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18-Aug-2017 01:48 by 6 Comments

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"There was one time he was standing in a lot next to my aunt's house and just staring.

He'd watched the Seibers and Ray children that way before.He lived next door to the Rays with Harold Farrar and his family.Eddie was a classic cast-off; what family he had had either disowned him or died.He had a shock of unruly brown hair and his face and hands were often begrimed.Good hygiene, the Farrars joked, was not among Eddie's qualities.As he passed, Debbie and Phyllis asked him where they might find discarded dolls. "You live up at Harold Farrar's." "Naw, I live on the other side of town," Mc Gee lied. Phyllis' daddy, Charlie Bill, was not a man to be trifled with. The girls tried to assure him they wouldn't say anything. Eddie fell to his knees, straddled each girl and struck her head he doesn't know how many times with the rock. Farrar joked with a friend about the sudden turnabout.

He directed them to a pile of garbage further in the dump. Mc Gee made Phyllis and Debbie hide behind a tree until he left. "I know you're not," Mc Gee responded, "because I'm going to take you down here and make you hide where it will take you a long time to get out." He led them down to the Duck River and forced them to stand against a tree. "I'll beat you home." Mc Gee picked up a softball-sized chunk of limestone and struck Phyllis in the head. Fractures radiated over the circumference of each little skull, like spider-line breaks on a window pane. The banks were steep, between 8 and 10 feet tall, and thatched with maple and hickory roots. Then he went to his room and pulled out his prized possession—a record player—placed the needle on a Chipmunks Christmas album and listened to their tinny voices sing of holiday cheer. One of the Farrars was pushing a tricycle with no seat.

When Mc Gee saw sisters Mary Ann and Anita Claxton enter the dump, he followed them in.

He was sweet on Mary Ann, so he watched them from a hill above.

He was always coming to the dump, scrounging for pop bottles and bicycle parts within this 50-acre weed-choked patch of land, which was sporadically swollen with piles of garbage and junk, and lashed with criss-crossing dirt roads.

Back then, folks had entry to the dump as they pleased, leaving what they didn't want and salvaging what they did.

Eight-year-old Phyllis Seibers and her cousin Debbie Ray, 9, pushed a tricycle with no seat down Sims Road on a sunny afternoon in 1966, just a week before Christmas in the tiny factory town of Shelbyville.