Christian Longo 2: Movie True Story ... My Story Chapter 2
Longo was living it up down in Cancun Mexico - as if he didn't have a care in the world
My True Story of the Christian Longo Murders
Years ago, I visited the town of Newport on the Oregon Coast - a town traumatized by the murders that were committed within their midst. The townsfolk do not forget. The movie has been released. But it will not be released in their town ... they don't want it. I go further into the story. I go all the way into his warped mind. The mind of a Narcissist Killer. All these years later, I still think I got it right. Read MY story.
Chapter 2: Murder isn't all Fun
But - as they say, all good things must come to an end. When they finally caught up to him, he was lounging around with a bunch of Brits, smoking pot and drinking beer with his German lassie back in the Cabana, awaiting his services.
Just like that, Chris had gone from the best of times to cooling his heels in a Mexican jail cell. He had already decided he didn't like his current situation when the Feds offered the deal. He jumped on it. In no time, Chris was back in the good ole' USofA. Again, he had landed on his feet. He was back on familiar ground. He would now get down to the business of facing his next challenge. The ensuing days were busy ones for Chris and indeed, challenging. There was the matter of the female guards and inmates. He needed to develop relationships with them. It didn't matter if it was against the rules. The rules didn't apply to him when he was busy doing what he was put on this earth to do.
I Sit Next To God: Words of a Narcissist
It is not unusual to hear the Narcissist blurt out such preposterous things. These dis-ordered creatures seem to have a voice deep inside, constantly reminding them that they are close to God-like. It seems they never ask why that is ... they just accept it. They believe it is so - therefore, it is so. Simple as that! It is difficult to reason why with them in an argument. Arguments are often over nebulous subjects, often childlike. Their answer might be as simple as, "Because..."
Take Brandy Fenton, his sweet little, eighteen-year-old, "Senorita Cotton Candy." It didn't matter that they had put her away for ten years for stabbing her cousin to death. She hadn't really done anything wrong and the two of them had made a connection that transcended ordinary life. He wrote her a beautiful, loving poem.
Then there was the matter of the jailhouse conditions. The Lincoln County Jail was not at all up to his standards. He had initiated a campaign to bring about the necessary improvements. This was a mission of mercy for himself and all his brethren locked up in there. The squeaky wheel would get the grease.
Home Sweet Home: Longo's New Digs - Jailhouse Life
Jailhouse Life: Maybe not so bad for Longo
Also, things would not be right if he wasn't working on an escape plan, as well. He found himself a confidence man to be his lackey. He would smuggle the necessary items for Chris to carry out a brilliant escape plan. But he turned out to be a worthless stoolie tattling to the authorities about what he called a preposterous escape plan. What did that idiot know about escaping anyhow? They had let the stoolie walk but he would be back. hris would have rewarded him well too. It was obvious the man had no grasp on planning an escape.
Again, Chris had been let down—just as always.
No matter, Chris had more important things to tend to. He had to prepare his case. It would have been better if he had had more time to make his million. Then he could have afforded a high-class team of lawyers befitting of his stature. But as it was, he would have to deal with Public Defenders. He would simply bring them up to speed just like he was doing with that jailhouse shrink and strategize an ironclad defense. He knew deep down that he had done nothing wrong in the eyes of Jehovah. Who were these mere mortals to judge him?
All his life, Chris had prided himself in his ability to mentally block out the bad things. He had learned well how to put up a good front. Deep down he was right. That is what he told himself. But it wasn't always that way. Sometimes when he looked down there he only saw darkness. Those were the bad times. Mary Jo and the kids knew about these times. Sometimes, the only way he could cope was to let it all out. He could get pretty carried away during these times and he certainly would not want anyone else to ever know about that. No one else could ever see the fury he would make his loved ones face during these rages. This was a very private thing. Besides - right after the abuse, he would get right back to loving them straight away. The secret was secure with his family. He could count on that. Certainly, now he could.
Really Christian? Are you really having such a great time after what you have done?
These are the questions that should bother all of us. How could a killer party down like no tomorrow, right after murdering all who loved him? These are questions that kept me on his trail. How could anyone not be haunted by such an act. At some level, at some time - he would suffer from these acts - but for how long? He would come to discuss this topic as time went on. He would write of some of it. In coming chapters I will release, for the first time, some of his writings from the Penitentiary
Although some secrets were secure, not all would be. Chris was fighting for his life, which meant he would have to bare his soul, sort of. He would reveal that information on a need to know basis. He would bring out the important stuff, just enough to prove his innocence. Little did they know that he was honorably trying to keep Mary Jo’s good name intact by covering for her, that she really was the murderer of the three children. But things were not working out the way he thought they would. That darkness from within was becoming more palpable as the trial progressed. They had laid him out in that courtroom, like a flounder, fresh caught from the bay. They were filleting his soul, cutting into him, trying to get at those deep dark secrets.
His mind would go back to those balmy sunsets in the Mexican Riviera when the warm light of the day transitioned into the darkness of night. The waning rays of sunlight seemed to dance across the crest of each wave presenting a mosaic of golden sparkles stretching out as far as the eye could see. That magic would last for but a few moments in time before the glowing orb would slip beneath the Pacific Rim.
Why do Men Murder?
Why would such a man murder his entire family?
He would remember evenings spent there with Mary Jo on past family vacations. But, during his last trip, as sure as the warm sand cushioned his bare feet, other thoughts had invaded, eating away at the tranquility of those memories; thoughts of the depths. What lies beneath those smooth waves as they come rolling in from that endless ocean? Then he would look into the depths. Beneath this beautiful scene was a maelstrom. Strong currents were there, mucking up the bottom, stirring up things. Perhaps the Mayan Gods were angry. Something from the deep, dark depths or beyond was coming his way.
What Lies Beneath Those Roiling Waters of the Pacific?
During those times he had found a way to deal with those things he could not understand. He would gather up his sweet fraulein Genina and dance the night away at the local disco hotspot, Don Armandos. All his troubles would then evaporate, whisked away with the tropical sea breeze.
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Have you learned anything from this story so far?
© 2015 Chuck Fasst