Statement of Death 15 2005-2025 Form

I’m a retired probate attorney who, during my practice, was involved in thousands of probate estates, the majority of them with Wills, so I’ve seen a lot of Wills in my life and their results, when the Will “matures.” Rather than discuss the advantages of an attorney-drawn Will, I’d like to consider the circumstances where that’s probably a good idea.If your estate at death is subject to federal estate tax. That value currently is $11.4 million. By all means, if you are so fortunate to have an estate taxable estate, you should obtain professional estate planning advice, for no other reason than to attempt to lessen your potential estate tax “bite.”If your estate at death is subject to estate or inheritance tax in your home state. That’s going to depend on the laws of your home state, and a professional should be able to advise you about that if you can’t determine that yourself, for example, through the Internet. The estate tax exemption amount in Washington is currently $2,193,000 —- signNowly less than the federal estate tax exemption amount —- and Washington has no inheritance tax.If at death, you leave minor children. One problem is that minors cannot receive assets, so if you want to provide for them, you will need to do so indirectly, probably most simply with a trust in your Will for them (a testamentary trust) or through a guardianship or custodianship for their estate. Another problem is naming a guardian for their person, to assist with their living conditions, their health needs, and their care in general.If at death, you want to provide for a disabled person. Disability law is hugely complicated, so if you want to provide for a disabled person, you should seek the advice of an elder law attorney.If at death, you have unusual or complicated assets. In the great majority of probates in which I was involved, most estates consisted of a home, some financial accounts, a car, and other usual personal properties (eg, personal effects and household furniture and furnishings). If your estate has other major assets, such as an interest in a business or valuable collectibles, you should consider obtaining professional advice regarding their disposition.If at death, you have assets subject to multiple jurisdictions, such as a vacation home in another state. That practically guarantees a domiciliary (home state) probate for your home state assets plus an ancillary probate for your real property in another state. That “double probate” is avoidable with professional advice.If at death, you live in a state where probate is complicated and expensive. I began my probate practice in California, where probate is truly complicated and expensive far beyond reason. There, it was almost attorney malpractice not to advise an estate planning client to use a revocable living trust as one’s estate planning vehicle. Yes, creating, funding, and managing a living trust is more expensive and complicated that using a Will, except that used properly, living trusts avoid probate, and in California and many other states, that’s a big deal. I moved to Washington, whose probate laws are simple and probate costs are modest, usually far less than the cost of creating and funding a living trust, so in Washington, there are few reasons to prefer a living trust over a Will as one’s estate planning vehicle. So if you are determined to “avoid probate” for whatever reason, your should obtain professional advice. And, yes, I’ve had lots of probates where the Decedent wanted to “avoid probate,” attempted to do so as a “do-it-yourself” project, and failed. Chances are seeking and following professional advice would have avoided that outcome.If at death, your estate has substantial debt or, worse, may be insolvent (having insufficient assets to pay all your debts, taxes, and probate costs).If you want your estate to pass other than to your heirs, those persons who would receive your estate if you died without a Will —- typically, your surviving spouse and children —- or, worse, if you want to exclude one or more of them from receiving any portion of your estate. There is substantial law favoring a person’s surviving spouse and children as the recipients of one’s estate at death. One consequence of that is that there are legal hurdles to overcome if you want your estate to pass otherwise; professional advice would be especially helpful so you may achieve your objectives to vary the disposition of your estate from the norm.Well, these are some of the reasons why seeking professional advice for your estate planning might be helpful, and I’m sure there are many more. That having been said, I’ve successfully probated tons of “do-it-yourself” Wills, typically, for Decedents in typical families with typical assets who want their estates to pass in the typical way, “all to the wife or husband and then to the kids,” and if that is your situation, a “do-it-yourself” Will should likely suffice.Richard Wills, retired probate attorney originally licensed in CA & WA

On January 19, 1979, a big part of me died when my 26-year old brother Danny died due to complications arising after heart surgery. Back in 1979, imaging techniques were not like they are now. The doctors did not understand the morphology of Danny’s heart, and his ticker quit ticking because the pacemaker electrode was placed outside of his heart instead of its intended destination within a heart chamber.Looking back on this story, I instinctively knew that Danny’s death was an inevitability, although to me he was invincible. On the cold January night about a week or two before he died, I remember seeing him put on his jacket and head out the door on his way to the hospital. I was a 15-year old kid, laying on the carpet in front of the TV, watching some show at the time. My 6 foot 2 inch brother seemed extra large that night as he towered over me in his blue jacket as he turned towards me and said he would see me later.The details of his medical condition could fill a text book. He was born with a condition known as dextrocardia situs inversus totalis. This means that his heart was on the right side of his body and other organs were reversed, too.When he was born, he was supposed to die quickly. I guess God had a different plan for him and allowed him to stay with us for over 26 years. Although I spent many days of my life in Chicago’s Children’s Memorial Hospital during his illnesses, I never got tired of laying down with Danny when he got sick. I would place my head on his chest and listen to his heart beat a-rhythmically at over 220 beats per minute. At times it sounded like he had a percussion band inside his chest.With each episode of tachycardia he experienced, additional damage was being done to his heart muscles. The previous January (1978), Danny spent nearly a month in the hospital trying to recover from one of those episodes. The ventilator they used on him caused him to remain hoarse until he died a year later.Now getting back to his heart operation, I was sure Danny was going to survive. The doctors had installed a temporary pacemaker through his groin, and that electrode hit its target. With the aid of this pacemaker, Danny seemed stronger than ever, even though he had to be bedridden during this time.After a team of doctors were assembled and the permanent internal pacemaker was produced, the big day of the surgery arrived on Jan 19, 1979. After his surgery was over, I was relieved. I was able to visit him in his hospital room after the surgery was over and he had reawakened. We talked for a couple of minutes before I told him that I was going to be back to the hospital in a little while to see him. He said, “OK, I’ll see you later.” Those were the last words he ever spoke to me.I had to walk several miles home, through several feet of snow to pick-up radio control airplane equipment that I had ordered. Sometime during that cold and lonely walk, where no cars were driving down the roads due to the snow pack, Danny died. I didn’t know it at the time but I would soon find out when I returned to the hospital.I realized that Danny had died when I finally understood why my family, the nurses and the doctors were all crying in unison. When the truth hit my brain, it went into that high-speed recording mode and my primitive brain took over. I hit the floor, convulsing while I hyperventilated uncontrollably. While the nurses got a bag to place over my face, someone helped pick me up and put me in a chair as the nurses told me to hold my head low and breathe into the bag.After I emerged from the state of hyper-ventilation I was in, I managed to see him in his hospital bed. What I remember most about the moment that I saw him was that he died with a smile on his face. He died in peace and his pain was finally gone.After Danny died, I switched beds and started sleeping in his bed. Three nights later, Danny visited me in our bedroom in the middle of the night. His audible voice came into my bedroom and awoke me. As I sat up in the dark room, we had a conversation as my eyes strained to see his body. Although I’ll save most of the story for later, he told me that he had permission to talk to me because of the grief that I was suffering. He told me to believe that he was in a better place, a beautiful place, and to go on and live a happy life. He said that we would talk again if I never told anyone about this encounter.This event and the other situations I experienced at that time, had a very profound impact on me. My vision of life was completely re-written. I went from being a kid that played multiple sports to bring satisfaction to my Mom and Brother, to a kid that realized the impossibly thin edge that exists between life and death. I saw life passing in seconds, like a sun ray glimmering on a wave in a lake. To this day, I grieve over the loss of my brother and I look forward to the day we get to reunite.P.S.I didn’t tell this story to anyone for many months. Eventually, my immaturity as a 15 year-old coupled with the unbelievable nature of the after-death contact from Danny was too much for me to bear. I ended up sharing this story with my good friend Steve.Since that confession, Danny has never contacted me again. I broke the rules and have paid the price, although I was blessed to have my personal religion solidified for my lifetime.I know that many readers of this story will not believe it, but that is OK with me. I probably wouldn’t believe it either if someone told it to me. However, this encounter was the most profound event of my life and I know that it happened. Those minutes I shared with my deceased brother are with me every day that I live and have given me peace and solitude as I pass through space and time in this wonderful life.

Am I the only combat medic to answer this so far?Yes you can. Medics are taught how to but not instructed to. There is a terrible and fine line out there in “the suck” that medics, and medics alone, are asked to walk.You don’t end a person’s life. Full stop. In the rare case that a soldier is mortally wounded (no way to maintain an airway or control bleeding and no higher medical assets within a reasonable time)… then a medic could administer an extra ampule of or two. Even though the doctors and instructors teach the medics this, in the end it’s on that one person’s shoulders. And conscience.Is it better to leave your friend/co-worker screaming in agony until they are too weak to yell? Then watch them convulse every few minutes for a couple of hours. Then finally they stop responding to your voice or even painful stimulus.Brain death is setting in. It takes a few minutes or a few days.Every minute you have a seriously wounded soldier in your unit you have medics that are out of the fight. You also have a much more complicated command situation. Nobody (NOBODY) makes this decision lightly. They also never talk about it.In the movies there is always an EVAC helicopter with escort available and ready to risk anything to get to the wounded. In combat it’s not always possible. “Birds” get grounded for many reasons and MEDEVAC Strykers are delayed by the need for escort vehicles/crews and IED laden roads. In almost all cases, the wounded will live to see the operating room. In some form.Combat wounded are intense. Gunfire is still raging in many cases. People are yelling, confusion is everywhere. The medic will be well trained but under a lot of stress. They know that they have to address breathing and bleeding in 2–3 minutes. They also need to avoid causing further injury and find any hidden wounds. While doing this they have to coordinate any available soldiers with combat lifesaver training to assist them with this or other injured. Finally, they also have to constantly keep the command apprised of the situation.Who has X injury?Can they return to the fight?Do they need to be evacuated from battle or can we take them with us?If they need to go NOW, how long do they realistically have?Can we ground evac through the combat or do we need a bird?While answering all of that the medic has assessed the wounded. Tried to control the bleeding and established a secure airway. Then they need to find a vein for an IV (super hard on a patient with blood loss or missing limbs). While doing this they also need to fill out the ‘9 Line’ medical evacuation form for the radio. Once this is done the medic will check the field dressings, the IV, the breathing. Record the wounds and vitals. Mark when/if was given (how much, when, where administered) and done so that the surgeon can see it and blood doesn’t wash it away. Often in black sharpie on the forehead if patient is unconscious- as awful as that sounds it works well.So, don’t talk about the morality of this until you walk a mile (or 26) in a medic’s boots. Don’t talk about what happens until you live and work with a small team of men and women in a combat zone for over a year at a time. Infantry units are closer than most marriages/families. Your platoon SGT is dad and doc is mom. It’s a horrific moment to see one of your guys literally torn in half and dying. It’s much worse to know that due to a sandstorm there aren’t any flights that day. It’s hell on earth when you realize nobody is coming by road because of the IED you just hit. It’s unimaginable when you realize you only have 2 ampules left and 3 critically wounded friends.I didn’t have to make the hardest choice. I wouldn’t tell you if I did. I sure as &$*# wouldn’t take any judgement from you in any case.Great question. I hope someone who actually held this responsibility in combat can clear it up a little.

Let me tell you something that will change you as a person. I promise you that once you read this, you will see life in a different light. I will make sure these words hit hard and that you never live in the dark again.I know many of you really care about what others think. You live your life but you live it according to others. That is very wrong. The world is so big and you make yourself so small because of society and their standards.This is your world, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want and you can walk wherever you want, whenever you want. The choice of being good or bad is yours. The choice of being confident or a not confident is your choice.Nobody but you knows what is best for you. This is your life and no one else is entitled to make choices for you. You must understand that somethings feel right to you but it might not be right to someone else. You might like tea but I might like coffee.This society will push you back and hold you from your dreams. They will shatter your passions and kill your vibe. You must not listen to them, you must not obey them. If you know what you are doing is right then why do you care?No matter what you do, if you are following your dreams, you are the one who gets stuck with the results in the end. If you are not hurting anyone or doing anything bad then why would the world care about what you want to do?Nobody supports you, nobody gives a flying frog about your life. Mum and dad can only do so much to advice you but it will always be you following yourself. So, don’t wait for a confirmation and don’t wait for society to cheer you on because it won’t happen.Just yesterday I claimed that I love Banana’s but then my friend gave me an apple and now I love apples. Peoples thoughts change so much that it is confusing. At one moment, they didn’t even accept something but then the next moment, they cheer on.You cannot make everyone happy. So, just make yourself happy and do what you have to do. This is your life man, why are you wasting it on other people?Fuck society, fuck it’s philosophy and views and opinions. Nobody is perfect, everyone is like falling leaves just falling where they may. You can’t impress everyone, you can’t please everyone.LIVE YOUR LIFE!

I have.300 people were summoned for selection. Somehow, I made it through selection and onto the jury.I looked like a naive child. At 24, I was the youngest selected.It was a triple murder and the setting was like something out of a horror movie.The people involved were a backwoods family living on the bayou in a tiny village accessible only by a single road. It was a long drive in.The defendant was poorly educated and the boyfriend of one of the family members. She was at least ten years older than him and later indicted and convicted in the same crime.Three family members were brutally murdered. The girlfriend's mother was stabbed repeatedly. Her sister had her throat cut and the sister's husband (also the girlfriend's ex) was killed by a shotgun.Over a hundred pieces of evidence were methodically entered by the DA. Witnesses were called.The defense attorney proceeded to make a fool of himself in multiple ways. He challenged the pattern of the shotgun blast in front of a jury full of people well- in the workings of guns. The firearms expert looked stupefied by the questions he asked and patiently repeatedly tried to explain how shotguns work.The defense claimed the exact opposite of what was said by the forensic pathologist regarding the effects of alcohol and Red Bull on the body and claimed that she had said that.He completely failed to maintain a shred of reasonable doubt against the case of the DA. If he had chosen to argue for manslaughter rather than first degree murder it is conceivable that he could have caused enough reasonable doubt in the jury that the outcome would have been different. A mistrial, perhaps. However, he chose to argue for complete innocence and that the girlfriend was fully responsible for murders she wasn't physically capable of managing.We voted unanimously for two counts of first degree murder and eleven yes to the third.It's funny, though, how it affected me. For three days, I lived and breathed that trial and want allowed to talk about it with anyone. I absorbed and internalized massive amounts of information.For months afterwards I would have been capable of recreating the markings representing the injuries to the deceased on the autopsy reports. I can still call the crime scene photos to mind if I try. I don't usually try to remember anymore. I no longer need that information and vestiges of it haunted me for a while.I panicked one day when I found a rechargeable battery handset phone under a pile of laundry. Police had found one in the woods after the murderer had used it to make a few calls.I couldn't look at sharp knives without recoiling and feeling a bit as though I was being cut myself. I had an unnecessarily bad reaction to my mom buying my ten year old brother a set of fish fileting knives for Christmas. I had panic attacks just thinking about those knives being in the house and belonging to my brother even though he wasn't allowed to use them without proper supervision. I was afraid he'd accidentally hurt or kill himself.One day, I was managing the cash register at my job and a nice grandfather man came through. He paid with a check so I had to ask for his driver's license. I turned back to my register with the license and the check before even checking the name. But when I did, at first, I thought it was the name of the dead man. And technically, it was. There was just a senior on the end of the name rather than the junior I'd heard so many times in the trial. “Oh, my god,” I thought. “He's living every day knowing his son was murdered.” I felt my vision go dark around the edges. I couldn't breathe. Just as I nearly lost my sight completely it started to come back. Somehow, I managed to nearly pass out in front of the father without letting on to a thing.I was staying at my grandmother's, and that night the pinging and twanging of her oxygen machine kept me awake and on the verge of a panic attack. I couldn't get the image of the dead lady's oxygen tank out of my mind.After that, I started to get better. And with the trial over being able to talk about my experience also helped to get over the trauma.I was naive going in. I was confident I could handle the trial. I did handle the trial. I'm confident in my decision and I am pleased that I gave my best. But I had no idea that the trial would haunt me the way it did. The difference between a criminal trial and watching a show like Criminal Minds or Bones is that knowledge that what you see in the trial is real. I ended up with PTSD from the trial. I have never once been similarly haunted by a crime scene television show.And yet, even knowing that I can be so negatively affected by a trial, if I'm called for jury duty again I'll still go. Why? Because I am the kind of juror I'd want hearing my own case if I were ever on trial. So, I think it's fair to be that juror for someone else if it's required of me.

Thanks for your question. First of all, Canada does not have completely “free healthcare,” (we “pay” indirectly through our income taxes, of course, among other sources) nor do we have “socialized healthcare” like the U.K. Our universal healthcare is more like a nationwide group insurance policy that benefits from huge economies of scale and the efficient use of resources that follows from a more planned, centralized approach, and our doctors are not employed by the government. They have their private practices or are employed by hospitals, and bill the government per service.Our healthcare is as mentioned partly subsidized by income taxes, and then each province or territory has other means of funding their own system. For example, in Ontario, most alcohol sales are controlled by the Liquor Control Board of Ontario, and their revenue is one of the chief sources of funding for our provincial system (amounting to $2+ billion as of 2017–18).Each province or territory then receives a transfer payment from the federal government. The provinces have a certain degree of freedom to deliver the services that best suit their needs, but there are limits to this. To receive their federal transfer payment they must adhere to the five core principles set out in the Canada Health Act. These are: Public administration; universality, portability, comprehensiveness, accessibility.Canada’s taxes per capita are comparable to U.S. tax rates, by the way, not signNowly higher.Costs of drugs are considerably lower, because the provincial governments negotiate directly with drug companies (economies of scale). A nationwide prescription drug plan is planned to roll out in 2022.Canadian hospitals are not public, but 95% are non-profit organizations and are bound by strict budgets.Canadians are guaranteed free care for medically necessary procedures and tests and surgical dentistry. This means that care not deemed necessary by each province may be charged for or involve co-pay.Regular dental care outside of a hospital setting is generally not covered, except for the very young and for seniors; people have private insurance or insurance through work for dental care. (My personal opinion is that the lack of coverage for dental care is a signNow flaw in the system, and should be addressed. However, when I needed urgent wisdom tooth surgery twenty years ago, my surgery took place in hospital, under general anesthetic, and therefore the costs were completely covered.)Medications mostly involve a small co-pay, but a doctor can also admit a patient to hospital, in which case the drugs are free. Each province has its own program for medications and list of drugs covered. These programs are usually geared to your income after tax. For example, there are usually different programs for Seniors (65+), people on social welfare, diabetics, those needing expensive drugs (e.g. HIV-related illnesses or palliative care) and even over-the-counter meds if your doctor states they are necessary. Co-pay is often only $2 per prescription. Where there is an exact equivalent generic version of a drug, this is provided as they are normally a lot cheaper. However, if you have had adverse reactions to generics, they will provide the brand name versions.Also let’s address the topic of wait times, often given as a reason that Canada’s system is “broken.”Our system is not broken. One of the ways we keep costs down and are fiscally conservative is by limiting supply of elective and non-essential procedures. Sure Americans might get a hip replacement or MRI scan a bit faster, but with the result that their health care costs are much higher. (Americans also ration healthcare: with high fees. Unfortunately, this amounts to limiting demand, but health care isn’t something you can decide not to have— if you need heart surgery you need heart surgery. No one in Canada will ever go bankrupt because of medical bills, because there essentially aren’t any.)We could reduce wait times if that was our primary goal. It’s not.So the answer is: Through efficient use of taxes, by covering only medically necessary procedures and drugs, by rationing supply of non-necessary procedures, by negotiating drug prices at the provincial level and by not running on a for-profit basis, but on a strict budget.No system is perfect, but I’m grateful for my country’s system. I have always received excellent care and can’t imagine living without this. It’s part of the Canadian identity, really.

About 4 years ago, I took a part time cashier position at the local Dollar Tree. I work full time but wanted some extra income and made this very clear in the interview process because the store manager seemed perplexed by my over-qualifications. I have spent the majority of my career in customer service with a few years of retail management, too, but I wasn't looking for a career change, just a temporary income boost close to home.I asked for 2-3 short shifts per week, explaining that I worked 9-5 Monday through Friday. I said I could do 1 or 2 weeknights and alternating Saturdays and Sundays. Instead I was scheduled for 7 hour shifts for every Saturday and Sunday and no weeknights . Ok, I could deal with working 7 days a week straight, if that was all, just to make a little extra money for a short time. But that wasn't all…I quickly learned that Dollar Tree employees are paid minimum wage and treated like dirt. I would be scheduled with only 1 other employee at a time, who was either the store manager or assistant manager that I would only see for 5 minutes at the beginning of my shift. I would be checked in, given the till drawer with only $20 in change in it, then directed to an understocked register and given a list of tasks to accomplish, usually including a pallet or 2 of stock. The manager would vanish, only to make brief reappearances when summoned and berate me for summoning her.I'm no stranger to retail— I knew i wouldn’t be idly sitting behind the register. But working at the dollar store was awful. And the clientele was a motley crew too. Every shift, I was left to deal with an overflowing line of cranky customers, helium balloon orders, unruly children, angry seniors, and demands for personal shopping assistance all alone.It was a never-ending madhouse (& a shoplifter’s dream). Customers would yell out in line about waiting, asking why arent there any other registers open. These same people would then pay with slowly counted out change, or checks that required 2 forms of ID, or declined credit cards (always MY fault), or demand I wrap their glasses and dishes in newspaper and cardboard like it was fine porcelain. If two people paid with a 20 dollar bill within the first 10 minutes of my shift, I was cleaned out of change (you wouldn't believe how many people whip out a 20 or a 50 for a $2 sale).We had resident crazies like the old man who called us all damn Yankees and waxed poetic in the aisles about how he missed living in Savannah, and the Diet Pepsi man (2 bottles every day, exact change, must get bag & receipt); regulars who came in just to use the bathroom; people who never made it to the bathroom but shopped anyway; weekly shopping trips from the nearby group home; local business owners haggling over bulk items they bought there just to mark up at their own stores; angry parents buying last minute school project supplies; people in formal wear buying cards on their way to an event; cheapskates trying to get refunds because the $1 toy made in China broke after 15 minutes; little kids crying as they learn for the first time about sales tax when that toy costs $1.07 …There was nothing more i could do than try to move everyone along as fast as humanly possible. I was filling up helium balloons with one hand, scanning items with the other, running from aisle to register to ballon center and back to the register. Meanwhile, the manager would be off in an aisle stocking shelves or hiding in the storage room or chain smoking out in the parking lot. If anyone asked her for help, she'd send them up to the register for me to deal with.When I would page my manager for help if I had a line to the door or a 50 dollar bill or I ran out of change, she would take her time coming through multiple pages, then alternately tell me I should have called her sooner or not at all. And with every appearance, I would be reprimanded in front of the customers for not stocking enough product, double bagging canned items and running out of bags, accepting too many 20s, paging her too often /not enough, not kicking the shoplifting teenagers out, not walking someone over to the toilet paper display, not knowing if we sold out of a product (because i never knew what we had since I couldn't leave the register), you name it… I would come home feeling like I had run a marathon.Memorial Day weekend, I went in for my regular hectic Saturday shift, and saw the upcoming schedule taking away my entire holiday weekend and the next 2 weekends, again. I grabbed a sharpie and wrote a note on my task checklist asking to be removed from the schedule permanently. Next to each task, I wrote stuff like, “nope” and “are you crazy?” or “you do it, i dont have time.” At the end of my shift, I turned that in with my receipts and left. I didn't show up the following day and never called to make sure anyone read it.

You mean Death Row inmates. I corresponded with serial killer John Wayne Gacy for several years. While attending a writing convention in Nashville, someone was passing around a book by Gacy, THEY CALL HIM MR. GACY, which was nothing but copies of letters he had received from reporters, family members, talk show hosts, lawyers. It was published the previous year, 1989.He murdered at least 37 male teenagers and adults and buried most in a crawlspace under his house. He was arrested in December of 1979 and was executed by lethal injection in May of 1994.During that time, he had a day job. He worked in the laundry. He also did paintings, mostly of the Seven Dwarves. He sent me a list of his paintings and their prices, and if I had bought one he did of Elvis for $65 I could sell it today for $3000. He couldn’t make money from his work, so a friend in Indiana had all of the paintings he had done before his incarceration. So the artwork he did while in prison was more a hobby. But he loved getting mail, and he answered every letter he received.I wrote him on a whim and was genuinely surprised that he answered. So I contacted a magazine that would print a potential article on his last days, and we wrote back and forth for about two years. The postmark on that last letter above is dated six days before his death. But he asked for people to send him photos of themselves and he would send them a questionnaire to fill out and he would fill one out in return. That creeped me out, so I sent him a photo of the recently-closed Clown’s Alley tavern in exchange for that Q&A. A good portion of his salary went to buying stamps, envelopes, and paper. The questionnaire was photocopied in bulk in 1989 by MYCO, Inc., who also published the book.He was very narcissistic. The real killer was a media monster, not him. He would often talk about his paintings of the Dwarves and his work as Pogo the Clown at parties. Anything related to his conviction was blamed on the media. And the title of his “book”, because all it was was a bound copy of photocopied pages, was filled with narcissism, too. Every letter I sent started “Dear John…”, the ones that “call him Mr. Gacy” would have been from the offices of Oprah Winfrey or Larry King, because of course they were professional letters.So I do have a copy of that form, the one that says his current address is Death Row, Chester, Illinois. He loved to blame the media. Take a look at who one of his heroes was at the time of his execution.

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