Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Tale Of The Washington State University Bombing

Of Young Love, and Bombs

This is going to be a tale in which the police do good, and we are all happy for this. It is also a tale of explosives, and how certain individuals, and probably age groups, should be excluded from professions in which they handle such things.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, sure; but a lovesick teenage boy is a deadly thing the likes of which only a rabid pit bull could be compared to; for he sees no future without her, or perhaps him-who am I to say?
Mercer Island is a primo spot in beautiful Washington State, and Wazzu is where you will wish to spend the years after high school should you have been one so blessed as to have grown up on Mercer Island-that is if you are not already infatuated with a lovely young lady, and have a job that you love which allows you to blow things up, and make a good living while doing it.

Washington State University

Washington State University

John Stickney was, by all accounts, a good looking fellow. He stood six feet one, broad of shoulder, and very intelligent-he was, sadly, dyslexic, and this prevented him from enjoying school much. He started dating Leigh Hayden when they were both fourteen years of age, and continued to do so until they were out of school. John had no intentions of this ideal relationship ever ending. Leigh, however, wanted to go to Wazzu land, and did. John stayed home, and made a living blowing away pieces of mountainside that got in the way of where roads ought to be.

Despite the sheer joy that blowing things up must have brought to John Stickney, Leigh moving 300 miles east to Wazzu land(Washington State University) was a bit of a strain for him-for surely Leigh would soon lay with someone else, and indeed, this was the case.

Now, three hundred miles of mountains, snow, and ice may seem like a bit of a road trip for you or I, but let me assure you right now-it's nothing to a teenage boy in love(or even a thirty four year old boy, should he ever fall in love again!), and John found the time to stalk young Leigh.

Where were his parents, you ask? I dunno, I never found out; maybe someone could reach them and find out what they were thinking. . . . . .. I was only five when this happened, so bear with me on my ignorance.

As things got worse, and worse for Leigh, she grew more distant, and this surely bothered John-but rest assured he had never been violent with her, or with anyone, ever; so surely he could come to grips with things, and see the future for the brightness that would surely lead him to buy sun shades? But no, It wasn't to be!

Now Leigh lived in Streit-Perham towers of Wazzu land, and these were co-ed dorms! Oh the horror! How could he bare such weight? such torment? He could not.

Despite complaints by Leigh's roomates, and Leigh that the phone never stopped ringing, and that he could show up(and did) at any given, and the most unlikely of times to the dorm advisor, he kept coming, and nothing changed. Finally, right before Christmas break of 1979, they got a new room-but this proved to be too little too late. Even though John knew that Leigh would be back home for Christmas, he had made a decision, and one that he did not go back on-and he made another trip to Wazzu after work at the end of a fine day. His co-workers reported that he said, "See ya'll tomorrow," or something to that effect, and they were certain that they would. John was a reliable sort of guy.

At 11:30 p.m. the doors to Perham hall are locked, but somehow John got in and kicked the door to Leigh's room in, yes, the new room which he somehow located. John was a smart boy, but a lovesick teenage boy is not one to have much thought of the future, and as he made it known to all that he had a bomb-folks started to beat a retreat for fairer pastures, except for the campus police, that is.

Lieutennent Mike Kenny, and officer David Trimble were on the scene, and responded to the call, and made their way up to the sixth floor despite the deluge of student bodies making their way in the opposite direction poste haste. All good police officers pay close attention to bombs in their training, and the smartest ones pray to the "God of their own understanding" that they never see one. These two didn't have that particular prayer answered, or if so, the answer was "NO!"

Trimble and Kenny did their very best to prevent anything resembling armageddon from occuring on their watch at their Wazzu land, but sometimes the best an officer has to offer isn't enough-and bombs go off despite best laid plans, and blue boy behaviours.

John Stickney died alone that day, and though our officers were both injured, and both of their ability to hear things was permanently destroyed-they lived on, and that was a happy thing. Later a UPI feature story appeared in newspapers all accross America: "Love Affairs On Campus Can Produce Signs Of Stress,"

No Doubt!


Love Is A Battlefield

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