I was staying in a place which seemed like Patriot. On the lot where the House in Patriot used to be another house was now standing. A thin, blonde-haired girl lived in the house with her family. I had asked the girl out a few times but she had always refused. She was probably in her late teens and was very pretty. I noticed a few times that she appeared to have been mistreated—but I wasn't sure.

I also met a thin, black-haired girl who was even prettier than the blonde and who lived in the same house. I thought her name was Krista. She reminded me somewhat of Patricia Rogers (a Dallas acquaintance). I thought about asking out the black-haired girl, but I thought if the blonde wouldn't go out with me then surely the black-haired girl wouldn't. But finally I decided that I would ask out the black-haired girl.

I had had the job of washing off the sides of the house where the girls lived. I was a bit ashamed of the type of work I was doing; but at the same time I didn't think the girls did anything glamorous either so it probably made no difference. I noticed that little red specks which looked like blood were on the house. One day I was washing off the house when the black-haired girl stepped outside. I was shocked to see that her right eye was swollen and her face had obviously been badly beaten. I didn't know what to think.

I wanted to ask her out anyway. But I also wanted to know who was doing that to her and try to get her out of that situation. But she was so ashamed she wouldn't talk to me and she walked back inside. But I was determined I was going to get her out of there and I followed her back inside.

Her father then walked up to me. He was a midget and only rose to my knees. I pushed him out of my way and walked back outside. Suddenly, the man's son (probably 16-17 years old) came outside. He had black hair and was thin. I thought he had also been mistreated. Nevertheless he wanted to defend his father and he attacked me. I punched him and threw him off from me clear across the street to the house where the Swiver's used to live.

Beside the house next to the street was a ditch filled with black sewage. The fellow fell into the ditch and went under the water. I thought he would come out on his own. But when he didn't surface I stuck my right hand down into the dark water and began feeling around. Finally, I felt something which I thought was his hand. But when I pulled it out I saw that it was his foot.

I began trying to pull him out but I had a difficult time raising his head out of the water. Finally, I was able to pull him all the way out. He seemed lifeless. I laid him on his back and began pumping on his chest. Greyish, black water began coming out of his mouth. It looked like mud. There was no sign of life. I was worried he might have drowned. The water began pouring out of his mouth just like out of a water hose.