Timothy Patrick Graham 1955-2005

                       Scott's brother Tim
What really happened on August 19th, 2005, Tim's 50th birthday...
At the time of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita:
Tim lived outside of Nacogdoches Texas on a 2 acre piece of land that he owned free and clear. He was poor and didn't even have electricity. It was a killer heat wave.
We lived in Austin at the time, 4 hours away, and didn't go to Nac very often. We got a call that Tim hadn't been seen since several days before when a neighbor had seen him get in a truck and leave with a guy on his birthday.

We were telling the police places to search, the most obvious place being on Tim's own place. We suggested who Tim would have been with .. every year they would throw Tim a rock n roll party and would play .. Tim played guitar. He was responsible for launching our musical career.

Anyway, about 3 months went by, and just before Thanksgiving, Scott and I went there, and were going through Tim's decrepit mobile home. Boxed up some junk, found his cat, poor thing, dead and petrified on the sofa. When it was time to go back to my mother's house, Scott all of a sudden left the yard and I noticed how quiet everything was. No birds, no sounds at all. I got really spooked, the kind of spooked where you actually begin to panic. I started walking out trying to listen for Scott's movement, and I heard leaves and found a goat grazing by the fence.. that startled me, then I felt really weird like someone was right there next to me. Then I whistled for Scott, and he whistled back. I went toward the wooded back part of Tim's land.. met Scott, who said "I found Tim".. he turned around and I followed him, after turning in a few circles he said "I know it was around here somewhere" then I saw it, looked like a soccer ball in the pine needles. Tim's skull. Looked around some more and found a pair of jeans with some leg bones.. then more bones... I was really creeped out at that point and felt like we had better get out of there.

We chose to wait till morning to call the police .. we were exhausted after the long day going through Tim;s moldy crap and no way we were waiting for the police.

Next morning about 7:00 we went out there. I took photos before we called the cops.
When they showed up, you could smell the booze on them, before 8:00 am. I do so hate those small town redneck pigs. They questioned us as if we were murder suspects and the drunk one even went as far as to say "What were Y'ALL doin back there?"real belligerent-like. I turned around and I said to him "WE WERE SEARCHING FOR TIM, BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WOULD." The saner one elbowed the bigmouth, and that line of conversation was not continued.

Now, let me tell you. In the movies, when they are called to retrieve some bones, they usually come equipped with a bodybag. Well, I was told to "go find something", and wound up with a couple of Tim's beer coolers. The cops had us walk the woods with them and point out bones and bits that we were not allowed to touch, so they could collect them with their gloves.The rest of him was found on the other side of the fence, beard and all.
The dogs next door had had a feast. The bones were scattered over a large area. The last view I had of Tim was a 5-gallon bucket full of white bones and the skull on top.

In Tim's yard was his truck. When we opened it up there was a sleeping bag inside that reeked of death. The police were not interested.

What I believe with all my heart happened, through dreams and the little info we had to go by:

I dreamed I was Tim, and saw this through Tim's eyes: I was given a bottle of Crown Royal with a blue ribbon tied around it for my birthday. I drank it. I drank most of it. I drifted off, gently, and died.

I believe Tim's night went like this:
His friend Randy and some others were none too savory redneck fellers. They were into speed and stuff. Tim had heart troubles and wasn't even supposed to be drinking, but someone gave him a gift of booze. He played his guitar that night like never before. Oddly, he had been seen by his neighbor carrying the guitar when he left.. it was a custom Graham guitar that Scott had built. The guitar has never been found.

So anyway, Tim gets overly imbibed, and falls out, and has a heart attack. Everyone freaks. No one wants the cops. Everyone will be in some big trouble over this. Who knows. maybe they even slipped him something to keep him going.
Randy hides the body in a woodpile behind his house. For maybe a day or so. Then one night, he wraps it up in the sleeping bag and throws it in the bed of his truck, and drives out to Tim's.. deposits it in the woods out back. Throws the nasty sleeping bag into Tim's truck. Leaves. Hopes that's the end of it.
So we show up and he drives Scott on a wild goose chase asking around after Tim, Scott saw that woodpile and got a feeling about it.. but no one tells us anything.
The cops don't care. They are inept.

Anyway, this is what happened 6 years ago. Happy Birthday Tim. R.I.P.

I should add that if Tim could choose for himself how to go, he couldn't have picked a better or more fitting way. He was called "Dead Dog" back in high school, and once when he and some buddies went to Illinois to pick corn, he had a scythe and a t-shirt on his head and was called "The Grim Reaper", which he relished! His belongings included a lot of skull things, lights, plastic halloween skeletons and a Jolly Roger flag. He would have liked the idea of being found as a bleached white skeleton. He would not have dug being scattered by dogs, or such disrespectful transport however.