Official: Man’s death at Turner Field ruled a suicide

FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports

(CNN) — The death of a Georgia man who fell about 85 feet from an upper level of Atlanta’s Turner Field has been ruled a suicide, an official said.

Ronald Homer, 30, fell during a Braves-Phillies baseball game on August 12. The cause of death is blunt force trauma, according to the Fulton County Medical Examiner’s Office.

Betty Honey, an investigator with that office, said Thursday that Homer had taken his own life.

He had no other injuries besides those sustained as a result of his fall from the fourth level of the stadium shortly before 8:55 p.m. during a rain delay.

The game was scheduled to start at 7:10 p.m., but heavy rains pushed back the start time nearly two hours.

Homer’s was the second such death at an Atlanta sporting venue in the last year or so.

On August 31, 2012, a Tennessee fan died after falling about…

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i can’t believe that this is the nation who is going to take over the world!


Thousands of students in southern China have  been forced to sign a ‘suicide waiver’ before starting university.

More than 5,000 new pupils at the City College of Dongguan University of Technology in China’s Guangdong province have  been asked to sign a contract absolving the school of responsibility if any of  them commit suicide. This ‘student management and self-discipline agreement’ or suicide waiver also covers self-inflicted injuries.

With the largest population on Earth, a good education has long been seen as the only path to success in China. That said, experiencing quality higher education should be viewed as a pleasure as well as an honour. Education is supposed to broaden the mind, not just fill it! In a country without much of a sense of humour, students commit to studying up to 14 hours a day. Last year, one Chinese school sparked  outrage after using intravenous drips to boost pupils’ ability to  study. This regimented method of education…

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I am 4.  My young, beautiful mommy is my whole world.  I don’t like my baby brother she brought home from the hospital and I keep begging her to take him back!  I am told all of the time I am cute. I know this is true.  My daddy is my hero but I don’t see him very much and the stuff he drinks in those glass bottles tastes terrible!  It’s a bright day. Our windows in our home are up high by the ceiling & it’s cloudy out.  I’m playing inside.  My mommy calls me out to the living room.  We are rolling around on the floor, playing, laughing.  I’m laying on my back talking-talking-talking is so fun….
It gets dark.  Very dark.  I don’t like this kind of dark.  It’s hard to breathe.  Something big & soft is pressing down over my whole face.  I try to fight, my hands can’t move & my arms hurt.  I try to kick my legs. My mommy is laying on top of me & I can’t move. I can’t breathe. It’s getting hot. I try to cry.  Scream.  I can’t take in anymore air. 
There is a voice inside of my head, I know it’s me but it doesn’t sound like me.  She sounds a little older.  I always pretend it’s a big sister who lives in my head.  I hear my older-self say; “Relax.  It’s going to be OK.  Sshhhh.”
In my own voice -I can’t talk out loud because I can’t breathe- I hear my little girl voice ask “Am I going to go see God now?”  That was the 1st time I heard her voice.  I’ll find out that she’ll be with me my whole life.  She’s always behind & to the right of me but when she speaks to me she is cool & calm.  And she only speaks to me when things are at their worst.  “No. It’s not time for you to see God yet. You’ll be OK.”
I try to move my eyes to the right to see who’s talking to me but the pillow is so tight over my face that I can’t even move my eyeballs. “Stop fighting & she will let you breathe again.” I let my little body go limp. There wasn’t even anymore air coming out of me.  Just like that, the pillow fell off of my face.
I heard weird sounds.  It was me trying to breathe.  I was so scared but I couldn’t get up. My mommy was still laying on top of me.  I was too scared to look for the lady I heard.  I didn’t think I could push my mommy off of me but I finally did.
I ran. Ran as fast as I could to the kitchen.  I picked up the phone in the kitchen, put my finger in the hole by the “0” & spun it all the way around like I had been taught.  An older woman answered on the other line.  “Operator, how may I help you?”
“My mommy isn’t breathing.”  It scared me so much I gasped and jumped: Mommy’s hand reached out from behind me & pushed the buttons on the ugly, green phone making the operator go away.  Then her big hands took the receiver from me.
“That’s good.  You did that just like I taught you.”
All I remember after that is running back to my room but I didn’t like it in there.  What if that woman was in there?  So I went back out to the living room, but I didn’t want to be there with my mommy either.  So I sat in my favorite place.  The place I sat at nights when I can’t sleep.  In front of the aquariums, staring at all of the fish for hours.
30 years later……………..
I knocked on what used to be the back door to my rental.  My dogs running & barking like maniacs, acting even more crazy when they see it’s me.  I don’t know who’s more excited to see who.  It’s been a whole week & I’ve been so anxious for my weekend with them!  Don arrives & unlocks the backdoor.  He looks bigger & bigger everytime I see him.  I was hugging the girls & expecting for him to command me out but instead he turned & locked the back door.  It was dark, the flourescent light from the kitchen bleeding in shadow-over-shadow in the utility room.
“I want to talk to you.”
“Don, don’t.  We can’t be civil yet.  Just let me take the gir—-…”
One hand.  He was so strong.  I kept pushing out of my mind how strong he was because surely he’d never…. He had me around the throat with just one hand.  My oxygen was immediatly cut off.  I was caught off guard.  My pistol left at home.  Why was he squeezing harder?  I already couldn’t breathe. 
“No one is going to divroce me, ever again.”  His voice was an insane kind of calm.  He had made up his mind.  I wouldn’t open my eyes.  I didn’t want him to be the last image I ever saw.  I didn’t fight at his hand, I knew that was useless.  But wait, my pants felt so loose all of a sudden.  I felt down there; he had undone my pants completely, they were coming off. My hands flailed at whatever I could reach.  My wrist bumped the crotch of his sweatpants.
Oh dear Father in Heaven!  He was aroused by this!  I let my body go limp.  I was officially as humiliated as I could get.
My feet were numb…. why?  They weren’t numb, they were off of the ground.  He was lifting me up in the air.  I had gone just about as long as I figured I could stay conscious.  From behind me, off to the right I heard that woman’s voice again – the one I’ve heard a few times in my life when I was in so much trouble.
“Relax.  If you want to go, you can go.  Don’t fight him. Save your energy.”  Great, I thought!  Going to the pearly gates takes energy – I’m screwed!  She went on;  “Stop fighting.  It’ll be better if you relax.”
I let myself go completly limp.  Didn’t even stress about no breathing.  I thought of Linda Strait.  Then I heard my boy.  Instantly, I opened my eyes. Don’s tongue was squirming all over inside of my mouth – when did he start kissing me?  I had been lowered closer to the ground.
My chesapeake, Duke was jumping all over Don’s back.  Snarling & barking, bareing all of his teeth.  He started in on the arm that held my throat.  But it was in stereo.  I rolled my eyes over to the right.  My Germen Wire Hair Pointer was all over Don as well.
She was screaming barking, bared teeth, jumping up on him, teeth going into his arm that was down my loose pants.  Duke was frustrated that his “warnings” weren’t being taken seriously & now he meant business.  He got down from Don’s backside & buried his head into the attacking man’s right ribs.  I felt my body drop to the ground like wet cement.  I leaned forward in modesty to cover any, exposed part of me & lost my balance, falling forward onto my hands & knees.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of my husband.  What now?  A 9mm between the eyes?  Sweet relief.
Don looked down at me in pure disgust.  He spun around, walking off, shaking his head.  He eyeballed something on the kitchen table… it was either his wallet or his pistol.  I was wrong; NOW I was as humiliated as I had ever been.  But now I just tried to catch my breath.
Coughing, trying to get up, coughing, now blood was being spit out of my mouth.  Katy pressed her nose against me & wouldn’t remove it.  Duke got down, underneath me & used his body to lift my torso.  It was just enough of an oomph that I was finally able to stand.  Straightning up brought instant pain to my head.  It felt like it was in a vice – and I couldn’t stop coughing.  Each dog pressed against my legs.  If I had been another person, I would’ve followed that man & put a bullet in him.
If I were any weaker, I wouldn’ve put the bullet in my own head.  Be free from this.  I was being pressed to the back door.  180lbs of dogs were physically herding me to the back door.  I came to my senses.  I unlocked the back door & the 3 of us ran as fast as I could, through the knee-high snow.  We ran & ran & ran… all the way to my new home where we all 3 ended up in a tiny bed, sleeping on top of each other all night.
These were MY dogs.  I don’t care WHERE they lived!
I said “goodnight” to the lady who has spoken to me from behind me, all these years.



Self Defense Against Myself

I was raised very Liberal.  Guns were bad.  Then I marry a former cop.  Guns are good.  I can shoot but I’m not used to carrying – lots of training.  I certainly had no clue about self defense.  (Ironically, that would come later).  So, my husband, partly thinking that he’s doing a good deed & partly he gets off on my misery…
…Do you remember the Peter O’Toole ‘Pink Panther’ movies?
OK, well, almost always when I’d come home the most exhausted, he’d hide in the house.  (Never in the fridge though).  So as I would come in & unload for the night, he’d jump out & attack me proving that I was unprepared & unable to defend myself.  Needless to say, I was going through a pretty big culture shock going from Seattle to Absaroke anyways & this did little to settle my nerves.
   Lack of sleep, less & less attentive…. more & more surprise attacks.
A)This means that I’ve developed a habit of checking the place out – with a firearm – until I feel it’s “clear.”
B)I finally put a stop to things.
He had, in my opinion, knowing his medical condition, stopped getting boners everytime he terrified me & so grew bored with the exercise.  His hearing, from his career of blowing up rock, was lousy anyway.  I waiting about 3wks after he’d stopped that crap.  Then, I came home from night shift 1 morning – he was waking up from sleeping his 1st day off of night shifts.  I heard him getting out of bed, by his stumble, I could tell he was exhausted.
   I stood, facing the kitchen sink.  For him to come into that area, he would make a right turn & be facing me-broadside.  He wasn’t pausing or tiptoeing.  He wasn’t going to be peeking around the corner at me.  I took a bottle of whiskey & poured a drink, got my (empty) pistol out.  This was either going to work or I was going to end up in the hospital.  Either way,  I wasn’t going to be sober.  I started chugging but kept facing the sink.
   Just as Don stumbled, absoluetly exhausted & not focused, he looked up to see me chugging booze at 8am, pointing a pistol right at his chest & in a second… SNAP!  I pulled the trigger on the empty chamber.
   He fell to the ground in fear!  Grabbed his chest & started screaming at me!  I finished my drink, put the glass away, put the pistol back in my pocket & stepped over his body as I walked off to the shower.
   For about 2 years I figured I was going to die because of that.  In grade school, whenever I got in a good one on the class bully, all his friends would chase me after school, hold me down & beat me up.  I was beat up for embarressing the school bully from 6th & all through 7th grade.  Why wouldn’t my own husband kill me?  The only time I didn’t care was when I was flat out drunk.

A True Story

It’s the Vietnam war.  One of our boys, stationed over there has fallen in love with a young woman from a family who was considered royalty before the regime decided otherwise.  He marries her & brings her home with him to the United States.  He is of prominently German descent & his family doesn’t exactly greet their new daughter in law with open arms.  But they go on to live a happy life, raising a family.  It’s the kind of story that made up this country.
    More than 30 years later, our American hero dies suddenly & tragically.  Born a princess in another world, she is now a 2nd class widow alone in this world.  Then, one day, she gets a phone call.
   A familiar voice, a man from her past. Another American soldier she remembers from so long ago.  He had been enamoured with her & very much wanted to make her his own.  He was injured & transferred.  When he was well enough, he went back to her village.  Her family who wanted to keep their daughter’s future secure, mislead the courter, telling him their daughter “went to Canada to live.”  This man spent more than 20 years looking for his love, in Canada.
   Finally falling in love himself & having his own family – but not forgetting the true love from his youth – he hired a detective & found his sweet Kim.  He chose not to invade her life; he was at ease knowing where she was, that she had been happy & that she was a beautiful as the day he 1st laid eyes on her so long ago.
   Years later, as he was just starting to go through a divorce, he heard of Kim’s husbands’ death.  He waited  “a sufficient amount of mourning time” and finally got the nerve to call.  The second most-scared he’s ever been in his whole life.  They reconized each other’s voices right away.  There was electricity in the air… could they pick up from hence they left?  They arranged a rendevoux to find out.
   “Isn’t that the most outragous thing you’ve ever heard?!  The nerve of that asshole!  Who does he think he is, calling my mom like that!  I’ll kill him!”  Kim’s 2nd son was not taking the news of the reunion well, as neither were the other 2 sons.  I instructed them to calm down!
   “I think this is one of the most, romantic stories I’ve ever heard of in real life!  I can’t imagine anything sweeter to a couple who have come full-circle to be reunited again!  You guys should support whatever decision your mother makes.  It’s about her now.”  All 3 of the half-white, half-Vietmanese men stared down at their shoes, contemplating, as they do on a regular basis, the selfishness of their actions.
   “Geez.  I hadn’t thought of it like that.  Romance didn’t even enter my mind.”
   “Your mother is a healthy, beautiful, single woman who deserves as much happiness in this life as anyone else.  Now, I’m through discussing it!  Give her my heartfelt congradulations when you talk to her next.”
   The three Stooges shuffled off like a bunch of kids that were told that not only were they not going to get the afternoon off to swim but that they had a week’s worth of chores ahead of them!  
Had the story ended there, it would certainly have been the most romantic I’ve ever encountered.  However…. it had a bitter end that I choose not to think of.  Besides…. I’ve found an even MORE romantic, true story… but that’s for another time!  🙂 



angel lost her wings
“It isn’t that I want to die, I simply no longer care if I live.”
She wrapped her broken fingers around the bottle.
“What is the difference?”
She looked up towards Him just as the bottle consumed her hand,
“A lot.”
But she couldn’t make her eyes meet His.  She looked back lovingly at the liquid she lived for, the only substance she would let herself love. The sound of His voice made her shiver a warm shiver.
“Explain that to me.”
But she was pressing her soft, pink lips to the mouth of the bottle. A lover’s kiss was never more gentle.
All she could bring herself to say out loud, all she could believe that she wanted anymore, she whispered “Leave me…..”  It sounded less and less convincing every time she heard the words leave her crippled body.
He watched her broken bones slip into that bottle as smooth and delicate as the blackened bruises all over her body, all over her heart. And He cried,
“Please let me love you?”
But it was too late. Instead of her sucking out of that bottle, it sucked her in. She was gone.
And He cried.

You Can Never Tell

“You can never tell.”  My childhood theme song.  “You can never tell that we did this.” 
My cousin – or I had been told he was my cousin – was tucking his little penis back into his pajamas and tiptoeing off so as to not wake my father.  I hated the game.  I hated being touched where I was not ever supposed to let anyone except for the doctor touch me.
But robbie was my favorite cousin.  So cute. I loved his blue eyes and would do anything so he would look at me.
“The game goes like this, I make sure you’re a girl and you make sure I’m a boy.  But we can only do this after we go to bed.”
I wondered why penises were so soft?  At age 6 I had no idea what a vagina even was and I didn’t like him touching it.  But I did like the feel of the testicles.
Then one day, we were all playing in the “Game Room.”  Robbie took my hand and pulled me into the dark closet.  I didn’t like it when he shut the door.  The air tasted bad in here.  he put my hand in his pants and was trying to get his hand down mine. I didn’t like not being able to see.
Now I could hear jay and ricky outside the door. 
“I thought we only played this in bed.”
“I want to play now.”
The light hurt my eyes when jay threw open the door.  The look in his eyes, whole, conversations passed between us without uttering a sound. Our eyes barely locked before he was off running.  Then Robbie went running.  I was left alone, in a closet, with my pants messed up.  Had I known then what I knew now, I’d have never left the tiny room.
   Robbie was questioned by my parents – he convinced them that he had nothing to do with anything.  Taking off our clothes was my idea and he had never done anything like that before.
I am being accused of falsifying statements about the treatment my mother gave to me as a child.  I’m telling this story to my brother.
   “He isn’t the only “cousin” who molested me.”
  My brother tells me I have no right to use words like that.  “There is such a thing as childhood curiosity.”
   “Are you telling me that you don’t believe that I woke up with Duce in my bed?”
   “If he did, then you let him in there.  He’s not going to be stupid enough to do that with our dad in the house.  You need to stop making this stuff up.  You have the potential of ruining people’s lives.” 
   We’re throwing a party in the house on Boone St.  We’re not wearing our swim suits like normal parties but we’re all dressed nice.  My hair in braids. As usual, I get bored.  Too young to play with the adults, too old to play with my little brother.
Actually, I hated playing with him.
   I’m called in from playing in the yard with Oscar – only the best, kid dog that ever lived!  We’re all sitting down to eat.  The very tall, cute man points to my shoe and says,
   “Jodie I think you have something on your shoe there.”  I had stepped in dog crap and it was all over my pretty boots.
   My name.
   I’m in trouble.
   My mom is literally standing there just screaming at me.  How can I be so stupid?  Why did I always ruin her parties?
   When I grow up I will learn the phrase “could cut the air with a knife.”  I couldn’t move. Every time I did, I did it wrong and she screamed more.  The cute man just said,
   “Jesus Jodie, if I’d known it was going to cause that much trouble I wouldn’t have said anything.”
   I couldn’t look at him or anyone else.  I went upstairs and pretended to be sick so I didn’t have to come down and eat.
   My mother takes my braids and moves them around, dancing, singing, making me look silly.  It makes everyone in the room laugh except me.
   When Judith was a very young child, her grandmother dressed her up like Shirley Temple and took her to the bar where she hung out.  She had “Judy” stand on the jukebox and sing for everyone.  A pride and joy of the bar.  Judy hated every second of it.
   I tell my mom “I don’t like that, stop, and try to jerk away.”  I’m slapped for not being a “sport” and I start crying.  Everyone leaves the room.  My mom grabs me and shakes me.
   “You’re too embarrassed to play and joke around with your hair but you’ll pull down your pants for your cousin?”  The shaking and the spanking.  Always shaking and spankings when you made mom stop laughing.  I’m told to “get out of her sight.  She’s disgusted with me.”
   I’m in Spokane and seeing my “crazy aunt” for the 1st time in probably the better part of 3 decades.  She’s a mess and I’m sorry I met her.  I ask about ricky and robbie.  That’s when I’m told they weren’t my real cousins. Aunt betsy got pregnant in high school and went to mexico for an abortion which rendered her sterile.  She had multiple adoption attempts and multiple relationships where every child was taken away from her due to her physically abusing all of the children.
   She tells me; “I started getting better when I discovered that a huge part of my problem was that I lost 7 children before the age of 30.” 
   I had no, fucking clue what the hell she was talking about.
   “But getting back to the boys….” I got to hear about what a successful business ricky had started.  “But Robbie is divorced, living in L.A.  He has a restraining order, can’t be within 50 feet of his own child.”
   This neither surprises nor pleases me. 
   “He’s accused of sexually molesting his own son.  Isn’t that ridiculous?”
   “Well,” I said, picking up my drink and getting up to leave, “if he needs someone to testify for him, no one had ever best call me.”
   My aunt froze and that’s how I walked away from her.  If that’s the last I ever saw of her, I wouldn’t even think 2ce about it.