Happy Thanksgiving to All!

Happy Turkey Day!

Tom turkeys are so beautiful. It's a shame the turkey is not our national bird. The tom and hen in this photo were raised locally in Steilacoom, Washington. The photo was taken at Steilacoom's Apple Squeeze last October.

Happy 15th birthday to my beautiful daughter, Kate!

Rest in Peace, Alice

I never went to any of my high school reunions. In 1979, I packed my bags, moved out of Long Beach and vowed that I'd never go back. Very rarely do I visit California. My home state no longer feels like home.

Recently, I was invited to my high school reunion's facebook page. When I dropped in to see the old gang, I was saddened to learn that my friend, Alice, had passed away.

I was more surprised when someone told me that Alice had commit suicide about 25 years ago. Throughout the years, I always imagined her growing old gracefully. It never occurred to me that she might be dead.

Alice was a beautiful, young woman who looked remarkably like the 1930's screen siren, Jean Harlow. She was feminine and sexy. Alice loved motorcycles, fast cars and beer. She liked to go to night clubs. She preferred disco music to rock-n-roll because she liked to dance. Donna Summers was her favorite artist.

Alice was not her real name, but I choose to call her that for two reasons: (1) to protect her family's privacy; and (2) because she reminds me of the song, "All the Young Girls Love Alice," from Elton John's album, "Good-bye Yellow Brick Road." You may have guessed from the song title that Alice was a gay teen. Technically, she was bisexual. When I knew her, she identified herself as a lesbian.

I was a naive teenager when I met Alice. I didn't have a clear understanding of what being "gay" meant. I thought anti-gay words such as "faggot," "queer", "lesbo," etc. were merely dirty words that people called each other when they were angry. I didn't believe that homosexuals actually existed. Even after I met Alice's girl friends, I thought she would eventually become straight if she met the right man.

You may be wondering if Alice and I were lovers. No, we were not. We were platonic friends. Alice was attracted to masculine bull dykes. I am not and have never been a bull dyke.

Our society was much more homophobic in the 1970's and 1980's than it is today. In the late 1970's, Anita Bryant and the Southern Baptist Convention were on an anti-gay crusade to protect children from homosexuality. My mother was one of the many people who believed that homosexuality was caused by gay men molesting boys. She did not want gays in our house. After another friend told her that Alice was a lesbian, Mom forbid me to have anything more to do with her.(But Alice and I had a tendency to get into trouble when we were together.)

Many of the young people I knew were against Anita Bryant's crusade. We believed that Anita and the Southern Baptists were preaching hate. We refused to buy or drink orange juice because Anita was the spokesperson for Florida orange juice. We considered it a victory when Florida orange juice dropped their contract with Anita.

However, I was acquainted with several boys who liked to go to the local gay bar so they could rob and beat up gay men in the bar's restroom. I wasn't surprised when I heard that someone had burned down the local drag queen's home.

Did Alice's death have anything to do with her sexual orientation? I don't know if she was in a relationship with a man or a woman when she died. She may have been single. Knowing the hatred and violence that gays and lesbians faced, I think it is safe to assume that Alice's sexual preference may have influenced her decision to end her life.

There are other factors to consider. Alice did not do drugs, but she had a tendency to be self-destructive. One night, we were driving home from a party when we got into a minor argument. In anger, she slammed on the car's brakes. We almost got run over by an 18 wheeler. If the truck hadn't swerved to avoid colliding with us, everyone in the car would have killed.

On another occasion, she took me to her boyfriend's apartment. I no longer remember why she got upset, but she balled up her fist and slammed it through a glass shower door. The shower door was open, and she bragged that she put her fist through two panes of glass. She bled so much that her boyfriend and I had to take her to the emergency room.

Alice often told me that she did not believe in heaven or hell. She believed that life on earth was hell. She sometimes said, "If you don't believe God makes mistakes, look at me." Perhaps she was a tortured soul who thought that committing suicide would end her pain.

Learning about Alice's death reminded me of how important it is to accept and love people for who they are. Michael 7: 1-3 states "Judge not lest ye be judged." I believe that what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own bedroom is between God and them. It isn't anyone else's business. Homosexuality may be a sin, but if I mistreat a person because he or she is gay, the sin becomes mine.

Perhaps if people had been kinder to and more tolerant of those were different from them, Alice might be alive today.

With Friends Like These...

I've only had my own blog for a short period of time, but I was a regular commentator on Bill Medvecky's Free the FLDS children blog for several years. I've learned from experience that bloggers and commentators have followers. They also have enemies. Sometimes they have more enemies than followers.

I recently wrote two articles for this blog about a serial killer named Francis Hernandez. I wrote these articles for several reasons. First, I wanted to write about something serious. (You know, Cupcake really does have a brain.) Secondly, I wanted to prove that I could write an article that is pro law enforcement if I want to. Thirdly, I was briefly acquainted with Fran Hernandez when I was a teenager. When I think about him, I'm grateful that I'm alive. (Hey, I survived.) Finally, I thought people from my home town would enjoy reading it.

Like most writers, I want to be read. I was happy because some people actually took the time to read my blog. A few people praised those articles. (It's been hard leaving Bill's blog and starting my own. Thank you for your support. I love you all.)

But not everyone felt that way. One person said that Francis Hernandez was a coward who wasn't worth remembering. I disagree. My experience with Fran taught me that is is possible to look at pure evil in the face but not realize it.

Some people only wanted to remember happy times. Others were afraid that I might bring up things in their past -- things that they don't want other people to know.

So I'm going to cut to the chase. I have no desire to post anyone's drunkalog on my blog. The first article was based on my memories of Fran. You might remember it differently than I do. That doesn't mean I'm not telling the truth. I might give out my blog's address and ask people to read my work, but Fran Hernandez was the only person I wanted to embarrass when I wrote those articles.

I am NOT the type of person who would tell a friend's child something that I thought might embarrass or humiliate the parent. I'm a mother myself. I wouldn't like it if someone did that to me. So why would I want to do that to you?

If you are racked with guilt because of the way you used to live, go to a counselor. Do not project it onto me.

It will take a lot more than a few former friends to make me quit writing about what I want to write.

Should Francis Hernandez's Death Sentence Have Been Commuted?

When Francis Gerard Hernandez was convicted of committing two murders in 1981, he was sentenced to death. Because he was only 18 years old when he committed his crimes, he was the youngest person on California's death penalty for a long period of time. He filed an appeal, claiming that the judge failed to consider that he was an alcoholic and under the influence of alcohol and marijuana when he committed the murders. He also claimed that there were not enough Hispanics on the jury pool. (According to the Los Angeles Times, only six of the 128 people in the jury pool had Hispanic surnames.) In 1988, the appeals court upheld his death sentence.

In September 2011, another appeals court ruled in Fran's favor. His death sentence was commuted to life in prison. This was rather surprising because Fran had served almost 30 years on California's death row.

When sentencing Francis Hernandez, should the judge have taken Fran's alcoholism and drug abuse into consideration? I don't think so. If the judge should have done so, defense attorneys could argue that judges should take those factors into consideration when sentencing drunk drivers charged with vehicular manslaughter. We have to draw the line somewhere. Being higher than a kite is not a valid excuse for two savage murders.

If more Hispanics had been on the jury, would they have felt sympathy toward Fran and given him a shorter sentence? No necessarily. Francis Hernandez was not persecuted because of his race or ethnic origin. Most of the Hispanics I know are Roman Catholics. The Roman Catholic Church is opposed to the culture of death. I see no reason to believe that Hispanics would have pitied a punk who raped, tortured and murdered two innocent young women.

While I disagree with the 2011 appeals courts' ruling, I feel that the judge should have considered whether Fran was abused as a child. His mother suffered from mental illness. I spoke to several people who knew Fran when he was a boy. All of them said that his stepfather did not treat him well. Violence begets violence. Abuse begets abuse.

Frankly, I'm not sure that any of the above factors really mattered when the appeals court commuted his death sentence. California can no longer afford the death penalty. I've read that the death penalty costs millions of dollars each year, yet few people are ever executed in California. The appeals court may have decided that Francis Hernandez simply isn't worth the enormous expense of executing him.

Many years ago, I worked in the California Rehabilitation Center's infirmary. My duties included supervising two inmate xray technologists who had been convicted of gang-related murders. One told me that inmates absolutely hated Sharon Tate's family because the Tates went to every parole hearing, demanding that Charles Manson and his girls be kept in prison. Not only did the Tates convince the parole board to keep the Manson family in prison, they dimmed other convicted killers' hope of being paroled.

As long as he lives, Francis Hernandez will be a threat to other women and children. If we don't want him to be released from prison, we should remember Edna Bristol and Kathy Ryan. If the parole board conducts a hearing to determine if Fran should be released, family members should appear on his victims' behalf. Residents of Long Beach should write letters to the board, asking the board to remember what Fran did to Edna and Kathy. Be proactive. California certainly cannot afford to let a convicted serial killer go free.

Why Did Francis Hernandez Kill His Friends?

How many people can say that one of their high school friends became a serial killer? Those who attended Millikan High School in Long Beach, California in the late seventies and early eighties can. I am one of those people.

Around the time I graduated from high school in 1977, my friend, Lori, introduced me to a 15 year old punk named Francis Gerard Hernandez. We called him "Fran." He lived on Petaluma Street behind the Four Square Church.

I liked Fran. I thought he was a cool guy who had a good sense of humor. I'm not sure if Fran was attending school when I met him. If he didn't, it wouldn't have bothered me. I knew a few other teenage boys who did not go to school. What I remember most about Fran was his long, dark hair.

Lori and I went partying with Fran several times. We went to El Dorado Park in the new car that Lori's parents bought for her as a graduation gift. I remember driving through the park, listening to the radio, talking and laughing with Fran and Lori. Basically, we did what teenagers normally do.

When Lori and I were with Fran, he did not make any sexual advances toward either of us. I saw nothing that indicated that Fran might have a tendency to be violent. He certainly did not behave as if he hated women. Nor did I see anything that would cause me to feel fearful or distrustful of him. To me, Fran was just another kid who hung out at the park.

But I would like to be honest. Fran did a lot of drugs. Not just alcohol and marijuana. I heard he did hard drugs, such as Angel Dust and LSD. My definition of a "cool guy" must have been slightly skewed.

Several years later, my parents and I moved to California's High Desert. In January 1981, I was watching the news when something a newscaster said grabbed my attention. A young woman named Edna Bristol had been raped, tortured and strangled. Then her body was dumped at John Marshall Junior High, a school I attended when I was a girl.

Five days later, the body of a 16 year old girl named Kathy Ryan was dumped at Millikan High School. Millikan was the high school I attended. Like Edna, Kathy had been raped, brutalized and strangled. I did not know either of the victims. What was done to those unfortunate girls -- both before and after their deaths -- was unspeakable.

Shortly thereafter, Lori telephoned me. She told me that Fran had been arrested for the murders. I didn't know who she meant when she said Fran. At that time, I was acquainted with a woman named Fran in the desert. Lori reminded me of El Dorado Park. Memories of the young, dark-haired punk flooded my mind.

At first, I believed that Fran snapped after smoking Angel Dust or dropping acid. Angel Dust was prevalent in southern California in the late seventies. I was acquainted with some young men who went to a party and smoked what they thought was marijuana. The joint they smoked was laced with Angel Dust. They freaked out and ended up in a hospital's emergency room. I also read information put out by law enforcement about Angel Dust. At one time the drug was an animal tranquilizer, but vets stopped using it because it was too unpredictable. A person could use Angel Dust regularly for an extended period of time without having any problems. Suddenly and without warning, that person could have a bad reaction to the drug. For those reasons, I did not use Angel Dust.

I'm sure that most of you have heard about Art Linkletter's daughter and LSD. Do you wonder why I thought hard drugs may have contributed to the murders?

My theory that Francis killed Edna and Kathy while on a bad acid trip soon fell apart. He may have been higher than a kite when he killed Edna, but he enjoyed raping, torturing and killing her so much that he decided to make Kathy his second victim five days later. That was too logical and well-planned for a person having a bad reaction to drugs.

Years later, when appealing his death sentence, Fran's attorney argued that the court did not consider that he was an alcoholic and under the alcohol and marijuana when he committed the murders. (There was no mention of history of using hard drugs.) I've known many alcoholics. To my knowledge, none of the other alcoholics I've known has murdered anyone. Obviously, Francis Hernandez's case involves more than alcoholism or drug addiction.

I read on the internet that Fran's mother had a nervous breakdown and was prone to bizarre behavior. Perhaps he directed the rage and hatred he felt toward his mother at Edna and Kathy. Schizophrenia tends to run in families. Those who knew him have suggested that he was always odd. Fran was obviously out of his mind when he set out on his killing spree.

I don't know if it is true or not, but I remember reading in the newspaper that Fran's stepfather abused him. Violence begets violence. If he was abused as a child, would that have caused him to experience sadistic sexual fantasies?

Are some people just born evil?

I have often wondered why Fran killed Edna and Kathy, but he did not kill Lori or me. Some of my female friends also hung out with Fran. Why didn't he rape or kill them? I already know the answer. Fran was only 15 years old when I met him. He may have been already experiencing dark, violent sexual fantasies. But he had not yet acquired the old, dark green van that he turned into a portable torture chamber by gerry-rigging it so that the only way a person could get out was via the driver's door.

Some serial killers murder strangers. When apprehended by law enforcement, they cannot provide information that would identify their victims. Others kill prostitutes, topless dancers, the homeless or other people they think will not be missed.

Francis Hernandez did not target strangers. He knew both of his victims. He was able to catch Edna and Kathy off guard because they considered him to be a friend. He would have killed more friends too because he said at court that he was "just getting started" when he was arrested.

I was a young and naive woman in 1981. While I believed that it was morally wrong to murder anyone, I could not imagine why anyone would want to kill his friends. You were supposed to love your friends and be good to them. You weren't supposed to do anything that might harm your friends. I lost part of my innocence when I learned of Fran's crimes. By murdering Edna and Kathy, Fran ultimately betrayed all of his friends.