Gordon Bennett's lawyer

The Bluegrass Conspiracy is still alive.

Gordon said his divorce attorney in Lexington was named Mr. Sherman. He had assured me that, in Kentucky I would not be falsely arrested or harassed by police, and there would be people there to help for all I'd suffered in Georgia. Kentucky was a "commonwealth" and those things don't happen there, he'd said. We went to Mr. Sherman's office and there I met an elderly man.

After looking at my records, Mr. Sherman became extremely rude and ordered me to "pick up that box and get it out of my office!"

So when Sherman Acquisitions began to chase me around for charges I'd made while living in the streets awaiting divorce, I had to wonder if this whole con game was an all-in-the-family affair.

Kentucky became one horror after another.

In attempting to get help initially from Detective Jude at the Richmond State Police Criminal Justice headquarters, my picture was taken by a man in the back room. Yet in attempting contact with Detective Jude later, I learned he'd retired.

Even after speaking with Steve O'Daniel after that, detective and head of Kentucky's Justice Cabinet investigations, O'Daniel said it sounded to him "one of those gangs" had lured me to the state to "take everything you have." He knew about the gangs. But this gang had to be tied in with the Georgia people who staged all of the arrests to frighten a target away from Georgia. I was naive enough to believe corruption in one state would not cross state lines.

So was the Kentucky mafia connected to Georgia's larger Dixie boys? And were those doing a job for the railroad's accident lawyer, Mike Broadbear and my ex? It wasn't long until––

Mr. O'Daniel's life became a nightmare, as well.

Jessamine County, particularly Nicholasville, was one place I would never return and appeared to be the center of many of my problems. It appeared Mr. O'Daniel was suffering political harassment, as well.

Seemed my railroad executive ex-husband and his Georgia lawyer, Mike Broadbear, had some fine connections, possibly with organized crime, or high-end political strings, since both were staunch Republicans. Was this Bluegrass Conspiracy Gordon spoke about connected to the Georgia boys? All of the mafias apparently connect in doing favors for each other. But these were able to pull strings in courts and police departments, which made it political.

Horse racing fit in, with the Red Mile employee walking right up to us and telling my daughter which horse she should bet. It was like he knew her. He had a Jersey accent––or was it New York? Horse racing would show up on and off, even years later with a Bostonian screen-named Saratogafilly and a curious stalker in Virginia who once had a "winning horse."

And where did the musical connections fit? Was this a mafia too? I figured it was. The ex's brothers-in-law linked to Daytona music, and so did some local Kentuckians, like Richard Sexton. Tommy Schlette, Tommy Doyle: both from New Jersey––like Okonite, one of my husband's favorite vendors at the railroad. Okonite like other companies, wined and dined railroad purchasing agents and executives, took them to casinos and even to the Grand Ole Opry. And the musicians were happy for the corporate gigs! Kentucky had country-music lookalikes, and plenty of talent. The kickbacks at the railroad were extravagant for executives, with trips to golf tourneys, abroad and elsewhere.

A trip on Sun Cruz casino boat out of Largo, Florida preceded it all. What little I'd won, my husband thought it hilarious, took it to the blackjack tables and lost with a big smile on his face. Later back at the hotel, he told the bartender he owned the hotel, and I thought he was losing his mind. Appears he'd made some deals I didn't know about. I was a little shocked to find a Sun Cruz office so near Shallotte, NC where Amy Frink died so many years before. The captain of the Little River casino boat floats around from the South Carolina coast to Cape Canaveral area of Florida. One acquaintance says there isn't a floating Florida casino that isn't mafia owned and operated.

And the media would have us believe the mafia is just about gone? I don't think so.

What happens next? One of my "followers" shows up to make my acquaintance. "How would you like to take a ride in my private plane to Lake Cumberland?" He went on, "I'm Harold Fletcher's campaign manager, and I'm building the new Mariott at the Horse Park." I thought for a minute and said, "Why don't you email me sometime?" Later, I thought about it and figured I'd end up dead on the ground, and someone would say, "Why that crazy lady jumped right out of the plane!" Question is, what was the proposition? I didn't want to find out. The one thing I did verify: It really was Harold Fletcher's campaign manager, according to Republican party headquarters. Harold was running for the Kentucky state senate, and his brother was Ernie Fletcher, the Governor.

They were all somehow connected to the coverup, or the people who had reportedly killed my son in Alabama and labeled it suicide, to the folks in Georgia affiliated with my ex-husband, to Nell Stumpff, the Warner Robins, Georgia landlord, and that's what I intended to find out. But it seemed any attempts to ask law enforcement for help failed.

That's politics.

Gordon had said he was Pentecostal Holiness and his "preacher knew what he did." He'd said he was in the US Army Viet Nam, and he had "enough C-4 to blow up the Warner Robins Air Force Base." Police didn't seem concerned with anything I could prove. Even the Louisville FBI seemed unconcerned, whom in 2001, I'd turned in more than 500 pages of documentation proving I was telling the truth. Sabotage continued to my home, and the animals continued to die. Later I'd find Louisville's US Attorney was appointed at the same time as Bush appointed Alabama's US Attorney Leura Canary. HIs position as US Attorney was a step to the Governor's mansion: Steve Pence. Soon he became Lt. Governor, under Fletcher.

Does anybody smell Karl Rove or Jack Abramoff? Maybe Senator McConnell, or Hal Rogers–– $49,000.00 worth. (That's politics.)

Gordon said he'd been brainwashed, and had taken a shotgun over to a man's house and shot him dead as he answered the door. Why? He said 'they' had shown him a video-tape of the man raping a boy. 'They' stood over Gordon with bags over their heads and 'they' told him what to do.

"You don't know who 'they' are, because their faces are covered," he said. Images of the KKK went through my mind. But by then Gordon's acquaintance was as frightening a trap as my marriage had been. He knew who killed my son. It's why he and some others in Kentucky were so preoccupied with speaking of shotgun blasts to the head. It was a part of their "crazy game" that was later explained as method of the stalker's strategies. They were doing a job for the Georgia boys.

The fact that Julia Goodin, the Alabama forensics officer was from Columbia, Kentucky; and landed the biggest forensics job in Iowa shortly after my son died in Mobile, Alabama is curious enough. Strange how his Alabama forensics description doesn't completely match his body.

Gordon had said he'd been set up by the Fayette County Sheriff, during the Bluegrass Conspiracy ten years before, and spent 3 years in prison. He said he'd been to St. Joseph's hospital for his throat cancer, and that his brother died mysteriously there. "You go to the hospital to die," he said.

"They tried to get me to run cocaine on my cement trucks," he said, "and I refused." Continuing, "When I refused, they planted cocaine on my truck and had me busted."

He continued saying proudly, but with much rage intact from the ordeal, "The sheriff went to jail one week, and I went to prison three years. But I brought him down––I even went on TV."

He'd mentioned Attorney Gatewood Galbraith, and I later asked Gatewood about Gordon's story. Gatewood explained, regarding the cocaine incident, "That's not exactly how it happened."

Gordon had shown me where to store my things on Palumbo Drive, until I could find a more permanent place to live. He'd mentioned I should read the "Bluegrass Conspiracy" which I was able to purchase later. There I'd find that even Kentucky's present head of Criminal Justice was implicated in covering up more than one crime, and that knocking on doors and shooting people in their homes seem to be a Kentucky trademark, as it was with Bonnie Kelly in the book.

Is "shotgun blast to the face" a traditional Southern killing and suicide method for certain states like Kentucky and Alabama? Is it a Southern thing?

An elderly woman running the local Kentucky store asked, "Aren't you afraid to go outside your house at nights?" I wanted to ask if she was afraid of Al-Quaeda, because surely "Homeland Security" was protecting her neighborhood. But her neighborhood, like so many others, had been overtaken by drugs and drug gangs for several decades.

Until Georgia decided to settle my divorce and sign the papers, I had to stay in motels and board my animals as best I knew, awaiting Georgia's divorce decisions which took more than a year. All the while my husband had moved to the home of his Georgia mistress and they'd set up a business; my daughter was in our home alone, afraid and finishing high school unattended. They tore up the family, left one child dead, and left wounds in the others which will never, ever heal.

One dead child, two left with scars forever, and a frightened mother running scared, robbed, stalked and tracked, to be destroyed in another state. If you plan to get a divorce in Georgia, you might consider a trip to Reno instead, and feel lucky to get out with your children safe, your sanity and health intact––and your life. Or if papers are served, or you're put on the streets, get to a safe, protected spot with family, and be ready to spend LOTS of money for trips back and forth, and expect at least a year of Georgia attorney games. Watch your back, because they might have you watched, followed, stalked, and your vehicle can be sabotaged––and even worse.

The Bluegrass Conspiracy lives––and Georgia has one all its own.