R.I.H. (Rest in Hell)

Many of you know, I learned to shoot from someone who ended up becoming my stalker.

We had worked together for a couple of years, became friends, and then more-than-friends, and then hunted/hunter (as my children put it).

The stalking occurred for a couple of years, and ended when I threatened to kill him with one of the guns he bought me.  I didn't draw down on him, but when he showed up at my door one night like nothing had ever happened, I told him to get lost and the next time he showed up, I'd kill him without a second thought.

I meant it and he knew it.

It was the first time I realized that I could, in fact, take someone's life.  Before that, I thought I could if the danger was great enough, but when he showed up I knew I could.

Years of looking over my shoulder, of tires being slashed, of lies being told, and vague threats being made had me fed up.  I even had to interact with the FBI at one point because he was arrested on a weapons charge in another state and they called me a couple of times during their investigation.  I was done.  My kids didn't deserve feeling like they were being hunted.  It's one thing to make me uncomfortable and unsure of my safety, but to make my kids feel hunted?  Oh hell no.

Over the years, I knew when he was nearby, but he was careful not to be seen or to directly harass me, but I'd developed a sixth sense that I trusted. (Thank you Gavin deBecker!)

I haven't thought of him in a couple of years - he was gone and I was glad to have that behind me.  I was still vigilant about safety, I still kept an eye out, but after a year, then two of not "feeling" him around, I was feeling more comfortable.

Writing and publishing HUNTED LYON was very cathartic, so I credited some of my peace with exorcising the demon, so to speak.

A couple of weeks ago, my sister Nebalee and I were talking on the phone and she asked if I ever Googled him.  Not in years, honestly.  I didn't see any reason to if I didn't think he was around.  She cajoled me into looking him up.

There's a very good reason I hadn't felt him around for the last couple of years.

Bastard died August 9, 2011.

I really don't feel anything about it, other than the bastard got what he deserved.  It appears that he died alone in life and no one claimed him, from one of the obituaries I read.  I passed the news onto the kids and their sentiment was the same.  I spent a day or two worrying that maybe I was being too callous about someone's death and that maybe somehow I'd screwed my children up, too.

Then I realized, I didn't do that to my children, he did.

R.I.H. William F. Yeck