By Bruce A. Smith
Although the DB Cooper case is over forty years-old, the suspects keep coming and one of the enduring mysteries of this case is how many middle-aged Caucasian men didn’t appear for Thanksgiving dinner in 1971. Continue reading
By Bruce A. Smith
These are the most dramatic days of my lifetime – the Covid crisis coupled with historic social change that will hasten the end of racism. The coronavirus has killed 120,000 Americans, half of whom would be alive if Trump took appropriate and timely measures, such as testing and mask-wearing, and acted with anything approaching competence and compassion.
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By Bruce A. Smith
Editor’s Note: the following is from the 3rd edition of DB Cooper and the FBI – A Case Study of America’s Only Unsolved Skyjacking, being prepped for publication.
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If the FBI thought the world would lose interest in the DB Cooper case when they “officially closed” it in 2016, they must have been shocked with the huge media splash Walter R. Reca and Principia Media publishing company made in 2018. Continue reading
By Bruce A. Smith
I did some construction work, but my heart wasn’t into it. Nor did I join the crowd chasing the vanishing therapy jobs. Unity offered me an entry-level position in a satellite clinic in Bangor, Maine, but I didn’t want to relocate. Truth be told, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I didn’t even pursue my divorce. I just moved out of my sister’s house and rented an RV trailer on Nantucket Island.
For four months, I lived on the $296 a week from unemployment and walked the beaches. One night in March, while listening to Motown and drinking a bottle of Berenger’s, I started writing this story. I wrote ‘til dawn. Continue reading
By Bruce A. Smith
By first snow, everything we had built was gone, but not without a fight. Surprisingly, Anita Bouchart had championed our cause.
“Dave,” she said to me at an emergency staff meeting in December, “I know you think I’ve never been a big supporter of Unity House, and perhaps you’re right. I do think most kids fare better in family homes, not residences like Unity.
“But,” she continued, “I’ve learned a lot in the past month by getting back into action here. These kids are thriving at Unity better than they have anywhere else. Continue reading
By Bruce A. Smith
I got the phone call at 10:00 am
“I would’ve called you sooner, Dave,” Terry said, “but I know how you like to sleep late. How are you?”
“I…, umm…, I’m coming around, Terry.” She was right. I was still in bed, lying in a groggy twilight when she called. “Ummm. How are you?”
“Good. Great actually, personally. I’ve resigned, effective next week.
“Good for you, Terry,” I said.
“You know you’re gonna be in charge now, permanently, or at least sharing things with Anita.”
“Yeah, okay…oy,” I took a deep breath and sighed.
“But, listen, I have some sad news….,” she paused. “Trey died last night.” Continue reading
By Bruce A. Smith
My bronchitis came on fast. By morning, I was blowing my nose like crazy, and try as I did with vitamin C, salt water gargles, and healing visualizations I was in bed all day with fever, chills, and a cough that caused my body to spasm. My tenure as “Boss” didn’t last too long. I turned authority over to Jack.
The rest of the house managed to carry on with their duties as medical orderlies and helping downstairs with the sick. Jack and Karen tried vainly to get bone marrow transplants for Trey and Willy, but the Army said they needed parental consent and the Unity Alliance hedged on taking the responsibility. Continue reading
Bruce A. Smith
It had been quite a week. The start of our second week at Unity seemed like the anniversary of a marriage or a divorce; something big and something awesome. Perhaps in celebration we all made it to breakfast at 7:30 a.m., even Ryan who liked to sleep late even more than me.
In the middle of another breakfast of bacon and eggs, Terry stood up.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys, I wanted to let you know that I’m leaving Unity House in order to accompany Adam’s body to Westover and meet with his family there. I’ll be accompanying them and the body to New Hampshire for his burial there, so I don’t know when I will be back. Continue reading
By Bruce A. Smith
At breakfast, I learned that I wasn’t going to have to organize any cooking for the 200 or so people at Unity as the Army had convoyed-in two mobile home-sized structures to be a mess hall and kitchen, along with a full staff of cooks. All the Men and Women of Honor had to do was take care of themselves and pitch in as we saw fit medically, which ended up being lots of little detail stuff, especially helping patients get settled in our convalescent facilities downstairs. Continue reading
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