Dating beaumont texas
The condition of his insides reflected severe trauma: Fleniken had been beaten to death, or crushed.
This is where Greg was on the evening of Wednesday, September 15, 2010, in Room 348 of the MCM Eleganté Hotel, in Beaumont, Texas—lounging, smoking, snacking on a Reese’s Crispy Crunchy bar, sipping root beer, and watching He missed the ending. As a young man he had worked as a chief engineer on oceangoing vessels, spending months at sea.
He had also taken a blow to the chest so severe it had caused lethal damage. On the official form, next to “Manner of Death,” Brown wrote, “Homicide.”Whodunit?
When he got this surprising news, Detective Apple called Brown immediately for an explanation.
There was no answer, so they got the hotel manager to open it. He was a stubbornly independent man, suspicious of authority and unmoved by the modern passion for health and fitness. He had chain-smoked his entire adult life and had the nagging cough to prove it. A photographer snapped pictures to make a record of the scene, and the body was driven by a transport service to the Jefferson County medical examiner for an autopsy. It took him 45 minutes to conduct a postmortem exam, inspecting a body inside and out, measuring and weighing organs, all the while describing what he found and noting the metrics that fleshed out the official form.
Their alarmed calls brought an ambulance and the Beaumont police. There was a wet spot at the crotch of his blue pajamas, but that wasn’t unusual. He neither drank nor ate to excess, but did both freely. Many times she had heard him remark, upon hearing of someone’s dying suddenly, “Lucky bastard. The only mystery here appeared to be medical, and it was likely a minor mystery at that. He was all business—crisp, efficient, and confident.
The hotel was just off the cloverleaf outside Beaumont.