Problem Solved

CW: Contains themes and/or references to includes references to drug use, domestic abuse, and violence.

It started with a package sent to my address. I'm not certain why it wasn't in the mailbox, since it would have fit. It was left on the covered front porch. Unfortunately, it didn't have my name, Mary Johnson on it, just my address, so I put it aside on a chair to give to the mail lady when I saw her. Later, I wondered when that might be, since I have never seen her outside of the right-side driving mailvan. In fact, there have been numerous times when I witnessed her waiting in the van more than a few minutes to hand a package or letters to someone, so it was odd that she actually got out of the van and walked the hundred or so feet, and back, to my porch. Must have been a substitute.

The package was still there the next day, and the day after that, then quietly disappeared. I say quietly because on the third day, it was there in the morning when I went outside for the weekly paper but gone after lunch when I went to check the mail.

Here is where I explain that I am a homebody. I do have a profession and an office. I am self-employed as an accountant, and I keep it part time. I only go to the office for

appointments I can’t handle by email or phone, and spring tax season. So, someone had to sneak up to get the package. The situation was easily forgotten, until yet another package showed up. This time, one of my grandsons, Nick, brought it inside the house, and left it on the kitchen table, with the rest of the mail. I asked where the package was, he said the mailbox. It had the same correct address, and the same lack of name, and no postage. I hadn't paid that much attention to who might have sent the first package, Strangely, there was a return address. The name was Dwayne Morris.

I moved it from the kitchen, and put it near the door to take back outside. Imagine my surprise when, the next day, as I was going for the paper, I realized the package was gone. I had to stop and think. I always, well, almost, lock the doors, but the windows usually are open. The street is around 100 feet away. It is possible to park on the road and walk up, unheard. This happens to be the favorite access of my daughter, Julia, who has been known to visit very late at night, and, as near as I can figure, enters thru a window, which I love.

We are somewhat estranged. If she has a phone, she hasn't shared the number with me. I pass messages thru her ex-husband, her sons –aforementioned Nick and his

twin brother, Paul, or a note on the door. Somehow, she gets the message, and if she feels like it she will call, always from a different number each time, or stop by. I also get info, semi-gossip, really, on her from my friends and my many business contacts, like info from a friend at the court who has seen Julia’s name on court dockets. I put out the usual feelers, and waited for a visit from Julia.

Nothing for a week, then, surprise, surprise, Julia knocked on the door, And said “Is there a package for me? I told her “No, but I'm getting tired of drug paraphernalia at my house”. “I don't know what is in them, I just get them”, she said. “Who is this Dwayne person?”. She wouldn't say, which told me she knew him. Julia has changed with age. She started life happy, was married, had great boys, and was gainfully employed as a well-paid weekend Emergency Room Nurse. Somewhere along the way, something happened. She left her husband and boys, lives God knows where, and I am not sure how she supports herself. She soon got caught driving a vehicle with dead tags, drugs were in the car, but somehow, as far as I knew, she never went to jail for that mess.

When package #3 showed up, same details, I opened it up, and found syringes. Shocked, and not sure what to do with them, I taped the package up, and left messages

for Julia. She showed up that night, grabbed the package with no “Hello, how are you”

conversation, and tried to leave. I confronted her about the package, and we got into a

huge argument about the contents. I told her that there better not be any more similar packages, that if there were, I was opening them to check, and informing the Police and Post office.

It went over poorly. I was shocked when Julia said “You will be sorry if you do, that Dwayne would not like it, you wouldn't be the first person he beat up”. We left it at that. Several weeks went by, and I was in the middle of tax season, a very busy time. No packages for a month, I never found out if that meant they had another place to send them, or were intercepting them while I was out.

Then package # 4 showed up. A delivery person knocked on the door with it, explaining a signature was needed due to the contents. Once inside, I opened the package. it was small canisters of Narcan. I contacted the police and the post office. A Detective, Matt Summers, said it wasn't illegal to send Narcan through the Mail. The post office Inspector who came to the house was less than happy I had opened the package. I got off easy because it was my address. As the Postal Inspector was taking the Narcan package out of my house, he actually suggested I needed to prove that Dwayne Morris did not live there, which is like proving a negative. I told the Postal Inspector he would have more access information to that info than I would.

A day later, Nick got roughed up. Dwayne showed up at the house when I wasn't there, and let himself in. Unfortunately, Nick was. Dwayne demanded the package, and Nick repeatedly stated he didn't know anything about it, which only enraged Dwayne. A couple slaps, a few stomach punches didn't produce the package but both guys yelling got Julia in the house. She was waiting in the car, real nice.

Then I got home. I told Dwayne and Julia to leave, not to have more packages delivered here, and got my cast iron skillet persuader. I followed them down the drive to their car, and had the presence of mind to snap a picture of the license plate of their beater. I called the police to lodge a complaint. Can't have my grandsons beaten up, even if their mom doesn't seem to care.

Detective Summers came to the house to take statements from me and Nick.

After we said our story, Detective Summers told us the police know who Dwayne is,

a petty criminal, involved in drugs and minor theft to cover his habit.

Great. An equal opportunity drug addict with my daughter.

I decided to get rid of Dwayne. I thought it through, knew there were several things to do. First, I had to find out where he lived. Next, and most important, I had to decide on a method. Both items were easier than expected. Us small business people occasionally trade favors. One of my customers moonlights as a private eye. Told him the situation, gave him the car picture and license number with two names, Dwayne and Julia. I offered to pay going rates, but he declined, because I had straightened out his taxes, and saved him a bundle of cash. In a week, he got back with lots of helpful information.

I figured out how to set up a surveillance camera, and installed it with a good view of the house, then used that to see when I could get in the house. My thinking was to see if drugs were around, then call the police. Before I could do anything, another package for Dwayne showed up. I didn't open it, just called Detective Summers. He came by, opened the package, and found more syringes. He told me they were only illegal in the presence of drugs. I asked what he was planning to do, but he wouldn't answer.

And Dwayne showed up to get his package. It almost was my turn for a beating, until my cast iron defender against his shin deterred him. Dwayne was more upset the package wasn't there than he was about the bruise and limp he now had.

I drove by their house at different times, and I was pretty sure they had no idea I was watching them. And what a house it was. All wood, walls leaning, an obvious hole in the roof, blue tarp almost covering it, I wondered how it could be rented. After spending some time at City Hall, Property tax Dept, with help from a friend, I discovered the house was off the tax rolls, abandoned. Nothing like a free place to live. Saves money for drugs.

I watched the camera for a week, and discovered that they both left in the evenings, sometimes returning before midnight, sometimes not until the next day. I haven't actually seen them using, but my sources have told me Julia was caught with drugs in her car a couple of times, and with the nature of the packages on my porch , combined with the lack of help from the Detective, I was sure there was drug involvement.

By this time, I had hit up one of my shadier contacts for a speedball. Next time they were out of the house, I let myself inside. Gloves on my hands, hat and mask on, hoodie to hide my head and hair. There were clothes all over the place, kitchen a wreck, a terrible smell that I couldn't believe people lived through, but no real places to hide the drugs. I just kicked through the largest pile of clothes, and stuck the drugs there, moved things back. With my foot, afraid to touch anything.

Next was a tricky part. I had a burner phone, and practiced my story, then called the police, and reported drugs in the house. They eventually showed up, found the drugs, and I hoped Dwayne was gone for a while. Nothing happened. They continued to live in the shack. I checked crime reports, even the local paper, found nothing on an arrest. There is a police database of all arrests, and court cases, but I couldn't find any reference to Dwayne or Julia.

Another package, and attempted beating- Dwayne tried to fight both boys, but they tag teamed him, got a few kicks in, and ran. I pressed Detective Summers on why Dwayne was not locked up. Summers was evasive, asked what was my interest in the case, acted like it was none of my business. He also asked where I was getting my info, that maybe Dwayne was already in jail. I simply told him it was a small town, everyone knows everyone else's business, and that more than a few people had asked me if Julia was OK.

That's when I realized Dwayne was a confidential source. I made my plan on how I was going to kill Dwayne. I didn't know if he was the bad influence on Julia, or if they were in it together, but I figured if he was gone, maybe she would straighten out. I was going to torch the house with him in it. I worked out that Julia was gone on weekends, and that he stayed “home”, so that would be my chance.

I started to really plan, including how to cover my butt. I had gas for my lawnmower that I never used, preferring to pay someone to mow the lawn for me, but always needed fuel for it. I had matches, my disguise- hoodie, hat, gloves, generic clothes purchased from the thrift store that would get thrown away. I decided on a weekend when I could do the deed. In the meantime, I had an out-of-town accounting conference to go to, for three nights, two days. I was going to think it over, and through. Nothing like getting arrested for murder to ruin your day

Conference over, on my drive home, I caught a radio news break about a fire near where I lived. I kept changing channels to hear more. I had to pull over to look at the phone for more news. Found out that it was near where Julia and the idiot lived. Instead of heading home, I went to their house, only to find a smoking pile of debris, the fire dept, assorted police, and Detective Summers. When he saw me, he asked where I had been the last few days. I told him about the Conference, and said I could give details about it, including the registration and a hotel bill. He said he would definitely want to see that info to clear me, since there was a body in the house. He wouldn't say if it was male or female, saying they didn't know at that point. I made it home, and, while getting the needed info, then processed what had happened.

A few days later Julia's ex, Jason, showed up to get the boys, who had been at my house. He asked me to come outside. He told me he found my camera outside Dwayne and Julia's shack. He said he wasn't stalking Julia, just wanted to know what was going on with her, to protect and shield the boys. He said his camera had been up for a while, and he saw me attaching mine, and had hacked into it. He had a plan and, when Julia was gone, he had gone to see Dwayne.

Jason had once had his own problems with substance abuse, and knew where to get Dwayne’s preferred drug. He had sold some to Dwayne, and waited a couple of hours, then attached multiple fire starters to the house, and went around igniting them. He stayed nearby, in case Dwayne tried to get out, but never saw him leave.