August of 1992 was one of the hottest on record in Detroit. As a cop youy learn to brace yourself for the worst when the theremometer cracks ninty and it stayed closer to a hundred all month. This particular case still burns in the minds of everyone it touched. Everyone still alive that is.

Sunday, August 3rd @ 3:00AM: Four alarm fire torches up half of a city block in the treacherous Huntingdon-Marsh section fo town. Eyewitnesses clas vary. Most give vahue accounts of a bright auto carreening into a vacant building, but at least theree observers fornm different points of view described a brightly lite aircraft peeling over Od Champlain Park and careening down Cumberland Drive thiry feet above traffic and well over the speed limit. Of course sice crank, crack and smack are the prime retakl trade on Cumberland Drive these reports were taken with nmore thatn a gram of salt. However around 7:30 AM as the fire subsided, the Fire Marshall gave us an iniitalreport that changed our thinking.

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Apparently the fire originated form an impact on the third floor. A large object had made a 30' by 15' hole in the exterior wall and then burrowed hahalfway throudhg the abandoned office building before exploding with a chemical exellerant of unknown origin. Even eerier, at the crash scen frequent descriptionfrom firemen of odd metallic wreckage and "hairless monkey carcasses". Cops, firemena and Medical Examiners figetted waiting to go into teh building as soon as it coold. Apparently some local entreprenuers didn't wait for the Fire Marshalls okay.

Approximately 112:45 army trucks began pulling up and that was the end of the show. The impact building was quarentined and a perimeter was wastablished to a two block radius. Gangbangers sttod shoulder to shoulder with shopkeeepers and cops as trucks went in nad out, but nobody saw anythiing that came or went. When the military pulled out tweve hours later there was nothing but a big sterile hole in the side of the impact building, No wreckage, no monkeys, no excellerant, end of story.

Friday, August 8 @ 11:30 PM: A snitch from the Jefferson Heights Brothers, a local yoyuth gang, tipped off "Good Cop" and "Bad Cop" that the rival Crypts gang was shopping some major goods among high brow fences in Motown and Chicago. "GC" and "BC" are narcotics detectives with the Detroit PD. After a little followup they find out that "Cabbagestalk"
, a top soldier with the Crypts is holding so they get a warrant and bust on Cabbagestalk's crib. Nobody is home...alive that is.

Cabbagestalk and two other Crypt soldiers were found seated on a couch with arms rigid at their sides, fists and teeth clinched and eyes wide open. They appeared to be shocked which made sense seeing as how there internal organs had exploded like overmicrowaved sausages. Even Bad Cop had to dash for the latreen at the sight. No evidence of narcotics or recently stolen valuables wa found but indise Cabbagestalk's wallet was a photo of an underdressed famale dancer with an endearing message and a beeper number on the back. Taneka" was an entertainer at a local nightclub. She arrived at the crimescene about 1:30AM, just as the stench of the bodies was at it's sweetest. When told she nmay also be a potential target she quickly devulged all that she knew.

It appears that the morning of the crash and burn two local kids had slipped the army perimeter and pilfered and important looking metal suitcase labelled "unknown origin: Detriot 8392/211" from the scene. After showing it around the case and it's contents were pr9omptly pinched by associates of Cabbagestalk. Taneka had last heard that "Lincoln Holmes", an underboss in the Chicago Crypts, was to buy the goods for 20K that evening. Mister Holmes had just become a major league murder suspect.

With three murders and possibly a theft of federal eveidence involed suddenly this became a very top shelf investigation. "Good Cop" and "Bad Cop" sere basically told by the Feds to drop out but the Detroit brass gave them the go ahead to pursue the investigation quitely.

Lincon Holmes was quickly located by GC and BC as well as the FBI who sidetracked them long enough for Holmes to slip their tail. Stymied, GC and BC tracked down Lincoln's top gunsel "Honeyboy" McDaniel and applied some traditional Motown hospitality.

Honeyboy was scared. The goods Holmes went to Cabbagestalks crib to buy was some type of weapon. Once Holmes figured how to use it he turned it on it's sellers. It seemed to affect Holmes like a drug. Afterward Honeyboy and Holmees took to an associates place in the Hamistown Terrace procts for the night. About 4:30AM they awoke to a bright light in the center of the room. Honeyboy could neither move nor hear a thing. Inside the light three figures moved about. Althougyh no words were spoken Honeyboy sensed that the creatures were inquiring about the weapon. Suddenly Honeyboys feet began to burn and his head began to pound.

The rest happened in a matter of seconds. Lincoln Holmes drew the astrolabe shaped weapon and ribbons of energy shot out like snakes from the eyes of the devil. The figures in the light squeelled and scurried about as the light flucuated from white to red to yellow and then to blue. Finally it was dark and silent. Honeyboy wondered if Homes was alive and where, in the dark, lurked the unearthly intruders. Sweating fingers nerviously fumbled for a light switch.

Lincoln Holmes and Honeyboy McDaniel were both alive but ther host was less fortunate. A gash ran clean through his torso from the base of his right shoulder to his groin. His lifeless body lie in a rapidly widening circle of blood still a steaming 98.6 degrees. Clumped in the center of the room were the remains of one of theri nocturnal visitors. Crustacean in appearance, it's lower half was reduced to a spaghetti of viscous white and yellow tissue. In retrospect, Honeyboy recalled, the air immediately filled with a stench of liver, feces and lobster. The imagery even made his inquisitors nauseous.

The two Chicago Crypts then grabbed what clothers were at hand and spit out of the window. Now doubt the creatures had come for there weapon and would soon return for it as well as there fallen companion. Honeyboy urged Holmes to ditch the piece but Holmes was possessed, bordering on madness. As McDaniel ran for his like into the Detroit night he could hear Holmes screaming threats into the midsummer morning air.

I'd like to tell you that we wrapped up the investigation the next day but the fact is, nearly nine years later no sign of Holmes or the mysterious weapon has ever surfaced. The case is as dead as "Cabbagestalk" but every once in awhile a body will turn up with the same blown out from within look. The last was just this past December, Christmas eve prison guards pulled the frappated entrails of Steven "Honeyboy" McDaniel from a laundry dryer at the State Penitentary. The politicians won't let this story out but the public needs to know the truth and frankly we need help. If you know anything please contact me through this website. Of course everything will be kept confidential.

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