Predator: Do You Know How To Fly? 09.03.2017 A


This is a continuation of the text in the book: Predator; The Man Who Didn’t Exist; Do You Know How to Fly?

The main title (Do You Know How to Fly?) was a question posed by Delmer Smith to a woman victim as he held our out naked over her 12th floor balcony in the middle of the night and (after he had physically and sexually abused her) he asked her if she knew how to fly.

The book was developed over a period of years with interviews of not only the killer, but of his fiancé at the time, the victims who were alive and approachable, law enforcement, and the attorneys involved. If you desire to buy the book it can be purchased directly from me (I sign it) or at Amazon, or Barnes and Noble, or any bookstore for that matter. My website is http://www.authorgordonkuhn.com  and you can make a purchase there.

Okay, so here we go:

Chapter 2 “He’s my Uncle.”

The defenses plea for mercy.

“He’s My Uncle.”

It is August 14th, 2012 and Mr. Brunvand, Delmer Smith’s defense attorney, will introduce two young women to the Court. They have traveled to Bradenton, Florida from Detroit, Michigan out of love for the defendant. Brunvand plans to show a different side of Delmer to the Court. It is an attempt to obtain some leniency for his client to avoid the death penalty. “Good morning,” he said to the first woman. She had just taken a seat on the stand and been sworn in, “Please tell the Jury your full name.”

“Alicia Phillips.”

“And Alicia, how old are you?” He smiled gently at her.

“Twenty-nine.”

Brunvand continues with questions regarding Ms. Phillips residence and employment. She has come from her home in Bradford, Michigan where she lives with her 3-year-old daughter. She has come to Bradenton to speak in open court on behalf of a man being held on first-degree murder charges.

“How do you know Delmer Smith?”

“He’s my uncle.”

Brunvand asks her if she can point out Delmer in the courtroom “and tell the Jury what he’s wearing?”

She does so, indicating a man seated at the defense table wearing “a striped blue shirt, collared shirt.”

“And is he someone who you consider yourself close to?” Brunvand gently asks.

“Yes, I love him very much.”

“Do you recall an instance as a child where Delmer came to your aid?”

“Yes,” Ms. Phillips went on to tell about an instance where she had “been bad” and was being punished for it by getting “a spanking.” She explained that her grandmother, Velma Shelton Smith, Delmer Smith’s mother, had picked up a switch, her apparent singular choice for dealing with such issues, and was spanking her when her nose began to bleed. Delmer, she told the Court, stepped in between his mother and his niece protecting her from being struck anymore by his mother.

“And he calmed me down, and—you know, he always came to my aid.”

To Be Continued.

AuthorGordonKuhn.com

GordonKuhn.com

or gkuhnwrites@aol.com

 

 

 

 

Do You Know How to Fly? 09.01.2017 A


The following is an excerpt from Predator, The Man Who Didn’t Exist; Do You Know How to Fly? It is the first chapter. I already posted part of it and this is the entire chapter complete now.

1

Birth of an Evil Seed

Delmer Smith III was born July 19, 1971 in Detroit, Michigan to a couple who are now both deceased. He is one of multiple children from this mixed-race union. His mother, Velma Shelton, was white and his father was black. Delmer is light skinned, light enough to pass for being white in many circumstances. The mixed bloodlines will provoke identification confusion in the future when, as an adult, he is the suspect in several crimes.
He is given his father’s name and the family happily pronounces him to be Delmer the 3rd. His name, and that of his father, is a variant of Delmar (also used within the family) and comes from Spanish and “Old” French. It means “of the sea.” The choice is, perhaps prophetic in an eerie way.
The sea is a mercurial place. It can be calm, inviting, sublime, and soft at one point in time and then, with little if any warning, it will become treacherous, evil, violent, destructive, a merciless killer. And, so it was to be with Delmer the 3rd. As it is for the sea, he also will be a mystery to those he meets in life. Michele Quinones, his onetime fiancé, told me as she was trying to make sense of their relationship, “He was the man who didn’t exist.”
She went on to say to me, “I recall one day we were fishing and he was standing off behind me and I looked up at him. He didn’t know I was watching him. What I saw was a man stripped for a moment of what or who he was. He was so soft standing there, a little boy. So strange,” she smiled as she thought back. “He was so at peace. And yet, there is this other Delmer that I did not know or even suspect might exist. I saw him for what he might have been, what he could have been, not as he was.”
He was a burglar. He had a weird sexual appetite. He preyed on women who were elderly, or close to being so. Moreover, he was a brutal killer without compassion for his victims, or sense of guilt for what he did to them.
This is a man who is an enigma to many—perhaps even to himself. In his wake will be both terror and love as well as questions—questions that no one will ever be able to fully answer.

The newborn entered the world as all children do, coated in a wet blanket of blood and body fluids from his mother, which left his small wrinkled body coated in a shining slime that needed to be hurriedly washed off. But first, so his mother could touch him, the doctor laid him up high on her stomach. The newborn wriggled about and let go a torrent of crying while the doctor clamped and cut the umbilical cord. Then, nurses carefully lifted him and took him over to a table and water to clean him up.
He was quite a sight, all slick and slimy from the birth, his lungs sucking in huge gulps of air to expel in great rips of crying in protest for having been taken from a warm place and thrust into cool air beneath blinding lights, assaulted by monstrous noises, and unknown things touching him while his arms and legs swatted here and there and at everyone around him as he let his anger be known. Soon, they brought him back to Velma, wrapped tightly in a soft blue blanket and laid him down so she could hold him close. It was only a short while later that Velma and the baby were transported to her room where she could spend more time examining and loving on her baby. And then a small flood of waiting relatives and friends arrived to greet her and the newborn.
Exhausted, he had closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep ignoring the trip down the hall on the stretcher to where they lifted he and his mother onto her hospital bed. It was much later that he felt someone tugging on his blanket and holding his tiny hands.
He opened his eyes to the harsh glare of ceiling lights and a cloud of faces peering down at him all with smiles beaming well wishes. But he didn’t understand all that and he didn’t understand why they were holding his hands and marveling at how strong he was. “What a grip,” someone said. “Just look at how he holds on.” Little could the friends and relatives surrounding him then imagine that those tiny hands would grow and one day beat, sexually assault, drag, and even kill women not much older than his own mother was then.
Then he was surrounded in safety and comfort by his parents, brothers, sisters, other family members, and a handful of family friends. They most assuredly were like others when addressing a new born for the first time. They would have remarked at how tiny his fingers and toes were in comparison to theirs. Perhaps they marveled about how strong the tiny hands were as his fingers curled about theirs and tightened, never suspecting that those fingers one day would be suspected of curling around a baseball bat and beating a woman to death in Sarasota, Florida.
They would have laughed as they tried to get his attention by making odd sounds and tickling him. And he, like all newborns, probably just yawned and looked this way and that, not focusing on any one person or thing. They would have wondered about his future. They surely laughed and were excited about his prospects and, like many parents and well-wishers do, probably even imagined him becoming some famous and wealthy person, maybe even the President of the United States. However, it was not to be. A bad seed is hard to recognize when so tiny. He would become famous, in a sense, as he terrorized parts of Sarasota and Manatee Counties because of the brutality of his crimes.
It is doubtful that anyone present in Delmer Smith’s life then would have dared to predict, or could have imagined, that thirty-eight years later this then tiny bundle of life would be under arrest and accused of being a violent serial rapist, home invader, burglar, murderer, and suspected drug trafficker. All they would have seen before them then, wrapped in a soft blue hospital blanket, was a baby reaching up, sleepy eyed, with curling fingers and toes, stretching, a wonder of life.
No one could have anticipated his troubled youth or his struggle with education. This child would repeat the second grade, and then the third, the fourth, and the fifth. At age fourteen, and in the fifth grade, he was surrounded by nine and ten year olds. Then, suddenly, he was promoted to the ninth grade skipping all the years between, and placed into a special needs class. Testing would determine his verbal IQ to be seventy, one point above “retarded.”
Not one of his then admirers saw the monster he would become. However, as he grew older, there were several neighborhood events, referred to anonymously by those who knew him as a child, which surfaced in and before his teenage years, that were indicative of a troubled future. No one then recognized his lack of impulse control that would plague him. It would not be identified until he was much older and then on trial for his life.
Nevertheless, Delmer Smith has another side to him that was noted by Michele Quinones. It was also discussed in open court during the presentencing stage of his murder trial when the defense introduced two of his family members who, as young girls, had their lives significantly influenced by his interactions with them over the years.

 

 

WIN A FREE COPY OF PREDATOR; BOOK ONE; “DO YOU KNOW HOW TO FLY”


Go to Goodreads.com/giveaway and search out my name and/or the name of the book. The contest is run by Goodreads and not me. They make the winning selection. There are two copies being offered.

This is a true-crime, narrative-nonfiction book.  The subject is the criminal acts of Delmer Smith who came to Florida in 2008 to be with the woman who married him sight unseen while he was in Federal Prison for bank robbery. He left her and moved in with a younger woman. Soon after that he returned to his career as a criminal and terrorized two communities before being captured.

He is currently serving a life sentence for a crime committed in Sarasota County and is also on death row for a murder in Manatee County.

Hopefully the link below will take you there but I don’t trust links, computers, watches, cars, dogs with the eyes that are not honest, or people who are overly friendly

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PREDATOR: The Man Who Didn’t Exist; Book One; Do You Know How To Fly?


Do You Know How to Fly? is now on Kindle.

This is a true crime book. It took me six years to write this book. Book number two will be out soon in paperback and on Kindle through Amazon.

The book is about a man on death row in Florida. He is a career criminal whose life in crime started as a youth. His first conviction occurred when only 14 for the rape of a woman who was in her 30s at a car wash. He would have murdered his victim but she managed to get away. He later was arrested as an adult at age 18 for home invasion robbery and spent another 18 months in jail.

After that he was arrested for bank robbery and spent 15 1/2 years in prison. Following being married to a woman he had never met, he was granted parole and he came to Florida and continued his life in crime here. He assaulted mainly older women who lived alone. He is a suspect in one murder in Sarasota County and was convicted in another in Manatee County. I spent six years working on two books. The first book is Do You Know How to Fly. The second will be titled: The Woman in a Pink Top.

These books will be available through Amazon and Barnes and Noble and all other book stores. But, Do You Know how to Fly is the first and you can now download through Kindle for $3.00. You can order paperback copies through the locations listed above or by contacting me for an autographed copy.

You may also get an eAutograph on Kindle by requesting it.

I hope you enjoy my books as much as I enjoyed writing them for you.

Best to you,

Gordon Kuhn

 

 

 

PREDATOR: FOUND:ONE


CAUTIONARY NOTE:

The following is about a violent and horrific murder. It is a real story about real people. Parts of this are very graphic. Please have respect for the victims, their families, and their friends.

———————————————————

PART ONE—Face Down

CHAPTER 1—911 Operator # 143

She lay face down.

At least, that is how they found the body—face down.

They being the hastily-established Manatee County team of sheriff’s deputies, forensic personnel, fire department paramedics, and the county coroner’s office staff that had been called into service on August 3rd, 2009, in the middle of the night. It was their job to descend on the horrifying scene at a residence in a quiet neighborhood in response to her husband’s frantic 911 call.

Manatee County 911, what is the nature of your emergency?

The operator’s voice was calm, well-practiced, having responded thousands of times in the same cool manner during stressful telephone calls as this would soon become.

Caller: (Unintelligible) I just got home, my wife is on the floor!

The voice was breathless, filled with shock and terror.

Three years after the Manatee County 911 system recorded the emotion-filled phone call from a distraught man, the prosecution introduced the tape as evidence in Case No. 2010-CF-000479, The State of Florida vs. Delmer Smith, a murder case.

The Court, jury, and gallery would sit and listen completely absorbed by the conversation being played back for them. While the horror of the night slowly became indelibly evident for everyone else in the room, the defendant appeared indifferent. He spent most of his time looking at the highly-polished wooden conference table-top where he sat, or at his handcuffed hands which were kept low behind the table so the jury could not see them.

He focused on them, turning them over, then right side up. He twisted them one way, then another, carefully examining each hand like a person would checking to see if they might need to wash them. Perhaps, in this case, to remove the invisible stain and erase the scent of his victim’s blood that only he was conscious of.

The act was eerily reminiscent of the scene in Shakespeare’s Macbeth where the Thane of Fife’s wife spoke those incredibly memorable lines, “Out, damned spot! Out, I say! … What! will these hands ne’er be clean? … Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.”

PREDATOR (Forward & The cast) 12.14.15


FORWARD CONTINUED:

A short-lived smile touched her lips. Her voice lowered, softened. She lit a cigarette, busying her fingers, took a deep draw on it, then blew the first exhale up and away from my direction. “My friends,” she inhaled again. “My family,” she said quietly, more to herself than to me. Her eyes were still looking down and with the palm of her free hand she absent mindedly smoothed her dress. “It was like, you know, I was at fault for some reason. I was the guilty one. That is what they wanted to know.” She took a sip of her tea and looked around at the other lunch customers seated at tables near ours who were, like she and I, enjoying a soft Florida breeze. “Every one of them.” She paused, then added, “‘He was your boyfriend,’ they said to me,” her voice climbed with passion. “Like that gave me some kind of magical insight into the man. It’s all bullshit.” Her eyes dropped to the pavement, then up, fierce, black.

“‘You lived together. And, you are telling me, telling us you didn’t know?'” She thumped her chest with a thumb and turned her head quizzically to look at me. Our eyes met and once more I could not look away. Her chin was high and her eyes, moments before warm and friendly had grown suddenly cold, hard, flinty.

I could see, could feel the emotional intensity that burned inside her. She felt wronged by the very people she thought would have been there for support. She wanted to say to each of them, “What about me? All these questions are about why I didn’t know. What about me? Don’t any one of you who are aware of the relationship that I had with Delmer recognize that I had feelings in this? Don’t you recognize my fear? My bewilderment? My sense of betrayal? Is it only that you want to know why I didn’t know? Well, better yet, if you were around him, why didn’t you know?”

She didn’t need to say those words. I felt them emanating from her heart and soul. I saw them in her eyes, the way she held her head, the silence that surrounded her as she sat and stared into her tea.

This was our first meeting, Michele and mine. However, it would not be the last.

************************************

MAIN CAST OF CHARACTERS 

SARASOTA COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE

Sergeant J. Blessee, Patrol Supervisor District Two

Miss Farnsworth, Victim’s Assistance

Detective Rhonda V. DiFranco, Forensics

Detective C. Dusseau

Detective Michael “Mike” A. Dumer

Jessica Hendrickson, Crime Scene Technician

Jessica Jarecki, Crime Scene Technician

Detective B. Keane

Detective M. LeFebvre

Detective K. McGath

Deputy Mrzuack, K-9 Officer

Deputy Josh Pelfrey

Deputy B. Pollock

Sergeant Sirran

Deputy John Swinney

Jessica Sawyer, Forensic Technician

Deputy John Thomas

Detective D. Tuck

Sergeant Daniel Tutko

Detective Sergeant John Walsh

Deputy Wineka, Helicopter Pilot

SARASOTA CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Detective DeFrancisco

Detective Linda DeNiro

FLORIDA DEPARTMENT OF LAW ENFORCEMENT

Rochelle Gatemen, Supervisor FDLE Bio-Lab, Fort Myers, FL

Shana Hayter, FDLE Crime Laboratory Analyst in Biology and DNA

Michael Rafferty, FDLE Chief of Forensic Services

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

Special Agent G. Sandoval

FEDERAL PAROLE OFFICER

Gerri Cotter

CITY OF VENICE, FLORIDA POLICE DEPARTMENT

Sergeant Jason Adams

Officer Guinart

Officer Long

FAMILY, AND ACQUAINTANCES OF DELMER SMITH

Shannon (Bodell) Barrett, landlady

Michele Quinones, former fiancé

Alicia Phillips, niece

Christina Smith, niece

Martha Tejeda, personal friend

STATE OF FLORIDA PROSECUTING ATTORNEYS SARASOTA OFFICE

Elizabeth Scanlan

Earl Varn

DEFENSE ATTORNEY SARASOTA COUNTY

Marjorie Bender

MANATEE COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE

Detective Kumiko Carter

Detective Edward “Ned” Foy

Robert Feverston, Latent Fingerprint Examiner

Grace Givens, Crime Scene Technician

Andrew Hasty, Deputy

Hurley Smith, Crime Scene Technician

Richard Talbot, Crime Scene Manager

Adrianne Walls, Crime Scene Technician

FRIENDS AND FAMILY MEMBERS OF KATHY BRILES

James A. Briles, MD

Calvin Briles, MD

Kristie Gish

Mary Wanser

OTHER MANATEE COUNTY WITNESSES

Michael Bierds, Publix Store Manager

Wilson A. Broussard, Jr. M.D., Forensic Pathologist

Armenouhi Comstock, Owner Armiks Fine Collectibles

Stanley Grubbs, Atrue Lock Service

Kevin Noppinger, DNA Laboratory Manager, DNA Labs International

Istvan Szecsenyi, Owner Roadkill Auto, Inc.

Oliver Young, Duct Tape Product Manager

Victoria Marshall., Sarasota County Victim

STATE OF FLORIDA PROSECUTING ATTORNEYS MANATEE OFFICE

Suzanne O’Donnell

Brian Iten

DEFENSE ATTORNEYS IN MANATEE COUNTY

 Daniel Hernandez

Bjorn Brunvand

This material is protected by a copyright  by Gordon Kuhn  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PREDATOR: THE MAN WHO DIDN’T EXIST


Delmer Smith III was born July 19, 1971 in Detroit, Michigan to a couple who are now both deceased. He is one of several children from this union. He is light skinned, light enough to pass for being white. He is given his father’s name and the family happily pronounces him to be Delmer the 3rd. His name, and that of his father, is a variant of Delmar (also used within the family) and comes from Spanish and “Old” French. It means “of the sea.” The choice is, perhaps prophetic in an eerie way.

The sea is a mercurial place. It can be calm, inviting, sublime, and soft at one point and then, in the next, with little if any warning, treacherous, evil, violent, destructive, a merciless killer. And, so it was to be with Delmer the 3rd. As it is for the sea, he also will be a mystery to those he meets in life as told to me by his onetime girlfriend, “He was the man who didn’t exist.”

She went on to say to me, “I recall one day we were fishing and he was standing off behind me and I looked up at him. He didn’t know I was watching him. What I saw was a man stripped for a moment of what or who he was. He was so soft standing there, a little boy. So strange. He was so at peace. And yet, there is this other Delmer that I did not know or even suspect might exist.”

This is a man who is an enigma to many—perhaps even to himself. He will leave in his wake terror as well as love.

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