in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho, where she was immediately spotted by a resident, who went in and told the manager, who wisely called 9-11. It was 1:30 AM and the cops pulled in with their lights off. Duncan saw the cops and took Shasta into the bathroom with him. He came out later and the police quickly surrounded the table and asked him to come outside.

Shasta was taken back to her father, and she is with him now, as her Mom and stepfather are dead. Steve was briefly considered as a suspect but then they cleared him. They told him that he failed a polygraph, but lots of innocents do. They also suspected Steve’s eldest son, 18. They gave him a polygraph too and told him he failed too. Good thing neither one gave a fake confession in the midst of this brutal interrogation.

The son was also into drugs – I bet meth – has a significant criminal record, and was most recently in jail for burglary. He has said that this case is going to make him go straight.

Brenda Groene and Mark McKenzie were also drug users, but they were primarily recreational users. Brenda was a good mother. Initially, drugs were thought to be involved in the murders. Meth and pot were found in the systems of both Brenda and Mark. The couple ran with biker types who are in abundance in this area. Brenda had a criminal record for possession of drug paraphernalia and had served time for this offense.

Robert Roy Lutner was an original suspect in the case since he had a criminal record for relatively minor offenses and owed Mark and Brenda $2,000. They thought he killed them over the financial dispute. Further, he had visited them on the evening of Sunday the 15th, when the murders occurred. He turned himself in immediately, passed a polygraph, and was let go.

After he took the kids, Duncan was spotted in a sporting goods store with the kids in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, asking for directions to Libby, Montana. An APB went out but they were nowhere to be found.

Soon before he was caught, a video camera caught Duncan and Shasta entering what looks like a 7-11 about 40 miles outside of Coeur D’Alene. The girl looks mad and has her arms folded angrily across her chest. They buy something, get back in a red jeep and leave. This footage was not discovered until later. Photos here. Soon afterward, they were caught at the Denny’s in Coeur D’Alene.

Police discovered that the man was Joseph Edward Duncan III, a 43 year old fugitive sex offender from Fargo, North Dakota. He had recently been charged with molesting a 5 year old boy he knew who lived near him.

He was born, one of five in a military family, in Fort Bragg, Virginia, in 1963. His parents soon moved to Tacoma, Washington, where he grew up. He was described as lonely and displaced in high school, especially after his parents’ divorce in 1979. He soon dropped out of high school. He engaged in sex at age 8 with two of his sisters. They apparently initiated it. What this had to do with his later offenses, I have no idea.

He committed his first serious offense at age 12, when he raped a 5 year old boy, but he was not caught. In this way, he resembles Ted Bundy, who probably committed his first homicide of a teenage girl who delivered the papers in his neighborhood, at age 15. Bundy was never charged with this offense.

By age 15, he was charged with raping a 9 year old boy and sent to juvey. There he admitted that he had bound and raped six boys already.

He later said had already raped 13 younger boys by the time he was 16. The following year, he was arrested for stealing a car. He was a sociopath from an early age. At age 17, he was arrested, charged and sentenced to 20 years in prison (apparently as an adult) for raping a 14 year old boy at gunpoint. The tortures that he put him through were similar to those seen on the Dylan Groene tape.

At the time, he was diagnosed as a psychopath, or antisocial personality disorder under the current rubric. In my opinion, knowing little about his upbringing, he is a pure psychopath. This condition is largely genetic. They are just born bad from seemingly day one. This condition is impossible to treat, though some of them burn out and often descend in alcoholism and depression in their 40’s. Duncan is clearly not one of those.

He was paroled 14 years later at age 33 and sent to a halfway house in Seattle. A man named David Woelfert testified at the parole board that Duncan was no threat whatsoever. He loaned Duncan $3,000 and found a place for him at a halfway house.

Woelfert is also homosexual, and for a while, Duncan and Woelfert had a gay relationship. It looks like Woelfert was conned too. In 1996, he was released from the halfway house. Almost immediately after his release from the halfway house, he violated parole by using marijuana and possessing a firearm. He was given 30 days and released.

Apparently soon afterwards, 9-year-old Carmen Cubias and her 11-year-old half-sister, Sammiejo White, went missing from the motel where they were staying with their homeless family. A while before, Duncan was living only three blocks away from the motel where they vanished. These girls later turned up dead, and Duncan is a prime suspect, though he will probably never be charged.

The girls were last seen by their 16-year-old brother at 8:30 pm on July 6, 1996 after they left the Crest Motel in Seattle, where they were staying with older and younger siblings and their mother. The girls were used to be out at all hours and knew their way around the neighborhood very well.

They said they were going to the Taco Time where they were going to bum some spare change so they could eat and get some money for a pack of cigarettes for their brother. Apparently they never made it.

It turns out that Duncan has confessed to Shasta Groene that he killed two little girls in Seattle. He made the same confession to investigators, but he said he did not know their names.

At the time of their disappearance, Duncan was living and working in Bothell, Washington, where the girls’ bones were found almost two years later in February, 1998, by a transient staying in an abandoned barn. They had both been murdered violently, but the details could not be ascertained. But both of their skulls had been crushed.

After Duncan was arrested for the Idaho killings, a woman came forward and said that she had worked at the Quality Food Mart in Bothell that summer.

That summer she repeatedly saw a man she now says was Duncan come into the store to buy stuff accompanied by a frightened little girl, who she now identifies as Carmen Cubias. Once again, we see that Duncan keeps his victims alive for a long time, molesting and probably torturing them before killing them.

When talking to investigators, Duncan revealed enough details of the crimes, without confessing, to convince the cops that he killed the two girls. Whether he will be charged or not is not known. After he confessed, his lawyer convinced him to clam up about any other crimes he may have committed.

On March 26, 1997, Deborah Palmer, age 7, disappeared on her way to school in Oak Harbor, Washington, about 50 miles away from Seattle. Palmer disappeared while walking the two blocks from her Kettle Street apartment home to school.

Duncan had an appointment in Seattle to take a polygraph test at an unknown time. Oak Harbor would have been a 1 1/2 hour drive away. She may have been killed in Deception Pass State Park, near where her body washed up.

The week before, around March 19, Duncan had tested positive for marijuana, which would have violated his parole. Eleven days later, he quit his Bothell job, stole his girlfriend’s car and fled his Seattle home for for California to visit his father in Pahrump, Nevada. That was the very same day that Palmer’s body washed up on a Pacific Ocean beach seven miles away from Oak Harbor and the story was all over the news.

She had been raped and strangled. The previous day, Deborah’s backpack and jacket were found at a gravel pit. There is no direct evidence linking Duncan to this homicide. There are also suspicions that a family member was involved.

After he fled to California, he killed again. This time, he took off from his Dad’s house in Vista and went to Beaumont, California, where he approached 10 year old Anthony Martinez and his brother who were playing in alley behind their home. He asked them to help find a lost cat, and they declined.

Duncan then put a knife to Anthony’s throat and shoved him into a white car. On April 19, Anthony’s nude body was found in a shallow grave 110 miles away in the desert near Indio, California. He had been raped and beaten to death and his skull had been crushed.

After his arrest in the Idaho killings, Duncan confessed to interrogators that he had killed a little boy in California. He also quite closely resembled the composite drawing of the suspect in the Martinez case.

Cops then looked into the Martinez case and amazingly found a match for a thumbprint on the duct tape used to bind Anthony’s body and Duncan’s prints. A California DA has announced that he is going to try Duncan for this murder. In May, Duncan was back in Northern California. On June 2, he met Dr. Richard Wacksman (see below) at a coffeehouse in San Francisco.

At this point, he seems to have been living on the streets. Four months later, on August 27, 1997, Duncan was arrested by the FBI at his sister’s house in Kansas City, Missouri for a parole violation and sent to prison for three years.

At the hearing for the parole violation, a Fargo, North Dakota doctor, Dr. Richard Wacksman, testified that Duncan was not dangerous anymore and that upon his release, he could stay at Wacksman’s home in Fargo. The parole board disagreed and sent him away. Upon his release on July 21, 2000, he moved to Fargo, North Dakota, but it was not long before he started killing again.

After his release, in 2000, he visited Wacksman at his home in Fargo. The neighbors found out about it and confronted Wacksman. Duncan did not return to Wacksman’s home, and Wacksman soon moved to Florida. Duncan then visited Wacksman numerous times at his Florida home, where Duncan liked to scuba dive.

I do not think this Wacksman fellow is a bad guy. Psychopaths are often very charming and have the ability to convince all sorts of decent people that they are really ok, including Dr. Wacksman.

However, it should be noted that Wacksman, while married and with family, is bisexual. It seems certain that Wacksman and Duncan had a homosexual relationship.

After he moved to Fargo, Duncan began attending North Dakota State University there, working on a BA in Computer Science. He would have graduated in May 2005, but he decided to go on a homicide spree instead. At the university, he worked in software development for both the college and a local business called iCat.

He worked as a teaching assistant at Edmonds Community College where he taught introductory programming courses. He frequented at least one Korean Personals site where he said he was looking for “something more than just sex”. Ee gads! At the time, he was also taking karate lessons at the university (photo from his karate class in Spring 2003).

Here is a homepage that Duncan created in 2000 when he was living in Fargo.

While Duncan was living in Fargo from 2000-2005, I believe that he did not stop killing.

On February 12, 2001, Steven Earl Kraft, Jr., age 12, disappeared while walking his dogs between 8-9 PM about 1/2 block from his home. The dogs were found later, but Steven is still missing. Duncan may have been involved in this kidnapping and probable homicide.

On April 21, 2001, Duncan set up his Jazzi-Jet gay website on the Pridesites gay website. Although the links have been deleted, on one page he’s got up in a black dress and makeup and talking about how much he likes to get fucked in the ass. Oh well.

Duncan talks about how much gay sex he had in Walla Walla Prison, how he got screwed by 50 different guys in there, how he once got gangbanged once by seven guys, how he was the queen of the prison, and was owned by some great big Black guy named “Al”, all while posing in suggestive gay poses.

Here is a photo of the big Black gay prison inmate (Big Al ) who made Jazzi-Jet his bitch and then offered him to all his big Black friends to do as they please with.

On another deleted photo, Jazzi-Jet is once again done up like a woman. In one picture, he’s masturbating, but you can’t see that very well. He touched up one of the pics to make it look like he has breasts.

On February 12, 2002, Duncan created this online resume. He’s obviously highly intelligent and it looks like he’s also a good computer programmer (I never could figure out Java programming myself).

In March 2002, he created this page of a fake Time Magazine and Duncan praising Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Russell Turcotte, age 19, a Turtle Mountain Chippewa, was last seen at a truck stop in Grand Forks, North Dakota, on July 12, 2002, after spending the night with friends in Fargo, North Dakota. He was returning to his home in Wolf Point, Montana from a Rainbow Gathering in Michigan.

Surveillance cameras have now revealed that Duncan was at that truck stop hours after Turcotte was there. Turcotte was hitchhiking with a backpack home on a desolate stretch of Highway 2 west of Grand Forks at around 2 AM. He was picked up, probably by Duncan, taken to a side road near Grand Forks Air Force Base.

He was probably raped before he was killed. He was then taken to Devils Lake, 90 miles west of Grand Forks, where his partially nude body was dumped and covered with brush. His possessions have vanished, probably tossed into one of the area’s many rivers and lakes. His skull had been crushed.

The previous day, his mother had wired him some money. He was living with a girlfriend and running low on cash. Months later, in November 2002, his skeleton was discovered by a rancher in a clump of trees.

Objections have been made to the notion that Duncan committed this crime. First is that he would have had to drive 85 miles north from Fargo to Grand Forks and then another 90 miles west to dump the body.

However, I believe that since 1997, Duncan had started killing quite a ways away from where he lived. His first two killings seem to have pretty close to where he lived. The Seattle girls were abducted while Duncan was living in Bothell, 20 miles away.

Deborah Palmer (if he killed her) was killed in Oak Harbor, 30 miles from his home in Bothell and her body was found nearby. He’s clearly capable of driving 80 miles away from his home to kill someone. Similarly, Beaumont was about 85 miles away from his father’s house in Vista where Duncan was staying.

Anyway, the surveillance camera now has Duncan at the truck stop within hours of when Turcotte was there, so the distance question seems to be ruled out. Furthermore, July 12 was a Friday, so Turcotte was last seen on a Friday night. It appears that Duncan picked him up hitchhiking about 2 AM on the morning of Saturday, July 13 and killed him soon afterward. At some point he drove 90 miles east to dump the body.

Duncan was a college student at this time and was probably working too. It’s certainly possible that he had the whole weekend off. He had lots of free time and was always traveling to the Lakes Country in Minnesota to go scuba diving. Also, Turcotte’s skull had been crushed in the same manner that Anthony Martinez, Sammiejo White and Carmen Cubias, and Slade Groene, along with Mark McKenzie had been dispatched.

Another question about the Turcotte killing is that Turcotte seems old for Duncan’s tastes. However, it has been pointed out that the 19 year old looked very young for his age. A recent picture of him seems to belie that, but another picture taken by his girlfriend shortly before he died, shows him very thin, unhealthy and quite young-looking.

This page is all about the Turcotte killing, written by Hunter Bear, an American Indian retired university professor and leftwing activist. Here is who he thinks the killer is, in 2003 before anyone knew about Duncan:

I continue to feel that Russ’ killer is an Anglo, maybe in his late 30s or early 40s, a so-termed “professional” person with a quite good, reassuring kind of car and out-of-state license plates. It’s obvious that he is a criminal psychopath.

Not bad, huh? At the time he wrote that, Duncan was 40 years old (!), White, and though not a professional, he could certainly come off as one. It seems like he liked to drive nice cars too. About the out of state plates, I have no idea.

Hunter Bear says that the cops did not try very hard to find the Turcotte’s killer, at one point saying that they had no interest in a routine store surveillance camera tape that filmed Turcotte at the last place he was seen.

Hence, the tape was destroyed. Hunter Bear makes a good case that the population and the police in North Dakota and Idaho are very racist towards American Indians. We don’t see much of it out here in California, but it seems to be more of a big deal back there.

Some people are still looking at Seattle, Tacoma or Portland as the connection between the killer and Turcotte, but I am pretty certain that this is a Duncan crime.

This is a Web Archive cache of the original Jet Gazette, Jet’s own online magazine that he made all about…himself! This page is dated July 29, 2002, and that would have been about 17 days after Turcotte was killed.

On March 26, 2003, Dalton Mesarchik, 7, of Streator, Illinois vanished from the front yard of his home. His body was found the next day in creek. His skull had been crushed with a hammer. That’s Duncan’s style.

In June 2003, Duncan began going on trips to Minnesota and Michigan to scuba dive. He went on dives all summer.

On June 14, 2003, Leanne “Beaner” Warner went missing from Chisholm, Minnesota. She was last seen at 5:30 PM, but was not reported missing until 9 PM. Earlier in the day, she had been at a nearby lake with her mother. Duncan was familiar with this lake. Earlier in the day, Duncan was supposedly skydiving with friends in West Fargo, North Dakota. Duncan took photos and video of this event.

However, a look at the calendar for the skydiving class shows that he was not present on that day at all, and was instead present only on July 27. It appears that Duncan went into his videotape and put fake timestamps on it for the date on which Leanne Warner disappeared.

On his blog, on certain days, he details everything he does, down to the last “t”. It seems he may be doing this to give himself an alibi on days when he does his crimes.

In the video, Duncan discusses scuba diving in the Chisholm area in recent days. That’s the part of Minnesota where Warner disappeared later that day. Much of the rest of the tape consists of Duncan taking video of various children running around in the air terminal.

He left the group around noon, giving him plenty of time to drive to Chisholm and kill Warner. In his very first blog entry, Duncan mysteriously mentions this crime. Why is that?

On July 3, he went on a dive trip to Lake Superior. Here are photos from one of his scuba diving trips that summer. Here are photos from his Lake Superior dive trip. Those were taken on July 3.

On October 3, 2003, Duncan was visited by three police officers who accuse him of harassing women downtown. The women know who he is from the Sex Offender database and they have photos of him. He was accused of repeatedly asking them out and not going away when they told him to.

This hardly sounds like a crime to me. The cops say they know who he is and they watch him all the time. Guess they did not watch him enough. He writes about this incident later on his blog, The Fifth Nail.

Here is the final edition of the Jet Gazette, with photos of his scuba diving trips and videos that he made.

Between late February 14 and early February 15, 2004, Justin Phillip Edwards, 13, disappeared. He was living at R. L Mills Home, a state-run facility, located at 116 East “H” Street in Casper, Wyoming since the summer of 2003. He was 5′ tall and weighed only 100 pounds and was retarded. He had the mind of a 6 year old.

In his blog entry of February 16, Duncan says he went skiing for the first time that weekend, alone. Some think he may have been involved in Edwards’ disappearance.

On July 3, 2004, Duncan molested a 7 yr old boy and trying to molest another at a school playground. He had a video camera with him. He was not caught.

In March 4, 2005, Duncan was charged with molesting a 7 year old boy and attempting to molest the boy’s friend in Detroit Lakes, Becker County, Minnesota. On April 5, a judge set his bail at $15,000. This was the July 2004 incident above.

The same day, a Fargo businessman, Joe Crary, wrote a check for that amount to the court and bailed out Duncan. Crary said he befriended Duncan when they both rode their bikes on bike trails in Fargo. Somehow, Duncan gave off the impression of being polite, soft-spoken and seemed sincere about wanting to turn his life around. Duncan also seemed sincere that he was innocent of the Minnesota charges.

I will never understand how psychopaths fool people like this, but they do it all the time. The ability to con and lie with a straight face in these people is amazing. Crary is now maligned, but I feel he was just another good person that this psychopath conned. It should be noted, however, that Crary is apparently a homosexual who had a sexual relationship with Duncan beginning in early January 2004.

After being bailed out, Duncan made plans for his crime spree. He purchased night vision goggles and a video camcorder at a Walmart. He also purchased a shotgun, shells and a claw hammer.

On April 15, 2005, he rented a 2005 red Jeep Cherokee in St. Paul, Minnesota.

After the rental agreement was up, he never turned it back in, and on May 4, auto theft charges were filed against him. On the same day, the key tag to the stolen car was found in Bighorn Canyon National Recreation Area in Wyoming, so Duncan must have been here at some point in his travels.

Between those two dates, Duncan traveled all the way to the far southwest portion of Missouri, where it meets Oklahoma, Kansas and Arkansas. There, on April 27, he stole license plates off a vehicle and placed them on his vehicle.

Then he continued his travels. No one knows where he went during this period, but I believe that he was in Spokane using GPS to stalk young children at a preschool, Kindermusik, which has kids from toddlers up to age 7. While in flight, a warrant was issued for his arrest in Fargo for failure to appear in a court date stemming from the Minnesota case.

He stopped in the Wolf Lodge area 8 miles east of Coeur d’Alene. This post from Duncan’s horrifying blog, The Fifth Nail, was somehow posted from Wolf Lodge just four days before he committed the Idaho crimes.

On May 12 or 13, he ended up on Frontage Road at the home where the crimes occurred. He spent the next two or three days scoping out the house and on Sunday night, he entered the home with gloves, night vision goggles, a claw hammer and a shotgun.

Brenda Groene called Shasta down to the living room from where she had been sleeping. Brenda, Mark and Slade were all tied up there. Duncan quickly hustled Shasta and Dylan outside and into his van. Then he went back in to kill the others. With blows of the claw hammer, he dispatched them.

Shasta heard Mark scream, then she saw Slade try to run out of the house, wounded. He was hauled back in and dispatched. The kids in the van did not witness the killings, but Duncan later told them how he had killed her family. He told her that the name of the hammer was a Fatmax and she learned to call him “Jet” for his initials, Joseph Edward Duncan.

Since his arrest, Duncan is blogging again with the help of others from inside prison. The blog is here. Here is an undated picture of Jet.

Here are two awesome time lines (Timeline One, Timeline Two) on Duncan’s life on the great The Cellar blog which is devoted to this case. This is a website Duncan made, the usual whining stuff about how terribly society treats convicts.

I interviewed my friend Thrillseekerman, Doperman, and Sexmaniacman about Steve Groene, the father of the three child victims and Chris Groene, his brother.

All these guys, Doperman, Thrillseekerman, Sexmaniacman, they all grew up together in Southern California, and they all ran with the same crowd. They’re scattered to the five winds now, but all still keep in touch by phone and by Internet.

I can’t say where they are, but they’re all still in the USA! I grew up with them, but I don’t remember Steve Groene or Chris Groene. I think the Groenes and I knew some of the same people, but I don’t remember the Groenes specifically.

Hi Bob, this case really wears on my mind. It’s amazing that I know this guy, and I know his brother, Chris, too. I haven’t seen Steve in 27 years, and I haven’t seen Chris in probably 25-26 years.Doperman knows Chris but I don’t think he knows Steve.

We all grew up together, Steve, Chris, Sexmaniacman, Doperman and me, Thrillseekerman! And all the rest of the gang! And you, Bob! Haha! I heard about the case and saw the strange name, Groene, and wondered if it was him.

I saw his pic and knew it was him, though at the time I had not seen him in 24 years. He looked like he’d had a hard life; I don’t know if there is any better way to put it. His sister now says he already had cancer at the time. I don’t know enough to comment. Life’s hard on all of us in one way or another. Hang in there Steve!

Steve was into drugs when I knew him, but then so was I! Haha! We all were! Haha! I think I went to grade school with the guy in Orange County and he was in my grade, but I’m not entirely sure.

I never really knew him that well, but I went to see him play with a blues band at a party in an industrial park one night in 1980. He’s a damn fine blues musician and I have good memories of that party. I was drinking Heinekens and later on smoking some dope.

Later I got to know Steve better and somehow in 1981 I was buying Thai weed from him. I realize that sounds bad, but I was a dealer too! For many years! Haha. All of us – my friends and I – were drug users and dealers for many years. Haha! Plus, Steve sold me some damn good Thai weed too! Eat your hearts out, puritans!

Steve was working in the carnivals, traveling all around as a carny, and he was in with the biker crowd and he was doing methamphetamine, but I don’t think he was doing very much. He was just a recreational user. Back in those days, the only people doing meth were bikers and carnies, people like that. Now meth is this huge deal.

He used to come over once in a while, mostly to sell me pot. I was just a pothead at the time. That’s all I know about Steve Groene and dope. Pothead, occasional meth user. But that was Summer 1981, and I never saw him again. I won’t guess about the rest of his life.

I remember he came over once. I was living in an apartment and there was this young guy staying there. He was really mentally ill and he needed a place to stay. He was living on the couch. Haha! There was a guitar case owned by this guy, a great guitarist who was going through a manic episode.

There were cigarette burns all up and down the case, and I pointed to them, shocked, then to the guy in the midst of the manic episode. Steve gave a smile, of sadness, of wisdom, of truth, of life? And then he said, “That’s the blues, man.” That’s right, Steve, you got it man. The blues is life and life is the blues. Ain’t that so true now though? Damn.

I realize that I may be trashing his reputation here, but Steve has already admitted to being a heavy drug user as a younger man. Besides, what’s wrong with being a doper? Haha! I’m 50 years old, and I’m still a stoner! By the way, can you get me any good pot? Haha!

I want to point out that Steve Groene was always the nicest guy to me. He’s a real warm and kind-hearted person, always was. I value that, and I’ll always remember him for that.

I also knew Chris Groene, too.

That handsome face, beautiful long hippie surfer hair, and words of honey – no wonder the girls ate him up! Haha! Chris was a doper too, a pothead! Haha! We all were! He was a juvenile delinquent as a kid, but hey, a lot of us were. Even me! Haha! A nice, friendly, charming delinquent. I think Chris was probably a better thief than I was, though. Haha! I never was good at stealing.

Chris was also a real nice and warmhearted guy the whole time I knew him. I guess he outgrew that delinquent stuff. I still saw him later, into the early 1980’s, and he was still a kind, warmhearted person. I understand he’s got a really good job now.

I see in a recent pic Steve’s got himself a really nice looking new girlfriend. And he’s still a blues musician, which he always was. He’s a damn good musician, too.

I’m amazed that Steve has appeared to hold up pretty well to this. Two of his kids and his ex-wife were brutally murdered and his daughter was kidnapped and molested. But in the last pic I saw of him, he seems to be holding up. I think I would have snapped a long time ago.

All of us, me, Doperman, Chris, Steve, and all our friends. We were rebels, longhairs, surfers, stoners, mavericks, and trillseekers. Bad-ass middle-class dopesmoking White boys! Haha! We were White Punks On Dope ! Haha! Those were the days, man.

I’ll always remember Steve and Chris Groene. Whatever else they’ve been in their interesting lives, they were never mean. They both have hearts as big as the ocean. You don’t see that all the time in this world. Even, with the ravages of time and an unknowable future, if my heart becomes cold and hard, there will always be a tiny place there set aside just for Steve and Chris Groene.

Steve and Chris Groene, presente!

Doperman reminisced about Chris Groene:

I was working at the local elementary school as a janitor when I was 16. It was 1974. One night Chris, then age 15, came up to me and wanted men to give Chris access to the auditorium so Chris could steal a microphone. I guess Chris was a musician too?He almost talked me into it, but I eventually chickened out.

Chris was more of a charming type, and he had natural good looks, really long hair, and he got all kinds of girls and women. He could charm the poison right out of a cobra. This dude had style, man! He was one slick guy! I liked Chris Groene, Bob.

He was always really good to me, even when he was trying to convince me to participate with him in a juvenile crime! I think he grew out of that delinquent stuff, and I hear he has a great job now. You go, Chris! A ghost from your past!

Sexmaniacman recalled Steve Groene. The only recollection he had was one night 30 years ago when he was out of mind on LSD:

“I remember one time, it was the summer of 1978, it was around 10 PM, and I was flying on LSD! I think I was with my buddy Craig L.Anyway, we were headed to this party at Alan B’s place. We came to the street where the party was at, and there were cops there! I was on acid, driving a car, and I looked right into this cop’s eyes! With my huge saucer eyeballs! Scary!

Well, we went inside, and I’m flying on fucking LSD! Oh man! Steve Groene was there! He’s got this big, friendly, warm smile, to light up a whole room, like always. It was Alan B’s party, an Italian guy. A hippie and an acidhead! Haha!

Well, I walk in and there’s this beautiful Mexican chick, about 20 years old, sitting on the couch. She was kinda big, but not too big. Just big enough baby! Lotsa curves! Well, she’s looking at me the whole time. I’m kinda looking back, but I don’t really know what to do.

So after a while Steve Groene says, way too loud, “Hey! Sexmaniacman! Why don’t you get her a beer, Sexguy? She wants you to get her a beer, Sexman!” He’s smiling and laughing, but he’s also like, you idiot! Pick up on the chick! She likes you! Go for it, dummy! Like, duh! So I go and get her a Heineken. I forget what happened after that. I fucked up; I don’t think I even got her number. I’m so stupid sometimes.

Later that night, I was in Alan’s bedroom. I told him I was on LSD. He said, “Hey, Sexmaniacman! Let’s do some more acid, and go to Black Star Canyon, and fry all night!” I opened up a box full of blue LSD tablets. But we never did it.

I love Steve Groene, Bob, I really do. He’s a good person, and his heart is solid gold. He ran with a rough crowd, and he looked like a pretty tough guy, but he was good people all the way. A shout out to Steve Groene! Blast from the past!

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