Heath Robbins Farmer

Every club has at least one guy who never leaves. There is always one guy who never ceases to stalk around the club with nothing better to do than to be at the same club listening to the same music night after night. He shows up most every night in almost the same clothes and you can't always quite figure out if he actually might have a life or not. Heath Farmer is one such clubber. Have you ever wondered what such a person does after the club closes down? Where that person goes? Where that person lives? What brand of deoderant he uses? So have we. ---- Heath was born under an oak tree on the A&M college campus in Tallahassee, Florida's capital. He is 22 years old and in 1999, bought 10,000 dollars worth of Hot Topic stock. Supposedly because of this and other similar investments, Heath is a genuine "hundredthousandaire" or something. The reality of his wealth may just be the result of his parents- one of whom is a friend of Rush Limbaugh and was an assistant to him during his Floridian summer tours. Heath moved to California when he turned 18 and lived in Orange County until he knocked up a girlfriend of his in 2001. When the girl told him that she needed to consult her parents in Humboldt, Heath moved in with her parents and her. The girl had a late term abortion and the couple broke up. Heath then contacted his high school first love, Isabelle Buffington (pictured right, with Heath) and enticed her to come live with him in Blue Lake.

ClubKnocks in Blue Lake CA is some rich old Asian guy's idea of the pefect teen hang-out. This place used to be a police station until California cut its funding and forced the faculty to move its operation to Eureka. The building sat unused for four years unil Aki Higashikun moved into town in 1990. He was an old Japanese man from Reno Nevada who, for whatever reason, thought that turning an old police station into a uptown night club in the middle of a town whose population is 1,130 was a good idea. None of my friends had ever gone to this club but since starting this web site we have had to get in touch with our more curiously social sides. And so, on Saturday, July 6th, Peter, Mike, Eila and I arrived at the club @ 11 PM. That night we spotted Farmer over by the drinking fountain and over the next 15 visits (spanning the next three weeks) some of us became more involved with Farmer than his own girlfriend.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------During every visit to ClubKnocks the team and I had made a routine of standing in opposite corners of the building and silently observing Peter (above with Isabelle) as he integrated himself into the couple's social atmosphere. We had became semi-regulars at the club by the time our investigation was coming to its climax. On our last visit to the club we had planned to enact our ultimate inquisition on Farmer, our longest and most complex task yet. I caught up with Peter in the bathroom and found that he was mostly silent as I dictated to him the crew's stalk plans for the evening. He had a strange twitch in his eyebrows. He told me that he didn't want to go through with it but when I questioned further he just shook his head and said he'd do it. The rest of the crew and I knew then that he had secrets waiting for us. Peter quickly ordered the two a heaping amount of drinks and, as predicted, Isabelle invited Peter over to the couple's summer rental. The crew was ready. At 3:12AM we followed them secretly in our van as Peter drove them into the woods in their white 1987 ACURA Legend. 7482 Burgess Way is situated on the very edge of Blue Lake. The northernmost part of the city is isolated, tree laden and resoundingly free of houses. Two miles into the forest Peter finally came to a black metal gate. With our headlights off we watched Peter roll down the window of the car and punch 4 numbers into a black code box. He glanced back at us blankly and drove forward towards the house, the gate sliding closed behind him. Something was wrong. Before the investigation I had told Peter that, upon entering their car, he was to turn on the transmitter of the walkie-talkie in his sidebag so that we could hear his conversation in the car. We knew that he would never forget such a simple order unless he was simply refusing to follow it. In the weeks previous to this night Peter hadn't been himself. He was standoffish and lazy, not showing up to meetings and taking more of his sister's prescription drugs than usual (OxyContin- People who abuse it often crush it or snap it in half, destroying the 12-hour time-release coating. The pill's contents are then released immediately in the user's body, giving a high more potent than heroin). Peter had also been ignoring Eila sexually which believe me, was a shock to hear. Now we were seeing Peter punch buttons on the black box of the gate -seemingly without instruction from his passengers Heath and Isabelle. The bars shut behind them as they drove forward up the the house on a hill surrounded by dark redwoods. We parked Van Helsing in a shaded grove of blackberry bushes. Then Mike and I pulled our equipment out of the back of the van as Eila covered her with a black tarp. Once we could see that Peter and the couple were in the house, we trapsed through the woods with our stuff. Once we had climbed the perimeter fence on the east end of the property we set up our tent for the night. The week before my father had bought a $315.00 Mountain Hardwear 3 person tent which was quite comfortable. We then set up a wireless 21" color TVS monitor in the corner and adjusted the settings of the transmitter. Peter had a Color 3" Wireless Mini Cam with a 3.7 pinhole lens and 2.4GHz built-in transmitter which we had planned on having Peter hide in the living room of the house. We were then planning on having Peter interview them for information on their lives and childhood for this website while we watched on our monitor and took notes. This never happened. It was 4AM and we stared at the blank screen until 5. We knew something was up and we had a bad feeling of what it might be. Peter's only job was to flick a small switch on a camera for which I had briefed him on and we would recieve sound and audio from 300 feet away in our tent. So I sent Mike to go investigate the circumstances of Peter's possible plight. 15 minutes after leaving the tent, Mike came back with a grieved expression on his face. He requested that I speak with him outside. Away from Eila's ears he lamented that he had seen the truth about Peter's secrecy. He brought me to the back of the house and upon spying through a 3 foot wide, 1 foot high window to the basement, three bodies could be seen through the gloom of the darkness. Once my vision adjusted to the light what I saw was grotesque. As the disappointment sunk into Mike and I, Eila came venturing to the back of the house and stood under an arbor in the garden. She stood waiting for us. Her face was nuetral but once she saw the expression in Mike's eyes, her hands flew to her face and she silently turned around, heading towards the car. The night was done. We are done. And so I will leave you with these final words: PETER: You Owe Mike $279.95 for his camera. You Owe Me Your dignity for breaking up the team. You Owe Eila an explanation as to why you would betray her trust so openly for some bi-sexual fling. And Lastly You Owe us all the explanation as to why you think we aren't already prepared to exact our ultimate revenge upon you.