I finished the first draft of the article and The Frenchman is reading it for accuracy. It’s about France and French stuff, and I’m well inclined to send it to The New Yorker, since Kathleen Spivack and my agent keep saying my style is perfect for that. I guess we’ll test that theory. Also, it’s around 3500 words, so it’s much too long for Slate’s sound bites and I have no desire to try it on Salon since it’s highly critical of something they published (but in the nicest possible way, of course).

We’re about to take off for Paris and Rouen tomorrow. It’s our final goodbye to family and friends before we head back home. I’m feeling mopey about it but at the same time thrilled to see The Frenchman’s brother-in-law play his cello in a classical concert. The cello is one of my favorite instruments. I don’t have any recordings, which is odd. If any of you have recommendations, please let me know.

In other news, I’ve been doing some broad research that accidentally included the case of a girl I knew in school who was murdered around the same time as two of her friends were also murdered, Summer 1984. Once I saw the PDF of the news article, I remembered reading it the day before my birthday, August 22, 1984. The only things found were bones and clothing in separate locations and times. They positively identified the remains but have no clue as to what actually happened to the three teenagers. In the meantime, the case itself is one of the most insane things I’ve read in many, many years. With the help of a fellow high school alumni, I’ve been able to get swarms of newspaper articles from the local paper. The upshot is that some guy has been sitting on Death Row for over 20 years in San Quentin due to the perjured testimony of two teenage girls who turned out to be chronic liars. There was zero physical evidence. In 2003, because of the loopy testimony recantations over the years and assertions of satanic rituals, a judge finally said he would grant writ of habeas corpus, but he was the dissenting judge. I cannot for my life figure out how they upheld the conviction this way. It chills me to my toenails.

The prosecuting attorney committed suicide in 1989. If these were the kinds of cases he was dealing with, I can totally see what pushed him over the brink. What I want to know is why these girls aren’t in prison for perjury, but I suppose various immunities were granted for whatever reason.

Satanic rituals my ass.

Back to the word mill.