I try to maintain this site on an every other day basis, however, due to the death of my grandmother I will not be updating the journal as regularly as usuaul. I will return on December 7 with information about the latest books I’m writing, book tours in which I wil be participating, and the general chaos that is my life.

I’ve been working on Chapter 4 of the Elizabeth Custer book. It’s a great story, but it’s slow going because there’s so much material to go over. I’m anxious to review the material in Garryowen, Montana that belonged to Elizabeth. I suspect everything I’ve written so far will need to be amended or added to. She was brave to go with him into the field. She lived in the same tents, ate the same food, suffered the same troubles the 7th Cavalry was exposed to. George called her his “best soldier.” She simply refused to be without her husband and was willing to put up with anything to be by his side. In addition to lining up speaking engagements for the new year and contacting all the independent bookstores from Independence west, I’ve been working on the annual Christmas in Bethlehem program. This is year six and this year’s program promises to be bigger than the last. Visit www.nccib.org for more details. The program is free to the public. I promise that no one will be disappointed. Still no word on the complete funding for Thunder Over the Prairie. Walter Hill is still set to direct, but the funding to make the picture has to come from a variety of sources. Howard Kazanjian is working diligently on that front, but it’s slow going. There will be at least four new western released next year – a real plus for that genre. My parents are going to the prison today to see my brother. I don’t think they are fully prepared for what they are going to see. I hurt for my them, especially my mother. She won’t know until today the extent of Rick’s injuries and how rapidly his health is declining. It will be a shock. It’s like a wave of pain that washes over all of us who know and love him. The only way to deal with the pain is to dive into the oncoming wave.

As of two day ago, there’s more than a good chance I’ll get to take a look at some of Elizabeth Custer’s personal letters – letters few others have seen before. That will enhance the book I’m working on about her life as I’d like to include information that isn’t common knowledge. I don’t know what the weather is like in Montana in February, but that’s where I’ll be heading to learn more about this fascinating woman. My excitement over that possibility is mixed with the frustration and bitterness I feel over a judge in Austin, Texas pouring over my website looking for information about my brother. I know this judge is related to the low-life my brother was married to and her accomplice that helped fabricate the most deadliest of all accusations. I’m perplexed by their continued interest in Rick and my family. They never make any contact with me, but I can see them poking around like rats. From 9:30 yesterday morning to 11:10 a.m. they nosed around my site. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know what I do. Today is Veteran’s Day. My grandfather, father, nephew, and my brother Rick are all veterans and I’m proud and grateful for their contribution. On this day I’m reminded of something the stoic philosopher Epictetus once wrote. Frederick the Great carried a copy of this book on all his campaigns. So did Vietnam POW Vice Admiral James Bond Stockdale. It was referred to as a ?field manual for soldiers.’ Some of it reads as follows: “The essence of good and evil lies in an attitude of the will. There are things which are within your power, and there are things which are beyond your power. Within your power are opinion, aim, desire, aversion; in a word, whatever affairs are your own. Beyond your power are body, property, reputation, office; in a word, affairs not properly your own. Concern yourself only with what is within your power. The essence of good consists of things within your own power; with them there is no room for envy or emulation. For your part, do not desire to be a general, or a senator or a consul, but to be free; and the only way to do this is a disregard of things which do not lie within your own power.” Now there’s a lesson to live by.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, “There is no scale or chart on earth to measure what a friend if worth.” That particular sentiment was acted out in my life this weekend through the kindness of my friend Cindy McIntosh. Cindy is the coordinator of the annual 4-H Leadership Conference. More than a year ago she invited me to be the keynote speaker at the first night of the conference. I was pleased to do so. The event was held in beautiful Monterey. When I arrived was struggling with another incident involving my brother in federal prison. I wanted so much to forget about that for just one night, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Cindy greeted me at the event with enthusiasm and excitement that I was going to be speaking. I set up my table of books and hurried off to have dinner with her. The event was the most organized one I’d ever had the privilege of being involved. Everyone at the conference was incredibly kind. With all that’s happened in the last five years that’s a rarity. After the speaking engagement and selling many books to attendees (thank you Carol Scofield – I couldn’t have done all that without you), I was packing up my stuff to get ready to leave. As I noted, I now had to be somewhere else after the talk. Cindy came by and suggested I leave everything there and that she would make sure I got it all back. I still had books left over and she believed more conference goers would want to buy them. I had to leave, but was not worried about what would happen to the left over books, money, posters, bins, all the things that one has to take with them on the road. I couldn’t believe she offered to let me leave the things these and bring them back to Nevada County for me. It was a kind gesture right in the heart of a difficult time. A kind gesture right in the heart of a time when I struggle with trusting at all. After hugging Cindy for the fourth time she said, “See, there are still some good people left in the world.” She’s right. My faith in such things has been eroded away since the incident involving my brother. I thought I was going to Monterey simply to give a speech about women of the Old West. I did, but God used it to show me that the goodness in mankind is not completed gone. Thank you Cindy, for being the instrument he used to show me that truth. I’m grateful.

There are some days that the only way you can express how you’re feeling is through the lines of a great western movie. This is one of those days. Out in the wild, wild West, the men were strong, the horses were fast, and the talk was rough. What a time. “Temper’s something only the very strong or the very rich can afford. My father taught me that very early.” – rancher John Parrish (Glenn Ford) to his foreman Jim McCloud (Warner Anderson) from the movie The Violent Men. “I don’t intend to start at the bottom. Been there. It’s too crowded.” from the movie Stars in My Crown. “I don’t want trouble with anybody – unless I start it.” from the movie The Showdown. “I say we do it my way – and that’s an order.” “Yes, sir. But if you’re wrong, don’t ever give me another.” John Wayne to Ward Bond in one of my favorite westerns, The Searchers. “This ranch isn’t big enough to hold the two of us.” Robert Mitchum in Pursued. “Whenever he gets low in spirits or confused in his mind, he doesn’t feel right until he’s had a fight.” Harry Morgan in The Ox-Bow Incident. I’m heading to Monterrey tomorrow to speak at the 4-H leadership convention. I’m looking forward to spending some time gazing out over the ocean and contemplating what life holds next. Which brings me back to another great movie line. “Faith can move mountains. But it can’t beat a faster draw.” from the movie El Dorado. Couldn’t of said it better myself.

Chapter four of the Libbie Custer book has George and his capable wife in Texas. Nothing of great military importance happened during Custer’s time there. Libbie becomes a better horseback rider, George hones his skills as a leader and both meet Captain Frederick Benteen for the first time. Benteen knows of Custer and hates him. He dislikes Libbie almost as much. Given the animosity Benteen had for the Custers it’s not hard to imagine that he would eventually abandon George and his “band of brothers” on the field of battle. Benteen shouldn’t have been surprised he was partially blamed for what happened at the Little Big Horn. This has been one of the most interesting stories I’ve ever had the privilege to research and I’m anxious to continue working on it. While getting ready for work this morning I happened onto one of the most precious gifts I ever received. Years ago, Trenna Tozer, one of the little girls I taught in Wednesday night Bible study class, gave me a plastic splatter cover for use when you place foods in the microwave. It’s a simple item, but this little girl had very little to purchase a gift with. She gave it to me right after my brother had been arrested and I was very low. That plastic splatter cover is extremely special to me. Trenna is in high school now and just as dear as always. I’ll never forget her and would never part with the plastic splatter cover. It reminded me then as it does now that God is good. Elizabeth Custer wanted to believe the same thing, but life is hard and I can appreciate that. She struggled with her faith too. Further research on my part will reveal if she ever received a gift from anyone in her travels to remind her of God’s faithfulness in the midst of troubles. I can only hope she did.

I received microfilm of Elizabeth Custer’s journals from Yale University yesterday and it reads like the diary an 11 year-old girl would have written. Her father gave her the journal for her 10th birthday in April 1853 with instructions to “keep and preserve a record of her life.” Elizabeth didn’t use the journal until her 11th birthday. She felt she had nothing of interest to say until then. After reading one of the entries from February 24, 1854, I think she should have held off a few months at least. It read, “Have been making underclothes for my larger doll.” Day to day life isn’t always filled with exciting events or insight?unless of course you’re Anne Frank. I decide to compare the journal entry I made in my own diary on February 24, 1972. I was 11, same age as Elizabeth in 1854. “Oh, how I wish Dale Thoeni noticed me. Maybe if I didn’t have big teeth and a big nose he might. My mother said I’ll grow into my teeth and nose and that Dale would one day notice me for my other qualities. Parents always say things like that. What other qualities?! When are these other qualities supposed to arrive?” Elizabeth Custer’s journal goes on to describe her life leading up to the days of the Civil War. My journal describes a list of local beauticians who refused to cut anyone else’s hair like Farrah Fawcett’s. I’m grateful that Elizabeth kept a record of her life and times. It’s a wonderful piece of history. It’s right that an institution as prestigious as Yale would have her journal. My journal, which I have maintained since I was eight, is safely tucked away in a cedar chest under my staircase. No one is going to go looking for it unless there’s a toilet paper shortage. Sure, maybe I wasn’t as astute as Elizabeth Custer, but I did one thing she never would do. I dotted the I in Dale’s last name with a heart. My journal won’t ever make it into a libraries special reading section, but it’s been a wealth of humor for my friends and I. And maybe that was what I was suppose to “keep and preserve.”

I will never get past what I’ve done. My brother was terrified and looked to me for help and I told him to plead guilty. It was wrong and there is no way to undo the action. So, here are a few words of advise from a sister who convinced her brother to plead guilty and is now serving a 20 year sentence. It’s too late for my brother, but NEVER plead guilty unless the trial is just not worth it (e.g., some minor traffic). The plea bargain, if a reduced sentence, can be approximated after a court finding of guilty anyway. It is also possible that unknown circumstances can turn up. In my brother’s case, there were multiple ways that further psych evidence could be produced. What matters most, and what the majority of lawyers will never tell you, is that a “guilty” judgment has lasting impact on the person’s life. It will affect every aspect of that person’s life, and can make it much more difficult for the person should the same or another person make a charge. The hard part is convincing the defense attorney. A for-fee attorney already has incentive, but a public defender will merely try the case by rote unless inspired. The explanation is in a criminal defense attorney’s justification for “getting criminals off”: “If I get someone off, I’ve made the system work and that benefits the rest of us. If I lose, then a criminal was punished. The difficult part is where I have an innocent defendant. If my client is innocent, then his freedom depends on how I do my job.” Pray you get an attorney like this. I hired J.R. Hobbs out of Kansas City, Missouri. He didn’t care about my brother or my family – only money. A public defender will just do a bare minimum, unless the public defender is convinced that the person is innocent. If the defender is convinced, the defender will do what he can because he/she doesn’t want an innocent person to be punished on the lawyer’s account. It is not always easy to convince someone of innocence because of the common protestation of innocence. Often it is necessary to point out one item which contradicts the charges. (Example: photos showing no marks on a person “kicked 4 or 5 times in the head” by a 250 lb. man.) Once a first piece of evidence shows up, the rest will follow. It is not uncommon for garbage evidence to be used by the prosecutor. It is also common among some departments to ignore the requirement to provide exculpatory evidence (“Brady evidence”, Brady v. MD). A prosecution analysis of a defendant is not the end-all. In this country, a person is presumed guilty until proven innocent. Procedures are used to insure easy prosecution and there is a disincentive for the prosecutor to make a reasoned determination of culpability. It is up to the citizen, often at great expense, difficulty, and often luck, to prove innocence. But the consequences of a guilty plea are too great.

The meeting yesterday with the attorney resulted in more bad news. It’s hard to hear that there is no help to be had and that my brother will die in prison. The sticking point is that he pled guilty – a course I told him to take because our attorney, JR Hobbs out of Kansas City informed me that there was a 97% conviction rate in cases like Rick’s. Of course, the lawyer tells us that after he’s collected more than $100,000. There was no money left to go to another lawyer then and Hobb’s statement and actions proved he wasn’t willing to give it his all to help my brother. Given all of that I opted for the plea. It’s all my fault. Retaining an attorney who didn’t care, convincing my brother to take a plea – that’s on me. It’s been five years and I’m still trying to undo my actions. I hope death comes quickly for him. I’d pray about it more, but it seems obvious God is somewhere else.

When Libbie Custer left her parent’s home in Monroe, Michigan with her new husband, George Custer, she was excited about all the possibilities ahead of them. Nineteen days after they were married, however, George had to return to his cavalry division engaged in heated battles with the Confederate Army. They wrote one another often and when letters were few and far in between, Libbie took to reading every newspaper article about her husband. He was a Civil War hero. As youngest general in the Union Army he led his division to one victory after another. The press loved him. Libbie loved him, the man and the hero became one in the same. Libbie was captivated by him. I liken it to being married to a superstar politician such as John Edwards, the press loved him at first. It was hard to separate the real man from the glowing individual the press reported on. Eventually truth found Edwards out as it did for Custer, but for this moment in their new life together, all Libbie saw was the man the newspaper accounts helped create. I’m fascinated with this story and eager to continue on with it. Alas, I won’t be able to do much work on the book today because I’m going to see another attorney about my brother. I’m dealing with a warden who has told me that “he doesn’t care about the inmates – whether they live or die. “I’d prefer they die quickly. I’m not here to educate, rehabilitate, or make sure any medical need is addressed. I’m here to punish. And make no mistake about it, I will punish.” That attitude makes me furious. Not just at the prison officials and all the other officials who allow that to happen, but at the people who planned the demise of my brother. While going through a research book yesterday I found a letter my terrified brother had written to me almost two years ago. It read simply this, “Please ask God to come quickly. Tell him not to send his Son. This is no place for children.” Two days later he was beaten and raped. Last night as I walked around a store doing some early holiday shopping, my mind settled on how bitter I have become over this incident. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of the day the woman who accused my brother of such vile acts, and her mother who helped conceive the idea, get what’s coming to them. My soul is dark and brooding. I am troubled and lost. In that moment I realize that I am evil, cursed, unrepentant for thinking such things. I know that the Lord can transform this incident into a blessing. But my fear is that I am so far gone in my dark thoughts that I can’t be saved. And why would he want to? Some souls are malformed. Perhaps this struggle has left me with just that. I pray, but at times feel so disconnected because I have become so jaded.