Hey, brother, I’m leaving this place behind, no more putting up with people hassling me, minding my business, trying to rob me. My wife passed away last week. Her kidneys finally failed. It was for the better—she’s no longer suffering and is in a better place. She was a good girl—deserves to be in a place better than this.

I bought a place in West Virginia, near Romney, for twenty-five-thousand. I’ll have four acres. The dog is going to love it—I can let her run. I’m excited about seeing animals, smelling fresh air, getting out of here. I’m stocking up now. My mother taught me how to cook. Then the Navy taught me how to cook. I volunteered for Vietnam. People said I was crazy at the time, but the Navy has been good to me.

We were the end of our line, her line and mine. There's no one else to keep me here, no living relations. Look [shows me his smart phone, with a bikini model as a screen saver, then clicks it open to show me a picture of a dirty carpet, with a loose dime lying next to an indentation in the carpet made by what appears to have been a smart phone. Within the space indented by the phone was a cross behind an S that appeared to have been cleaned in these shapes in the dirty beige carpet.], this really freaked me out. I had left her phone lay where it fell when I took her in. Then when I returned home, alone, I picked it up and saw this. A cross with an S on it. Her name was Sandra. This has really spooked me. I can’t even sleep in the house after this. I’m headed out today. Good luck with the race war.