Clint has asked that I pass on this message
You can quote me if you'd like
actually, I insist you quote me:
There is no artwork of any kind in Roy's house with "Roy D. Forgy" (or any variation thereof) on it. Period. Not even a "From the Roy D. Forgy Collection" stamped on the back. Jeanne (maiden name) left a tablet with a few drawings: untouched. Various journals, notebooks, etc belonging to her kids: untouched as far as I can tell (I'm reluctant to peruse since they're personal). Photo albums of Jeanne's family: untouched. No pentagrams, demons, gargoyles, or (oddly enough) nekked chicks drawn or painted on any surface, flat or otherwise. Not even in crayon. There *were* crayons there but they were for visiting children, he hadn't used them to sign checks, etc. No evidence of insanity whatsoever. From the looks of the kitchen he was making an attempt to find or clean out whatever crime evidence she'd left behind. Whether it was to nail her or "cure" himself is anyone's guess. The latter makes me sick. And pissed off in ways only another Forgy can understand. But like he told me in the fall of '98, the same day he swore he'd been poisoned: "'vengeance is mine', so sayeth the Lord." If someone had poisoned me there would be yellow police tape around 4 city blocks for a month while scores of searchers tried to find all the body parts. But hey, I'm a Kinder, Gentler Man now. Vengeance Ain't Mine, in other words.
Roy was put under siege. We all "know" in our hearts by whom. Then the state and legal system took over his sovereignty, and his life as he'd always known it was over. They never could figure out what was "wrong" with him. He never complained about it. Whenever I asked if they were treating him well, he always gave a surprised "oh yeah!", as if there were no other possibilities. If they hadn't fed him he would've said so. If they'd sexually abused him he would've bragged. He insisted on onions on his burger. I do too. He never drooled down the front of himself like crazy people do. I do often. He molded my brother and I in ways we never understood then, but we're both catching on now. Roy wasn't a hard act to follow, he was an *impossible* act to follow. Roy lived like a man, and died like one too. And that picture I just painted of him was so I could drive this point home: in all the years I knew him, he told me only one time that someone was out to get him. And that's how I know it's true. That might not convince you, Dear Readers, but if you only knew him ... All the other evidence is just more proof.