Archive for the ‘Announcements’ Category

Girl on Trial by Kathleen Fine Banner

Girl on Trial

by Kathleen Fine

October 23 – November 17, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Girl on Trial by Kathleen Fine

Does doing one bad thing make you a bad person?

Sixteen-year-old Emily Keller, known by the media as Keller the Killer, is accused of causing the deaths of a family of four, including young children. Emily is one of the youngest females to be accused of a crime so heinous, making this the nation’s biggest trial of the year. But what really happened that fateful night—and who’s responsible—is anything but straightforward.

Living in a trailer park in Baltimore with her twin brother and alcoholic mother, Emily’s life hasn’t been easy. She’s had to grow up fast, and like any teen, has made questionable decisions in a desperate attempt to fit in with her peers. Will her mistakes amount to a guilty verdict and a life in prison? It’s up to the jury to decide.

Praise for Girl on Trial:

“Kathleen Fine has written a compassionate, thought-provoking thriller that will have readers asking themselves big questions about redemption while also turning the pages with breathless anticipation. From her opening pages, Fine grabbed my attention and didn’t let go until I closed the book, hardly twenty four hours later. Fine’s story reminds us that everyone has a backstory and that the root of empathy involves discovering the particulars of someone else’s history with an open heart and mind.”
~ Christie Tate, Author of Reese’s Book Club and NYT bestseller GROUP

“In her sharp debut Girl on Trial, Kathleen Fine deftly weaves the past with 16 year-old Emily Keller’s present-day manslaughter trial, allowing readers to put together the puzzle pieces of what really happened the day everyone says Emily killed an entire family. With her vivid characters and a well-developed setting, Fine evokes compassion for people trying their best and reminds us that there’s more to every story than meets the eye. Girl on Trial asks readers to wonder: are we more than our biggest mistake, and does everyone deserve redemption?”
~ Jessie Weaver, author of Live Your Best Lie

“Readers will be on edge as Emily’s decisions lead her to become involved in and vulnerable to dangerous situations… The epilogue brings the roller-coaster ride to a satisfying conclusion…. Gripping, tragic, but ultimately hopeful.”
~ Kirkus

“In Kathleen Fine’s Girl on Trial…interpersonal dynamics are revelatory… reality wars with public perception…a suspenseful thriller in which a maligned teenager is forced to fight for justice.”
~ Foreword Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: YA Contemporary Mystery/Thriller
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: October 2023
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 9780744306835 (ISBN10: 0744306833)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

Prologue

January 12, 2022
i

“The only reason I come to this meeting is for my weekly caffeine high,” Tiffani with an i admitted. Emily nodded at her friend as she took a sip of her lukewarm, watered-down coffee, a taste she’d gotten used to. A taste she now associated with healing.

“I’m not no strung-out addict or nothin’,” Tiffani continued and then focused on Emily, remembering that Emily, in fact, wasn’t there just for the coffee. “No offense—wasn’t tryin’ to say nothin’ bad about addicts. It’s just they don’t give us caffeine inside, ya know?”

“No offense taken.” Emily smiled as she wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, relaxing her tense shoulders. She’d become used to Tiffani’s candor and had grown to appreciate the woman’s raw honesty. She watched as Tiffani sprinkled some sugar into her undersized paper cup and stirred it with the plastic spoon tied to a container with blue yarn. Tiffani glanced around the room and then untied the yarn, placing the spoon into the pocket of her gray, state-issued sweatpants. Emily bit her lip, debating if she should stop her, but then decided not to. Tiffani was going to do what Tiffani wanted to do—she always did and always would.

“I gnaw on the edges of this enough and it gives me a sorta sharp blade.” She gave Emily a wink as she patted her pocket, keeping the new weapon safe as she took a seat in the circle with the other women.

“One minute, ladies,” the guard announced to the group as the chatter quieted down and the women took their seats in the circle. Emily picked up an NA book from the only empty seat in the circle that Nikki left for her as a placeholder. She sat down in its place, shifting uncomfortably in the metal chair. She moved her eyes toward the group secretary, Darlene, as she flipped through a stack of papers on her lap.

“Hello, I’m an addict and my name is Darlene. Welcome to the Lincoln Juvenile Correctional Center’s group of Narcotics Anonymous. Can we open this meeting with a moment of silence for the addict who still suffers, followed by the serenity prayer?” Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to stop her palms from sweating. She still got anxious even though she’d been attending the meeting every week for the past year. How has it been an entire year? she wondered. So much has happened in only twelve months.

“Is there anyone here attending their first NA meeting or this meeting for the first time?” Darlene asked. “If so, welcome! You’re the most important person here! If you’ve used today, please listen to what’s being said and talk to someone at the break or after the meeting. It costs nothing to belong to this fellowship; you are a member when you say you are. Can someone please read, Who Is an Addict? and What Is Narcotics Anonymous?

“I will,” Chantelle volunteered as she reached across the circle, grabbed the paper from Darlene, and began reading aloud to the group.

“Yo, Em,” Nikki leaned over and whispered in Emily’s ear. “You celebratin’ today?” Emily nodded at her timidly. She didn’t like speaking in front of people even if it was a group of women she trusted.

“You’ll do great,” Nikki whispered as she punched Emily lightly in the arm. Emily peered around the circle to make sure no one was paying attention to Nikki’s whispers. They weren’t supposed to have side conversations during the meeting—the guard would send them out of the room if he caught them.

When Chantelle finished the reading, Darlene thanked her and said, “Now can someone please read Why We Are Here and How It Works?”

Emily watched anxiously as the paper was passed down to Trina. She closed her eyes and listened to Trina’s words, clenching her jaw tightly.

“I used last night,” Nikki muttered so quietly, Emily wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear her. She glanced over at Nikki, who was staring down into her coffee cup shamefully. Nikki had been the first person to introduce herself to Emily at her initial meeting, making her Emily’s OG friend in the group. Emily furrowed her brow and placed her hand on top of Nikki’s. She wished Nikki had told her about the relapse earlier—then she could have had an actual conversation with her about it. She wondered where Nikki could’ve gotten her hands on anything since she’d heard a rumor the guards had been doing weekly bunk checks.

One day at a time, Nikki had told Emily, so many months before when she’d been a broken shell of herself. “One day at a time,” Emily whispered, trying not to let the guard hear their buzzing.

Seeing Emily’s tentative face, Nikki mumbled, “My roommate snuck some smack up her papusa. Had her boyfriend’s kid bring it in when he visited her. Whack, dude. Whack.” She shook her head and rubbed her buzzed hair with her rugged hands. “She’s a bad influence on me. I gotta get a new roommate.”

Emily frowned, aware that there was nothing she could do to help Nikki. Nikki had to want sobriety for herself, just like Emily had wanted it. She squeezed Nikki’s hand tightly and whispered, “Glad you’re here.” As much as Nikki’s relapse upset her, it gave her a tiny bit of strength to share her story. Maybe she could help Nikki even a little bit today by sharing her own struggles.

“No touching,” the guard yelled from across the room, eyeing Nikki and Emily. As if being scolded by a teacher, Emily reddened and instantly pulled her hand away from Nikki’s.

Darlene reached below her chair and lifted a shoebox to her lap. “This group recognizes length of clean time by handing out key tags. If you have one coming to you, please come up and get it. The white one is for anyone with zero to twenty-nine days clean and serene.” Darlene opened the box to reveal a white key tag and dangled it in the air. Nikki glanced at Emily and then hesitantly stood up to collect her tag. The group clapped and whistled wildly as she crossed the circle and took her tag. She gave a couple of the women fist bumps as the group chanted, “What do we do? Keep coming back!” Emily put her fist out as Nikki gave it a bump. She hoped this small gesture, this modest group of women cheering for Nikki, would be the reason she’d quit for good this time.

“The orange one is for thirty days clean and serene.” Emily watched as two women got up, collected their tags, and sat back down. Applause and chanting “What do we do? Keep coming back!” vibrated the room.

As Darlene handed out the tags for two months, three months, and so on, Emily gripped her chair, knowing her turn was coming. Her palms, damp with her sweat, began to slip along the chair’s metal sides.

“The yellow one is for nine months clean and serene,” Darlene announced.

Nikki peered at Emily and nudged her bicep. “Your turn is coming up soon,” she whispered. Emily smiled at her, trying to give the façade of bravery, but she felt anything but brave. What she really wanted to do was run as fast as she could out of the room and into the parking lot.

“The glow-in-the-dark one is for a year clean and serene.” You can do this, Emily thought as she unsteadily stood up and walked toward Darlene. All the women in the room clapped loudly and chanted as she took the tag and went back to her seat, her face flushing with pride.

Darlene placed the box back under her chair and collected the sheets of readings from the women who had read. “Today, Emily is celebrating her one-year anniversary with us. You ready, Em?”

The women’s applause quieted and all eyes turned toward her. Clenching her fists tightly, she felt her beating heart rise to her throat. She scanned the room at the women and girls before her. Addicts, inmates, and friends. My people, Emily thought as she said, “My name is Emily, and I am an addict. This is my story . . .”

1

Trial Day 1: January 7, 2019
i

The alarm on Emily’s phone chimed just as Sophie whispered in her ear, “Wake up, Emawee. Wake up.” She opened her eyes widely, her body covered in sweat, her sheets soaked yet again. “Time to wake up.” She heard Sophie’s whisper get farther away, humming distantly from somewhere in her dreams.

From somewhere in her nightmares.

As she turned off the alarm, she tried to overlook the numerous text messages that’d surfaced from numbers she didn’t recognize.

“Die, killer”

“You’ll pay in hell for what you did.”

“Murderer”

How can people I don’t even know want me dead?

With shaky hands, she deleted the texts as a CNN report popped up on her screen, updating her on the “Trial of the Year,” that was beginning that day:

CNN Breaking News
The Biggest Trial of the Year Begins Today, January 7, 2019. Emily Keller, also known by the media as Keller the Killer, is accused of causing the deaths of four family members, two of them small children. Only 16 years old, Emily is one of the youngest females to be accused of a crime so heinous.

Emily buried her face in her pillow, taking a deep breath. She tried to hold back the habitual tears that were creeping out from the corners of her eyes. I have to be strong today; no crying, she told herself as she rubbed her temples slowly. I need to put on my protective armor, or I’ll never make it through today alive. She reached under her mattress, grabbed her orange pill bottle and gave it a shake, the rattling sound of the tablets comforting her. She poured two pills onto her clammy palm and placed them gently on her tongue. Protective armor.

“Emily?” her brother, Nate, quietly inched open the bedroom door, “You awake? It’s time to start getting ready for court.”

Without looking up at him, she nodded as she rolled out of bed, trying not to think about how wrong the prosecution had the facts and how she could be sent to prison because of it. As she attempted to walk toward the door, her ankle monitor snagged on her lavender bedsheet. She yanked the sheet off in frustration and dragged her feet to the bathroom to prepare for the first day of her new life.

Debbie and Nate were already waiting for her in Debbie’s rumbling Toyota Camry when she stepped out of the trailer.

“It’s your turn for shotgun.” Emily opened the door to the backseat where Nate was already buckled in.

“You can take it today,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact with her.

“I don’t need pity shotgun just because I’m on trial for murder, Nate,” Emily replied curtly as she reluctantly sat down in the front seat. As she buckled her seat belt, she already regretted scolding Nate for doing something kind. I’ll apologize to him later, she told herself. Nate had been up with her until three o’clock that morning, listening to her cry and consoling her. I don’t deserve him, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

She rolled down her window and took a deep breath of fresh morning air as her mom lit a Virginia Slim, her hands trembling. “Morning vodka shot hasn’t kicked in yet?” Emily muttered under her breath as she turned on the radio. Or maybe one shot doesn’t cut it anymore, Emily thought.

“What hasn’t kicked in?” Debbie asked as she ashed her cigarette into an empty coke can, oblivious to Emily’s disrespectful comment.

“Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet?” Emily corrected herself as she investigated her face in the cracked side mirror of the car. The face staring back at Emily was swollen from weeks of nonstop crying. Although she’d put on some of her mom’s waterproof mascara, she still looked like someone had run her over with a truck. You’re so repulsive, she thought as she tried to comb her drab chestnut hair with her fingers, squinting at her image through the cracked glass. She wanted to disappear. Sink down into the seat of the car and disappear forever.

As she pinched her upper cheekbones to give her face some color, she glanced at Nate through the corner of the broken mirror, hoping he couldn’t tell she was staring at him through the mosaic lens. Since he had headphones in his ears, she assumed he was listening to a news podcast about the trial. The expression on his face looked like it was straining to stay calm, but she could read his emotions no matter how hard he tried to hide them. When you shared a womb with someone, you knew everything they were feeling.

There was actually supposed to be three of them. Her dad had left when he’d found out Debbie was pregnant with triplets. He’d said since he didn’t want one baby, he definitely didn’t want three. Emily used to sometimes think about how different her life would’ve been if their other brother hadn’t died at birth. Maybe he would’ve punched Tom Swanson for dumping her two years ago since Nate didn’t do a thing about it. Maybe he would’ve taught Emily to throw a football since Nate was anti-athletics.

Maybe he could’ve stopped Emily before she lost herself. Maybe he could’ve stopped this whole situation. Maybe no one would have died.

“Valerie told us to meet her around back when I spoke to her on the phone last night,” Emily directed her mom as they pulled up to the courthouse. Debbie nodded as she navigated her ancient car around to the back of the building, avoiding the crowd hovering at the entrance.

“Shit, look at all of the people,” Nate announced as he stared at the crowd and cameras surrounding the front of the building. No one seemed to notice their rickety car escape past the swell to the rear parking lot. Maybe they were expecting some sort of official-looking black SUV like you see in crime movies and not our pathetic piece of tin, Emily speculated, thinking about how some seniors at her school owned nicer cars than her mom’s. She peeked down at her gray dress and nervously picked little lint balls off it as her mom parked the car.

“You look fine, Em,” Debbie insisted as she opened a mini bottle of vodka from her purse and took a swig, “That dress looks lovely on you.” Debbie had spent her tip money to buy Emily “new” thrift store clothes for the trial. Emily was now pulling at a seam on the edge of the dress, making it unravel.

As she waited for her mom to finish her shot, she felt around for the phone in her purse to make sure it was turned off. She’d turn it on later that night once her mom and Nate were sleeping so she could read through her texts and the news in privacy. That way, if she cried, no one would see her. Strong people don’t cry, she told herself.

“You need a pill?” Debbie asked as she fumbled through the large purse on her lap. The Valium Emily had taken that morning was beginning to set in, and she was starting to feel unreasonably calm.

“I’m good.” Although I’ll need another one soon, she thought. It hurt her too much to live in reality.

Emily’s lawyer, Valerie Anderson, was standing at the back entrance of the building, propping open the heavy metal door with her bright red heel. As Emily stepped out of the car, Valerie waved her hands frantically, “Quick, before they catch on that you’re back here!” she shrieked as she lifted her long, hot pink nails to her mouth.

“We better hurry.” Debbie grabbed Nate’s and Emily’s hands, tugging them toward Valerie.

“Wait,” Emily urged as she struggled to catch up to her petite mom’s gait. Without warning, her black heel wobbled to the side and she stumbled, falling onto the hard concrete. Before she had the chance to assess the damage to her knees, Nate dropped his mom’s hand, grabbed Emily up by the arm, and quickly escorted her to the door. As they approached Valerie, all eyes looked to the blood running down Emily’s knees. Emily was surprised the wounds stung so badly even though the rest of her felt numb.

“We’ll have to find some Band-Aids ASAP before we converse.” Valerie’s heels echoed in the hallway as she led them to their room. Emily slouched over even more than she had been as she followed Valerie, spying the name Keller stuck to a metal door with a yellow Post-it. As they stepped inside, the heavy door slammed behind them with a loud thud.

***

Excerpt from Girl on Trial by Kathleen Fine. Copyright 2023 by Kathleen Fine. Reproduced with permission from Kathleen Fine. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Kathleen Fine

Kathleen Fine received her Master’s in Reading Education from Towson University and Bachelor’s in Elementary Education from University of Maryland, College Park. She is a member of the Maryland Writers Association, International Thriller Writers, and Author’s Guild. When she’s not writing and selling real estate, she enjoys spending time with her family, traveling to the Outer Banks, and of course, reading anything she can get her hands on. She currently lives in Baltimore, Maryland with her husband, three children, and Sussex Spaniel. Her short stories have been published in Litro Magazine, Pen in Hand, The Maryland Writer’s Association Anthology, and in The Indignor Playhouse Anthology. Girl on Trial is her debut novel.

Catch Up With Our Author, Kathleen Fine:
KathleenFineAuthor.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @kathleenfineauthor
Instagram – @kathleenfineauthor
Twitter/X – @kathleenfine
Facebook – @fine.kathleen
TikTok – @kathleenfineauthor

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews and opportunities to WIN!
Click here to view Girl on Trial by Kathleen Fine Tour Hosts

 

ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Kathleen Fine. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
https://kingsumo.com/g/vn6nar/girl-on-trial-by-kathleen-fine

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

Buried Roots
Terra Weiss
Publication date: September 5th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Mystery, Romance

I might’ve found my own grave.

Or not, but I don’t have time to figure it out. A perfect stranger willed me his neglected fifty-acre farm, and now, this New Yorker has two weeks to get it sell-ready. With a business to run, I can’t stay in this boondock town a second longer.

But I’ve got it handled—even after a series of suspicious property mishaps. Even after the threatening notes.

My veterinarian neighbor Owen Brooks shows up with a sledgehammer, a wicked sexy smile, and Demon, his appropriately named foster bulldog. But after losing my family, I only rely on myself.

That doesn’t stop Owen and the town of Violet Moon from showing up for me. Maybe family isn’t just blood.

Owen and I can’t deny our magnetic connection as we restore the historic estate. But the more we dig, the more my disturbing buried roots surface. I have to confront that grave… and my bombshell family secret.

*Buried Roots is a grittier, heartfelt romcom mystery with adult language and steamy, open-door chemistry that will have you rooting for a happily-ever-after.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

I approach my car, and everything around me is echoey and out of focus. I just have to take one step at a time, the first being to get this car out of the ditch.

A windowless white van slows to a crawl as it swerves around me. Nerves clench in my gut as the driver pulls onto the shoulder just up ahead. A stranger driving a kidnap van in this desolate place? Hell no! I already have a raging fear of the woods.

When the driver steps out, I grip the pepper spray on my key ring. So what if he’s got a killer bod and shock of black hair? Who cares if he’s wearing a faded t-shirt and rugged jeans, like some Hallmark movie hottie? I know better than to be fooled by looks.

I check the highway, scanning for other cars. Of course, this country road is empty. When he gets closer, I see the oily black streaks on his face, the filth on his hands, and the dirt on his clothes. And he’s wearing mismatched neon socks. That has to be ironic, no? But his smile is wicked sexy when he says, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Ma’am? Is he for real? I force a smile and a wave when I say, “No, thank you. I’ve got it.” Translation: don’t come an inch closer.

“You’ve got it?” His voice is incredulous.

“Yup. All good.”

His eyes bulge as he stops and glances at my stuck tire. “All good? Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle.”

On closer inspection, he has muscles everywhere, and the light scruff on his carved jawbone is annoyingly sexy. Which again, will not stop me from pepper spraying his fine ass. Hello, stranger danger—in the middle of nowhere. “Pickle? Nah.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “Look, this isn’t a sexist thing. I have a mother and three sisters who could kick everyone’s ass. But this road doesn’t see much action, and I can’t leave someone out here.”

“I appreciate that, I really do. But I won’t be stuck long—I’m handy.” That’s a stretch. I restore homes, so I am handy, but with cars, I only know the basics.

He raises a brow as he studies my face. “Handy or not, getting a car out of a ditch is a two-person job. At least.” He cocks his head and hitches up his voice a notch when he adds, “Out here, there’s no Triple A.”

“I don’t need Triple A. But thank you.”

His lips quirk up as they appear to search for a response. “Once I leave, you might not see another car for hours.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’m a New Yorker.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

My hand lands on my hip. “Explains what, exactly?”

“Nothing.” His mouth curves in a patronizing grin.

His amusement pisses me off. It’s really hard not to sound condescending when I say, “I’m sure you’ve got places to be.”

He hesitates before he hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Okay, then. I’m leaving.”

Our gazes lock, like we’re in a game of eye-chicken. That’s fine, bring it—I don’t mind studying his. They’re part ocean, part storm cloud—sparkle tinged with despair. Like mine. I don’t look away, don’t blink when I say, “I see that, and good for you. Enjoy your day.”

He steps away in defeat. “I’m really leaving this time. You’ll be out here in the backwoods. All by yourself.” Another step back. “When you could have a mechanically inclined, super handy guy give you a hand.”

I put my palms up. “Again—mechanically inclined, super handy hands right here.” I wiggle my fingers and paint on a smile. “Sir.”

“All righty, then. Good luck.” That grin is back. “Ma’am.”

I hate to admit it, but damn it, smug is sexy on him. Our gazes lock again, and I enjoy looking at his smile, looking at him. Forget eye candy—this country boy… or man, with distinguished light creases on his temples—is more of an exquisite eye confection.

And now, I’m staring. I attempt to run my fingers through my auburn hair, which I’ve forgotten is bobby-pinned. My hand gets stuck, and I try to play it off as a head scratch.

He waves. “I’m Owen Brooks, by the way. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” I’m not giving him my name. I point at his feet and say, “Nice neon socks, by the way.”

That smug grin is back when he runs a hand over his dirt-stained tee. “Pulling this look together wasn’t easy.”

I smile, and for the first time, it’s genuine.

Author Bio:

Terra Weiss is a romcom author with a knack for witty banter and gift for capturing authentic family dynamics. Readers love how her stories steer away from typical romcom cookie-cutter formulas and show how real-life people find real-life love.

When Terra’s not spilling the tea on what happens in the big and small towns that live in her heart, you’ll find her with her spunky daughter, mad scientist husband, wacky and wonderful mother, and the two six-pound dogs that run her house. She enjoys jogging at a snail’s pace, reading from her iPhone, and piling bright orange mountains of squeezy cheese on her crackers.

Want a FREE ebook? Sign up for Terra’s newsletter and get one as a thank you! http://www.terraweiss.com

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok


GIVEAWAY!
Enter to win $100 Amazon gift card here!


Smash, Smash, Smash: The True Story of Kai the Hitchhiker by Philip Fairbanks Banner

Smash, Smash, Smash:

The True Story of Kai the Hitchhiker

by Philip Fairbanks

August 7 – September 1, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Smash, Smash, Smash: The True Story of Kai the Hitchhiker by Philip Fairbanks

“That woman was in danger, so I ran up behind him with a hatchet… Smash, smash, SUH-MASH!!!”

Millions of people heard these words and shared the viral video with their friends. This mysterious surfing hitchhiker then vanished as quickly as he appeared, only to reappear on many late night talk shows and fan videos. But 3 months later, he was arrested and charged with killing a prominent New Jersey lawyer… in self defense against a sex assault.

Who is this mysterious hitchhiker? What was with that lawyer who drugged and assaulted him? Why would the investigators destroy evidence, tamper with witnesses, and shut the public out of the trial?

For almost a decade, the public was kept in the dark: until investigative journalist Philip Fairbanks searched for the truth in mountains of government records, witness statements, and hard evidence. At long last, he found the answers to these burning, aching questions…

And they will surprise you.

Praise for Smash, Smash, Smash: The True Story of Kai the Hitchhiker:

“Phil is not the kind of journalist who files a story and gets on with his life. That passion and integrity shine through in this book, and generally in the way Phil makes you care about the people he’s covering….

When I read this book, as with so many things Phil has written, I feel that I am in good hands, being carefully guided to the truth.”
~ Alissa Fleck
(Newsweek, SF Gate, Houston Chronicle)

“In his latest book, Philip Fairbanks wields a wealth of laboriously earned evidence and detail, the product of five years of research, to tell a harrowing and heartbreaking tale nobody (until him) deemed worthy of telling, and some would rather remain untold….

In his characteristically engaging style and with a dexterous balance of compassion, curiosity, and analysis, the author walks the reader through a hellish nightmare; one that Kai was born into and in which he continues to exist.”
~ Wendy Painting, PhD
(Author, Aberration in the Heartland of the Real: The Secret Lives of Timothy McVeigh)

Book Details:

Genre: True Crime
Published by: Is It Wet Yet Press
Publication Date: February 2023
Number of Pages: 456
ISBN: 9781959947998 (ISBN10: 1959947990)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

AUTHOR’S NOTE

It’s been about five years since my first article about Caleb McGillivary was published in The Inquisitr. Not long after that, I conducted a series of telephone interviews. I was taken aback by how implausible the inherent corruption was: evident in multiple conflicts of interest; and an apparent cover-up during the investigation, that was allowed to go practically unchallenged from the prosecutor’s mouth to the media. All that ugliness nakedly on display surely should have attracted a frenzy of media interest.

Over the years, a sickening realization came to mind. As far as reporters covering the case, I seem to be one of the “experts” if not “an authority.” Certainly, one of the few, if not only, journalists who took the time to check Kai’s claims and allegations against the evidence at hand. It might be kind of nice being a leading authority on some benign subject. Rare arthropods, maybe? I could dig being a foremost authority on some obscure Flemish Renaissance-era painter’s oeuvre, for sure. The gravity of the situation can be almost overwhelming, though, when your expertise is on a subject about which a human life hangs in the balance.

So, you can imagine my mixed feelings when a production company known for prestige projects approached me with the idea of using some of my work in a film for one of the “Big 3” streaming companies.

I was flattered, of course. Probably the first in a wave of emotions to come up. The thought that Kai’s words, from calls I’d recorded, might achieve a bit of immortality. Even better, the prospect that the film could make a difference. Something like The Thin Blue Line, one of the most important and influential works in the entirety of the corpus of “True Crime.” Like Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, it is a work that somehow manages to both define and transcend the boundaries of “True Crime.”

After a few rounds of emails, a call was set up. Everyone I had dealt with was pleasant and nice, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being purposefully put at ease. For what reasons I couldn’t tell. Hell, I couldn’t even tell if I was just being paranoid because of my close connection to the story. Admittedly compounded by the investment of time, work, and emotional energy I’d put into it for some years. They understood that I might be quite attached to the story (specifically to the “materials” they wished me to license for their use). And of course, the more I thought about it, the more worried I was about the misrepresentation of my work or Kai himself and the case.

And to be honest, attached is not the right word for this case, or for another case I’ve been working on for the past few years. The second involved a decades- long running fraud ring connected to multiple murders. I finally managed to get some interest from journalist Alissa Fleck (Newsweek, SF Gate, Houston Chronicle, Huffington Post, Adweek, and others). Apart from her, I’d struggled to get any other reporters or outlets to even take a look. That or being ghosted after some initial interest is shown. The situation is similar to the work of Justine Barron, another noteworthy journalist who pursues cases wherever they lead. Whether or not the major papers are interested in doing due diligence themselves. For whatever reason, there are incredibly important stories that are suppressed, sometimes for years. Just look at how Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Peter Nygard, and others managed to float along all those years.

With Kai’s case and that of the Texas-based Ponzi ring, I’ve spent years researching and tracking down the truth. In the hopes of holding it to the light. I also got to know the living, breathing humans that exist at the other end of the story. Many of my biggest stories are the smallest ones. For me, success is exposing some injustice or imbalance. Some wrong to be righted. For instance, the honor student nearly expelled over doctor-recommended CBD oil being mistaken for THC oil by an ignorant school administration. The case of a young man selling the herbal plant medicine kratom in Tennessee. A story I covered that would be a turning point in the war for kratom legality in the state. Shortly after the case, the attorney general expressed a formal opinion that the plant was not included in a blanket synthetic drug ban. The couple arrested with kratom in their car. Initially charged with distributing heroin. Their life and small business thrown into disarray as a result. These are stories no one else was telling, or at least not in totality.

In each of those above cases, an eventual positive outcome would be achieved. Even if the only thing I was able to do was to provide some hope to victims of outrageous fortune. To make sure their stories were heard. The result was something I could—and do— take seriously. Something I take pride in. It’s rewarding to have achieved success (by Emerson’s standards anyway) by having made someone breathe a little easier, having made their life a little less hard for the day.

In Kai’s case, the stakes are too high. Not to mention the evidence of corruption is so ample and readily available to just leave it be.

So yes, I suppose that at the very least you could say I was a little “attached” to the story. In my first email back to the production company, I pointed out that I was the sole, or nearly only, source of several salient points of information about the case. That these claims were backed up by evidence released in discovery: crime scene photos, investigative notes, and interviews. They too had read the entirety of the available transcripts, they told me. However, they warned me, that they wouldn’t be “focusing” on the trial or the investigation.

That would be a totally different documentary, they said. My dream of an Errol Morris-style hit film freeing an innocent man were, if not dashed at this point, precariously hanging by a thread like a loose tooth spinning, barely affixed to the gum. So here it was. My Catch-22. My very own Faustian bargain. And though it has been quite a while since I’ve read Goethe, I almost certainly recall there being no section on freeing one’s soul from the grips of Mephistopheles come in the guise of a documentary materials release form. I knew I had no place to tell them what should or should not be in the documentary. That would be, not only in bad taste but a violation of journalistic ethics on my part. That said, I made it clear I would gladly sign over usage rights if they could make sure to include at least a handful of those major facts that point to the cover-up and, dare I say it, yes, a conspiracy that had taken place. It was then made plain and simple to me. The best possible way to get that information, Kai’s side of the story, on the books for them would be to let him speak. Kai had declined involvement with the documentary before they spoke to me, however, and they only used people “directly related” to stories in their documentaries which counted me out.

As it turns out, my fears of potentially making a deal with the devil were unfounded. A producer at the company informed me just as they were going into post-production that they were using other material “to lay out Kai’s defense.” Despite my precautions and concerns, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed after hoping that a tangential connection to a major documentary and my name in the credits might help me get this story the attention it deserves.

No worries, though. The interviews that were licensed for and would have appeared in the documentary were transcribed and will be available online. Links to the recordings on YouTube will be there as well as links to all relevant files, court documents, crime scene photos, and more both in cloud storage and at bit.ly/kaidocs and philfairbanks.com.

Kai is at the center of the book, but at the same time the book is about how his case is just one of many examples. That’s the scary part. If his case was some crazy exception that’d be awful still; but what’s so chilling is we know about this case only because he was mistaken for someone who wasn’t well known. Galfy wanted a vagrant, somebody who could be used and discarded, someone with no ties; he chose wrong but even so, they were able to do this.

Now imagine if you don’t have worldwide press coverage of your story.

TWO FATEFUL RIDES

It was a chilly but humid day in Fresno, February 1st, 2013.1 Between the time the frigid, overcast skies broke with sunlight until the day would turn to cold, foggy night several lives would be forever changed. It was the day that Jett Simmons McBride picked up a young “home free” hitchhiker. It was the day that Rayshawn Neely would be nearly crippled. And it was the day that Caleb McGillivary, better known as “Kai the Hatchet-Wielding Hitchhiker” would become a folk hero to millions across the world. Kai earned his “hatchet-wielding hitchhiker” moniker during that first ride that brought him to the attention of the internet at large. Kai had been picked up by Jett Simmons McBride, a 6-foot-4, nearly 300-pound, 54-yearold man who boasted to Kai about raping a 14-year-old girl in the Virgin Islands just before the chaos he would unleash on that fateful Fresno day. McBride also loudly bragged that he was, in fact, Jesus Christ reincarnated.

* Kai’s legal name is Caleb McGillivary, but some court documents and newspaper stories have his name improperly listed as “McGillvary.”

As a result, he reasoned, he could do anything he wanted. As if to prove his point, he took a sharp turn towards some Pacific Gas & Electric employees doing roadwork outside.

“He’s like, well I’ve come to realize I’m Jesus Christ and I can get away with anything I want to. Watch this, and there’s a whole crew of construction people in front of me and most of them jumped aside and one pinned underneath,” Kai explained in the interview that initially made him a star. “He said ‘I am God. I am Jesus. I was sent here to take all the [racial slurs] to heaven,’” Nick Starkey, one of the PG&E workers on the scene claimed. Neely said he never heard the racial slurs, but something about being the victim of attempted vehicular homicide tends to do a number on one’s memory and focus.

McBride pinned Rayshawn Neely against a vehicle at which point, Kai jumped out to help. McBride also attacked a woman on the scene. Kai shared in his memorable interview how he feared McBride might seriously harm her if he didn’t spring into action. The woman on the scene confirmed that Kai had indeed saved her. As Kai put it, without his fortunate appearance at the scene there would have been “hella lot more bodies.” With Rayshawn dangerously pinned by McBride’s vehicle, Tanya Baker, who was at the scene attempted to help him. At this point, McBride turned on her as well.8

“Like a guy that big can snap a woman’s neck like a pencil stick,” Kai explained why he sprung into action. “So I fucking ran up behind him with a hatchet—smash, smash, suh-mash!”

The interview with Jessob Reisbeck made an instant star out of Kai. Something about the heroic encounter, Kai’s character, and his message of redemption resonated within the public consciousness. “Before I say anything else, I want to say no matter what you’ve done, you deserve respect, even if you make mistakes. You’re lovable and it doesn’t matter your looks, skills, or age, or size or anything. You’re worthwhile… no one can take that away from you.”

February 7, 2013, Jessob Reisbeck caught back up with who he described as a “world-class hero.” Reisbeck, who continues to keep in touch with Kai “found him after 5 or 6 days” to conduct a follow-up interview. Kai’s cheeky humor shined through with portions sounding like an Abbott and Costello bit: “What have you been up to since?” “About 6 foot,” Kai replied. He also admitted he didn’t like the idea of a “stereotypical normal life.” That meant, in part, no 9 to 5 job or smartphone to weigh him down. “Are you aware what you’ve become?” Reisbeck asked. “I’ve seen it.” As for his thoughts on the outpouring of support from all over the country even worldwide, Kai’s response was simply: “Shock and awe.” Asked if he was happy about the exciting new world he’d accidentally entered, his reply was simply, “I’d prefer if I was American, but yeah.”

Jessob asked if there was anything else Kai would like to say to “all of your fans right now, because you do have them around the world.” Kai spurned the hero worship. Instead, he offered another simple, heartfelt message to the many who idolized him since the selfless act. “I do not own you, I do not have you, please do not be obsessed. Thank you, love, respect, I value you.” Within 48 hours of the KMPH interview being released and subsequently going viral, Kai was a household name earning accolades and mentions in media worldwide. Philadelphia magazine called Kai “the hero millennials need” in a February 8th article from 2013.

In the next few days, his star would continue to rise as he was featured in Autotune the News. Kai also released a cover of the song “Wagon Wheel.” An IndieGogo page was also set up to get him a new surfboard. The Philly magazine piece marks Kai as emblematic of the millennial generation, especially following the economic upheaval of the 2008 housing bubble which resulted in severe inflation, higher cost of living, and a recession we still haven’t truly escaped.

Just under three weeks out, Kai had his first day in court, perhaps foreshadowing what was to come in just about three months. He had just appeared on “Jimmy Kimmel Live” and would now be stealing the show during the preliminary hearing against Jett McBride. Despite some of the urban myths surrounding this story, Kai did not kill McBride. McBride had told his wife that Kai was the “coolest son-of-a-bitch” he had ever met. Even expressing a desire to “adopt” the home free hitchhiker. And spurious claims that Kai may have made up the story of underage rape in the Virgin Islands were refuted by McBride himself admitting the act to police on the scene. Kai’s court appearance inspired laughter and spawned headlines further cementing his place as a beloved character to so many. But by the time Jett Simmons McBride was tried in California, Kai was unable to appear. The lack of one of the primary witnesses in attendance likely altered the disposition of the case according to Scott Baly, McBride’s defense attorney. By January 2014, McBride was found guilty on some, but not all charges. The most serious charges, that of attempted murder, would not go through and even the charges he was found guilty of only resulted in psychiatric confinement for a maximum of 9 years. He was sent up to the famous Atascadero State Hospital rather than prison. Atascadero had been home for a time to the likes of serial killers like Tex Watson, Ed Kemper, and Roy Norris among others.

“I won’t say whether it hurt or helped, it affected everything,” Baly told the press. Admitting that he had hoped for acquittal on all charges. “I think there’s mixed emotions for all of us. I mean certainly, I think the moment not guilty on count one was read there was relief; it was followed shortly by a guilty reading on count two and count three so there’s a different feeling on those charges.”

What we can tell for certain, however, is that if not stopped McBride would have almost certainly wreaked far more havoc. According to the case text of the McBride court proceedings, Jett Simmons McBride was laboring under the delusion that he had uncovered a secret terrorist plot that would target the Super Bowl.

At this point, Jett McBride packed his bags to head down to New Orleans for the Super Bowl where he was convinced a bombing would occur. McBride destroyed his phone and tossed the broken remnants of it in a parking lot and some bushes to evade being tracked by the CIA, FBI, and Department of Defense who he was convinced were following his every step.

Before reaching his destination, McBride started noticing that he was being passed by white utility trucks. These were no ordinary trucks, McBride was convinced. They were, to his mind, evidence of the Illuminati following him, on his trail. Intent on killing him. Quite disturbed mentally at this point, McBride stopped in Bakersfield staying the night at the illustrious Vagabond Inn, a motel where he watched television and had some Scotch to wind down. The next day he got back on the road, then picked up a soon-to-be-famous hitchhiker he saw near the on-ramp to northbound State Route 99 not far from the Vagabond.

The hitchhiker introduced himself as Kai and asked McBride if he was heading as far as Fresno. McBride told him that he would be heading through the area on his way to Tacoma. While staying in Bakersfield, he had received messages from his nephew and Donna, his wife, who he was supposed to pick up at the airport. This unexpected intrusion from reality slightly changed his unhinged “attempt at heroism” at the Super Bowl in New Orleans.

It was once they made it into Fresno’s Tower District that Kai offered to pick up some cannabis. Jett McBride handed him $40 after which Kai disappeared into a convenience store, shortly after emerging with a bag of weed and some rolling papers. Kai rolled the joint as McBride, who was unfamiliar with Fresno, began to drive. McBride describes having a “deep” conversation with Kai and eventually extended his hand to the young hitchhiker, leaning over to hug him. “Depressed and distraught” is how he’s described in the court transcript.

The grown man also began crying over his wife. From this point on, it becomes obvious that the story has been doctored somewhat to make McBride look better. Even though it was admitted that McBride began believing that white utility trucks were agents of the Illuminati, it was McGillivary who supposedly said the electrical workers were planting bombs. Of course, it’s quite likely that this was a narrative cooked up by McBride’s attorney, Scott Baly. Considering Kai wouldn’t be able to defend himself or offer his eye-witness testimony, it was possible to try and pin more blame on him to alleviate the well-earned scorn directed at the alleged rapist with his racist slurs and dangerously unhinged conspiracy theories. Despite the reported flurry of racial slurs aimed toward Neely and other minorities at the scene, McBride’s defense claimed that he was “trying to heal Neely.” The defense claims, contrary to what witnesses on the scene have claimed, that McBride “at no time” made any racial statements or used “racial epithets.”

Neely’s reported response to McBride attempting to “heal” the serious and potentially life-threatening injury he was responsible for was something to the tune of, “Get this fucker off of me.” This, once again, ripped straight from McBride’s trial transcript.

The big bear of a man described the flurry of activity, the desperate attempt to put his rampage to a halt. He “thought he was dying” as he felt a knee on his back, someone grabbing his neck, someone pushing him to the ground, a boot in his face. All he claims to recall is saying, “Get off of me.” Around this time, for whatever reason, McBride began to disrobe. He was now convinced he was not only “filled with the Holy Spirit” and an incarnation of Jesus Christ. He was also playing the role of “witness to the end times” (as per Revelations, the two witnesses who would be killed, stripped, and left in the streets for three and a half days).

If the people attacking him, or rather, attempting to slow or stop his assault, in the real world, were to kill him then “they were going to have to drag his body through the street, naked.” Now McBride has decided he’s not just a witness to the end times, Jesus, and filled with the Holy Spirit. He’s also the prophet Enoch. A direct ancestor of Jesus Christ.

McBride, once he had conferred with defense to set the stories straight for the trial, would have little positive to say about Kai. This despite the fact he had earlier referred to him as the “coolest son-of-a-bitch” he had ever met. He had gone from telling his wife Donna that he wanted to adopt Kai to changing his story to Kai being the one jerking the wheel so the vehicle would crush Neely after Donna reported to him how Kai had explained McBride’s stated aim was to “clean all the n****rs out.”

McBride would eventually admit that it was not Kai who had twisted the wheel to pin Neely but did deny that his attack had anything to do with his race. Neely was, McBride claimed, Illuminati. The disorganized thinking of a schizophrenic or person in the throes of a psychotic break is hard to follow.

Perhaps the racial element and the delusion regarding white utility vehicles being secret Illuminati spies were conflated in McBride’s muddled head. Chicago’s ABC7 Action News spoke with some of the victims of McBride’s rampage. Most expressed a hope to fully recover from their injuries and put the whole nightmare behind them, though at least one expressed concern, hoping that McBride wouldn’t find himself released without consequences for his brutal actions.

One popular misconception that has entered Kai the Hitchhiker lore is that Kai killed the deranged, attempted murderer rather than subduing him with the flat end of his hatchet. It probably didn’t help that during the Jimmy Kimmel appearance, the host jokingly thanked Kai for not killing him. Stephen Colbert, currently the host of The Tonight Show, was starring in The Colbert Report on Comedy Central at the time. On the show, Colbert covers the Kai the Hitchhiker story, joking that he has “highway prejudice of my own: against axe-wielding hitchhikers.”

The story played into an already existing urban myth regarding the mythical ax or hatchet or knife-wielding serial killer hitchhiker. The Union County prosecutor and associate of the alleged rapist Joseph Galfy promoted severely damaging disinformation. That, perhaps, Kai was some nefarious serial killer utilizing the highways as his hunting ground. That same prosecutor, by the way, incidentally or coincidentally stepped down, after 11 years, the same day Kai was arrested. Perfect timing if you’d rather not have your recusal on the record.

***

Excerpt from Smash, Smash, Smash: The True Story of Kai the Hitchhiker by Philip Fairbanks. Copyright 2023 by Philip Fairbanks. Reproduced with permission from Philip Fairbanks. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Philip Fairbanks

Philip Fairbanks has been a published writer for over 20 years. Most of his writing has been in the field of entertainment reporting and investigative journalism as well as certain academic subjects. He has appeared multiple times in the CUNY graduate paper The Advocate (who published an article by Fairbanks last June), SUNY art journal Afterimage, Ghettoblaster features, interviews and reviews, UK newspaper The Morning Star, UK lit journal White Chimney, Impose, Delusions of Adequacy, and many more print and online publications have published him.

His first book covered issues such as the Epstein scandal, the Finders cult, online grooming and exploitation of children, and the UK grooming epidemic. He felt it was important to write a book on institutional pedophilia that dispels some of the wild disinfo related to Qanon and Pizzagate. Philip is also a voice actor and narrated the audiobook for the first book and is in the process of recording the audiobook for Smash, Smash, Smash.

Catch Up With Philip Fairbanks:
TrueStoryofKai.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @kafkaguy
Twitter – @kafkaguy
Facebook – @truestoryofkai

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!
Click here to view Smash, Smash, Smash: The True Story of Kai the Hitchhiker Tour Hosts

 

Join In:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Philip Fairbanks. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
https://kingsumo.com/g/1izmgm/smash-smash-smash-the-true-story-of-kai-the-hitchhiker-by-philip-fairbanks

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours