Getting Ready for the Netflix Series
I am old enough now to have unfortunate friends who have been afflicted with various degrees of dementia. People I’ve known all my life and have gone through one hell of a lot with, case in point, one Ted Hernandez Sr., from my hometown, Taylor, Texas. Here’s a photo below of me and Ted during a phase where Ted didn’t have permed hair and I became a blonde to please Vic as we were still married at the time this photo was taken.
Being a redhead, I didn’t really understand why Vic wanted me blonde but what the hell I did it anyway, endured the bleaching process and boredom at the beauty shop much like a woman named “Clara Harris”, a dentist in Houston, had a husband who asked her to bleach her pubes blonde. Since she was Hispanic, this took, well, who knows how many color phases and time at the shop to make the magic happen. Clara later found out that her dentist husband wanted her cookie hair white to remind him of his girlfriend. Vic wanted my hair white so he could pretend I was Cheryl Davis.
The jury in Clara Harris’ murder trial said if she just hadn’t put her Mercedes in reverse and run over her dentist husband that second time, maybe she’dve gone free, after all in Texas we have “The Chickenshit Law”, you know it when you see it, and then there’s the other one, “He needed killin'”, Clara crossed the line and did 20 in Gatesville.
It wasn’t long after this photo I wised up and the hair went back to red, Lady Clairol’s reddest baddest bitch red. I was still friends with Vic though.
I hadn’t seen Ted Hernandez in ten or more years and dropped by to see him in his gray house on Sanger. It was wonderful, he welcomed me, we hugged, and I thought he knew who I was until he told me a story about Bernadette Feazell.
Ted said, “You know I loved her, I tried to tell her stuff about Vic, other people did too, she just didn’t believe how treacherous he could be and what a liar he was until it “happened to her.”
And so it did happen to me. Plus finding out about Truman shredding Gilbert’s truck, plus Vic being just the worst, totally worst father on the entire planet, sorry, no doubt about it. Just the worst. Greg was xeroxing by the time he was three, to help his dad, because we believed.
We believed in what he told us, just like those who believe in Parnell etc do now, we didn’t question, I certainly didn’t see what was right before my eyes with the no blood from any victim being on any of the other victims in the Lake Murder. They were horrible people, yes, yaddie yaddie, David Spence was bad. All true. However, the real killers made Spence etc. look like angels and if they’dve gotten the RIGHT killers at least three other people would have lived.
See, yes, I am pissed at Vic Feazell, he’ll be watching the Lucas show with people who were never there with him. Have no memories of having their son taken out of a restaurant by the FBI when he was four years old. Maybe ole Truman will be in there with him, who knows but in Vic’s mind and present, he did it all himself. He endured all the pain and all the fear of the Rangers. He won’t tell you about the meetings we used to have at home on Lake Jackson in the bathroom with the heater fan on just in case we were being bugged.
Nope, it’s all him and he’s butt hurt at any detractor much like Parnell.
This is a photo of me and Maximum Greg back during our election against Paul Gartner.
We believed. Being right and following a man who was right, and could also get up there and say he was wrong at times, was where we wanted to be.
But, we were wrong, we loved too much and questioned too little.
Vic started out right, that bite mark evidence had him, hell, all of us, I also knew when it went South and kept silent. That was when Juanita White was murdered. I slathered down the hairs standing up on the back of my neck daily and went on believing that “they” knew something I didn’t. Truman Simons that cool, silent type cowboy, with the “trust me”, sign written all over him.
I tell myself that George Bush Jr. didn’t realize that none of the victims had blood on them from any of the other victims either and signed off on David Spence’s execution, but I thought I was smart.
I also thought I had love and loyalty, I was really dumb.
It was there all the time and I was warned, I didn’t understand how “the power” corrupts and corrupted little by little. Hell, I could cash a check or give a check with no ID, it was cool. I didn’t have the power of life death, detention and pure hell, like they did though.
My last conversation with Charlotte McNamara was about whether or not Parnell moved his brother’s body. I asked her if she had listened to the “911” tape and she said she had not.
I recognized the symptoms and we had nothing more to talk about. Denial is a powerful bitch.
So is the chipping away of the man, the candidate, the official.
Speak out. For crying out loud people, speak truth to power.
Where has it gotten me? I like me. I like the me that has had to apologize to Russ Hunt, that has had to admit things were wrong, and can still tell you when things were right.
The Henry Lucas thing was right.
I had no say in this Henry walk down memory lane on NETFLIX but I remember.
I turned a blind eye many times, denial, too busy to listen to people, believed one man not the minions that tried to tell me.
The hero worship got to him. Parnell is another extreme example.
Gary Richardson once said to me, “Vic is a good friend as long as he’s in trouble.”
I had no idea what he meant.
THE WOMEN If you have a public official husband, and one that is nice looking, remember I had the “Young Elvis”, the worship of the young girls and public is just stronger than they are. They love it. They thrive on it, and ultimately, they can’t let go of it.
So here we go, six series of Henry Lee, Hugh Aynesworth, Jim Henderson, fatty Bob Prince, the incredible Boutwell and the Rangers.
What I am saying here is, Charlotte, listen to that damned 911 tape.