Subsequent Wickedness
Intro A -The Doctoral Candidate
Chatwick Chronicles
A Persistent Saga
Intro
The Doctoral Candidate
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
From Chatwick SL
The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research for the following Doctoral dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department .
Chatwick University
Case Study 48
Accounts derived from a series of meetings clandestinely conducted with the subject.
***
She had never had interviewed anyone quite like this one, even Angelica!
She was in the twilight of a doctoral thesis that had been in the works for almost three years now. The research she was doing centered on career criminals, trying to pinpoint in her studies of how they operated, trying to establish motives that may have been compelling enough for them to have lived the lives they did. Her conjectures were that by understanding their thought processes, a series of tests could be developed that could be used on younger subjects to determine their rehabilitation attainment perspective.
She had interviewed dozens of career criminals from assorted paths in life. Most of whom had been hardened ,elderly, and had paid their dues, or were in the process of doing so( Prison). It had not been an easy time of it, a rough road of hurt, treachery and deceit, running the gauntlet from muggers, to pickpockets, to burglars, to various other thieves. Gathering information from them, weeding fact from fiction through checking histories, deciding whether or not to use what she had gathered it in her research , testing the results and writing them up! The last 3 years had certainly been a rollercoaster ride, a whirlwind of activity, number crunching, and pages upon pages of notes:. then, amongst all this controlled chaos of her work, He had come into her life
This One had been different. He had contacted her, never revealing exactly why, or how He had heard of her and her project. She had gone into it blind, not knowing anything about the man, what he did, or really even if it was at all relevant to her research. She had only the subjects assurance, through an intermediary( A Priest), that it would be to her benefit to interview him.
She had already made plans to go out that evening when abruptly informed of the time of meeting she had been trying to coordinate with him. She was under the impression that it was a one shot deal, and would not last for more than a couple of hours.
Since she would already be in the city, she convinced her date to act as chaperone, and then they would leave after the interview for their night out clubbing. She had thought nothing of wearing her favorite party dress to the interview. It was a pretty thing, a russet velvet top and bronze taffeta skirt. She had even worn her good jewelry, gold with inset pearls, wearing her long hair down, but tied back so the long earrings of the set could dangle freely.
She remembered clearly the evening of their first encounter; it had almost seemed ominous when she and her companion had pulled up to the address given to her. It was an old lime stoned church, with gothic overlays, the stone darkened black with age. All it needed was a group of villagers with torches and pitchforks to make the picture complete, her friend had joked, but she had not found it funny.
She had gone inside with some reservation, it all seemed too much like something out of a film noir bit of theatre. She remembered thinking that thought as , just before opening one of the old oak doors to the church, as she was brushing back a wisp of her hair, her fingers touching a long pearled gold earring. She also had remembered thinking, as she had been going through her notes weeks afterwards, how much differently she would have approached the interview if she had been aware of the most peculiar nature of the Man waiting inside for her!
She may have given more thought to how she had dressed, if she had known the type of man she was interviewing! But as it turned out, her idea to kill 2 birds with one stone that evening may have been quite fortuitous indeed.
The Priest, vicar of the church, met the two of them as they came into the church. He was a cheerful man in his mid-fifties with reddish hair and beard , complete with a deep Irish brogue and twinkling green eyes, He had had her companion go up into the choir loft, where there were refreshments of scones, tea and/or wine. The good father indicated that once she was situated at the interview, he would join her date in the loft to keep her companion company. This would become the practice with rest of her various escorts from the University; sitting with the Vicar in the choir loft as the priest kept an ever watchful eye on the activities going on below in the nave of his church.
Otherwise the church was deserted, except for Him. She never did meet with Him face to face. They used , appropriately enough, one of the old oak confessionals. Although He could see her through the screen , all she could see was a darkened shadowy figure. Later she would learn that the confessional had a secret door, with a monk’s passage that led out somewhere in the bowls of the catacombs below the church. She was never to find out where it went, came out, or was ever offered to explore the passage by the Vicar.
Her subject possessed a deep, sing-song voice had a light eastern welsh accent, with his carefully selected words spoken crisply, succinctly, and right to the point, very little emotion behind anything he told her. She guessed his age at around fifty,( based on the priests age) and it would always vex her to know if he was that age, younger, or if he was as handsome as he sounded, she had to admit to herself.
He was polite, obviously well educated, and listened to her questions seemingly with deep interest. On her own part she found herself paying rapt attention at what he told her, writing down his words in a note book, using the dim light from the church coming into the confessional doorway way she kept open. She was not permitted to tape the interviews, and she felt compelled to make as many notes as she could.
She had approached the whole affair holding a grain of salt. It could be all something of a hoax, a bit of tom foolery designed to lead her on. She knew of one or two individuals capable of such deceptions, willing to go to such lengths to play with her mind a bit, so it was not totally with a blind eye that she first came into these interviews.
It was quite soon into their first meeting that all her fears of this being a put on were quelled, it was no hoax, the cold reality was that the man on the other side of the screen, authentically was for real. He himself, almost like reading her mind, had been the first to give voice to her secret concerns about it being a hoax. It was first of many times when he appeared to anticipate one of her questions. He was for real, the real Mccoy as an American acquaintance had been found of saying. Her new subject ended up providing her with a wealth of information, and left her with almost as many unanswered questions.
He did not beat around the bush, informing her of what he was without hesitation or regret.
He was a person in a character mold that she had never quite encountered or classified before. An accomplished sleight of hand street Magician, who never made magic a profession; His career instead was that of an expert jewel thief: both a pickpocket and cat burglar, who appeared ( without actually stating) to have arisen to the upper echelons of his chosen field. He never indicated that he had ever been caught, or incarcerated, although it was clear he had not been totally unsuspected. But she had been given an impression that he was now retired, for the most part, and had done quite well by himself financially, albeit, his earnings were tainted( her opinion) by the methods he had employed to accumulate his fortune.
He talked about his life in singular, mentioning only sparsely people he had befriended, including the Irish vicar, or at least one Irish priest whom she assumed was the one present during the interviews. He had mentioned several women by description as lovers and partners, although she had given them different names, she had a strong impression that they all may have been one and the same Lady. She wanted to believe that she, if she had indeed existed, was still a part of his guarded life, and he was protecting her from any possible repercussions of his conducting this interview...
The strange thing was, and as a Psych Major she was unable to fully explain her actions, she found herself becoming enveloped in his story, like she had been almost a player in his escapades. She had never experienced that, not even with the charming female pickpocket, Angelica.
He had given the impression that he had only wanted to be interviewed once, and that there were to be limited questions. But he didn’t follow that course, seemingly encouraging her to ask questions, and it was he, himself, asking her if they could meet again. She had jumped on the opportunity. She found herself looking forward to his interviews, even dressing up for them, even going so far as wearing her pearls on several occasions. He seemed to open up more when she did, and she began to wonder sometimes, as she was alone in her room transcribing the information, if perhaps he saw in her potential prey. It was for this reason that she always took inventory of her jewelry after the interview was over, feeling just a wee bit silly in the process!
And so, sometimes as he talked, she was finding herself secretly hoping he was watching her, maybe even…. Well nothing ever came about anyway of course, she was a professional herself. And he had left her life after that final interview as he had come into it… a mystery man. She later came to the conclusion that it was all because she could not see his face, was unable to see how his eyes moved, his expressions, and so, she had begun invented things from her own deep personal fantasies to fill in the gaps, and despite her training, had begun to allow herself to come under the spell of her own imagination. It would never happen again, she promised herself, in her field of study, it could spell disaster!
So, afterwards, she just concentrated on putting it all together, trying to keep her emotions in check. As an outlet she began to write down some of his narratives, a chronicle of his life as she had been allowed to delve into. She had asked, and from the dark shadows of the confessional, had received his voiced blessing to do so.
The accounts below are derived from those chronicles.
That first meeting, as she had gotten her things together, she had automatically started off by asking him for a first name, he hadn’t answered , and she never did receive a proper one. But then, as she was gathering her things to leave, he had said, in his pleasantly rolling welsh accent;
Luv, just call me Chatwick …..
SEE :
Anatomy of a Jewel Thief
For part Duex of the Chatwick Chronicles
**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Intro A -The Doctoral Candidate
Chatwick Chronicles
A Persistent Saga
Intro
The Doctoral Candidate
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
From Chatwick SL
The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research for the following Doctoral dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department .
Chatwick University
Case Study 48
Accounts derived from a series of meetings clandestinely conducted with the subject.
***
She had never had interviewed anyone quite like this one, even Angelica!
She was in the twilight of a doctoral thesis that had been in the works for almost three years now. The research she was doing centered on career criminals, trying to pinpoint in her studies of how they operated, trying to establish motives that may have been compelling enough for them to have lived the lives they did. Her conjectures were that by understanding their thought processes, a series of tests could be developed that could be used on younger subjects to determine their rehabilitation attainment perspective.
She had interviewed dozens of career criminals from assorted paths in life. Most of whom had been hardened ,elderly, and had paid their dues, or were in the process of doing so( Prison). It had not been an easy time of it, a rough road of hurt, treachery and deceit, running the gauntlet from muggers, to pickpockets, to burglars, to various other thieves. Gathering information from them, weeding fact from fiction through checking histories, deciding whether or not to use what she had gathered it in her research , testing the results and writing them up! The last 3 years had certainly been a rollercoaster ride, a whirlwind of activity, number crunching, and pages upon pages of notes:. then, amongst all this controlled chaos of her work, He had come into her life
This One had been different. He had contacted her, never revealing exactly why, or how He had heard of her and her project. She had gone into it blind, not knowing anything about the man, what he did, or really even if it was at all relevant to her research. She had only the subjects assurance, through an intermediary( A Priest), that it would be to her benefit to interview him.
She had already made plans to go out that evening when abruptly informed of the time of meeting she had been trying to coordinate with him. She was under the impression that it was a one shot deal, and would not last for more than a couple of hours.
Since she would already be in the city, she convinced her date to act as chaperone, and then they would leave after the interview for their night out clubbing. She had thought nothing of wearing her favorite party dress to the interview. It was a pretty thing, a russet velvet top and bronze taffeta skirt. She had even worn her good jewelry, gold with inset pearls, wearing her long hair down, but tied back so the long earrings of the set could dangle freely.
She remembered clearly the evening of their first encounter; it had almost seemed ominous when she and her companion had pulled up to the address given to her. It was an old lime stoned church, with gothic overlays, the stone darkened black with age. All it needed was a group of villagers with torches and pitchforks to make the picture complete, her friend had joked, but she had not found it funny.
She had gone inside with some reservation, it all seemed too much like something out of a film noir bit of theatre. She remembered thinking that thought as , just before opening one of the old oak doors to the church, as she was brushing back a wisp of her hair, her fingers touching a long pearled gold earring. She also had remembered thinking, as she had been going through her notes weeks afterwards, how much differently she would have approached the interview if she had been aware of the most peculiar nature of the Man waiting inside for her!
She may have given more thought to how she had dressed, if she had known the type of man she was interviewing! But as it turned out, her idea to kill 2 birds with one stone that evening may have been quite fortuitous indeed.
The Priest, vicar of the church, met the two of them as they came into the church. He was a cheerful man in his mid-fifties with reddish hair and beard , complete with a deep Irish brogue and twinkling green eyes, He had had her companion go up into the choir loft, where there were refreshments of scones, tea and/or wine. The good father indicated that once she was situated at the interview, he would join her date in the loft to keep her companion company. This would become the practice with rest of her various escorts from the University; sitting with the Vicar in the choir loft as the priest kept an ever watchful eye on the activities going on below in the nave of his church.
Otherwise the church was deserted, except for Him. She never did meet with Him face to face. They used , appropriately enough, one of the old oak confessionals. Although He could see her through the screen , all she could see was a darkened shadowy figure. Later she would learn that the confessional had a secret door, with a monk’s passage that led out somewhere in the bowls of the catacombs below the church. She was never to find out where it went, came out, or was ever offered to explore the passage by the Vicar.
Her subject possessed a deep, sing-song voice had a light eastern welsh accent, with his carefully selected words spoken crisply, succinctly, and right to the point, very little emotion behind anything he told her. She guessed his age at around fifty,( based on the priests age) and it would always vex her to know if he was that age, younger, or if he was as handsome as he sounded, she had to admit to herself.
He was polite, obviously well educated, and listened to her questions seemingly with deep interest. On her own part she found herself paying rapt attention at what he told her, writing down his words in a note book, using the dim light from the church coming into the confessional doorway way she kept open. She was not permitted to tape the interviews, and she felt compelled to make as many notes as she could.
She had approached the whole affair holding a grain of salt. It could be all something of a hoax, a bit of tom foolery designed to lead her on. She knew of one or two individuals capable of such deceptions, willing to go to such lengths to play with her mind a bit, so it was not totally with a blind eye that she first came into these interviews.
It was quite soon into their first meeting that all her fears of this being a put on were quelled, it was no hoax, the cold reality was that the man on the other side of the screen, authentically was for real. He himself, almost like reading her mind, had been the first to give voice to her secret concerns about it being a hoax. It was first of many times when he appeared to anticipate one of her questions. He was for real, the real Mccoy as an American acquaintance had been found of saying. Her new subject ended up providing her with a wealth of information, and left her with almost as many unanswered questions.
He did not beat around the bush, informing her of what he was without hesitation or regret.
He was a person in a character mold that she had never quite encountered or classified before. An accomplished sleight of hand street Magician, who never made magic a profession; His career instead was that of an expert jewel thief: both a pickpocket and cat burglar, who appeared ( without actually stating) to have arisen to the upper echelons of his chosen field. He never indicated that he had ever been caught, or incarcerated, although it was clear he had not been totally unsuspected. But she had been given an impression that he was now retired, for the most part, and had done quite well by himself financially, albeit, his earnings were tainted( her opinion) by the methods he had employed to accumulate his fortune.
He talked about his life in singular, mentioning only sparsely people he had befriended, including the Irish vicar, or at least one Irish priest whom she assumed was the one present during the interviews. He had mentioned several women by description as lovers and partners, although she had given them different names, she had a strong impression that they all may have been one and the same Lady. She wanted to believe that she, if she had indeed existed, was still a part of his guarded life, and he was protecting her from any possible repercussions of his conducting this interview...
The strange thing was, and as a Psych Major she was unable to fully explain her actions, she found herself becoming enveloped in his story, like she had been almost a player in his escapades. She had never experienced that, not even with the charming female pickpocket, Angelica.
He had given the impression that he had only wanted to be interviewed once, and that there were to be limited questions. But he didn’t follow that course, seemingly encouraging her to ask questions, and it was he, himself, asking her if they could meet again. She had jumped on the opportunity. She found herself looking forward to his interviews, even dressing up for them, even going so far as wearing her pearls on several occasions. He seemed to open up more when she did, and she began to wonder sometimes, as she was alone in her room transcribing the information, if perhaps he saw in her potential prey. It was for this reason that she always took inventory of her jewelry after the interview was over, feeling just a wee bit silly in the process!
And so, sometimes as he talked, she was finding herself secretly hoping he was watching her, maybe even…. Well nothing ever came about anyway of course, she was a professional herself. And he had left her life after that final interview as he had come into it… a mystery man. She later came to the conclusion that it was all because she could not see his face, was unable to see how his eyes moved, his expressions, and so, she had begun invented things from her own deep personal fantasies to fill in the gaps, and despite her training, had begun to allow herself to come under the spell of her own imagination. It would never happen again, she promised herself, in her field of study, it could spell disaster!
So, afterwards, she just concentrated on putting it all together, trying to keep her emotions in check. As an outlet she began to write down some of his narratives, a chronicle of his life as she had been allowed to delve into. She had asked, and from the dark shadows of the confessional, had received his voiced blessing to do so.
The accounts below are derived from those chronicles.
That first meeting, as she had gotten her things together, she had automatically started off by asking him for a first name, he hadn’t answered , and she never did receive a proper one. But then, as she was gathering her things to leave, he had said, in his pleasantly rolling welsh accent;
Luv, just call me Chatwick …..
SEE :
Anatomy of a Jewel Thief
For part Duex of the Chatwick Chronicles
**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************