Corpse of The Imagination
A few days ago, I received a comment from one of my loyal readers:
This is the biggest pile of shit ever wrote. Ryan loved her. You don’t know these people, I do. Keep believing everything you see on the tv. Let me know when they get bigfoot, ok? I suppose she was part of her own murder cover up when she told me that avery creeped her out, looked at her weird. And poor little steevie was part of his own framing, seeing as he ever so sneakily got her specifically to come out that day. Hope you do research and realize how crazy all these conspiracy theories are. Sure hope your family never has to deal with such heartbreaking nonsense, just so some fucks can make a buck and a name for themselves.
As we are able to recognize someone’s face, or voice, or gait, with enough familiarity, we can also identify them by their writing style as well. Upon first reading the quoted text above, I was immediately reminded of what Ryan Hillegas’ wrote when he responded to my first and only instant message on Facebook:
“Have fun believing what you see on tv. I don’t even need to insult you, you do it well enough on own”.
The first quote, taken from a comment left on this blog, was written either by Ryan, or someone close to him who has adopted some of his patterns of speech. And this in turn raises several questions. If Ryan is reading this, more than likely other people in his social circle are too. If Ryan is the murderer, there is a better-than-average chance that many of those within that circle have harbored their own suspicions. Even if, in the minds of people he knows, their suspicions have sort of come and gone like a corps in a lake–rising languidly to the surface, partially, for a few days, and then descending into oblivion, to later rise, unexpectedly and horrifically once again, one could only imagine that this “corpse of the imagination”, if I may so term it, must be in the ascendant at the moment and all the more terrifying in its cumulative impact for being only partially realized like all of the greatest fears we have, dwelling in the deeper depths of the mind, and to which we have only indirect access.
If the above are the words are Ryan’s, (and we know definitively that one set are) what would motivate him to get on this blog to discredit me if he were innocent? And what better way to discredit me, if he’s going to bother at all, than by providing a rock-solid alibi, and to answer many of the other questions that I have for him? That’s the surest way to prove that I’m the idiot that he says that I am. Yet we have nothing like that at this point.
Someone on Reddit claiming to be a colleague of Ryan’s at Froedert Hospital in Milwaukee mentioned that he gave conflicting accounts to people about how he obtained Teresa Halbach’s login credentials. Apparently Ryan had been heard bragging about how he had duped a “grunt”, meaning an employee, working at Cingular Wireless in customer service, into giving him the desired information over the phone.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, “People do not seem to realize that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character”. What, therefore, should we infer about Ryan’s character if he is the kind of person who derisively describes a person in a difficult, low-paying job as a “grunt”? A person, moreover, that he has bragged about to others that he had no trouble tricking and manipulating?
If this anecdotal information is correct, we cannot but infer about Ryan that he enjoys tricking people. And if a person derives pleasure from tricking one person, we must reasonably wonder how much more pleasure might be derived from tricking one hundred people, or even a billion? What better affirmation of intellectual suzerainty over others?
To trick someone is to objectify them for your own ends. It creates a subtle and momentary imbalance of power as well owing to something know as information asymmetry: one person is in on the joke, and the other is being made the fool. The dupers position is raised, and the dupe’s position is lowered. So it can also be seen as a way of asserting dominance of a cerebral sort.
In every comment that I’ve received from Ryan, or those working at his request on his behalf, one prominent theme is how stupid and mentally imbalanced I am. I somehow get the impression that he must believe himself to be far more intelligent than most, and that he’s very proud of this.
But lately, as I’ve gained a little bit more support from members of my audience, I’ve noticed a change in tactics. Yes, there are still the insults to my intelligence, but now it’s becoming about persecuting someone already being persecuted by the loss of a loved one, and the insinuation that I’m nothing more than a disreputable opportunist. If there is a conceivable angle of attack, I expect it to be used. All efforts are going to be made by one or more commenters, and possibly many, to make me the issue of this blog to redirect attention away from some of the very strange things, I believe, Ryan said, and did around the time of Teresa Halbach’s disappearance and murder.
If you’re a poor tatterdemalion with a low IQ, looking at an attractive member of the opposite sex ensconced many rungs above the social ladder is always regarded as a form of lechery. If, on the other hand, the admirer has a purchase several rungs higher still than the object of his admiration, it is welcomed attention, and just as likely to be returned in kind by a blush or a demure raising of the shoulders and turning of the head at a certain downward angle.
Whoever wrote the comment hopes to play on our own similar, somewhat subconscious prejudices agains class mixing, and further wants us to believe that we should almost be certain of Avery’s guilt because he “creeped her out” and looked at her “weird”, a crime which landed many a “negroe” at the end of a hangman’s noose during and after the time of slavery. So neither should we overlook or underestimate how severely some, especially the high born living in a rural town, might regard simple flirtation when it involves an outsider of low status and one of their own women of high status.