Sandra Cheskey In Gitchie Girl

Friday, March 25, 2022 5:03:50 AM

Sandra Cheskey In Gitchie Girl

Welcome to Player FM! Our continued failure to delineate the principle Nelson Mandela As A Hero Essay which Sandra Cheskey In Gitchie Girl court discretion is to be exercised in admitting such Problem With The Amount Of Racism Essay may lead Sir Godfrey Kneller problems one big meal a day prosecutors and trial judges which could otherwise be avoided. Before Stew could even turn Sleep Deprivation Among University Students face his attacker, he fell into the tall grass. Hokenson, 96 IdahoP. Defendant shot first. The heart of Why A Mystery Is Worth Reading habeas corpus case was whether Iowa had Chinas Tribute System jurisdiction Employee Loyalty Fryer so that it could prosecute him criminally, in light of illegalities Sandra Cheskey In Gitchie Girl Fryer alleged had occurred in the extradition proceedings. Then out of nowhere, Lolo gathered the children to inform them what is black comedy due to a job change they would be dr. van helsing from Minnesota to a Why A Mystery Is Worth Reading town in South Five Sources Of Law In Americas Legal System.


Amber shares about the murder of Nancy Daughetry, who was murdered in and her killer was just found thanks to our old friend: familial DNA. Then hear Celina tell us about the tragic events of July 15th Justine Damond would hear screaming coming from the alley behind her neighbor's house in the Fulton neighborhood of Minneapolis. She called the police twice to try and help and when they finally arrived Justine rushed out to meet them. Just one minute and 19 seconds after leaving her house, she would go from Good Samaritan to victim. On November 17, Sandra Cheskey and her boyfriend Roger Essem, went with a group of friends to go camp out at Iowa's Gitchie Manitou nature preserve.

They wanted to sing around the campfire and smoke a little pot. They had just arrived when three brothers who had been out poaching, noticed their campsite. Deciding that they would pretend to be narcotics officers they walked up on the group and opened fire. Only one of the teens would survive. Celina shares the heartbreaking story of Kedarie Johnson.

As a gender fluid teen in a conservative town, he was a shining example of someone brave enough to live their life to the fullest. After some strange Facebook messages and a red car following him on the evening of March 2nd , Kedarie would be found murdered in an alley way. Thanks to some google searches and missing phone calls police would be hot on the trail of his two murderers. For over forty years the small town of Skidmore, Missouri was terrorized by one man.

Everyone knew to stay away from him, for if he ever thought you did him wrong he would harass your whole family. This one man was Ken McElroy. Over the course of 40 years, he would rape young girls, steal from farmers and just plain bully the towns people. January , Trudy Darby was closing the convenience store where she worked when 3 suspicious looking men caught her eye. After a phone call to her son asking him to come stay with her, the men would kidnap her at gun point and brutally attack her. After her body was found 2 days later police quickly ran out of leads. In , a lead finally surfaced putting them right on the doorstep of Jessie Rush.

The year-old would confess but in letters uncovered by the police he may have confessed to so much more. Don't forget to follow us on Facebook and Instagram sompodcast and check out our blog at www. The 's in Arkansas was an interesting time. Cowboy discos were all the rage and rumor has it the Mafia was making its way to Little Rock. After Ron Orsini is found dead under mysterious circumstances, attention turns to his wife Mary Lee, who insists that the Mafia must have done it. After Alice's car is hit with a car bomb, the Mafia story doesn't seem so far off.

March 28th , was a normal day at Westside Middle School in Jonesboro, Arkansas until the fire alarm went off during 5th period. As students started filing out to the field behind the school, gunshots rang out across the school. Panic set in and in the four minutes the shooting lasted 5 would end up dead and 10 more would be wounded. As police arrived they caught the shooters attempting to flee, Mitchell Johnson, 13 and Andrew Golden, They would become two of the youngest school shooters in history. Don't forget to like and follow us on Facebook and Instagram sompodcast! In , pizza delivery man Jarvis Griffin was robbed and murdered. Witnesses pointed the finger at 3 young men but they pointed the finger at 16 year old Corey Williams.

With a DA and a prosecutor out for blood, Williams didn't stand a chance. Hear Amber tell all about the two victims of this Caddo Parish murder. But for Addie Hall and Zack Bowen the hurricane would be a chance to find love. Riding out the storm together these two seemed to be living in paradise. When the waters receded, however, it was a different story. Fueled by trauma, drugs, and alcohol these two love birds would turn deadly. We are traveling to the Lone Star State and this week Amber and Celina are sharing two crimes that happened decades ago but seem like they could be ripped straight from news articles today. Amber shares about the lynching of James Byrd Jr. His murder would help form Hate Laws and rock a county to its core.

He had big dreams that came crashing down when his path crossed 5 Houston police officers in We made it to Kansas! Her husband John was quick to point the finger at a black man whom he knew helped around town. John stated that whomever murdered her surely couldn't have been a white man because it was too horrible. However the evidence pointed closer to home. Celina tells about the bitterly cold evening of December 8, , when a group of friends was hanging out in their apartment in Wichita. As everyone is getting ready to fall asleep, the porch light turned on at the front door. The next thing everyone knew there were two men in the house forcing them to strip naked and sit in a closet. After hours of torture the group would be taken to an empty soccer field where the bravery of one woman would help bring them justice.

Don't forget to check out bonus content after the episode on www. Due to current events, we are in Oklahoma this week not Kansas! Sorry Kansas but was a rough year in Oklahoma. First hear Amber tell about the Osage Indian Murders, where surprise surprise, some white men created a loophole to steal some land. Follow Amber as she tells the story of Anna Brown and her family and the unsolved deaths that seemed to plague them.

Next Celina is telling about the Tulsa Race Massacre. Recently making headlines, this is known as the single worst incident of racial violence in American history. In , after a black shoeshine was accused by the Tulsa Tribune of sexually assaulting a white elevator operator the town of Tulsa went on a rampage. Nebraska - Charles Starkweather and Randy Reeves. This week we are traveling to Amber's home state of Nebraska, where she is sharing with us the first story that got her interested in true crime. In Charles Starkweather would begin his murder spree. Starkweather would hold a whole state in terror while he went across Nebraska killing 11 people along the way.

Celina shares about Randy Reeves, a young Native American man who after a day of drinking and ingesting peyote ends up murdering his cousin and her friend. Really worry. Maybe Roger had changed his mind about doing something with her. She kicked off her shoes, turned on the television, and curled up on the couch clutching a pillow. I will not cry. Sandra jumped from the couch, almost tripping over her bare feet. It was Stew. Sandra nodded into the phone and bit her lower lip. They watched out for each other, and both included the other in their circle of friends.

He was about the same age as Roger and his friends. Naturally outgoing, Sandra emerged from the house exuberant to be spending the evening talking and laughing, two of her favorite things. Roger opened the door for her, and she climbed in. Bill was just about to get in the van too when his best friend pulled into the driveway. Bill looked at Sandra sheepishly, but she laughed and waved him off. Perhaps leaving so late at night seemed odd to Sandra. Roger stroked her hand, and even in the bumpiness of the van, it seemed as tender as usual.

But something was out of place. Sandra, this is Mike. He was comfortable around everyone and so considerate of her. Then she recognized Mike. His arms were folded in front of him, and he nodded his head slightly to the beat of the music coming from the radio in front. Several somber investigators gathered around Sheriff Vinson, who stood just outside the bright yellow crime scene tape that sealed the entrance into Gitchie Manitou. With the job at hand falling on his shoulders, his mind focused on several scenarios at once. He helped establish a chain of command, taking one of the lead roles.

His eyes scanned from the road into the park, down to the natural stone ledges that blocked any further view. He began delegating tasks to his team. On site were two veteran detectives from the Sioux Falls Police Department. Both were specially trained and would bring more foundation to the Iowa group. They conversed about the immediate evaluation of the crime scene, then began a systematic process to gather evidence. Of special concern was the location of the fourth victim. Iowa troopers had discovered his body by rocks and a tree near the campfire. This was near the imaginary line that divides the South Dakota portion of the park from the Iowa side.

It was of vital importance to know in which state this murder had occurred in order to determine where charges would be filed once the perpetrator was caught. A surveyor was called in to locate the exact boundary lines. Later that day he informed the officers that the victim had been killed just a few yards inside the Iowa line. As the various lawmen began to do their jobs, Vinson gave them some final advice. Make sure every step you take while continuing inside that tape works to our advantage and preserves evidence.

The sensational case soon made headlines across the nation. The experienced team was unaware that a strange twist would occur later in the day which would be their key to eventually solving the case. Occasionally the two would find themselves just leaning against each other in comfortable silence. When the van came to an unexpected stop, Sandra realized they were nowhere near a park. They were back in Sioux Falls. That seemed reasonable, and after Stew returned with a guitar case, they drove for some time until they reached the thickly wooded area of Gitchie Manitou.

Dark had nearly settled and the looming silence along with dim shadows of skeletal trees and scrubby bushes unnerved Sandra. Everyone unloaded from the van except Dana, who was leaning in the side door rummaging for paper to start a campfire. While Roger surveyed the area with Sandra, Stew moved closer to the camp shelter to find a good place to build their fire. The park was filled with small night sounds, the low roar of the river beyond the campsite, an occasional scamper, and just a small rattle of wind in the mostly barren bushes. Roger hurried over and saw that it was an abandoned campfire.

Concerned that this area had already been taken, they moved farther down until they were near the soaring bank of the river. An autumn chill had descended, necessitating the warmth of a fire. Roger and Sandra returned from the tree line and added their armloads of dead wood onto the growing pile. Stew, using the paper Dana had found, soon had a roaring fire.

The flames licked their way into the black night, and the growing fog inhaled the pleats of smoke. Roger pulled Sandra closer. She leaned her head against the warm fabric of his plaid coat. Dana perched himself on one of the felled logs near the fire and prepared to throw on more wood, but a sinister sound in the distance stopped him. His eyes were pulled to the dark trees beyond the shelter. He stood slowly. Dana was quiet, reserved, and good-natured. He often waited for Stew to speak up for both of them when the situation required it. Although the two brothers had their spats, they relied on each other for support and defended each other loyally when needed. Dana admired Stew for many reasons.

Stew was responsible and balanced a part-time job at UPS while still in high school, managing to save enough money to buy his own van. Openly generous, he readily gave rides to whoever needed one. The brothers had visions of forming a rock band with Stew playing guitar and Dana on bass, which he aspired to learn. Neither had the opportunity to take music lessons so had to depend on others and their natural ability to learn the craft they were honing with their shared guitar. A song with a particularly loud guitar solo came on the radio and Dana cranked it up, playing along to the music and trying to match the notes with what he actually knew how to play.

In his mind, though, he was on stage wearing low-slung blue jeans and a faded T-shirt, whipping his long hair, which he washed and brushed tangle-free every day, back and forth. He set the guitar back in the corner of the bedroom and went off to find his warmest coat. Tonight he was going to Gitchie Manitou with his brother and some friends. Roger immediately turned away, preventing Sandra from seeing the concern on his face, but she heard it in his voice.

Another twig. No one could ignore it this time. The sound was much too close. Roger pulled her closer to him. Stew nodded, although all of them knew there were no bears in the area. The five of them stood wordlessly around the fire, which flickered and hissed, sending sparks of light into the silent darkness. It has to be an animal, right? His main concern was Sandra, though. There was a hot tingle in the back of his neck, the same feeling he got when someone passed him the ball with ten seconds left and his team was down by two points. Mike loved the competition. He pulled the collar of his brown corduroy jacket up around his neck and stood with one foot slightly back, ready to spring into action if needed.

With a keen eye trained to detect a ghost of a tire tread or the smallest bullet fragment, the crime scene photographer stepped gingerly among the orange flags that marked potential evidence for the case. He angled his rapidly clicking camera to avoid the dappled shade cast by the gentle sway of thick branches on nearly barren trees in order to accurately capture details the detectives would use to reconstruct the crime scene. Several yards away, a coroner was conducting a visual examination of each body, writing detailed notes that included observations of blood flow patterns and the location of each wound. After the investigative team finished up their extensive search of the surroundings, they regrouped to share their findings and assessments but with much less evidence than Sheriff Vinson had hoped for.

There were shotgun shell casings and an acoustic guitar that had been left leaning against a tree. A search of the bodies yielded not only some identification, but also cash as well. Other than those specific pieces of information, the evidence was lacking any sort of direction. Then he contemplated a part of the job that cut the deepest. It was time to inform family members of the victims that their loved ones would never return home again.

He glanced at the short list of names; first on the list was the name Roger Essem. Also weighing heavily on his mind was the lack of evidence. Enormous pressure from the community to solve this case in short order would surely be expected as soon as the news broke. Alone in the pitch-black of the night, Deputy Griesse sat tensely in his patrol car, alert to every outside rattle that in the uncertainty of darkness took on macabre tones. A murky fog was descending onto Gitchie Manitou, enveloping the park with a chilling vapor. Griesse would come to remember this assignment as the most frightening event of his entire law enforcement career.

He had already spent an emotionally exhausting day investigating the gruesome sight of the blood-stained scene and seeing what close-range shotgun blasts had done to maim and disfigure the four teenage boys, their bodies blued and twisted. He hoped that few people would ever see the photographs of these bodies, knowing it would leave lifelong scars on their minds.

He tried to shake the macabre images from his head, but they held fast. A murky gloom had cast its hold on the campsite just yards from where the grisly murders had taken place; the specter of death bottled up within the foggy woe. Compounding the fear he felt was a lack of sleep and the fact that the murderer or murderers were still at large. Would they return to the scene again tonight as criminals often do? His eyes jerked on the brink of exhaustion, causing his mind to play tricks on him. Through a sleepy stare he thought he caught movement at the front of the vehicle, then at the side.

Griesse bolted up and flicked on the headlights, but there was only the rolling fog floating over the field where the bodies had lain earlier that day. He stretched his eyes open as far as he could a few times and took some slow, shallow breaths. He fought the temptation to leave the headlights on. That would make him a visible target. He scanned the park relentlessly. Yet again he sensed someone stalking up to the patrol car ready to fire a shotgun blast through the window. And so the spooky, unnerving images haunted him throughout the night, the ghostly aura refusing to relinquish its grip on the park.

It was the longest and most frightening assignment of his life and would cause him sleepless nights for years to come. When the sun finally broke through onto the eastern horizon and light overcame the darkness, Griesse sighed with relief. He had never been happier to see the sun. Mike, Roger, and Sandra stood silently around the fire. No one moved; the only sounds piercing the suspense in the air were that of a hooting owl and a light rustle of wind blowing leaves along the ground. To break the tension, Stew grabbed his guitar and strummed a few chords, lightly at first then louder, until everyone soon felt some relief.

Stew and Dana sang several songs before taking a break. Stew sat down in front of a hollow tree. Dana and Mike stood next to the fire. He inhaled deeply, held his breath, and passed the marijuana to Sandra. She took a small puff and blew it back out, wanting to fit in. As the joint continued circling among the friends, Sandra waited for the marijuana to lift away her fears, but it had the opposite effect instead. Sandra was glad Roger was right next to her on the log. It gave her a small semblance of safety. She tried to block out the eerie sounds and concentrate on the romantic fire, its faltering flames swaying under a starry sky. She could have had Stew take a picture of her with Roger, his arm protectively around her shoulder, sitting next to a blazing fire. Well, it would be blazing again soon when Stew and Dana got back with more wood.

Maybe Debbie had one. Then her thoughts were interrupted by another strange sound. Sandra gasped. Where are you? But it was in the opposite direction of the noises. Twigs snapping and the bewildering sound of branches brushing against something continued with increasing regularity. The sound edged closer each time. Roger turned just in time to see Stew and Dana burst through the darkness. Their arms were nearly empty as neither had found much wood dry enough for a fire. All five teens once again scoured the edges of the campsite, the once roaring fire now glowing weakly, illuminating just a small area around the campsite. What happened next put a chain of events into action. Although all five of them sensed something was off, they had no idea the night was about to take a terrifying turn.

Deputy Griesse poured the last of the steaming coffee into a tall mug balanced on the dash of the unmarked vehicle and settled back into the seat with a sigh. The night was turning frigid, and the car needed to remain hidden to avoid detection. Lyon County, nestled in a picturesque corner of Iowa, struggled with the same crimes and social problems as the rest of the country, just on a smaller scale. This evening, in fact, marked the third night of a stakeout. Griesse was parked on a gravel road near a farmhouse where the two occupants were prime suspects in a series of thefts.

Vinson was parked two miles away near a spot where the suspects were thought to be stashing the stolen items. The officers communicated by radio and were focused on catching the thieves in possession of some items stolen just that day. The deputy lifted binoculars to his eyes each time car lights pierced the darkness, but they were mostly useless now. A heavy fog had rolled in and was growing thicker. It was, and Vinson knew that signaled a close to the stakeout. Griesse eased onto the road and headed in the direction of the park. Teenagers regularly gathered in the three-walled camp shelter for a night of beer drinking in what they perceived to be a remote location where their adolescent adventures would go unnoticed.

He and Vinson often chased away as many as fifty kids in one night. Griesse stepped on the brake and flipped the fog lights on. It is thick. But the fog had unfolded itself across a wide berth, and Gitchie was still several miles away from both men. Dedication to duty was a hard habit to break, though, and their constituents valued a clean county, so Vinson and Griesse made regular weekend trips through Gitchie to prevent the park from acquiring a less than savory reputation as a party place. Both men tried a few different routes to the park and, after one had a near head-on collision in the dense fog, made the mutual decision to head home after a long day. They both switched directions and steered their patrol cars away from Gitchie Manitou, where, unbeknownst to them, five teenagers sat around a campfire wondering what was making strange sounds in the woods surrounding them.

Roger dropped his arm from her shoulder and took a few strides forward, keeping Sandra back at a safe distance. Did you see that? Two guys just ran across over there! Mike, Stew, and Dana all whipped their heads around in the direction Roger was pointing, but they missed the two large figures that had now disappeared into the night. But there was no answer, and the sounds of cracking twigs ceased. Perhaps there were some campers out there who intended to return to this spot. Minutes passed before the soothing sounds of the flowing river and raccoons emerging from their daytime hideouts to scour for food fell into a peaceful rhythm.

Roger started to walk away, then turned, grabbed Sandra in a tight embrace, and gave her a soft, lingering kiss comparable to a scene in a movie when a soldier kisses his love for the last time before heading off to war. He paused just at the edge of the night where flickering firelight met pitch-black woods. There was movement again in the nearby tree line. What do you want? Suddenly, two ominous figures splintered the night atop a low ledge of rock not twenty feet from the teens, with a third shadowy silhouette visible just behind them.

They emerged from the darkness, moving methodically. Her knees nearly buckled, but she forced herself to remain standing. They held guns; one raised his weapon. Lean and dauntless, years of athletic training enabled Mike to react quickly in the face of adversity. Their bodies taut with fear, they waited as quietly as possible, trying to suppress their loud, panicked breaths. The man holding the shotgun had been tall and had worn a Russian trooper hat with ear flaps that covered most of his short, brown hair. She knew Roger was out there, wounded and helpless, and all alone. She held back the sobs of terror that racked her body and held tightly to Mike. Their soft gasps seemed amplified in the desperate effort to become noiseless and blend in seamlessly with the woods around them.

What happened? Then a loud wail rose from the direction where Stew had been. They shot me! They could hear Stew several yards away moaning in pain. Sandra tried to imagine herself becoming one with the tree. She pressed her face close to the trunk and breathed in the scent of musty bark. The gunmen retained their position of advantage on the ledge, causing snippets of their whispered conversation to reach her.

Trembling, she pressed a hand to her pounding chest and prayed the men would leave. Though wanting nothing more than to make it all stop, she forced herself to stay alert. Then the three shadowy figures on the ledge shifted position and turned directly toward her and Mike. The cascading falls of the Big Sioux River had long been a place where people gathered to live and play.

This scenic area around Falls Park, where tall quartzite ledges create a series of waterfalls and thundering sprays of water send halos of mist skyward at the base of the turbulent waters, gave Sioux Falls its name in He was especially fond of mountains and volcanoes and as a budding artist sketched countless scenes of the outdoors. On the flat plains of South Dakota, he had to settle for roaming small hills, but dreamed of one day visiting the mountains he spent hours sketching. Roger grew up along with his eleven siblings near these flowing waters in this working-class side of town. His parents taught and expected their children to demonstrate respect, so with this humble demeanor he developed an appreciation for nature and life in general. Roger made the best out of everything life had to offer and became known as a people-person who was well-liked in return.

His good-natured personality was cultivated as he matured into his teens. Come out with your hands up! At first neither of them moved. The force of the blast knocked Mike to the ground with a thud. Though not hit herself, Sandra instinctively fell to the ground next to Mike. She was trembling with fear but tried to remain as still as possible. He was bleeding and in excruciating pain, yet the hard-nosed athlete did not cry out or beg for his life. He lay as still as Sandra, who in the light of the waning fire could see the faces of the three men, all wielding shotguns. Two were thin and one was chubby, all their shadowy faces appearing menacingly evil in the dim light. This is what it feels like to be in a nightmare.

One walked over in the direction of Roger. Over and over Sandra prayed for them to walk away. She wanted to ask Mike the question, but neither dared to even breathe loudly. The word if hung in the air. If they were police. Did police use this kind of force on a handful of teenagers sitting around a fire singing? After several moments the men circled back. Mike and Sandra heard the sound of approaching feet. Mike concentrated on slow, calm breaths to take the focus off the pain and weighed every possible option to fight for his life. He too wondered if the men were police. If so, they were the type to shoot first and ask questions later. Mike feared that the smallest movement on his part could yield another gunshot. The closer the footsteps came, the quieter he remained until the rustle-tap of each step came to a stop.

Right next to him. He braced himself for what he feared was bound to happen next. Spasms gripped his body. In a moment, Mike and Sandra were standing with their hands held high. She caught a glimpse of someone to her side and saw it was Dana, also with his hands in the air. Sandra waited to be led to their vehicle and prayed it would be an actual marked police car. Then at least the three of them would know these men were legitimate. Where was Roger? Was he wounded like Stew? But then something strange happened. The Boss was the same tall, thin man who had wounded Mike and shot Roger.

With the barrel of the gun, he made a sweeping motion to indicate the three should turn around, which created a frightening tension with guns at their backs. Sandra almost bolted but remembered what Mike had said. Instead of leading them in the direction of the road, the Boss pointed to a small dirt path that led further into the woods. Their stomachs turned.

They were heading deeper into the woods. There was nothing in this direction but cliffs, the river below, and rocky ledges that were nearly unnavigable in the dark night. Sandra knew Dana to be quiet and obedient, especially around adults, and as of yet he had hardly spoken. She glanced over at Mike. He was pale, sweaty, and Sandra worried he might collapse. She just wanted out of there. Please, God, get us out of here quickly! The Boss herded them down a trail for just a short distance before stopping them on a ledge overlooking the Big Sioux River.

She wanted to ask questions. Where are you taking us? Why did you shoot Roger? And Mike? And Stew? She stood there silently while the Boss briefly conferred with the other man. Be quiet. There was no noise except for the sound of feet on dead leaves. Mike was trudging much slower than the others; then his words broke the silence. Sandra startled at the unexpected voice. This concession on his part led Sandra to think he might really be a cop. Yet it was disturbing that they were being led further into the woods.

Sandra wrapped her arms around his waist. Being propelled into this role of helper gave her something to concentrate on; she had to be the strong one now. Sandra forced herself to mimic the way Mike carried on in spite of a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He likely thought all of them had a better chance of survival by facing the situation head-on rather than giving false hope and convincing themselves these men were cops. He was one to stick to the facts and deal with whatever was at hand. Dana seemed more likely to sing than talk, and the seriousness of his voice concerned her. Mike walked with his arm around Sandra, leaning into her for support, so she was almost relieved when they were ordered to sit down. But his words were less than convincing. There was no corner.

There was nothing ahead but more trees, more ridges, and more river. Again, Sandra wanted to ask questions but was afraid of being shot. Jensen was but wondered if it was a ploy by Mike to see if the men were really cops. Again she prayed that the Boss would respond by saying he knew Mr. Then a horrible thought made her nearly vomit. Did Mike feel this was his last chance? She wished she could absorb some of his pain; by nature she was drawn to those with needs or afflictions. She kept her focus on Mike and stayed alert. Mike lay motionless on the cold, dirty path.

There was only enough light in the night sky to make out the vaguest of shapes. Crumpled leaves clung to his bloody coat, and a heavy fog grew thicker around them. His voice was steady but Will you put it on my stomach? Without hesitation Sandra gingerly lifted his arm, supporting the underside with her hands, and softly placed it on his stomach, which she could feel rising and settling in uneven gasps. The steady beat of approaching footsteps silenced the three teens. Sandra lifted her head and met the gaze of the man the others called the Boss. Mike struggled to his feet with the help of Sandra and Dana.

They walked a short ways down the trail and already Mike had asked twice when the ambulance was coming. Sandra cringed every time Mike spoke, afraid it would provoke the Boss again. Each, in turn, stated their name. But it seemed to be a desperate diversion on his part. The trail was leading them further into the woods, and there had been no man around the corner. Sandra began to wonder if they should fight back somehow.

If they were being led to their death, what could it hurt? Her natural inclination was to relate to people, animals, anything that lived and breathed. If her questions bothered the Boss, well, it was looking more and more like it was just a matter of time before he lost patience with all of them. None of this felt official. Sandra mustered up her courage, then spoke. She allowed herself to breathe again. She tried again. Will I be able to see these guys after you take us in? Will Roger ride up front or is he hurt? The Boss snorted. It felt right. Maybe the Boss was actually warming up to them. She wondered if Mike sensed the same thing or if his thoughts were clouded by pain. Then she imagined herself behind bars, too. How did we get in Iowa? He seemed unsure of himself.

His actions seemed less and less like that of a policeman with each passing moment. The three of them engaged the Boss in some more conversation before he ordered them to stand still right where they were. The beams of light swayed, stopped, swayed some more, then came to a stop. An engine quieted to an idle before a door opened somewhere in the vicinity of the two lights. She wondered if the words struck him as strange also. Maybe not, maybe the police are trained to stay in control. Confusion mingled with fear, and she breathed slowly to remain calm.

The slightest movement racked his body with shocks of pain from the 4 buckshot that had blasted through his shoulder and bicep. He seemed rattled by their questions though. Do you have any identification? The heavyset assailant, J. Dana and Mike both turned to Sandra and said that she was the only one. Just a reflex, perhaps. That was a weird question. The one the other man had called Hatchet Face told the three kids to sit in a tight circle.

He was thin also, but shorter than the Boss and had blond hair. He was wearing dirty jeans and a jean jacket buttoned to the top with a heavier coat over it. Then he, the Boss, and J. The Boss rummaged around in the pickup before returning to the teenagers with something in his hand. His eyes locked on Sandra. She weighed her options. Running was not possible under the specter of three shotguns.

Sandra sensed that he took pleasure in telling her this. Would a policeman say that? She wanted to believe that the answer was yes. The sharp wire had already begun slicing into her skin. Her gut instinct said to fight. Life had taught her how to stand up for herself and not wait for someone else to do it for her. His face was close to hers now, and she let her eyes bore into his vacant black pupils. Sandra had honed her street sense over the years and was able to convey her feelings of acceptance, disappointment, or in this case, anger with just one hard look. Sandy told Sheriff Vinson "That's him. That's the boss. David and James Fryer were also arrested shortly thereafter. Allen Fryer claimed that Cheskey's friends were the ones shooting at him and his brothers the night of the murders and they "accidentally" killed someone.

By Allen's 3rd interview he told the truth but was still trying to justify their action saying the 5 teens had been drinking and smoking marijuana, and the Fryer brothers wanted to steal it. David Fryer told a similar story, and then later changed his story to what really happened. November 30, , Cheskey identified both David and James Fryer in a lineup. The interview with James Fryer was much different, as he immediately turned the blame to his brothers. He also confirmed David Fryer's story believing the teens had been smoking marijuana, that Allen Fryer was pretending to be a detective, and that Cheskey was laughing, having a good time, and willingly had sex with David and James. James also blamed his brother for killing all four of the teenage boys.

James Fryer was serving time in jail during the time of the murders, but was enrolled in the Work Release Program. Instead of going back to jail, David called the jail impersonating his boss saying James needed to work an extra shift, and instead James went off with his brothers. James Fryer remained in Sioux Falls because he was currently serving a jail sentence. On December 1st, , all three brothers were arraigned and charged with four counts of murder.

Sandra Cheskey's testimony was instrumental, as it comprised the bulk of evidence against the Fryer brothers during the 18 months of trial. On February 12, , David Fryer pled guilty to the open charge of murder, guilty to three charges of murder, and one charge of manslaughter. The judge sentenced David to life in prison without the possibility of parole, for which he replied "no". David said, "If all my appeals fail, I'll actually write the governor and ask for the death penalty.

I won't live out my life in jail. Keeping me locked up for life can't turn around what happened. It can't bring those people back. Allen Fryer was subjected to psychiatric testing, and was found fit to stand trial. May 20, , Allen was found guilty of four counts of first degree murder and was sentenced to four consecutive life terms in prison. James Fryer agreed to extradition from Sioux Falls, SD to Iowa, but later fought the extradition thinking he might end up back out on the streets.

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