Friday, March 21, 2008


Google for Jesse James Campbell. A week ago, that name was hard to find on the Internet. And now, it's everywhere. And everywhere you look, if there's a comments section, it's full of the same thing: Grab your torch and pitchfork, we'll have a hangin' at dawn.

Most interesting is one found down the list a piece: A GoDuBois Forum Post on the subject, with some lively debate, including this quote:

Jesse James Campbell...

parents: think twice when you name your kids please
Har. Appropriately enough, the thread is titled "Mentally Unstable." Gee, ya think? What's really sad is, even in this local area, there are probably quite a few more kids like Jesse who haven't pulled something like this yet.

And speaking of Har, here's a funny one: Jesse has made his way to People You Will See In Hell. Before this morning, I never knew this site existed. And since I don't really believe in Hell, I can't say that Jesse will go. But if there is one, I bet he's got a reserved seat on the special bus.

Blogs are finally starting to pick up on the whole story more, as is the case with this post at Dreamin' Demon. Plus, there are all kinds of news stories with details of what really went down, mostly send-ups of the third link, a generic blanket UPI story. Turns out that Jesse had taken his mother's computer and, not wanting to return it and fearing his mother would send him back to prison (go figure, kid had a prior and did State time), he decided to kill her.

And not one link to this site from any of these. Bummer.

Brilliant. For all of you anonymous people who deem it necessary to defend such a soulless, moronic subhuman, you're just as brilliant.

Meanwhile, Jesse's preliminary hearing has been continued to April 30th(links here and here). I'd say this kid is headed straight for the table with the tubes. There isn't a jury on this earth that wouldn't have him put to death.

In short, he's fucked.

But what about Kacey? From what I've read this morning, she took the clothes, which Jesse had wadded up into a trash bag, and tossed them into the dumpster. That sticks her with a few charges right there, and while they're not Murder 1, they're fairly serious on their own. I'm sure there will be some form of Evidence Tampering charge, as well as some sort of Obstruction charge. Accessory to Murder 1? With her not being present for the whole thing (she was under the impression that he was just out getting cigarettes, even though he told her he was going to kill his mother before he left), I doubt she'd be tagged as an accomplice.

What she did and didn't believe at that point has yet to be fully determined. It's a pretty safe bet that, as soon as I can talk to her, I will, and hopefully she can give us a clearer picture of what the hell was going on in the days leading up to this circus. Until then, though, it's my guess that she'll be the star witness for what will most likely be a local media spectacle of a trial, and what might snag itself a little national media coverage in the process...

UPDATE: 2:40pm - The story has made a newsgroup posting, oddly enough on alt.drugs.psychedelics, found via Google Groups. Whoever this Rob Cypher is, he's linked to Jesse's MySpace page, encouraging people to leave comments. However (and this is no surprise), there are no new comments: He's not there to add new friends, and its set to only receive comments from friends.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

But The Point Is Probably Moot

People love to correct me. They also love to leave comments on posts I have to scroll down to find. They also love to not identify themselves, making them a less-believable source.

For starters, folks, it'd be alot easier for all my readers if you'd leave relevant comments in the most recent post on the subject. Second, it'd be great if you'd identify yourself: That'd help in either confirming or disproving what it is you all have to say.

Second, what I've been reporting since this broke has mostly come from mainstream news outlets that have actually covered this tragic story (which, sadly, are very few and far between). The most information I've gathered comes from Greg Bock at the Altoona Mirror, who is the only reporter I know of trying to put a human angle into this story, apart from me (and I hardly qualify as an official "reporter," I like "citizen journalist" better).

You'll notice that, as information comes in that contradicts what I've posted earlier, I've made any necessary corrections along the way. Correcting me via anonymous comments isn't going to get any changes made, because being Anonymous means you could be anybody: Someone connected to the case or families, or just some schmoe who loves to sit here and berate me because they think they can hide behind the mask of "Anonymous."

What I've been trying to do is develop a psychological profile of Jesse. And right now, things don't look to good for the outcome of that profiling. From all accounts I've recieved, talking to folks I know close to the situation, Jesse is a failure. He's failed to grow up, he's failed to rehabilitate from whatever problems got him put in jail in the first place. He's a perp with a history.


Yeah, that's not quite the formula for "poor kid with bad luck." Nope, sorry, I've got "poor kid with bad luck" locked up, and I haven't killed anybody, especially not my own mother with a 5lb freeweight and a knife. And you certainly won't see me picking up a Bible or any other religious text sometime soon.

It should be known that I was one spur-of-the-moment decision away from being in the middle of this. Around 2:00am (about two hours after the actual murder, but before Kacey came back to her apartment), I was on my way to a friend's (a neighbor of Kacey's) to pick up some diapers for my son. As I drove into the complex, I looked at Kacey's apartment and noticed a bedroom light on. I thought she was home, and considered stopping by to say hello. I decided against it, picked up the diapers, and came home.

Had I decided to stop in, there's a chance I would have been there when Kacey arrived home hysterical, and I don't even want to consider what would have happened next. The only thing I could see happening is I'd have a whole hell of a lot more details about this fiasco, most of them would have come first hand.

I'm glad I didn't stop in...

At any rate, I will continue to report on everything I find. You can all tell me how wrong I am, or what I'm publishing is hearsay and rumor. But until you identify yourself, I'll treat what YOU tell me as hearsay and rumor. Grow a pair and talk to me directly. I'm open to any and all sources of information, unless they come from "Anonymous."

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

The Sentinel

Sad news found on a quick reload of Fark's main page: Arthur C. Clarke, author of countless SciFi classics, most notably the stories behind "2001: A Space Odyssey" (which he co-wrote with Stanley Kubrick for the movie of the same name), has died (FT). He was 90 years old.

Mr. Clarke was undoubtedly the greatest science fiction writer of his generation. You don't even have to be a geek to appreciate the work he produced, since it was nothing short of phenomenal. The influence he had over a ton of today's best science fiction writers is obvious, and he'll be sadly missed.

I can't do that, Dave...

Some More Coleman Murder Stuff

Wow. This has generated quite a response, as I figured it would, but it's a bit bigger than I thought.

First of all, I should address the most recent comment, from reader melanie626. She's fairly adamant in her correction that it's Jessie Campbell, not Coleman. I'll concede that much, no problem, and will correct my prior entries. More on that in a moment. She's also saying that, no, Kacey was not with Jessie when the deal went down, which is a huge relief.

So, why have I been calling him by his mother's last name? That comes from my initial discovery of the event, when an unknown person logged on to Kacey's Yahoo! Messenger account and sent me a message. They had logged in under Invisible mode, so I had no idea they were there until the message came through.

My archiving has been turned off for some time, so I have no hard copy of the conversation (idiot). All I can do is recount the basic gist of the whole thing.

them: hey kacey is in jail

me: What?!?

them: yeah

me: For what? WTF?

them: she and her boyfriend killed his mom

me: You said what now? They killed Jordan's mom?!?

(At this point, I had no idea that Kacey and Jordan had broken up two weeks prior.)

them: no she broke up with jordan two weeks ago

me: So it's that other kid she's been seeing, then.

them: yeah jessie coleman

(It was this unknown person using Kacey's account who gave me the name I'd been running with up to this point)

me: God damn... When the hell did this happen?

them: last night

me: Mother Fucker...
At this point, whoever it was stopped talking, and I've received nothing from Kacey's screen name since. Prior to this, I'd spoken to her online about three weeks before, and seen her briefly on a Thursday a few days before that. Personally, I received no indication that any of this was going on in the slightest. Kacey didn't mention anything about Jessie other than that she'd been seeing a kid younger than her (she's 22, he's 20). Never told me his name or anything else about him, really, just mentioned him in passing.

Otherwise, she was her usual self, pretty much. I can't speak for the two weeks leading up to the murder, since I had no contact with her. I really do hope that she's alright, because she's a good kid and hella cool to hang out with.

If anyone else close to Kacey would like, feel free to use my Comments links to chime in with what you know, any speculation, or just to show your support for Cindy Jo's or Kacey's families. This is probably the worst tragedy Houtzdale has seen since the block party fires of the late 90s: a son, killing his mother in, from what I've heard, is an argument over a computer.

Something went very wrong here, and not just that night...

Monday, March 17, 2008

Star-cross'd Lovers

A few quick updates on coverage of the Cindy Jo Coleman murder here in Houtzdale. A quick check of teh Googles reveals the first blog (that I've found) other than my own to speak out on the story: A blog called News of Doom picked it up and has a bit of commentary to go with it. Yeah, this kid could very well be looking at the needle, and I can't think of anyone in this state who would sit on the jury for this case, hear how this kid killed his mother, and NOT throw the book at him.

A bit of ha ha, Froggy98's website had a blurb about it on their FrogNet News page (find it yourself, I don't like Froggy, so no link for them), but apparently it's rotated out of their limited live page cache. Oh well, it would have only been a paragraph at most, and would have probably run along the lines of a summary the Altoona Mirror's article, anyway. In short, nothing new from a crappy source.

Years ago, when the Kimmy Jo Dotts (wow, women with Jo as a middle name tend to get killed around here...) Murder went down, Montel Williams did a show dedicated to the case, where I saw my friend Clint on the air, and heard a phone call from a very stupid/ignorant Dawn Lanager and her mother. I wonder which tabloid show will pick this story up first. Oprah? Maury? JERRY?!? We'll see, I guess.

While I'm inclined to continue to dig up new junk on this story, today is, in fact, St. Patrick's Day, and I can't help but want to step away from the keyboard and search box for a while and relax. I'll be at Electric Avenue tonight, watching everyone else get hammered while I drink my Sierra Mist 'on the rocks,' straight. I'll be back tomorrow, though, hopefully with more. On the bright side, I won't have to battle through any sort of hangover to do it...

Cats In The Cradle

The weekend has brought new information in the Jessie Coleman Campbell murder story, as teh Internets (which is a series of tubes) have finally caught up to me, at least when it comes to actually having anything online at all. Granted, they're a bit more well-connected than a lowly citizen-journalist such as myself, so they're a bit more in the know. But hey, at least I got to break it to the digital world, not a chance I get often (or one that I get soon enough to act on).

GantDaily says that the murder itself happened at Woodward Terrace Apartments. The police presence my friend confirmed for me at McAteer was most likely a posse hunting Jessie down at his girlfriend's apartment (that being Kacey).

The first mention of Kacey, however, comes in the form of an article from the Johnstown Tribune-Democrat which gives us some more details about the killing itself. While Kacey is only mentioned as "his girlfriend," it goes on to say that there's a stolen computer involved. Jessie took a 5lb plastic weight and clubbed his mother with it when she wouldn't wake up, then slashed her throat and wrists.

While she lay there, choking on her own blood, Jessie apparently sat and read the bible to her. Funny, since Jessie doesn't strike me as a Bible sort of kid...

Of course, The Progress is late to the party. And even though they're the most local paper to the story, their coverage, as always, is lacking.

And finally, the plot thickens as we get our first mention of Kacey (left) by name outside of this blog. According to the Altoona Mirror (who also supplied Jessie's CCJ booking photo, above left), it was Kacey who blew the whistle. Around 2AM (which is pretty much the same time I was near her apartment picking up diapers from a friend for my son), Kacey came back to her apartment hysterical, and called the police.

While I still can't garner Kacey's status at the moment (all I have to go on is whoever used her Yahoo to message me told me she, too, was in CCJ), the article does mention that Kacey was involved in some sort of planning. She never mentioned anything like this to me.

In fact, her's what WAS mentioned to me by her in the weeks leading up to Cindy's murder: Around three weeks ago, she revealed to me that she was cheating on her boyfriend (at the time) with Jessie, the first I'd ever heard of him at all. She did say that she was under a ton of stress, but never went into details, even when I asked her. After that, her account went dark for about a week and a half, popping back up on Thursday morning with whoever was in control sending me the message that started this whole fiasco.

The computer, I understand. Since Kacey had broken up with her previous boyfriend, she lacked a computer, hence her Yahoo account not coming online for a week. Cindy's computer (honestly, she won't be using it now) would fill that void, though I highly doubt that Jessie killed her because Kacey wanted a way to get online. Pretty weak motive for murder right there.

No, there's something deeper here. This Jessie, I'm willing to bet, is one seriously fucked up kid. And I aim to get to the bottom of why he is. Why? Because, in a very distant but still-significant way, his anger is like my own when I was that age. Understanding that anger, and understanding Jessie Coleman Campbell, brings us one step closer to understanding why so many kids are flipping out and racking up body counts these days.

For the record, I love my mother endlessly, and would never, EVER dream of killing her, or anyone else, for that matter.

As I gather more info, I'll post it here. Week should be interesting...

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Oiled As A Diesel Train

While Houtzdale is the place where I was raised, it is not my home.

Who would want to call this little shit-nowhere town home? Everything here revolves around two key body parts: Lips and Fists. The last few months have inspired me to give some attention to the latter.

In Houtzdale, the measure of a man isn't in his job, his family, or what good he does for society in general. No, the true measure of a man in this redneck-wannabe Huh?ville is much, much more primitive: Your status is based on who's asses you've kicked, how many you've kicked, or how many times you've had your ass handed to you.

Like any kid, I got in my share of fights. I won some and lost more, but in the end, I'm just a nonviolent person at heart. Yes, sometimes I rage, but what human doesn't? I have the presence of mind to keep that primordial, wild part of the human animal at bay, suppressing it in favor of a more refined, somewhat socially acceptable demeanor. What does that make me?

Ask any Houtzdale "tough guy" and they'll tell you that makes me a "pussy." And simply because these "tough guys" can beat my ass, they think it somehow makes them better than me.


To understand this mindset, you have to understand the Houtzdale Drunk, because 99 times out of 100, their muscles come from the large quantities of alcohol they've consumed since they got home from work, if they even work at all.

Around 5pm, these hot shots show up at your local bar and proceed to order the first of what will be many bottles of domestic piss that they, of course, think is the best beer out there. First of all, for fuck's sake, that's not beer! Good beer isn't yellow: it has at least SOME good brown color to it. Good beer is also not watered down to the consistency of soda. Right there, these guys have lost valuable style points.

These tough guys, thinking they're (insert deity here)'s gift to women, will most likely start hitting on the pretty girls in the bar. And it's not just limited to female patrons, either: bar and wait staff are all potential targets of their beer-induced Casanova-ism. When they're shot down, they'll return to the bar, and as buddies begin to flow in and get a buzz on, they'll strike up conversations about their favorite subject in the whole world: kicking ass.

"Well, I beat this guy's ass, beat the fuck out of this other guy; I remember this one time I was kicking this guy's teeth in and... Oh, that pussy, I don't know how many times I've punched that fucker..." It really goes on and on. It's almost as if all they know how to do is drink beer, get shot down by women and fight people. After a few rounds of this, and now with wingmen in tow, they'll go back to trying to impress upon the ladies how much they can "rock their world" with cliche pickup lines and drunken hugging.

Denied by the women that Budweiser tells them they deserve, they get cranky, and when they get cranky, guess what they want to do: Kick some ass. Surprised? Neither is anyone else, really. What these tough guys will do is find someone in the bar whom they figure won't be able to beat their ass, and go pick a fight with them for whatever stupid reason they can dream up. Yep, they'll pick on someone weaker than them (and yes, I've been that weaker guy a number of times, though actual fights resulting from those situations are really quite a rare breed) intentionally, mostly because they know (despite the alcohol's amplification of their already retarded minds) that they can't lose in that situation.

Barring that, the tough guy will most likely pick a fight with someone who randomly bumps them, accidentally spills their drink, or even a guy who manages to start up a conversation with a girl that shot him down earlier in the night. If this scenario doesn't pan out, though, and no fights happen, then our friend the tough guy will find another outlet for his frustrations: Local Fat Chicks.

Yep, they've had so many brews and warped their minds around their own failures so badly that they'll resort to chubby chasing. Since the hot girls won't give them the time of day, and bigger girls around here are desperate as hell to have ANY man, toughy boys will, at the end of the night, start grinding with albino milk duds, their confidence in their attractiveness to the opposite sex renewed, albeit impaired by what has now become an over-a-12-pack night.

If they get to take Moby Dud home and get some play, the cycle then starts over. Work (or PlayStation if they don't work), then bar. This time, there's the addition of the story of his most recent sexual conquest, although the female lead is recast as someone less Mama Cass and more Reese Witherspoon. But again, the outcome is the same.

Drinking, fights, and trying to get laid. The lives of too many people around my area, and sadly, around the nation.

They'd find it hard to believe that I have a steady girlfriend, a (step)son, I get laid on a regular basis, and that I make a decent living doing things that I love to do. Why? Because I'm a "pussy," and there's no way a "pussy" like me could possibly have a better life than someone who can kick my ass. Well, tough guy, too bad. I like my life, and yes, I think it's better than yours. I'm not obsessed with kicking someone's ass every time the mood hits me. I pride myself on being refined enough to use the head on my shoulders instead of the fists below them. It's all about staying above.

But hey. If you want to stay down below, be my guest.