This is a story about my personal interactions with Mark Christie, the man that kidnapped and killed four-year-old Kali Ann Poulton in 1994 and killed Viola Manville in 1988.
It is featured in PDF form here, and also in full-form below.
The Trump Card
It is not to be re-posted anywhere without written permission. All writing on this site is Copyright, both the real way and the poor mans way. And, I’ll find you.
________________________________________________________________________
He would stare at the cardboard cutout of a woman (used to market some sort of diet pill) as if she were going to come alive and adorn him the King of Man.
Chapter 1: Foundation.
I was a healthy eater, and had done enough personal homework on the subject that working in a health food store seemed like a great job for an 18-year-old in the midst of deciding where his life would go.
I applied in person, and had an instant report’ with the manager, Jim. He loved the mall for the environment, which goes a long way in describing his character; He was quite a character. He picked up on my non-slapstick sense of humor immediately, and we got along swimmingly. A perfect cross between Higgins from Magnum P.I. and any other trim, well-kept, mustachioed incarnation of an English butler, his sarcastic smile and scowl were interchangeable, and both were used as methods of passing judgment on every customer, passerby, and employee in our mall.
Jim had a long history in retail management, and even a brief stint as the owner of a video store. That wealth of experience enabled him to work just hard enough not to draw attention to himself, yet still shine brightly in the face of upper management in person. He was a low-level management wunderkind, and would not hesitate to tell you so if you asked.
Daytime at the mall is often a dead time, and conversation becomes vital so as to not look like you’re doing nothing. Jim and I often talked about his numerous ideas for inventions (all of which he was going to patent at some point), and also movies- he watched, critiqued venomously, and lived vicariously through the silver screen.
Prior to my new job, I had interned at a local paper as a staff writer, and was sent to the movies several times a week to watch and review… Jim was jealous, and I think that having held such a prestigious and sought-after position as an unpaid movie reviewer for a sub-par local paper caused him to consider me a peer and not a subordinate.
The only other employee at the store was a very un-noteworthy college girl who up and left with no notice, leaving us searching hastily for a replacement.
Mark Christie was the 3rd person interviewed, and arrived at the mall in a suit and tie.
Read On…
