Yvonne Mason  

Even though we are a few days away from the Holiday known as the 4th of July, I wanted to do this article today. I want us to remember why we have a holiday known as Independence Day. That is means more than just Bar-B-Que, Fireworks and a long weekend. It means because many have given the ultimate sacrifice so that we have the freedoms we enjoy. 

   As Billy Ray Cyrus sang in his song- "Some gave all while all gave some." Think about it . Think about what it means.    

 Both Sherri and I have family who serve. I am sure most of you do as well. Sherri has a son who is a Marine and I have a brother who is over in Afganistan as a contractor embedded with the Marines. He puts the tanks and HVs back together after then are blown up so they can be used again. I have a nephew who is now with special forces. He will soon be leaving his young wife and she will not know where he is or what he is doing for four months at a time.   

  I want to take this whole next week and see just how many names we can put on this blog. I will be writing a different blog all week - however I will keep coming back to this one.

  I come from a family of military men. I have family who has fought or served in wars all the way back to the revoluntary war. I am proud of them. I am proud to say they served.

 Without those men and women we would not have this great country .We would still be under English rule or even maybe some other ruler. Without those who served we wouldl not enjoy the freedoms we have nor the ability to be the great nation we are. While we might not agree on all the political issues or the reasons, excuses or retoric we should believe in our service men and women.

  They all have volunteered to put their life in harms way. They all knew when they joined, that they joined to become a solider first. That meant knowing how to kill or maybe even be killed or maimed. I am very proud of these men and women. I am very thankful they are who they are and that they do what they do. They are the reason we can sleep at night without the fear of being awoken and dragged off to a prison or firing squad simply because we wear the wrong color dress or don't cover our faces or disagree with the government.

   I am honored to know so many of them personally. I am saddened that in the course of their serving many have lost their lives. They paid the ultimate price for us. I am humbled that they loved us as Americans so much they were willing to pay that price.

      During this entire week and those which follow let all of us remember. Let us never forget. To ensure that we don't forget I would like to see all who are friends here tell three people who will tell three people on and on to add themselves to this site and do a roll call. Every day add a name of a service man or woman to this blog. It doesn't matter if they are still with us- still serving or currently serving. I will then start a new blog and also a bulletin with all the names.

    Let's start giving back. Let's start paying it forward. Let's start letting our service men and women know we care. You have no idea how many of them read our blogs- know we are out there- need our support. Let's stand tall, be proud - show them they are not forgotten. Show them we support and believe in them even if you don't believe in the war. Believe in them. Step up to the plate and take a stand they have. They are the good guys. They are ours!!!!!!!!

Roll Call

John Robinson (Contractor)

Ryan (My nephew)

Cory Tyler (Deseased)

Bart Burton     

Silent Scream is one of the most compelling and frightening manuscripts I've ever read! The terror and madness of Schaefer will continue to tug at your psyche all the way through the book.

Yvonne Mason speaks with a profound literary voice for Schaefer's victims. Here, they are silent no longer.

No, I won't sleep well, just knowing that another Schaefer may be out there somewhere. I pray not.

Well done, Yvonne!

Ann B. Keller

 No? Well, boys and girls and children of all ages. I do.

 Let me enlighten all of you.

 As you all may or may not know I have been working on a true crime book for well let's just say a while. A bit ago I finally finished it.

   The crime? I am glad you asked. The crimes (notice the plural) were perpatrated by an ex-Martin County Flordia Deputy Sheriff between 1966-1972. He was the first serial killer in Florida. He got caught because he got sloppy.

  Anyway- due to the interest my lovely husband Jack (who by the way is retired from the 19th judicial circuit in Florida as the Executive Director and investigator which is a whole other story) generated when I first got to Florida, I decided to write this book. The victims screamed to be heard.

    During the course of my research I came across many in law enforcement who not only encouraged me to write the victims stories, they helped in so many ways.

  One of  those people was FBI Agent (retired) Roy Hazelwood. He gave me wonderful information and then he honored me by writing a review on the manuscript which is not due to be released until later this year- September as a matter of fact.

    Another retired law enforcement agent was Chuck Hemp- he retired from Oakland Park, Fl. PD. He acutally worked one of the cases as did my husband Jack.

   Chuck also read the manuscript after it was finished and he also wrote a review.

  These reviews are listed on this blog. This book has had such an impact on those who worked the cases and on me as a writer. I am not sure there are even enough words to describe the impact it has had.  When I finshed the book I read the very last chapter to Jack and he was visible moved. I  then called Vern my publisher and read it to him- he couldn't even speak.

     This book is for the girls. It is their voice - they are no longer silent.

Read the reviews and let them speak to you. The manuscript is already at the screenplay writer's - it is being written for the big screen- it will be a block buster and a bestseller.

 Review By: Roy Hazelwood, FBI (retired).

 Author of Dark Dreams and

      The Evil That Men Do                 

"Yvonne Mason has captured the true essence of Gerard Schaefer, a deputy sheriff who  enjoyed torturing and killing young women.  It is a gripping story and you should prepare to be disturbed.  I guarantee that you will find it difficult to put this book down."   

  
 Review By: 

Det. Lieutenant Chuck Hemp OPPD Ret.   

    When Gerald Schaefer used his badge and gun to terrorize and kill rather than protect and serve he crossed a line that not only snuffed out the lives of his victims but also affected the lives of their loved ones and the police officers charged with investigating these crimes.

     In her book "Silent Scream" Yvonne Mason has captured more than just the story, but has also given voices to all of Schafer's unknown victims.

     I'm sure there are many.

Gerard John Schaefer was the epitamy of evil. He ruined many lives besides those of his victims.

Be prepared to delve into the evil that was Schaefer- be prepared to listen to the screams  that are no longer silent. Be prepared to hear the girls. 

 This book is for them- sleep well!!!!   

Chapter One

The Beginning

Every life has a beginning. Some are more famous than others. Some end before they have really begun. This beginning was neither. It was a normal  middle class beginning in a middle class neighborhood on a  quiet street where children could play without being hurt or bothered. All of the people who lived there had moved in about the same time. The house was a three bedroom ranch that was new when the Robinson family moved in it in 1951. There was no air conditioning and the heat was a floor furnace.  Daddy worked about 16 hours a day  installing heating and air conditioning. The average weekly salary for that time was about $50.00 bring home. Gas was purchased by gallons, milk was about .25 per gallon and still delivered to the door. Bread was a nickel and the mortgage on the house was $7000.00.Mother bought about $20.00 worth of groceries and it feed us for a week. Even though things were inexpensive, times were still hard. The country had just come out of two wars, a recession was on and work was not easy to come by.

 Mother did not work, she stayed home and took care of the house and me, until Stan arrived. The second child of Clinton Leonard and Doris Robinson Stan was born on July 13,1952. This as a time when "handicapped people" were as out of place as frost in July.  As a general rule those handicapped (  the title given to the disadvantaged at the time and will be used here until later), were frequently placed in institutions, left in a back room and rarely seen or mentioned. Mostly they were forgotten human beings. It was something one didn‘t mention. It was considered a “bad thing” to admit one had a child or other family member who was “handicapped.” Mother’s prayer was that with God’s help Stan would be socially accepted.

Stan's birth was not historic, nor was it difficult.  He was carried to term and he had me, Yvonne, an older sister already at home. There was no reason for this child not to be "normal".  God's plan, however, was not our plan.  Stanley had  purpose.  As I  look back on this purpose now, it becomes clear as crystal (and at times as a glass darkly)!!!  At times I see the results of his reason for being handicapped and at other times I wonder what he could have done had he not been handicapped. He is so driven in his goals, I wonder if maybe he would have been a greater force to be reckoned with. I wonder if maybe he might have been a successful businessman or the owner of a ball team. But, when I look again I see his influence on others, his popularity and his drive to be the best he can be with the talents that he has. I have to ask myself does he already have the greater gifts and talents? Would not being handicapped have made him a better man or would it have been a curse?

Stanley arrived. He came into our world.  He weighed in at 7 lbs and 3 ounces and  was name Stanley Clinton Robinson. Mother felt as if something was not quite right from the beginning. Stan cried all the time, not just the normal cry of a newborn wanting to be fed, changed or suffering with colic. His cry was one of undetermined origin. She would talk to the doctors about it and they told her it was nothing. But she knew.

 Everything  appeared fine, except for the crying and the usual challenges newborns face, and an older sibling! I had been the only child and then there were two. The usual rivalry between children started. I wanted the attention that a newborn required. I think I may have loved Stan, but he was intruding on my space. I have no memories of this time as I was only a toddler.

  But, one day when he was 9 months old, something happened which was  to change everyone in the Robinson’s lives-forever. San got sick. He was taken to the doctor who, diagnosed his illness as a virus and sent him home saying, “he will be fine”. Mother was also sick with this same mystery virus. Mema, mother’s mother, had come to stay to help  with Stan and me. Stan never ran a fever, but he cried all night long and pulled at his ear. Mema sat up and rocked him not knowing what was really wrong. Sometime during the night Stan began to take his left arm and move it in a circular motion. This motion never stopped. As he continued to move this arm the right arm started the same motion. It was as if they had a mind of their own. As they continued to move his legs began to jerk as if they were at the end of a puppet string. Mema got mother up and they put Stan in the car and drove to Dr. Tucker’s  office in East Point. On the way Stan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his back became rigid. Mother knew at once something was seriously wrong. Once, at the doctor’s office, Stan was sent to the hospital, where he was admitted. The doctors at the hospital started the necessary tests to see what was causing this child to have these attacks. They ruled out meningitis, hepatitis,  and number of other problems. But what they did find baffled all of them.  He was given a spinal tap and  diagnosed as having Encephalitis. The cause of this infection has never been found.

 The doctors explained that this  disease generates inflammation around the brain causing drowsiness, slowing down of the mental and physical facilities, and frequently - coma.   The doctors were not very optimistic. Stan did fall into a coma and the concern was over the extreme possibility of brain damage, whether he came out of the coma- or not.

All that mother and daddy could do was wait, pray and watch the drip, drip of  Terramycin seep  slowly into Stan’s tiny arm to fight the infection.  The days and nights  of hurt, concern and worry continued until Wednesday- when Stan finally began to slowly emerge from the coma. Doctors were called  to examine him to determine what further struggles and challenges lay ahead. To their surprise Stan’s eyes were crystal clear, and he appeared to be looking at the world around him in wonder and awe. The doctors were not only surprised and stunned, but enormously pleased. This, they told mother and daddy, meant that Stan had faculties  they had not expected to see after such a bout of sickness.  They told mother it seemed Stan’s intellect was returning, yet they were not sure how much. This was a very good sign. It meant Stan not only was going to survive but that God had answered the many prayers offered for him. Being cautious, as doctors are, they explained to mother that although the intelligence factor was there, Stan would never be “normal”, in the way society understood the term. They indicated he probably would not achieve a level, mentally or physically, beyond that of a three year old.  He would always have problems that could not be fixed, nor perhaps even improved.  In any other family this might have been like a death sentence; but not to mother, and not to Stan. The doctors did not factor in Stan’s determination or his sense of self-preservation.

 Shortly after his awakening from the coma it was discovered that Stan was one third  clubfooted on both feet.  In order to straighten out his feet the doctors placed casts on both feet and legs. The casts were heavy and awkward because they were made of plaster.

 He was then released  home wearing these heavy casts on both legs and feet up to his thighs. Mother began reading anything she could find regarding brain damage. She sought out medical doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, and others  who were researching or working in the field of brain damage.  She was not one to sit by and wait for the end to come or accept his condition as final.  Further, she would not take him home or put him in an institution and allow him to waste away. Not our mother, she would have none of that reasoning.  She knew there had to be something or someone somewhere who could provide the help Stan and his family needed.   She did this with no insurance and very little money. She never gave up on her quest to get Stan  every opportunity  to help him become the person that she knew he was inside.  Prayer was as much a part of her day as eating, drinking and sleeping.  Reading, which had always been a passion, now became that which she devoured, as food for a starving man. No article was too small and no book too thick. She refused to take ‘no’ for an answer.  She refused to believe  there was nothing to be done that could help Stan.  She became a one woman army in this war against a monster that had affected not only Stan but ‘the family.’  It was not easy; there were many tears, sleepless nights, and feelings of not being able to cope. Giving up was never an option.  

  Due to the illness, Stan did not have the ability to feel pain and he was too small to even try to communicate to us when or where he might hurt. Also, he did not the  coordination skills to begin  learning the simplest words.  He never made the usual baby sounds of cooing or gurgling.  But tragedy began yet again for this courageous little fellow:   he was struck with multiple boils  all over the top of his head and  was suffering from dehydration.  No one knew why. With that latest incident, I, his 18 month old sister had had enough. I was too small to understand all the time and effort being given to care for Stan. I didn’t understand that my mother was not well, either. I began to lash out and  the most obvious target of my unhappiness was Stan. While he was lying on a pallet on the floor, I began hitting him over the head, the source of his greatest  discomfort.  I can’t even began to imagine how my poor mother felt at this juncture. Here, she had a eighteen month old trying to assert her place in the pecking order of affection. But she also had a

nine month old son who not only had been very ill and near death, but was now mentally and physically challenged, and finally with boils on his entire head. Adding to all this, Mother was herself sick and Daddy was working day and night to  support the family. I wonder. Did running away cross her mind, or Daddy’s? Did they think of  just throwing up their hands in defeat and calling it quits?  Not ever.  Now, once again God in his divine providence intervened. My grandparents,  Mema and Daddy Wiley were visiting and  mother in her knowing  way knew that I needed the attention which presently she could not give.  Mother knew that I loved my Mema  so she sent me home with them.  She knew that Mema would give me what I needed most at that time. Yet, it seems that I resented, for many years, being sent away . I did not understand that mother was looking out for both Stan and me. Would Stan survive all that was burdening his small body, plus the jealousy of a sibling and her childish desire for equal time? We often forget the fortitude that we possess in times of trial. Stan had enough for a entire Army.

During this time Mother prayed without ceasing.  Her prayers were not for things which were not  in the realm of reality, but that Stan would be socially accepted in a world biased in their acceptance of that not perfect or ‘normal‘. Her faith and trust in God saw her thru the turbulent waters overwhelming her at this time in her life. Had it not been for her faith and trust in God, I truly believe that Stan would not have had a chance at life, much less survival in his desperate condition.  He would have been lost in that myriad of hidden- forgotten people, due to  non-acceptance from society at that time. 

God answered mother’s prayer in the form of a wonderful physician. This physician’s name has been lost over the years.  She taught mother exercises to train Stanley’s coordination. These same exercises are used today for sport and accident injuries. This same doctor put mother in touch with a child psychologist to test Stan’s intelligence. Due to the fact that Stan did not have anything but abstract cognizance ability at this time, he would throw temper tantrums because of his inability to verbally express his thoughts and feelings.  This saint of a doctor gave mother advice which  in this modern day and time would result in her arrest for child abuse, the child would be removed from his mother’s care.  This doctor told mother that when Stan entered into one of his  uncontrollable tantrum fits, to place him in a closet for a very short period.  This, the doctor said, was to let Stan know, in his abstract language, that his behavior was unacceptable.  The reasoning for this  was to prevent  further damage to  the brain.

One day Stan went into one of his ‘famous’ fits. Mother took the doctor’s advise and put him in the closet for a very brief time. Once the door was closed,  she stood outside and cried. She cried for having to take this unorthodox action, which though seeming inhuman, did help Stan to understand, where words had no effect. She  cried for that small boy child alone in yet another dark place. She cried because this child could not make his wishes, hurts, needs or unhappiness known in the verbal world. She cried because this was her child and she loved better him than life itself.  She cried because all she  wanted was to be a mother and she felt a mother would not do this to her child. The closet ’treatment’ never had to be employed again. Stan was a quick study and he learned other means of making his  wishes understood.

As Stan’s brain began to heal and the natural order of development started to come into play,  he began to learn and he learned many things. His sphere of reasoning took over and began to compensate for lack of motor and language functions. The instinct of wanting to be mobile took a new form. Stan learned that he could pull himself around  on the floor with his elbows, dragging his legs which  were still in casts. He moved  from one place to another, with relative efficiency, using this method. He was no longer as dependant on others to move him. He seemed thrilled with this accomplishment.    Once this was mastered he figured out that by dragging himself to an object  he could pull himself upright and stand, even in his casts. He found a bookshelf that served this purpose very well. He would drag himself to the bookshelf  and stand.  He still had not  mastered sitting and walking, so a child’s walker was provided to aid in this advancement. Once he was placed in the walker and  learned  he could manuaver with his feet and legs, even in the casts, he  was free. One must remember those casts  were not the light weight casts of today. They were heavy plaster casts of the 1950’s.  So Stan had to deal not only with the lack of motor skills, and the weight of those casts, but he was still unable to verbalize discomfort, and the inability to experience pain. This still was a small delicate but tough child of less than two years old. 

 February 1953 arrived, and what a month it was!   It shall remain forever a red- letter month. On the 23 of February 1953 Stan was 19 months old-- and took his first step, unaided. He had done this in spite of being told he couldn’t, not being able to verbalize, and was still clad in heavy casts. The impossible,  the improbable  become a reality.  The doctors were wrong.  Stan still could and did achieve. He had  determination and a sense of self-perseverance to over come his handicaps and inconveniences.

 God had allowed this child to take a step closer to becoming accepted. Three days later on Feb.26,1953 another sibling arrived to help make Stan  whole.

Tangled Minds

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

PRLog (Press Release) – Mar 26, 2008 – Reviewed by: Ann B. Keller

Background: Ann is an accomplished author who has written several novels including Vortex of Revelation, Trevor's Love and Briggen, which will be released April 4, 2008 by TRIAD. In addition to being a writer, Ann is also the president of Kodron Productions, Inc. and has written several screenplays including Vortex of Revelation and The Devil's Crescent.

Tangled Minds is a masterpiece. In the fine tradition of John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, Yvonne Mason leads the reader through the twisted and tangled lives of Brianna Van Pelt and her son, Josh, thrusting us into a Pygmalion dilemma that has consumed scholars for decades. Is there such a thing as a "bad seed", an individual whose feet are placed upon a path of crime and evil almost from the beginning? If the circumstances of one's birth or the choices one makes cannot be overcome with love, patience and the rarely grasped opportunity for redemption, what chance is there for any of us?

Thwarted by her parents' tough love, seventeen-year-old, single mother, Brianna, allows herself to be drawn into a new world glittering with easy money and false promises, accepting that proposition that no good girl ever should. With her young son, Josh, in tow, she dazzles with new prosperity, fulfilling the fantasies of not only her glorified pimp, Ken Morgan, but those of a judge and a host of depraved, desperate men in their wake. Ms. Mason's familiarity with the legal system and law enforcement showed through clearly in several well orchestrated scenes, as the long arm of the law repeatedly tried to halt the ring of drugs and prostitution and Brianna and her son fled for the safety of the mountains.

Ms. Mason's understanding of mountain people was stellar. These simple folk protect their own with fierce loyalty and Brianna and Josh find shelter beneath their net of poverty, love, moonshine and madness. Here, transgressors simply disappear, never to be heard from again and the mountains hold their secrets close to their chests as nature smoothes the pothole's dark waters and envelops the hills in song and greenery. Even murder seems somehow justified in a place such as this, but the twisted and convoluted logic of its inhabitants finds no sympathetic ear in the outside world and Josh must ultimately face the consequences of his actions.

And yet, within this story, there lies hope. In Hannah and Miss Amy, we see the opposing force of love, the light of goodness that can blaze through even the meanest dark, if only one has the courage to reach for it. Fragile yet steadfast, this gentler emotion finally reaches even Brianna, a woman some would have classified beyond redemption. In love's golden glow, we find hope, hope for Brianna and Josh and perhaps even for ourselves, as well.

Tangled Minds should be required reading for every high school senior or college freshman, although its audience is clearly much wider. Life is, indeed, full of choices and consequences. An individual may be able to run fast and far, but in the end, he cannot outrun the ultimate judge - himself. True redemption begins from within. May love's tiny flame light the way as we reconcile our past, lift our face into the winds of change and set our feet once more upon the good road. An excellent read!

Tangled Minds is currently being written into a screenplay for the motion picture industry.

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