Ann Rule Deconstructed: Perfect Writer, Perfect Liar

EMPIRE

CHAPTER 1 INTRO

It is 2:30 PM on my day off, mid-70’s, excellent weather. The morning was busy and accounts for my feeling tired. Television news is repeating the big news stories for this 24-hour cycle (the Iranian [s]election; Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson deaths – (the M.J. story will have legs)).

The neighbors are quiet, and I see my USA TODAY newspaper arrived. I look forward to a quiet evening at home with no distractions.

Watched the movie, Religulous, and I liked it. Currently my favorite television program is Expedition Africa, but I do not think it is on tonight. My other favorite programs are: Jeopardy, Cash Cab and River Monsters on Animal Planet, Man vs. Wild, Chelsea Handler; a few scripted shows like NCIS, Bones, TrueBlood and ROME (HBO). I like most of the Science Channel programs and strangely, the Westminster Dog Show.

Last week I made spectacular Thai Chicken, the signature sweet and hot peanut sauce turned out well. Crushed, unsalted peanuts were added to make it special. But, tonight’s dinner will be better: grilled, wild-caught salmon in garlic sauce, with a side of whole-wheat noodles seasoned with an excellent Italian dressing. There will need to be something creative for dessert.

Before I can start dinner, I need to finish the laundry, and should do a quick house straightening and surface cleaning.

Dinner will have to wait just a bit. You see I am a prisoner serving a life sentence in a maximum-security prison. My house is a 46 square foot; one-man cell on 5-bar, Delta Block, and the daily load of soapy laundry in the sink must first be rinsed, and removed, before I can begin cooking dinner with the sink’s hot water.

CHAPTER 2 LANDSCAPE

The Oregon State Penitentiary is the maximum-security prison for the State of Oregon. Opened in 1866, it currently houses approximately 2200 prisoners. There are mainly two types here, those who know how to do time, and those who do not. Like all prisons, OSP thrives and survives on rumors and gossip. Consequently, it is easy to manipulate most prisoners who tend to have a gullible streak.

I am an old-school prisoner, a convict. These new residents, especially the kids, are the inmates.

There are 5 living areas in the prison: A-Block (honor housing); C-Block (2-man cells; workers); D-Block (500+ prisoners in two and one-man cells); E-Block (also 500+ prisoners); and a dormitory building in the industries area only opened for overflow. B-Block burned in the 1968 riot, was demolished, and never rebuilt.

None of the prison living units are air-conditioned, and fans are not allowed. There is no ice. This means every summer, on 5-Bar, Delta, for 2 to 3 months with outside temperatures over 95 degrees; it hits over 100 degrees in my cell, and stays that hot usually all night. It is so hot that personal photographs kept on my cell table curl-up in tight little rolls. If a dog or cat were placed in my 100-degree cell during the summer months, the Humane Society would charge the Oregon Department of Corrections with animal abuse and cruelty.

The visiting room is next to the housing units; and our prison law library has 24 WP/research stations and five inmate legal assistants. The education floor offers GED classes and correspondent school credits.

Since Pell grants were cancelled for prisoners there are very limited opportunities for college studies except for those most wealthy or financially connected (Scholarships). Obviously our government and society has forgotten that education is the single most effective tool to combat recidivism.

Our Activities area has caged offices for all the prison clubs and organizations (8 to 10), as well as two pool tables. This area has a stage with audio-visual equipment, and can hold large gatherings (up to 120) that can include outside guests.

There is a Mental Health Unit (never been there except to deliver food) for the suicidal or unmanageably mentally ill; and an infirmary next to our prison dental and medical units. We have the obligatory hospice for those who are in the last process of dying.

Our chow hall seats a little over 350, and there are another 90-100 in two lines, filing in on each side of the chow hall. On average, each meal takes about 2 hours, and block rotation is fixed, A, C, D, and E. All the satellite-housing units eat by food-cart delivery.

This prison was the movie set for the Bandits film (Bruce Willis; Cate Blanchett; Billy Bob Thornton). The producers felt this prison was a good movie location due to its age, and formidable 25’ high concrete perimeter wall with 9 loaded gun towers. Prison convicts, inmates, and staff appeared in the prison yard scenes along with the actors. It was a big whoop-whoop. I opted to not be in the film.

Directly above the staged escape scene in the Bandits movie is 10-Tower. It has allegedly more firepower, and is centrally located near the outside basketball courts, prisoner recreation building, and big weight-pile. It also controls movement to all gates to industries (furniture factory; commercial laundry; metal fabrication shop; and auto repair/service), which are equipped with state-of-the-art metal and mass detectors.

10-Tower also controls all the man-gates to all other special housing: Death Row (31); Administrative Segregation Disciplinary Unit (long term stays; up to 85 population); Special Management Housing (over 260) for both long (up to 5 years) and short term punishment – SMH is our prison within a prison. We no longer have a protective custody unit here. That function is now at the other state prisons.

There are 64-yard telephones, 40 outside and 24 inside the recreation building. They are usually busy. This is where the prisoners keep in contact with the outside world via a pre-approved telephone list of collect-call, or prepaid, debit card calls.

At the south end of the prison yard are a smaller weight pile, horseshoe pits (7), two outside showerheads (cold water only), and a 18-hole miniature golf course.

There are 6 handball courts (one-wall) next to the recreation building, and a sand-filled volleyball court located north of softball field #2. Field #1 is facing from the opposite direction at the south end of the rec-yard.

A large asphalt covered track, approximately ¼ mile, surrounds the two facing softball fields whose combined outfields (think Venn Diagram) serve as the prison soccer field in the softball off-season.

In addition to a scaled-down inside basketball court in the recreation building, there are the two full-size outside basketball courts right under 10-Tower.

More than 50 fixed benches are located in various areas along the yard perimeter, and along the various courts and fields. There are 20 outside fixed metal tables with built-in seats (all 4-man, except one with seating for 6), and an additional 32 tables inside the recreation building. There are 11 bleachers surrounding the softball fields and volleyball court.

The recreation building at the north end of the track not only contains the downsized indoor basketball court (which opens in the fall starting in October), but also boxing bags, one light/one heavy. There are separate bleachers in the B-Ball area. Through a locked door, in an adjoining area (open year around), are two shuffleboard tables, two ping-pong tables, two 42 flat screen LCD televisions for institution movies, and a 32conventional television dedicated to sports.

In this same television viewing area are stationary bikes (2) and three elliptical exercise machines. Three [debit card] vending machines are available inside the recreation building, one for hot [coffee] drinks, and two for juice and soda pop (two more soda pop and juice machines are located outside the building, near the big weight-pile).

Three, large bleachers, and the 32 fixed metal, 4-man tables inside the recreation building comprise all the inside seating. This is not just a television viewing area. More often prisoners who wish to draw art use this area and play board or card games inside. No standing is allowed in the recreation building.

In the back of the recreation building are five pool tables and separated by another locked door are the inside yard showers (9 shower heads), as well as the yard staff office.

As in most prisons, several of the gangs claim various seating areas including tables or seating areas on the yard. Though against the prison rules, it does not bother most of the population. Generally, the prisoners who claim state tables or seating, as their property have nothing. Many of them wear prison-issued shoes or torn-up tennis shoes they have taken out of the housing trash containers. These individuals exist in here with no canteen or other property, and are the ones you hear begging for money. In other words, for them to claim a state-owned prison bench, table or part of a bleacher is all they have.

Gangs or other groups will decide for no discernible reason that a particular cell, for example, Delta-540 now ‘belongs’ to their gang or group, and if a non-member is assigned that cell by the prison they tell that person he has to move or face being assaulted.

There are some exceptions. Many established gangs and groups want an area for their people and will not tolerate interlopers. This is okay. If you do not belong to any gang, such as my situation, you respect their area, and only sit there if invited.

The Lifer’s, of which I am a member, have several tables in the chow hall next to the gang tables, and we all get along, and have learned to respect each other’s space.

The prison administration has been and is trying to step on the gangs without much success. Not only do the clicked-up gang members have outside contacts, but also, ready access to the prison Cottage Industry of deadly weapons¹ manufactured on-site (wood, metal, and plastic).

The prison offers more than 50 channels of television programming paid for by the inmates through their welfare fund (monies collected from inmates; our canteen profits; telephone profits; and vending machines). The inmate welfare fund also rents movies to play on our dedicated movie channels (5).

This generally describes my world. I spend all my waking time moving from one daily ritual to another: work, working out, reading, law library, personal laundry, and meal preparation. This currently defines my life, and I like it.

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¹ The cutting edge or stabbing point is typically smeared with feces and left to dry; ready for use (sepsis).

CHAPTER 3 LANDSCAPE 2

All my laundry is washed and dried in my house (cell). This is because I feel our prison laundry is the source of methycillan-resistant Staphylococcus aureas (MRSA). You do not need to be an epidemiologist to conclude this. Just note the outbreaks and their only common denominator and shared source.

Usually my dinner is cooked and/or prepared everyday in my house. This is a creative ritual I enjoy.

In truth, I live well. The job I currently have, which I have held for 11 years, only pays $65 per month, but there are no expenses. In addition to the prison wages, I receive additional funds each year from my Native American heritage. I have enough canteen, as well as many old technology products: 13" Samsung television; Sony CD-player; RCA cassette tape radio; art board; and a 75 video-game player (circa 1970); Dean acoustic guitar; 7 harmonicas; too many new shoes and boots I have bought over the years, and a plethora of books and magazines. My subscriptions exceed 10.

Many of my things, such as shaving brush, mirror, special runner’s shorts, and all of my electronics, have been accumulated over 16+ years, and are no longer sold.

My other jobs in prison have included being the clerk for the head of inmate counselors, and later, the clerk in charge of inmate training within our commercial laundry operations. Over the years I have worked in prison recycling, maintenance, and held various orderly jobs. All of this is typical.

Everything I need is provided for free, and my money is available for extras and special purchases, which contributes to the usual detritus to satisfy my OCD.

Admittedly I have it better than many people on the street. By street standards, I have no money, I am indigent, but, in here, I get by very well. Given that the violence, and risk of injury, does not bother me, this is a very comfortable place to live.

If you were an effeminate male, this could be a bad place, depending on your proclivities. Like all prisons, there are many gay men, some latent, some simply tired of resisting. Some are very aggressive. This prison has the usual share of homosexual rapes, but in truth, most of these are consensual, and are frequently in exchange for some pecuniary benefit to the recipient.

Our prison has a large, dedicated gay element. A few years ago, we had several androgynous [male] inmates with breast implants. It was both strange, and a funny sight. They looked effeminate, with large breasts, but still had their penises (they were not permitted to shower on mainline). Many of the heterosexual prisoners went after these gay men who only outwardly appeared to be female. All their attention was rewarded with the usual homosexual acts. I could never get past the fact these were still men, with dicks and beards (no female hormone shots in this prison).

These morphed-men became part of the large gay element of men already here. They would wear prison make-up: Blue, pool-cue chalk for eye shadow, and red M & M’s for rouge and lipstick.

As you would expect homosexuals are an active group in prison. If you are gay, our prison provides you an endless supply of men for secret nefarious relationships, but administration denies heterosexual conjugal contact or visits.

Like in all prisons, the chicken hawks (older homosexuals) are always circling, ready to seize upon every opportunity to locate and turn-out the new young men who arrive here daily (commonly referred to as Fish). This can, and often does involve gifts (such as new shoes), or arranging special treatment (a good job). This makes the trick (Fish) feel obligated. The chicken hawk may also get the Fish indebted to him, or others, through drugs, gambling, or prisoner-to-prisoner purchases. The chicken hawk then offers to pay, or assume, the obligation to avoid the Fish/trick having to face the possibility of collection (where someone comes after you to split your wig). All of this is a time-tested, highly successful business strategy developed over many centuries to benefit the experienced prison predators.

This prisoner committed the worst of the worst of crimes: he molested, then raped, and then killed a 12-year old girl when he was an adult. After being convicted he came to prison 25+ years ago and laid low, trying to stay off everyone’s radar screen. Then after 10 or so years he emerged to again flex his ‘gift’. By then no one could recall his horrible crime. He began to hate on anyone who was not one of his group, calling them rats or molesters, and spreading misinformation and disinformation. In fact, he would not let anyone set at his chow hall table if they were a child molester or rapist. By now Michael Haynes, SID # 6825517, DOB 7-18-1966 was telling everyone he was in prison for killing a child molester. The very thing he was. Since most prisoners are outrageously ignorant and gullible they believed his convincing style and continued to hang with Haynes.

I refer to these types of individuals like Haynes as having a ‘predator personality’. They are affable, charming, friendly, and very convincing, a trait they frequently use to easily lure children. Many adults are also ‘lured’ by this personality, especially the less intelligent, naive, or insecure/dependent-type and especially the typical, low-information individual.

Haynes gathered together a group of insecure want-a-be criminals who were not Lifers (a Lifer means you have killed someone). These gullible individuals wanted the image or ‘respect’ of being associated with Lifers. They were now Haynes’ new victims, and he got them to do his heavy lifting. After a while Michael Haynes caught the ire of the several of the Lifers and became a target himself, being attacked anytime he left his cell.

Taking advantage of victims seems to be an unalienable right in prison. The Fish arrive in prison every day. All of this is called many things, but usually called getting you (the Fish) in their trick-bag. Once this happens you must work off your debt through sex, or be required (possibly forced) to carry out a job such as being a mule or torpedo. In gangs, the latter is often part of your rite of passage, and considered earning your bones.

CHAPTER 4 LANDSCAPE

At my age, I am no longer a hog-zilla, but I can still project an unattractive and formidable physical as well as verbal presence: Six foot, 235 pounds, flat stomach with a 34 waist, no fat roll or belly hanging over my belt (a six-pack would be 9 to 12 weeks out on a strict diet regimen), 17+ biceps, and a most intimidating, huge-circumference head, located on a stump of a neck (21). My ham-hock hands are attached to muscular arms with 9-1/2 circumference, thick wrists. I can also summon crazy-strength on demand.

My health, to my knowledge, is excellent, and I am in good physical shape. My daily workouts include aerobic and anaerobic conditioning, as well as strength training.

My maximum bench press is 265#, but on a good day, I can hit #300, (10 years ago it was four wheels – 405#). Every three days my upper body routine includes bench presses at 250#, six sets of 6 reps each, each set immediately superset with pull-ups (15), and alternating with dips (20), and finishing with bicep curls (110#) on a W-bar or cable machine.

Not everyone in a maximum-security prison is a badass criminal with a solid beef. Our state claims that almost 70% of the prisoner populations are here for a sex offense, some juicier than others. This is something many of these wannabe big-ballers and shot-callers obviously never want anyone to know (years ago, various work areas within the prison would have ‘paperwork parties’; where everyone was required to bring their paperwork showing the crime for which they were in prison – these ‘parties’ were quickly curtailed when the skin-beef informants went to the administration, fearing their jacket was about to be pulled).

In my dealings, I work with or know many of the worst human beings, a criminal mindscape of serial killers, child rapists, megalomaniacs, sociopath hit men, psychopaths, and just plain mean, evil and unstable apex predators. This includes one unlikely looking individual who kept the severed heads/skulls of his victims on his nightstand; and another (now dead) who made human-skin lampshades. There’s no velvet rope at this establishment.

My position is simple, I am not here to judge you, and as long as you do not make my time hard, I do not care what your crime is. The Brad Rule: Do not work me, or try to play me. My policy from day one at this prison is I will not go out of my way to create a problem, and I avoid all the prison drama (drugs; gambling; extortion; and assorted hustles).

But, like many in here, you must have both the policy, and practice, that no one is allowed to disrespect you. This means you must be willing to throw-down and fight, even if it means you will go to the hole. If you instead back down from a confrontation, you might as well check-in (administrative segregation, AKA protective custody), and begin living with all the prisoners who did not pay their debts, or were not willing to confront their enemies.

A problem in prison is the need to recognize and deal with the informants. These individuals are the epitome of the Stockholm Syndrome. They are not only fully aligned with the police, but are effectively institutionalized. Often the physically weak individuals are the informants, but many times, it turns out to be one of the shot-callers or yard-dogs, including some select gang bangers. Worse, is that many of these individuals trade in the commodity of innuendo and false statements, as their effort to gain more acceptance and benefits from the institution. This is a war-zone, and truth is always a casualty.

Informants come in two colors: the straight up tell on you, or, worse, the dry-snitch (when they make a reference, or inference, to a real or made-up illegal activity in ear-shot of, or near staff, without specifically mentioning a name). The dry-snitch is the worst, because almost always the alleged nefarious activity is fabricated. Most likely, this is the dry snitch way of getting back at you, as in payback, for something you may have done to them, including something as simple as a threatening heart-check.

You need to learn to function without telling on another prisoner, and that should also include any active staff. Prisoners should always avoid mentioning another prisoner’s name. This is especially true if you are discussing any activity from which punishment can occur. Prisons thrive on unsubstantiated and made-up rumor.

Individuals with true life sentences are potentially informants since they have no daylight at the end of the tunnel, and as a group represent the highest probability to tell on you to ‘make-a-deal’ if it meant they had a shot at parole.

This is not a problem for most old school convicts, but among the new inmates, it is part of their difficult transition to prison-life. It is not just the weakest in here, but also those with a grip of time (AKA doing-all-day; life sentence) who are looking for any means to get a time cut, early release, or favorable treatment, such as a good job, immediate access to a Hobby Shop Bench (usual waiting list is 10 years long), good housing (single cell), special authorizations for boom box radios or even $200 tennis shoes.

In my first year in prison, having already been in more than a dozen [sometimes long and violent] fights in county jail, during a mutual fight in our 2-man cell, I got carried away and tried to drown my cellie in the toilet, holding his head with my foot under water and flushing the toilet only to allow him to take breaths. He thought, when I drove-up here, that I was a fish, and he disrespected me indicating I could clean his cigarette ashes from the cell the next day. Victim is not a word used to define me. Granted, for a finite time, I can be made a victim, such as by the state purposely and intentionally manipulating the criminal justice system to prevent or delay judicial scrutiny. Patience is gold.

While in prison I have personally witnessed four stabbings, seen a man forced to eat another man’s feces, and been in very close proximity to many fights, including one where an eyeball fell out of this person’s crushed skull and was hanging from the optical nerve. Also, I work with an individual who was set on fire after being doused with a flammable liquid. In my years of custody, I have seen the aftermath of someone having been forced to carve the initials of another prisoner, in their skin.

CHAPTER 5 LEGAL

My court appeals are intentionally being slowed. An expected phenomenon when relegated to court-appointed counsel. My first direct appeal (the first appeal you take after a conviction) was effectively delayed by the State of Oregon 12 years (most appeals only take 2 years).

Since I am a high public interest case, and due to Ann Rule, I must also overcome the prodigious burden of private and public sector influence(s). These are the result of Ann Rule et al., and others in the public sector, as a specific effort to abridge, pervert, and abort the presumed legal processes. Delay to avoid judicial review and scrutiny is their mantra.

Despite my conviction, I had absolutely nothing to do with the murder of Cheryl Keeton Cunningham. My wrongful conviction was overturned in 2001 by the state’s court of appeals, then, re-instated approximately 3 years later by the state’s highest court (all the while I remained in custody with no conviction). Currently, I am in federal court waiting for another hearing on these and other issues (2254 habeas). The state has been able to delay my federal habeas proceedings five years, so far. There is also my state court post-conviction, which is a civil proceeding to address post-trial issues including an allegedly unexhausted matter (I was forced to wear restraints before the jury).

The state court is likely to be the most political, and susceptible to outside influences which affect its impartiality. Regardless, all of this probably augers well for my release sometime in the next two to three years. This possibility generates expressed distress, and hysterical statements by Ann Rule et al.

The criminal justice system in the State of Oregon is easily influenced by the private sector. Equal justice and equity, under the law, is not regularly practiced by the highly politicized state appellate and federal courts in Oregon.

James Madison, one of our founding fathers, said, as he contributed to the Bill of Rights: I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations.

Our society has ignored the Orwellian progression of losses to our Liberty. There is literally a plethora of adverse legal decisions (mostly criminal) that detail this attrition of protected rights. Only a relative few have actually experienced and clearly suffered from this growing constitutional pandemic.

I had nothing whatsoever to do with Cheryl’s death, and illustrate this in the Addendum (Summary of on-the-Record Court Errors).

CHAPTER 6 PERSONAL HISTORY

Seattle, Washington is my town. The rain and grey skies did not bother me (I do not suffer from Seasonal or Sunlight Affective Disorder).

I grew-up in the working-class community of Burien, 8 miles south of the city. Many days and nights were spent traveling all over greater Seattle: Alki Beach in West Seattle, Lake Union in downtown, Lake Washington along the east boundary, and the University District where my alma mater is located, as well as all areas north.

As an adult, my 36’ Ericson sailboat was moored in the Shilshole Marina, and I kept additional slips for my other boat, an Islander 32’ sailboat, in the Des Moines, Washington Marina, and also on Lake Washington. When I lived on Lake Sammamish, I owned a specialized ski-boat docked just feet from my back door. Many years later, my wife and I purchased a 21’ Whitewater, an all-aluminum, high-performance, river-running jet boat.

My life before prison was good. The late seventies were the best years.

The Ericson and Islander sailboats were a big part of my young, adult life. The 36’ Ericson had a 12’ beam, 6’ draft and was considered a cruiser. It was cutter-rigged, with teak decks and bronze hardware throughout.

The 32’ Islander sailboat was sloop-rigged, sleek and fast, and easy to single-hand, with a very modern and luxurious interior. Two or three times a year I sailed one or more of my boats in the San Juan Islands, north of Seattle, where I frequently scuba dived. We also fished and explored the San Juan Islands on these trips.

This was the primary get-away I enjoyed with many of the women in my life: Cheryl, the lawyer; Joan K., the schoolteacher; and, Jeanne, the medical doctor. My sailboats were available for charter, which made them business investments. Many times I would single-hand them, as needed, to and from Seattle or Des Moines to Anacortes, Washington. This was not a lucrative business. It was a justification for an expensive avocation.

At several points, between 1976 and 1983, I owned at the same time, more than 12 automobiles, 10 of which were various Mercedes models². This was when these types of business vehicles qualified for investment tax credits. Their actual cost, after tax savings, made them comparable in out-of-pocket expense to any typical domestically manufactured vehicle. All of these vehicles were owned over 7 years, and disposed of by June 1984. After that date I did not buy, rent or drive a Mercedes-Benz despite what Ann Rule repeatedly states in Dead by Sunset.

Life before prison was lucrative, eventful, and fascinating in many respects. My work experience during this time included real estate appraisal, mortgage brokerage, then mortgage banking, general contracting, and last, commercial real estate development.

Over a period of 20 years I financed more than $900,000,000 worth of commercial real estate projects. Later, as a real estate developer, I built for a fee, or owned, another $100,000,000 worth of income properties in the Pacific Northwest, and Houston, Texas (warehouses; apartments; retail facilities; and, office buildings).

At one point in my life, while married to Cheryl, we had more than $1,000,000 in certificates of deposit, in my name at the First Interstate Bank in Seattle. My business and personal life enjoyed many benefits and luxuries. My business and personal earnings averaged more than $1,000,000 per year in cash and equities, which did not include any income generated by Cheryl. This is the time in my life Ann Rule said in Dead by Sunset that I was living off Cheryl.

My membership in the prestigious Washington Athletic Club (Membership No. 5479C) dated back to the early 70’s, and I was on the waiting list for the very exclusive 101 Club and Rainier Club in Seattle. Business allowed me to travel throughout the United States on pleasure and business. I was a licensed pilot, skydiver (37 jumps), and certified, deep-water scuba diver (more than 200’).

In addition to the already described boats and rolling stock, Cheryl and I maintained homes in Seattle (3) and Houston (2), as well as owned and operated, at all times, a $10,000,000 portfolio of commercial income property (the bulk of the commercial property I developed over this period was sold, or developed for a fee). Commercial banks (Seattle Trust, Rainier Bank and First Interstate Bank) during this time, extended me unsecured revolving lines of credit ($500,000 total). These were available to me for any purpose or acquisition I chose. The credit lines were solely secured by my signature, and good credit.

The most memorable collegiate game of my varsity football career was at Husky Stadium against the University of Southern California. I was the right defensive end, and tackled O.J. Simpson, 1-on-1, four times in the game. Each of these tackles was open-field as he came sweeping wide out of the backfield in an effort to get past me and back to the line of scrimmage. He was spectacularly quick and hard to stop. Throughout the entire game I was part of 20-25 group tackles of O.J. and this turned out to be one of his worst games in yards rushed. This was my best college football game³.

The primary job as defensive end is to contain the play, and when necessary, rush the passer. The coaches also put me on every kick-off or punt since I could move down the field very fast, and was willing to crash full-speed, into or over anyone, in pursuit of the runner. I broke several unbreakable helmets, earning [from Coach Koeffler] the highly coveted defensive honor of the Purple Helmet. I was contacted by the Dallas Cowboys to attend a clinic (pre-draft) for weights, measurements, and examination (medical). We talked and they wanted to draft me for a special teams position (utility), which in 1970, was worth about $50,000 per year. I was earning that much as a property manager, and declined their interest. I advised everyone that I would not enter the professional football draft.

My Bachelor of Arts degree is from the University of Washington in Business Administration and had a concentration in Finance. During this time I maintained two academic scholarships as well as the full-ride athletic scholarship in football.

For my Master’s Degree in Economics I attended Portland State University in Portland, Oregon, where I maintained a 3.67 grade point average. All but 9 elective credit hours and two of the three required comprehensive exams remained to be completed for my degree. My plan after receiving my Masters in Economics was to obtain my PhD (Doctorate) in Business from the University of Washington, where I hoped to teach college business and economics courses.

Despite my athletic history and experience, I do not enjoy watching sports on television. The thought of going to a sport’s bar is unappealing. I dislike the company of men. Male bonding is something I detest. When a man has a bromance or man-crush, he is a freak.

A group of men yelling and screaming at a game on a television screen puzzles me. In college, at the U of W, we referred to the rabid fans as jock-sniffers⁴. These men who yell at the television have an unrequited fixation on strong, fit, athletic males, which they usually are not.

It has always been my choice to be in the presence of females. Women have always been my best companions. I do not enjoy being around men. Even now, the proximity to the opposite sex, though difficult, is still my priority.

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² Chronologically: 240D; 450 SEL; 280C; 300E (2); 300 GD (3); Unimog Truck; 250SL; 300 TD; 300 TDT; 300 SDT; 500SL.

³ These game films are archived at the University of Washington, Department of Athletics, and available.

⁴ Wild, screaming fans who wanted anything from you, including chin-straps or shoe laces. We felt, as a team, that if we threw them our jock straps, they would sniff them.

CHAPTER 7 RELATIONSHIPS

Relationships with women in my life have been varied and many. There were successes, and several unmitigated disasters. Some were business. Some were a challenge. Several were terrific and fascinating.

My first marriage was to Marylynn while I was a junior at the University of Washington. She was the proverbial high school girlfriend, who became pregnant with our oldest daughter, Kathrie. Our second child, Brad, Jr. was born a little over a year later. Our marriage lasted four years, and ended primarily due to my lack of patience with Marylynn (this was clearly my fault). We shared joint-custody of our children.

After our divorce, Marylynn became a ‘hippie’ living in a house with 8 or 9 people, and hitchhiked with our very young children. She would also leave Kathrie and Brad Jr. in public parks to play unsupervised from 4:00 PM to 8 or 9 PM while she went on a date.

Learning this was pure coincidence. One fall evening, I was playing football in a King County parks league team in White Center, Washington. After the game, as I was leaving with my then girlfriend, Joan Huston, I looked over to the adjoining playground area and saw my two young children, unsupervised, playing on the equipment. When I came up to them, they came running over to me; all excited I was there. This was around 7:30 PM. They said their mom left them there [around 5:00 PM] to play, and said she would be back later. They were 4 and 6 years old at the time.

Marylynn and I had our first post-divorce court hearing over this when I filed for a change of custodial arrangements due to her dereliction. She showed up in court and straight up admitted to the hitchhiking and leaving the children unattended while she went on dates. She cried, sobbed and asked to forgiveness as well as another chance. My then single status, living with my girlfriend (Joan Huston), did not help, and the judge granted her another opportunity to get her act together with a stern warning that she would lose the children if she did this sort of thing again.

Approximately a year later I took Marylynn again to court when her female roommate told me she never cooked nor cared for the children, letting them feed themselves until she and her boyfriend got up around noon each day.

Both instances are documented in court proceedings in King County, Washington (Seattle) in the [domestic relations] matter Bradly Cunningham v. Marylynn Harriet (Kruger) Cunningham. During the last ordeal, I married my girlfriend Joan Huston. Again, Marylynn pleaded with the court saying that her indiscretions were minor, and directly challenged her now ex-roommate, a felony drug-user. Marylynn’s new plans included going to college for a degree (she enrolled in college classes by the time of the hearing). She was again saved (another judge). Within two months of that hearing Marylynn moved from Seattle to Pullman, Washington to attend school at Washington State University. After graduating, she moved with the children to New York City to work. I effectively did not see Kathrie or Brad for almost 12 years.

They lived in New York. Then, one day Marylynn called to ask if I would take the oldest, Kathrie. She was then a young teen having problems in school and running away from her mother.

Years later, Marylynn asked me to take Brad Jr. He arrived back in my life as a teenager when I was dating Dr. Jeanne Marie Hermens. It was sad to find out he had become a thief, even stealing clothes and expensive electronic items from our home. Later, after my incarceration, I had hoped he had changed, but in 1995 he stole $5,500 from me. Due to Marylynn, Brad Jr. was never a close part of my life. He was only 4 years old when I lived with Joan Huston and he was 6 years old when he moved with Marylynn to Pullman, Washington (and then New York).

CHAPTER 8 JOAN HUSTON

My relationship with Joan Huston lasted 4 to 5 years. She was beautiful, as well as the sexiest and most intelligent of all the women I have ever known in my life. She had tremendous knowledge of world events, geography, history, science, languages, cultures, and was incredibly articulate. I had never met a more sophisticated person.

Joan had naturally jet-black hair with a small white streak, she was 5’ 4" tall, weighed 105 to 110 lbs, and had flawless alabaster skin. She was 100% Irish descent and, physically, as well as in facial appearance, looked almost exactly like Alyssa Milano (from the Charmed television series).

She was not only a striking beauty, but Joan was also naturally trim and toned—no fat or cellulite whatsoever. She did not need to wear a bra despite her having large breasts. We did the ‘pencil’⁵ test, and she easily passed.

Joan Huston, circa 1971

The only type of bra Joan owned was this very unique sheer or nude bra. Women probably know all about this type of undergarment but to a 24- year old man, it fascinated me. It had an underwire and wider shoulder straps including the back strap (3 or 4 clasps). The bra, sitting in her dresser, looked like a light tan nylon material. It was the size of a training bra. When Joan put it on, she stretched the material, and filled it out to where it became completely sheer. It had no seams or stitching across the entire cup. You could read a newspaper through it or count freckles if she had any. Joan wore this type of bra everyday she went to work, and it only slightly suppressed her permanently erect nipples.

Joan had an amazingly unique physical feature: she had the longest, most spectacular, permanently distended, black nipples I had ever seen on a female. Joan had no areolas. They contrasted Joan’s perfectly flawless, alabaster white skin, which was as white as that of burlesque dancer Dita von Teese, comedian Elvira, or actress Anne Hathaway.

One morning, lying in bed, I asked her to not move and I went to our utility room and returned with a brand new .45 caliber ACP cartridge. I held the cartridge point down next to her nipple and said, Look, it is the same diameter and length. At repose, her nipples were flat across the end and they grew rounder and longer when stimulated. I turned the cartridge over and showed her, There you are erect! I later referred to her nipples as her 45’s.

In my entire life I have only seen one other woman with nipples similar to Joan’s. This photograph is not Joan but illustrates [on much smaller breasts] the type of uniquely spectacular, permanently erect nipples Joan had. Joan