My First "Handler"

Southern Illinois. Not sure if I was six or seven, but I'm pretty sure it was '71. I'm not gonna give the man's name out, so just call him handler.

It was night when we parked in front of a house, and went around to the back door. When I got in, I saw an opened door to the kitchen, and could see into what must've been the living room, as I heard a TV. On the left, a stairway went up, to the landing upstairs.

My handler whispered to me that he was going upstairs, and to keep an eye out. I was standing by a coat rack, when a man went into the kitchen from the living room. I was trying to hide behind the coats on the rack, and that's when he saw me.

He had grabbed a spatula, and was asking who I was, and the only thing I thought to do, was go a little up the stairs and in a hushed voice I said, "Hey! You need to come down here. And suddenly he appeared, carrying something wrapped in a blanket.

The guy was still standing there with a spatula, and when he saw my handler, he said, "Ohhhh. You guys are the ones who....." Then he backed away into the kitchen, and then went back to the living room.

As we neared his car, he told me to get in the back. As h pulled away from the curb, I heard a baby crying. It was cut short, and then, as he was driving, my handler lifted up like he was putting all his weight down his right arm.

He had choked it to death. I just sat in the back, filled with horror.

I remember once he was laughing at me, and asking how come I was so nervous all the time. He said that everything was taken care of, and that nothing was gonna happen.

I think everyone in that area knew what was going on, and the authorities were well paid.