The Murder of Kaelin

By Steve Dreben

The routine case of a missing teenage girl is the catalyst for unraveling a sinister underworld of deceit and immoral activities in a small Oregon town. Through police investigation and the help of a local psychic, the sheriff and some concerned citizens uncover shocking activities linked to a local church and its shelter for teen runaways.

Those who search for the truth find corruption runs deep and their efforts are thwarted on multiple levels. Will good triumph over evil or will the deacons of the New Church of Wallowa succeed in covering up their nefarious activities?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Dreben
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311028112

Steve Dreben

Author Steve Dreben graduated from the University of Illinois, as well as The London International Television and Film School where he received honors and various awards during his Master’s Program.Steve majored in Logic/Philosophy/Science at the University of Illinois, and directing, editing and writing while in London, England. He has written twelve original screenplays, two teleplays, one play, two children’s books and a recently published novel, “Compromised Positions.” The author has won the International Cine Golden Eagle Award as well as the American Documentary Film New York Festival Award for Huichol: People of the Peyote.Aside from being a writer, Steve is an independent businessman and a Horticulturist. He works substantially in the financial industry and in mortgage banking.Steve’s a family man with three children, two of whom are college graduates and one is in the twelfth grade.This author has won both of his prestigious awards through practical experiences and his eyes see deeply into character shattering most of the usual screens. His personal philosophy supports a populist view and he’s proud of being a progressive environmentalist who balances ideas before he votes them. Steve works each day in a practical world while interacting with many people and making his voice heard. In a society of many ‘blind faiths,’ he tries to open the box, or separate the ‘iron vice’ of conformity in order to let truth enter when and wherever possible.

Book preview

Prologue

February 6, 2001

The Murder of Kaelin is a story that mixes real places and situations with fictitious characters. This story exhibits some hard clues and substantial evidence outlining a gruesome murder that actually took place in a rural Oregon county in the fall of 1996.

One of the real issues portrayed in this tale is that people in the county where she was raised knew and loved her, but that didn’t stop the horrible things that were done to her by some of those very people.

At fifteen, Kaelin had quite a reputation with both the adult population and her peers. Her mother, Peggy T. Bradley, had been married twice and gave birth to three more children after Kaelin’s father disappeared some time during the mid-1980s. Peggy had a chiseled-face, a classical German countrywoman’s build, and long auburn hair. She was in her forties, was extremely devoted to all her children and usually kept to herself. Peggy’s family history went back 150 years in the river valley where she and her children lived. Her ancestors were pioneers, and the Bork family was a strong one.

In many ways, Peggy Bork and her oldest daughter, Kaelin, were outcasts in the valley. This was mainly because most of the Borks were wealthy, and Peggy was poor, even though she was an educated woman. Her family was good at avoiding her and her children, even though Pullman, Washington was a small town.

Peggy’s first cousin, Lucinda Bork, kept her name for nearly 20 years after she married Will Carson, Sheriff Miles T. Carson’s brother. It was love at first sight for Lucinda and Will. Their relationship stayed happy for ten years, then they both began to explore who they really were outside the marriage. Once this happened, their marriage became radically independent.

Lucinda and Peggy Bradley were Nathan Bork’s nieces. Nathan was a well-known and powerful man in the county. He was a rancher, hunter, businessman, fisherman and five-term county commissioner. He eventually settled down as a rancher, at the ripe old age of 70.

It could be said that the valley was an odd mix of some people, some new families coming from Washington and some old homestead families. There were small business owners, general laborers and skilled carpenters.

Miles T. Carson was the domineering sheriff of rural and somewhat poor Wallowa County. He had strong personal connections in Pullman, Pendleton, Portland, and Spokane. As sheriff, he used his powers both inside the county and externally to get what he wanted. Sheriff Carson was also good at playing community politics. All municipal employees had to watch themselves because he along with the movers and shakers of the county pretty much controlled the valley. Miles was a perfect servant for the powers that be, and he made sure his staff followed suit, with the exception of Buck Parrish, who had a strong independent streak.

Buck Parrish was an ex-rodeo bronco rider who became a deputy sheriff in 1985 after a wild Appaloosa crushed his ear and part of his skull in the Pendleton Roundup of 1983. Buck had a small metal plate buried in the side of his head as a result of this injury, and people said that’s what made him stubborn as a mule. People also said that when Buck got onto something, he was like a dog with a bone — he just wouldn’t give up.

In 1996, Kaelin Jones disappeared from the Wallowa valley and no one could find her remains. Years after Kaelin’s disappearance, clues to her whereabouts began to appear. The clues suggested hers was more than a typical teenage runaway case; it was murder.

Some of the information was hearsay, while other data was hard forensic evidence. There was also some interesting information coming from a local psychic’s haunting dreams, which provided vivid details of a heinous

murder.

No one knew exactly when the investigation started to heat up, but by the time it came to an end, there was solid proof that Kaelin Jones had been brutally murdered during the late weeks of October 1996. The following chronicle depicts some actual events along with some fiction thrown in to fill in the gaps. The names and places have been changed to protect the innocents and the people who did their civic duty without concern for their own well-being.

Introduction

This fictionalized account is a scenario that is repeated far too often in America — the disappearances and/or deaths of our runaway teens. The story is about the disappearance Kaelin, a fifteen-year-old girl who left home one evening and never returned. This happened in the fall of 1996, and it was several years before evidence in the form of human remains surfaced in the mountains near her home.

Kaelin Jones’ disappearance wasn’t given the national attention that some missing children’s cases garner, but it was noted nonetheless by those who loved and cared for her. This precious teen’s absence from the lives of the people in the St. Joseph, Oregon area is still felt today, proving that each runaway occurrence has a ripple effect on the lives of those involved.

In telling Kaelin’s story, the author, Steve Dreben, has created a fictional cast of characters, places, and events that represent what might have happened in this one case in order to facilitate understanding and compassion for the tragedy that is the runaway dilemma in America today.

Brief Report

by Arthur M. Bell, journalist and community radio news host

Truth can sometimes be a subjective thing. All characters in this novel are as true as characters can be, but the names have been changed to protect all innocents. The contents of the story, both real and fiction, represent actual murders that have never been solved, though the specifics are fiction.

Wallowa County is a magical place in Northeastern Oregon where this fictional story takes place. It is a majestic region of untapped land, as remote from urban civilization as any forested place within the developed world. Much of this story did happen and some details of events are as real as any present-day news report. The fictional portions fill gaps where the mind demands knowledge but reality provides no information.

Outside this novel, truth still waits to be found. This work is dedicated to Kaelin and the kindred spirits of her fellow missing sisters, also to my loving wife and to Peter Matthiessen for the charm and style of ‘Mister Watson.’

The Murder of Kaelin is particularly dedicated to the multitude of lost runaways whose fates may never be known. Know that someone cares.

PRELUDE 1996

Deputy Buck Parrish

It all started one day while I was investigating a robbery at McHenry’s Last Store. There was evidence that some kids had jimmied the backside of an old cedar door. They had eventually worked their way into the old metal safe. From what I could immediately see, they stole a few hundred dollars, some canned goods, a few pieces of jerky, and two full boxes of twenty gauge shotgun shells. Old Bob McHenry was beside himself. Never before in the history of Inmaha had such an awful crime taken place.

Buck, now this is straight talk, ’cause I want you to hear me. Them kids robbed me and you’d better track them down . Find these sons-a-bitches, or I’ll do what I can to have you and Sheriff Miles T. Carson removed from office. Get my meaning?

Bob, I’ll just have to be real quick about finding all them clues I need for this here massive investigation. Then we’ll dig into it a bit more. We’ll just see what comes up—

You’d better have all my stuff back in this store in ten days, Deputy, McHenry interrupted, or we’ll see who pays for it. We’ll just see!

Well, no doubt McHenry was a pretty tough old hoot and he usually did exactly what he claimed he’d do. He was not the first, nor will he be the last man in Wallowa County who lived by the old western plain’s principles.

After several calls to local lawmen in towns within the county looking for possible descriptions, I worked up my brief report while sitting in the patrol car with the map light on and a small flashlight on my report book. I’ll never forget the look in the girl’s eyes or the expression on her face. Her mouth was cut back in a fearful way, the girl’s brown eyes looked sad and her wavy black hair was messed from the downpour. The look of deep fear seemed to pop right outta her pupils.

It was Tammy Bork, and I’d known her since she was a babe — she was fifteen now. Tammy was from one of the oldest and most prominent church-going families in these parts. In fact, the Bork family had been in this area since Nathan Bork settled it in 1848. He was one of the first croppers in this part of the state, and was from one of the first families in the Whisky Valley.

I remembered asking Tammy to sit on the seat next to me to see if I could help her and to simply get her the hell out of the rain. She slowly went around the car like she was in shock. When she got in the car, she sat on the edge of the seat, as close to the door as she could get. The child kept her hand on the metal door handle, looking as if she was ready to jump out at the first sign of trouble.

Even after I asked her to tell me what was bothering her, she didn’t respond. She just stared out the dark window, occasionally looking down at the lights on the dashboard. I asked her several times before giving up and deciding she really was in shock.

Finally, I asked Tammy if she wanted to go home and offered to drive her. Again, she remained silent. With my engine revved up, I put the safety belt on Tammy, switched into gear and headed down Little Sheep Creek Road to Highway 350.

We passed the old Gray place, on the way to Tammy’s home, and she was still silent. She stared out the windshield and seemed to be watching the rain. When I next looked at her, she was crying with tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. Her emotional pain seemed to intensify and she sobbed like a young woman who’d just lost a loved-one. No matter what I said or did, I couldn’t get her to stop crying. This was bad, Buck Parrish was not good at handlin’ a female’s tears, and I had no idea what to do.

By the time we finally arrived at the Bork place, her eyes were red and swollen. I helped her out the car and took her down the sidewalk to the front door of her house. When I rang the bell, Tammy’s mother, Lucinda Bork, came answered and peered out at her daughter. She opened the door quickly and embraced her distraught daughter. Lucinda called Jeffrey, her husband, to the door to deal with me.

Hi, Buck. Do you know what this is about? he asked.

No. Jeff, I haven’t got the slightest clue. She was just sobbing and wouldn’t talk to me the whole way here. That’s why I brought her here, she wouldn’t tell me anything.

You did exactly what I’d expect you to do, Buck. I appreciate your help. I’ll give you an update on this tomorrow.

Jeff Bork closed the door real hard and I remember turning away scratching my head, because I had no idea what had happened. I didn’t understand the crime scene earlier or the incident with Tammy. Neither made any real sense at that point.

Driving back home, I kept thinking about how hard Tammy had cried. I had no idea what had caused her to be so upset. My own daughter was just a year shy of Tammy Bork’s age and her well. She’d never said anything bad about her, either. Hell, I’d known the Bork girl all her life. I just couldn’t think what might’ve happened to cause her reaction.

That night as I lay in bed with my wife, Martha, I found myself telling her about the incident. I normally kept police business to myself, but this seemed different. She listened as I told her how anxious I was about Tammy. Then, she told me about seeing Tammy and Kaelin Jones walking down Hemmings Road towards Reverend Chrisp’s New Church.

The two of them were talking intently, as if something of concern had just happened, Martha said. She’d also noticed how they were holding each other tightly as they walked.

Neither of us could make heads or tails out of the whole thing at that point. I gave up thinking as Martha embraced me and made me forget my problems for a while.

CHAPTER ONE

Summary of the Disappearance

ARTHUR M. BELL

From a journalist’s point of view, the facts surrounding Kaelin’s disappearance are a mix of fiction, fantasy, psychic revelation, religious insights, gossip, small-town journalism, and the various personal accounts. The only absolute fact is the girl’s disappearance.

Perhaps the most accurate description of the murder came from Millie Roberts, a local psychic. Her specific account and the details she provided had the FBI on a massive, non-stop evidence hunt. While local authorities had been working on the case in secret for two years, very few pieces of evidence were found in the seven hundred-some days from Kaelin’s sudden exodus to the present.

At first, local police treated Kaelin’s case as just another teen runaway. Yet during the following two-plus years, tiny fragments of evidence and other details began to emerge like puss from an infected wound.

Millie Roberts kept the case alive. She said she started to dream about Kaelin three months after the girl’s disappearance. She also said she was able to hear information coming from the spirit world. Maybe the dead do speak to some of us… The amount of detail Millie uncovered was amazing. Her descriptions felt as if she were there, and she somehow made believers of many of us who were skeptical when Kaelin’s disappearance was first reported.

I remember the night Millie came to the Republic Enterprise office. The lights were on in my office and I was working hard on a new piece about falling barley and alfalfa prices. When she walked in, she was definitely on a mission.

I’ll never know what parts of the story she told were true, but she certainly was sincere. I’ve never met a woman more sure of what she was saying than Millie Roberts.

That night was my introduction to the details surrounding the murder of Kaelin. The tale Millie told was a gruesome one that told of hatred and loathing coupled with a sense of self-righteousness conveyed through the twisted mind-set of each killer.

Millie told me, Kaelin was picked up by a man she knew well. This man drugged her, using the precise amount needed to keep her mind conscious and her body sleeping. Millie went on in great detail for almost an hour, telling the precise, graphic details of Kaelin’s last hours.

CHAPTER TWO

SHERIFF MILES T. CARSON

I first met Kaelin three years ago. She was a shy young girl who was usually following ten to twelve steps behind her mother when I saw them in town.

A few years later, Lucinda Bork, Kaelin’s mother, asked me to come out to their house and talk to her daughters, Tammy and Kaelin, about their suspect behavior and its consequences. She wanted me to discuss their visits with some of the runaway girls who had been helped by the church up in Inmaha. I parked in front of the Bork home and slid quickly out of the patrol car, leaving my black metal flashlight on the seat. I asked the Bork family if I could talk to the girls kind of privately on the screened-in back porch. They agreed, and that’s how our first private conversation began.

What makes you girls want to go to that house up in Inmaha? I think maybe you want to drink and smoke with those runaways. Is that right? Don’t you realize that if you keep up this behavior, you’ll end up in trouble.

Tammy Bork was a feisty, outgoing, mule-headed girl with one hell of a fire in her belly. At twelve years old, she said pretty much what her dark brown eyes and red hair prompted her to say. The girl was one brawling little critter.

Sheriff Carson, do you want me to make something up or do you want me to tell you some real stuff?

I’d like some real stuff, thank you. It’s a lot easier facing that than a country cock-and-bull story.

Kaelin just leaned back in her chair. I remember her hazel eyes and auburn hair as she stared at me. She was a beautiful little thing. There was something about her eyes and dark eyebrows that drew you to her when she looked straight at you. I’d spent a lot of time during my 24 years as a lawman investigating, which gave me a keen sense of people. This young woman was attractive, and that could get her attention that could easily get her in trouble with the wrong kind of man — a man who was strictly drawn to the sex of a woman, not the whole composition. I’d seen this many times, and knew it could mean trouble for her if she wasn’t careful.

Another thing that I remember about that night is that as I talked to Tammy and Kaelin, I realized that weren’t even a touch afraid or intimidated by me. We sat there for a half-hour talking about many things and skirting the real issues until Kaelin turned to me and said, Sheriff Carson, we just plain like getting high and laughing with those girls. It’s not hurtin’ nobody.

I see. Let me say this much, girls. If we catch ya coming from Inmaha drunk or high, we’re gonna stop you just as sure as the sun’s rising tomorrow. Plus, I think I’ll have a talk with Sister Mary about your little trips and the fact that you’re getting high. Knowing Sister Mary like I do, she’ll want to do something about halting your little adventures. You might not know this, but it’s damned dangerous for you girls to be out on the highway in the dark hours, especially if you’re hitching on some of those back roads. None of them places up there are safe. There’s a lot of bad men roaming the highways and backwoods today.

We can take care of ourselves, Sheriff. We don’t need any big men coming along to protect us, Tammy said.

When you’re eighteen, no one will be able to do much about your running around, but ’til that time, the two of you are grounded! I’ll be visiting Sister Mary Espanola real soon to make sure both understands that too. You got me? Sheriff Carson asked.

I