Page 91 of Broken Warrior
Combining them helped.
Using those phrases along with the keywords of his stupid nickname—which wasn’t coined until about five years ago—have helped, but what really started to get things popping up in my browser were things likemissing left femurandpenis in mouth.
This guy is a sick son of a bitch and so far it looks like he’s been active for at least the last six years, but I’d put money on longer.
I’ve got the basics of what he does down, more than I did before deep diving into his MO.
He picks from the scum of the earth, gets them in some secluded, abandoned, or at the very least remote location, stabs them in the head or neck, then shit gets real interesting. He seems to drain the blood, remove the femur, then dismembers them before setting his victims up in a rather gruesome display, making zero effort to hide the bodies or conceal anything even though he goes to great lengths to clean the crime scene.
It’s rather fascinating honestly, in a morbid and disturbing kind of way, but what really has me intrigued is the fact that The Harvester of Bones has now eliminated three men connected to the Wulven Kings in some way and went as far as to leave the last one as some kind ofgiftfor us.
And that has had my gears turning for the last two weeks.
I started out by looking into Rosco and the Valetti family again but I’ve been through those bastards so many times I can recite their stats in my sleep, so I switched from trying to find their connection to the Ghost, to finding his connection to us.
Which led me to Little John.
It was a longshot at first, just a fleeting thought really, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
So, I pulled up John’s travel history for the last fifteen years—because I’m just that good—threw it on one of my monitors then started my search for these articles. Turns out the supposedly retired hitman was at the very least in the state that reported a murder that fit the MO of our friendly neighborhood serial killer at roughly the same time they were committed nine out of the eleven I’ve found so far. And that doesn’t include the last three since they all happened here in Colorado.
Little John was out of townon businesseleven times in the last six years, all in the states surrounding Colorado, during the few days before and after one of these murders were committed, but only between ten and three years ago. John had hip and knee replacement surgery between the fall about three years ago so his travel has been limited and oddly enough, I haven’t found any murders fitting this description during that time either.
So I now know I have a relatively recent three year gap, then about five years prior to the earliest article I found—and I’m still searching—and I’d put money on Little John being around during anything I find before then since he was much more active at that point. And once my search is complete, I’ll be making a fucking spreadsheet to take down to MACs with me when I go confront that grizzly son of a gun.
Do I think Little John is The Harvester of Bones?
Hell no, I’m not stupid.
I’ve known John my entire life and while I know he’s a cold blooded killer just like the rest of us—though his body count is probably something I can’t fathom—he’s not a serial killer.
During his heyday, John was very particular about taking hits from the Pythons or the Kings, never aligning with one club or the other but always an ally, and only doing our dirty work when the situation required it.
Do I think John might have gone rogue a time or two?
Absolutely.
You don’t make a living as a hitman for MCs without going off the rails occasionally, and it was rumored for a long time that he murdered his father-in-law after the guy killed John’s wife by pushing her down the stairs once he found out they’d eloped and she was pregnant.
John never remarried and if he killed the piece of shit, it was justified in my eyes.
But at the end of the day, Little John isn’t a serial killer.
He’s lethal, he’s skilled, and he’s a scary motherfucker, but he’s not made for shit like that.
If he was, I wouldn’t have seen that big bear of a man cry like a baby at Link or Conner’s funerals.
I close my eyes and hold my breath.
Conner’s death is not my fault.
There is nothing I could have done to stop the things I had no knowledge of.
There is nothing I can do now to change the things that have already happened.
Conner’s death is not my fault.
I exhale slowly, working through the grief and pain, the guilt and anxiety that always hit whenever I think about Conner Martin.
