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Creator: John Living
Resume: NYC Actor..this is not a dress rehearsal!
Genre=Drama; 2020; casts=Demitra Sealy, Amanda Greer; Info=The Juvenile Delinquents (JD's) attempt to create a new world order following a disastrous series of events that culminates in a catastrophic circumstance capable of seeing them incarcerated. Forced to band together the dysfunctional group of teens fight everything including themselves, as they try to find a purpose for their endangered freedom, which they must protect as repercussions loom. The story starts when five male graduates of juvenile detention out on a lark, run into two drunk girls in the park. This fateful turn reunites two friends and sets all seven teens on a course of misadventure towards bloodshed. Bonds of brotherhood and friendship mix with the unease of being total strangers as abrupt escalations initiate enduring binds. Under duress, group survival requires the teens to conquer problems resulting from their mistakes, desires, competitiveness and core function of resistance to authority. Danny a by-product of his mother's aspirations to marry money tries to lead the group but is relentlessly challenged by orphan and troublemaker Nick, who survived a tough upbringing by having his biggest problems solved by elder brother Marko, who is a powerful conflict resolution device. Nick's partner in crime Ryker, was raised by his devoted dad in a house not fit for children, the mirror opposite of forced recruit Chris, who comes from a supportive and loving family, leaving him little in common with most, and struggling to fit in. None of the boys were serious criminals until their chance meeting with child abuse survivor Sarah and fellow runaway Lin becomes the catalyst for carnage.
Juvenile delinquents in prison
Juvenile delinquents act. Juvenile delinquents 2020 movie. Juvenile delinquents act pros and cons. Juvenile delinquents rise up. 
Juvenile delinquency rise up. Juvenile delinquents neil goss. We didn’t have much to do. Not in Cairo, Georgia anyway. That’s Cairo pronounced with a “k. ” Kay-Row. Not like the one in Egypt. Instead of pyramids, we had our beloved Cairo High Syrupmakers. But besides those Friday Night Lights, we didn’t have jack shit. Just an old theater and a downtown museum. Not much us twelve-year-olds could do. Even this close to Halloween. After all, I was in that awkward life cycle. Too old to trick-r-treat but too young to get shit-faced in ugly costumes. Trapped between Heaven and Hell. Like juvenile prisoners, my friends and I reported to Washington Middle everyday. Then on the weekends, us twelve-year-olds ran wild in the small city limits. Entertaining ourselves as best we could. There was me Bryson. I was chubby back then. Far from tall. Far from the man I’d become. But I was still a handsome kid with light hair and a friendly laugh. Of course, not until tenth grade did I shed the baby fat and start dating girls. In middle school, I just watched football and R-rated comedies. Not to mention raised Hell with my best friend Blake. Blake Earnest was a scrawnier version of me. Maybe the stupider version as well. I may have been country but Blake was well on his way to becoming a pure Cairo redneck. Aside from the messy black hair and loud Southern voice, Blake was also more outgoing than me. The leader in our two man army. As a couple of small-time delinquents, we did most of our damage at school. Washington Middle a dumping ground for our wild antics. We’d cuss out teachers, write graffiti, vandalize school property… Blake and I’s discipline records were far more impressive than our report cards. Mr. Haskell, our English teacher, particularly hated us. He was a writer who never wanted to teach. And Brad Haskell called us out in every single class… always with his dark sense of humor. Needless to say, he was a horror writer. And honestly, he was our favorite teacher for being wacky rather than strict. But like robbers getting more confident with each heist, Blake and I’s enterprise soon extended beyond our shitty education. When mom and dad dropped me off at the movies, my Friday nights went from cheap horror movies to pot and running wild downtown. Blake and I would walk through cemeteries, make prank calls. Together, we’d turn Broad Street into a ding dong ditch dungeon. Halloween was the perfect time for us. The fresh autumn air gave us fuel for our endless energy. The scary decorations a beautiful backdrop for our asshole antics. There were always fun things to do. Whether it was the hayrides or haunted houses in Colquitt and Stanwyck, the local thrills and chills gave us a reliable high. A Halloween high that dominated our Octobers. But there was one Cairo legend we hadn’t quite explored yet. One dare we’d never confronted. Yeah, we’d been to Mrs. Gacy’s abandoned farm. At midnight, we trespassed on to the Holton Street slave cemetery. But throughout our friendship, Blake and I had never gone to Clive Birke’s house. Birke was a small town weirdo. Like a haunted castle, his two-story brick house stood alone in the back of a large lot. The tall trees and high grass formed a fence for his eerie fortress. Clive’s house surrounded by only a graveyard of abandoned lots and stores. And for the last forty years, he lived all alone. Birke’s home represented the final spot on our Cairo checklist. Out of all the haunted hotspots, abandoned locations, and weird areas, Birke’s was all we had left. And during October, the house was especially notable for its Halloween decorations. There were the tall scarecrows in his trees. The rubber bats by the mailbox. Handmade wooden mummies and werewolves lining up down his dirt driveway. And above all, he had an abundance of glowing jack o’lanterns surrounding his home. From the front porch to the windowsills. Jack o’lanterns lit all night… and day. All year. Not once did Mr. Birke take those decorations down… And no one ever asked him why he left them up. Everyone too scared to go out to his yard. And when Halloween rolled around, the decorations only got scarier... Our parents always gave us the lecture on Clive Birke. He wasn’t the Boogeyman… just an eccentric older guy. A wacky, “fruity” artist from Colquitt. He hadn’t left Cairo in forty years. Or left his inheritance. Birke’s old family home was now his tomb. We were told Mr. Birke was in his sixties. That he had long, stringy black hair and wore baggy dark clothes. Birke was tall, eccentric. His intense hazel eyes complemented by stark white teeth. But Blake and I didn’t know for sure. After all, we never saw him. Not once did Clive leave that house. Everyone said Mr. Birke was harmless. But those decorations still freaked us out. Especially the pumpkins. From afar, they lurked like hovering orbs off in the distance. And they looked so much brighter in the fall… so much more alive. Their glares were harsh, and their smiles carved wide open to scream with mocking laughter. But tonight would be different. Blake and I would finally visit the old Birke house. And on Friday, Blake and I met at the Cairo Theater. Our alibi perfect: stay late watching the new Kevin Hart movie before walking back to Blake’s mama’s house. We were alone and had the night to ourselves. Both of us dressed in our standard gear of jeans, Aeropostale tees, and skinny hoodies. Here it was the second week of October and Blake and I were all set to kick off the Halloween festivities. A quick game of ding dong ditch with one of Cairo’s weirdest residents. This was our biggest challenge yet. Confidence pulsated through Blake and I. We’d even managed to get a few eighth-grade girls’ numbers. Got a chance to smoke a cigarette in the high school campfire of parked pick-ups right outside the theater. We felt like hot shit. And felt even hotter once we snuck out the back exit. The strong wind no chance against our rising excitement. Holding our cell phones, we strolled down the city sidewalks. Under the darkness and dim streetlights, we walked past Broad Street’s empty stores. Past the smiling witches. The cackling inflatable ghosts. And soon, the downtown comfort gave way to an urban desolation. We kept joking about seeing Mr. Birke blowing a guy or him getting all pissed off once we pranked him. About how this would make up for Mr. Haskell giving us three days ISS for writing stupid slurs on his whiteboard. Our playful banter and forced chuckles a weak way to feign toughness… especially the further we got… the more isolated we got. And especially once the sea of shacks and derelict buildings gave way to Mr. Birke’s cryptic castle. “Oh shit! ” Blake’s high-pitched Southern accent squealed. He pulled me to the edge of the dirt driveway. The mailbox more dilapidated than a neglected tombstone. Already I felt waves of unease. The bitter wind whisked through my soul. And Blake and I were just getting started... “Come on, Bryson! ” Blake shouted, no hint of caution anywhere in his voice or demeanor. Not for us twelve-year-old troublemakers. “I am! ” my own high-pitched voice shouted back. Blake stopped in the middle of the driveway. We stood in darkness. Nothing guiding us except our phones and Mr. Birke’s field of Halloween decorations. The glowing creatures and many jack o’lanterns looked brighter than ever. Their smiles wider… all of them seeming to stare right at Blake and I. The mummies, the scarecrows, and the pumpkins all watched us. As if they were part of Mr. Birke’s personal scary security team. And through my anxiety, I realized the yard was their permanent station. They were always here… Playful, Blake punched my shoulder. “Hey, you’re going with me right! ” I stared into Blake’s wild, wager shook from excitement rather than the chilling weather. “Don’t bitch out, Bryson! ” he added. Nodding, I pulled my hoodie in tighter. “Yeah, ” I said, trying to stave off my stutter. “I just don’t wanna get caught. ” Blake cackled with glee. The exuberance of a career middle school crook well on display. “Hell naw, we ain’t! ” He punched my shoulder again. “Let’s get his ass! ” With that, Blake took off. And I let him lead the way. Our feet waded through tall grass. Scrunched huge leaves. All I could hear was a howling wind. Birke’s black and orange wind chimes. And my own beating heart… Up above, scarecrows glared down upon us like gargoyles. This close, I now saw how big they were. Life-size scarecrows, some in modern tee shirts, some in old suits and dresses. Their handmade hats made of sharp straw. None of the guardians looked very friendly... these weren’t the hayride strawmen from downtown Cairo. These scarecrows were the guards of a cornfield from Hell. The late-night breeze gave the other decorations literal life. The mummies. The witches and zombies. Even Dracula. Their slow movements made for an eerie taunt. And they still watched us as we made our way to the front porch. Sticking his arm out, Blake stopped us a few feet from the door. There were no lights. Nothing except the insane arrangement of jack o’lanterns. Big jack o’lanterns positioned all around the house. On every windowsill. Together, they provided enough candlelight for a cult ceremony. Faded black paint covered the porch and its rickety steps. Rather than rocking chairs, there were two more scarecrows positioned by the tall red door. The pair dressed like an elderly couple complete with raggedy farm clothes and straw hats straight out of The Great Depression. Cute by day, creepy by night. The windows around the door revealed another row of those jack o’lanterns. Blake and I were greeted by the same crooked smiles and carved eyes. They were our terrifying audience for the night… and witnesses for the stupid crime we were about to commit. Desperate to avoid the glowing glares, I looked over at the red door. Over at the entrance to Halloween Hell. Next to it a small doorbell awaited us. As did whatever lurked inside Mr. Birke’s house. Another chill ran down my spine. The wind chimes’ slow chorus made me scan the yard once more. At all the creatures of the night. They were still watching us. And somehow, the decorations seemed closer. I felt Blake’s harsh tug grab my arm. “Let’s go, bitch! ” blared his attempt at a whisper. Nervous, I pulled away from him. “No, ” I muttered. Blake confronted me, his anger offset by a childish playfulness. “Come on, Bryson! ” he yelled. “Naw, I think we should go, ” I said. Annoyed, Blake tilted his head back. “Ugh, whatever. ” Trying to stay on Blake’s good side, I reached toward him. “Let’s wait and do it tomorrow-” Chuckling, Blake approached the porch. “Naw, I ain’t no chickenshit! ” I started to follow him. “Blake-” “Just stay there, you chickenshit! ” Blake teased. Like a defeated soldier, I stopped by the front porch. Surrounded by sinister scarecrows and monsters. Surrounded by nothing but the autumn cold and my own chills. I folded my arms. The nerves ate me alive. “Hey, watch this, Bryson! ” Blake said. Struggling to battle the breeze, I faced Blake. His boyish grin shined through the dread. As did his rebellious spirit. The wind chimes behind me roared through the night. The wind grew only heavier. But my eyes stayed glued to the sight before me… Toward Blake. With mischievous malevolence, Blake crept up the creaking porch. Right past the towering scarecrows. “Watch me, bitch! ” Blake hollered out. His Southern scream and ferocious footsteps the only sounds through the silence. Cautious, I took another step. My curiosity a catalyst for my spectating. The old couple scarecrows stared straight at me. Straight into my soul. “Blake, ” I whispered. Giggling, Blake reached toward the doorbell. “I got you! ” he struggled to whisper. “Blake! ” I cried. Through the worry, I placed one foot on the stairs, letting the step groan beneath me. And then the loud doorbell erupted. An orchestral ring. Displaying a wicked grin, Blake faced me. His smile wider than ever. His eyes wilder than ever. “Let’s go, Bryson! ” he yelled. Like a wild animal descending upon helpless prey, the male scarecrow reached out. Their movements stilted. Their face stilted. And their grip vicious. My heart sank. My chills turned crippling. Within seconds, the scarecrow wrapped their wiry arms around Blake. Blake’s cries a shrill siren no one would ever hear. “Bryson! ” Blake yelled in desperation. “Help me! ” But I stayed frozen in fear. More helpless than an elderly Ding Dong Ditch victim. Trapped in the scarecrow’s grip, Blake struggled to break free. His ferocious squirms useless. “Bryson! ” he screamed. The door creaked open. Bright light from inside blinded me. The candlelight so immense. So many more jack o’lanterns waited inside… From what I saw, the sneering pumpkins populated the whole house. And together, they threw a spotlight on the scarecrow. On the tall, lanky figure. The dark cobwebs of hair dangling from under his straw hat. His eyes even darker. His smile so cryptic and white. Sure, I’d never seen the man. I’d only heard about him. Birke nothing more than a figment of Blake and I’s wild imagination. Almost a Cairo myth. Only right now Clive Birke was a terrifying reality. And within seconds, he dragged my best friend inside the house. Birke never said a word. His steps quick and precise. Even as Blake’s screams swirled through the night... Up until the door slammed shut behind them. Simultaneously awestruck and horrified, I staggered forward. Like knives, the wind pierced through me as I ran up the porch stairs. The candles illuminated my heightened fear. I turned the locked knob. Banged on the heavy door. But I got nothing. Only silence. “Blake! ” I screamed. Frightened, I looked all around me. But I was alone with Mr. Birke’s scarecrow wife. Her gaunt gaze was fixated on me. And so were all those jack o’lanterns. Their grins horrified me. Their collective fire blinding. Their triangular eyes further fueled my panic… their eyes of many colors. Now closer, I faced the windows. Then the ground. At every single spot in Mr. Birke’s homemade pumpkin patch. What I saw wasn’t orange. Nor were there any loose seeds. Or hollow yellow guts. These were human heads. Rows and rows of them. The more moldy “pumpkins” nothing more than rotten flesh. Their horrified eyes and screaming expressions made all the more ghoulish by Mr. Birke’s carving and craftsmanship. The only signs of life in each of them a flickering candle shoved deep into their excavated skulls. These weren’t just innocent decorations. Together, they formed a corpse collection Mr. Birke had spent decades cultivating. “Oh God! ” I screamed. Clumsy with fear, I stumbled away. Straight into the old woman scarecrow. Instead of brisk softness, I collided into a cold cadaver. Felt the woman’s bony hands press against me. I could see her purple dress sticking to a decaying body. The stench so awful. Yelling, I jumped out of her dead grasp. And then the woman’s entire head tumbled off. The burlap sack of straw landed at my feet. The only part of her body that was actually a scarecrow... My horrified eyes stared on at the severed neck. At the dry blood drenching the dress collar. Like more decorations, live spiders and worms burrowed deeper into the neck gore. Desperately seeking shelter after losing their roof. Shivering, I felt tears well up. I couldn’t utter a scream. Not even a horrified whisper. My gaze darted throughout the yard. Toward all those other scarecrows. Toward all the other victims… An agonizing creak pierced through my panic. I whirled around. And in eerie slow motion, the red door swung all the way open. Now, even more light hit me. The brightest, biggest candle yet. My trembling gave way to an avalanche of tears. My soul went still. Fear latched into me. And there my best friend’s terrified expression stared back at me. Not even the fresh slices could conceal Blake’s scream. Nor his eyes wide open in pain. Placed right in the doorway, Blake’s severed head was Mr. Birke’s scariest Halloween decoration yet. 14.
Juvenile delinquants. Juvenile délinquants sexuels. Juvenile delinquent. Juvenile delinquents crossword. Juvenile delinquents kids fishing. Juvenile delinquents turn heroes. Juvenile delinquents cartoons. Juvenile delinquents trailer. Juvenile delinquents act 1908. To preface, this is all circumstantial dot-connecting. I don't have verifiable proof that the subject of the article is the man in question. However, there are some interesting and noteworthy details to consider. Without further ado, I will present these findings. On November of 1962, Jack Ruby became a tenant of the freshly built Marsala Place Apartments located at 223 South Ewing Street in Dallas, Texas. This is the property he would stay at until he assassinated Lee Harvey Oswald on November 24th, 1963. There are many strange things that took place on that property, but I'd like to take a look at who owned the property. 223 South Ewing Street On November 13, 1962, Ruby moves into the 223 South Ewing Street property. He makes out a $40 deposit, and the slip is signed by a man named John D. Norman. This comes from a report tracking Ruby's movements and their association with the mob. From "HSCA Volume IX: V. Possible Associations Between Jack Ruby and Organized Crime" Who is John D. Norman? Well, he's presumably the owner of "Norman Construction and Apartments", the company that owned and built the property at 223 South Ewing Street. This is confirmed by a man only known as J. B. Harrod, who served as a superintendent to the construction company, when he was interviewed by the FBI. FBI Ruby Investigation: HSCA Volume IX: V. Possible Associations Between Jack Ruby and Organized Crime: From the FBI Investigation on Ruby I have no idea what the initials J. stand for as they are not made clear in this report. But let's get back to John D. All I am going off of is a name, nothing more. However, when you research the name John D. Norman, you're likely to stumble upon a guy by the name of John David Norman. Who is John David Norman? John David Norman The John David Norman in question is classified by the state of California as a Sexually Violent Predator. Sex Offender Record of John David Norman circa 2008. Turns out that not only is John Norman a sex offender, but a known sex trafficker who ran a nationwide homosexual-oriented pedophile ring known under the names "Epic International", "The Odyssey Foundation", and most commonly "The Delta Project". Chicago Tribune report on pedophile rings from 1977. Through a network of pamphlets, serving as a catalog of sorts, would be shared with a prospective customer. His plan was to establish “dormitories”, which would be houses in which 3 to 4 young boys were kept in under the supervision of one or two adults. This is how it worked, according to a 1977 Congressional hearing on Child Exploitation: Senator Culver; Would you describe this project, how it works? ; He sends out material and receives material from other agencies similar to his, which invites men to – well, one program is called the Don program. In this program, he invites anyone who is willing to have a cadet, which is a young boy between the age of 13 and 19 right in there, to have him live in his house, he will take – a don should take one to three cadets to live with him in his house. He would pay a fee of $50 a month for having these cadets live in his house. But at the same time, these cadets would not only serve him sexually, but would also – any other members of the Delta Project, which is quite vast, would contact these dons and he could invite them for a weekend and these people would in turn pay him for letting them use his facilities, his house and the youth. And John Norman would get a percentage of this back. This stuff is compelling on it's own, yet it gets even crazier. John Norman's known associate, Phillip Paske, was employed at serial killer John Wayne Gacy's construction company. Checks made out to Paske through Gacy's construction company. Furthermore, there is a tape of Gacy confirming that he knew both Norman and Paske, further stating that Paske even had keys to his infamous house. The tape begins at 2:30; Now that we have set the stage for the reach that John Norman had, let's jump back to August 8th, 1973. It was that day that the state of Texas dealt with the horrors that were soon to come to Illinois. A man by the name of Dean Corll was shot and killed by a teenager named Elmer Wayne Henley Jr. Authorities would soon unearth 17 bodies of young boys buried under a boat shed, then 11 more spread out across various bodies of water. Corll's accomplice would inform police that he and another kid were paid to procure victims for Dean Corll, who would subsequently torture, rape, and murder the young boys. Both of Corll's accomplices also stated the Dean Corll produced pornography that he would sell to ring of like minded miscreants. Well, a week later, on August 15th, authorities are tipped off to a sex trafficking ring operating in Dallas after a 24 year old member panicked that the police were closing in. From the New York Times []: "DALLAS, Aug. 15 — The police here said today that they had uncovered a nationwide homosexual procurement ring in a raid on an apartment on the city's near north side. Last night's raid turned up catalogue files containing the, names and addresses of 50, 000 to 100, 000 people around the country, the police said. Also seized were booklets containing the pictures and names of teen‐aged and young adult males available through the ring for homosexual activities, they said. " The article further reads: "The alleged leader of the ring, John Paul Norman, 45 years old, was freed today on $7, 000 bond after the police filed charges of violation of state I narcotics laws, stemming from the seizure of marijuana in the apartment. Charges of conspiracy to commit a felony‐sodomy and contributing to the delinquency of a juvenile were to be filed tomorrow. Five others arrested were released without charges. It was learned that Norman has an arrest record in Houston for sexual assaults in 1954 and 1956, but disposition of the cases was not immediately known. He also has convictions in California in 1963 for such assaults and in 1971 for sending obscene literature through the mail, a Federal charge. He was also committed to a state hospital by the California Department of Mental Hygiene as sex offender. " In the article, authorities at the time state that they didn't see any direct evidence linking Norman's ring to the Corll killings. But with the timing and later association with John Wayne Gacy, I would confidently bet that Corll did business with Norman's operation. Sgt. Ronald Kelley also stated in a Chicago Tribune article that he had evidence linking Norman to Corll, however that evidence has never been made public. You may note that the article names him as John Paul Norman, not John David Norman. Well, it is confirmed by the Homewood Police Department that it is in fact the John Norman in question, after they opened an investigation on him merely weeks after he fled Houston Homewood PD's investigation of Steve Gurwell, later identified as John David Norman. You may also be wondering what happened to the 50, 000 to 100, 000 index cards? According to the Chicago Tribune, the State Department destroyed them due to "not being relevant to any fraud case concerning a passport(? )" From the Chicago Tribune May 18, 1977 pg. 16 That was not the only time index cards we confiscated from Norman. However, much like Dallas, those cards are no where to be found. The story of John Norman, even without the Kennedy links, is a compelling and terrifying rabbit hole on it's own. If you are interested in delving deeper, I recommend digging through my earlier Reddit post about John Norman. There you will find the links and sources to everything that is presently known about John David Norman. Which only amounts to a few police reports and newspaper articles. From here, it is all speculation. I will admit there is not a whole lot I'm going off of that concretely places John Norman as the landlord of the 223 South Ewing St apartments. But I will present a few points for you to consider. [For a deeper and more resourced deep dive, check out my write up on the John Norman case]: Billy Byars Sr., J. Edgar Hoover, and Guy Strait Bill Byars Sr. was a wealthy Texan Oilman who worked for Humble Oil and was a friend of J. Edgar Hoover. Such friends that Bill Byars Sr. was among 3 phone calls that Hoover made upon hearing the news of John F. Kennedy's death, the other two being then Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy and the Secret Service. According to author Anthony Summers, Jack Ruby had even met Byars Sr. at one point. The FBI Encyclopedia by Michael Newton pg. 55 Seeing that Bill Byars Sr. has a suffix after his name, one would assume he had a son. He in fact did. Bill Byars Jr. fancied himself as an artist, so he started up his brand; Lyric International. Lyric International started in the late 1960's and began as a photography brand that featured naked photographs of young boys. He later broadened his horizons and in 1972, he wrote and produced a feature film titled; The Genesis Children. What is The Genesis Children about? According to IMDb: A charismatic leader and a high-spirited student group are on holiday in Italy. The surreal adventures of these friends are a free-flowing, four-part "multi-sensual symphony, " bereft of traditional story line. One national critic described the boys' anarchic revelry as a "dream-like descent from civilization into the chaos reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. " The film also features nude scenes of pre-teen and adolescent boys. According to the parent's guide on IMDb; "Eight teenage boys are nude for about a quarter of the movie. The camera records them from almost every angle, but there aren't potentially prurient close-ups. " Eventually, Bill Jr. met up with known child pornographer Guy Strait. He operated a child pornography ring in which he made $7, 000, 000 from sales. Strait also admitted to knowing John Norman in a Chicago Tribune article from 1977. Chicago Tribune May 17, 1977 pg. 8 Strait and Bill Jr. merge their brands into DOM-Lyric, a "distribution" company. We can probably guess as to what their products were. In 1973 the pair were arrested along with 12 other men for producing pornography featuring children as young as 6 years old. The Los Angeles Times Fri. Oct 26th, 1973 pg. 3 Details pointing to Norman being involved First let's start with the obvious; his name **. ** The name that appears on the receipt for that deposit slip is John D. Not John Norman, but with the middle initial and everything. I'll admit, John D. Norman is a pretty generic American name. So let's examine some other points. John David Norman's age and known whereabouts match up as well. John Norman was born in 1927, so he would have been 35 at the time he signed that deposit receipt. John Norman was arrested twice in Dallas during the 1950's for sexual assault, according to the aforementioned NY Times article detailing his Dallas bust. He was arrested in 1963 in California, but that doesn't mean he was living there at the time. It seemed like he traveled specifically to San Diego quite a bit throughout his life and made plenty of "business trips" from a given location. This detail is made clear in his Homewood arrest record. John Norman was a known homosexual. While this detail may not seem important to some, it is if you are familiar with the "conspiracy theories" surrounding the Kennedy assassination. A lot of the players implicated in the JFK were closeted homosexuals, a factor used presumably as blackmail. This would make sense given the context of early 60's Texas. A Patrolman by the name of Fred Sexauer, told his FBI interviewer that rumors were heavily circulating that Jack Ruby participated in homosexual activity with a person(s) unknown in room 206. Other tenants at the apartment also report many men coming to visit Ruby and that the only girls who came to see him were strippers from his nightclub. Officer Sexauer's testimony regarding the rumors of Ruby's homosexuality. Speculative parts of this theory We can extrapolate that John Norman's Delta operation was more or less a honeypot operation for certain people in power to keep tabs on who is using John Norman's services and what they're into. The whole theory behind this is that they can look for those who aspire to hold political power so they can put them in positions where they will play along. For example; judges. That way you can pretty much have the courts rule in your favor. This is the prevailing and most likely explanation behind Jeffery Epstein's operation. It is also very likely that mob had a lot to do with helping facilitate the distribution and muscle for John Norman's operation. It's one thing mob historians like to dance around but you must realize that the kind of thing that Norman dealt in is very profitable to the people involved because it is the most dangerous black market item in terms of the of the repercussions for getting caught up with it. Being a known murderer is much safer than being known as pedophile, especially one of the sadistic variety. Assuming that John Norman did have a construction company, it would likely have been connected with the mob. Especially considering someone of John Norman's disposition. He's in the perfect position to run a morally bankrupt operation while keeping his mouth shut. Those are two valued traits to have and if John Norman was conducting business in Dallas, with his record he would fit right in with that scene. Not much needs to be said about Ruby when it comes to the mobs. Even those who believe the official story knows that Ruby had dealings with organized crimes. Hell, even a mainstream movie like The Irishman put the idea out there that the mob had something to do with the Kennedy Assassination. Now lets move onto government intelligence. John Norman strikes me as a man who never gave two shits about what he did. Not only that, but he seemed pretty cool with everyone knowing what he did. You would think that violent sexual predator like him would be terrified of prison. Not only was he not scared, but still actively ran his operation from prison, hiring inmates to type and print his pamphlets. That should really tell you something. Not only that, he never really served hard time for any of his crimes. I know laws that deal with sex offenders in this country are notoriously problematic, even today. But it's strange how he is able to start up his operation right away when he moves to a new state. No pause, no laying lowing. He obviously does run into problems with local law enforcement quite a bit, but ultimately he gets off relatively easily. The biggest elephant in the room is the destruction and complete disappearance of those index cards. In a right and just world, the state department would have handed those to the FBI and they would have locked him up and thrown away the key. Instead they let him float through the system, remaining a ghost to history. There are no books, documentaries, or even discussions about this guy. If so, he is merely a footnote. He should be one of the most prolific child traffickers and in US history, with a trail of bodies that leads to some of the most notorious crimes in US history. John Wayne Gacy is a household name, for better or for worse. Yet the story were told is of a lone nut, yet there is undeniable evidence that there were more people involved. Not to mention that Gacy was dedicated member of the Jaycees who have had some of the most powerful western leaders of politics and industry pass through it's ranks. People like Bill Clinton, Elvis Presley, Bill Gates, Howard Hughes, this list goes on... Plus Gacy was known for throwing orgies for members of the Jaycees. He was also involved in politics, albeit on a local level. However we are also talking about one of the most prominent states in the midwest and a lot of powerful people come through the city of Chicago. He could have provided prostitutes for powerful people with sadistic tendencies such as himself. I could write a whole book on system sponsored human trafficking. If Epstein or the Franklin Cover-up can't make you see it, then I probably won't either. As far as government involvement in the JFK assassination goes, most people have accepted that some rogue elements in our government pulled a coup. George H. W. Bush doesn't remember where he was that day. A lot of the people implicated were tied to military intelligence, especially someone like David Ferrie and Lee Harvey Oswald. Let us not forget that the father of Guy Strait's business partner, Bill Byars Jr, had close relationship to J EDGAR HOOVER. There are people who can lay these connections down better than I can and I really recommend you go down that rabbit hole if you haven't already. My theory From what I can gather, I'm assuming that John Norman must have started out in business. At some point he involved himself with organized crime. Chances are he was allowed into the higher echelons of that world based on his psychopathic traits. From there he started a business as a front for a prostitution/pornography ring with the help of the mob. When word started going around that they were going to whack President Kennedy, he was recruited via his mob connections to manage the properties that the players in this event would be housed at. Since he's someone who can keep secret and is not inhibited by a moral compass, he is a perfect candidate. In preparation for assassination, they had him build apartments to create safe houses that are free of any busybodies who would alert authorities of all of suspicious characters that go in and out. With the backing of mob and intelligence bankroll, this isn't too far of a stretch. As a reward for his compliance in this operation, he was allowed to do trafficking thing full time without fear of long term imprisonment or financial disabilities. Just as long as he kept his mouth shout and let certain people keep track of his clientele, an arrangement that seemed completely fair for Norman. A sweetheart deal because for as much time as Norman spent in jail, he lived as free man. As in free from any real consequence for his crimes. This is just my theory so please take it with a grain of salt. This is a pretty obscure lead so I'd like to challenge some of my ideas. I would love to hear everyone's input Things I would like to know: A confirmation that the John Norman is question is in fact John David Norman Other properties that were built and owned by Norman Construction More about the several managers that ran the building the year leading up to the assassination. Any other known pedophiles associated with the Kennedy Assassination J. Harrod's full name and records.
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