It Goes Back Further Than Q Realizes

In early 1977, the children of Detroit were living in terror. Parents were barely willing to let them play in their own backyards. A monster was living secretly among them, the Oakland County Child Killer. A serial murder who preyed on children.

The children would be snatched seemingly at random, held for days and murdered. The boys were sexually abused, the girls for whatever reason were not.

From Business Insider:

“Mark Stebbins was the first canonical victim. The 12-year-old, who aspired to be a Marine, disappeared after leaving a pool tournament at the American Legion Hall in Ferndale, Michigan, on February 15, 1976. His body was found in a parking lot four days later.

Jill Robinson, also 12, held a deep-rooted fear of being shot. She disappeared after leaving her home on the night of December 22, 1976, according to the Detroit Free Press. Her body was found December 26 near Interstate 75. Robinson had been shot in the face.

Kristine Mihelich was a 10-year-old Girl Scout who never returned from a trip to purchase a magazine at a 7-Eleven on January 2, 1977. She was kept alive for 19 days before being smothered and left in a snow bank near a rural road, the Detroit Free Press reported.

On March 22, 1977, 11-year-old Timothy King disappeared after borrowing change for candy from his older sister, who now runs a blog about the investigation into the Oakland County child killings. In a letter to her son’s abductors, King’s mother, Marian, pleaded for her son’s safe release, promising to buy him his “favorite Kentucky Fried Chicken” on his return home. An autopsy confirmed King had eaten fried chicken before his murder.“

Eventually, it stopped. The killer has never been positively identified.

Here is the mouth of the rabbit hole.

One of the victims of the Fox Island kiddie porn ring claimed that he knew one of the murder victims. That he had “worked” with him there.

The North Fox Island pedo ring bears a shocking resemblance to the Epstein case. It’s all there. The secret pedo club on a millionaire’s private island. The rich owner and his influential friends. The “bungled” police investigation. The slap on the wrist sentences. And a suicide that couldn’t have been less believable if the guy had killed himself by cutting his own head off.

We’ll start where it started. The Seventies.

You didn’t have to look hard to find IT then.

IT was everywhere in that decade.

Everything that came out 1970s was intrinsically diseased.  The fashions, the music, the literature, the art, the home life, the dreams and of course and especially…the sex.

None of it was new. None of it was original.  None of it was brave.  None. Of. It.

It was the age of the Roughie.  Nasty, viscous and grotesquely written.  Shitty production values with dirty lighting.  Greasy producers scraped from the underside of the oozing, decaying corpse of the now dead Hollywood studio system created it in tune to a zeitgeist that was the worst that the human spirit had ever offered the world.   It was easier to call those stains on celluloid Roughies than what they really were, which was rape films. The Roughies got to be in mainstream films and prime time television in only slightly watered down form.  Watch Mandingo or Roots if you don’t believe me.

It was also the age of kiddie porn.  Legal child pornography.  You could find cheap little black and white personals ads for it in the back of sleazy magazines like Screw and Peacock.  8mm films that were guaranteed to come in discreet plain packaging. The age of the plain brown wrapper.  More or less, kinda sorta legal.  It wasn’t really any single cop’s job to enforce laws on it.  Who knew what to enforce?  All of the Blue Laws were still on the books.  It was just as illegal to defile a  twelve-year-old of either sex,  as it was to bang a twenty-one-year-old virgin if you promised to marry her afterward and then welshed on the deal.

Every manner and type of perversion was getting its day in the sun to see if would flower or burn.

High tone child softcore like Louis B. Maille’s Pretty Baby enjoyed theatrical distribution. A film that today would have sent half the production company to jail and Brooke Shields to a foster home. The most overrated film in history; Salò polluted screens and minds.* And featured underage “actors and actresses.” Roman Polanski enjoyed his own child harem until the law finally got after him for sodomizing a thirteen-year-old girl against her will.  He fled the country but is still revered by modern filmmakers.

While viewing kiddie porn was in a legal gray zone. Producing it absolutely was not. Depending on the jurisdiction the cops might be in on it or they might leave the perp with a throwaway gun and a smoking bullet hole in his chest. The Chicago Outfit was reputedly fine with every kind of vice under the sun…except that. Allegedly, you only shot kiddie porn in Chicago if you wanted to find out what it was like to be cut open, filled up rocks and dumped in the Big Lake.

You had to cross the lake if you wanted into that business.

The creep with the money was Frank Sheldon. He was the sicko that bought North Fox Island in Lake Michigan. Sheldon was a millionaire, a philanthropist, active in politics and had very powerful friends (sound familiar?)

And in his day he was producing most of the child pornography in the country.

The recruiting methods weren’t too different from Epstein’s. Boys from disadvantaged families would get a chance to go to a special summer camp on North Fox Island. His friend Gerald Richards was the head recruiter.

Richards was a gym teacher (this is my shocked face), an amateur magician and was the co-founder of Brother Paul’s Children’s Mission. The other co-founder was money man Shelden.

“Its the easiest thing in the world to get a kid,” Richards said. “What you want is a kid with no moral, religious background and you’ve got it made. A kid whose father is absent or doesn’t care about him. They don’t have a chance. They are brain-washed and left sexually confused. They end up like the men who enticed them.”

According to Richards, everything was connected to the BL movement. The Boy Love movement. Before there was an internet there were newsletters. And BL newsletters were the lynchpin of kiddie porn in those days. It was through the carefully coded smoke signals and dog whistles contained in the newsletter’s classified ads, that contacts for generating the filth were made.

It was through these newsletters that Richards met Frank Shelden, the guy who would put him in the big time.

“I screened his mail for four months,” Richards related. “It’s an intricate process. You check the grade of paper, the number of letters, matching type-writer keys. You are looking for sincerity and insistence. Of course, you keep the letters for evidence.”

The BL movement was intensely networked. It was through this spiderweb that lives were ruined.

The boys recruited through Brother Paul’s Children’s Mission would be flown out to North Fox Island on Sheldon’s private airplane (sound familiar?), there would be the usual day camp activities of hiking and swimming…until it was time to take the boys to cabins.

The camp had a number of well-to-do sponsors. In exchange for their, (I shit you not), completely tax-deductible contribution they would be sent kiddie porn. If they were wealthy enough they could visit North Fox Island in person.

One of the sponsors was Christopher Busch, the son of a senior financial executive at General Motors. For those too young to know. In the 1970s GM ran the state of Michigan. Put a pin in this guy we are circling back to him.

In July of 1976, Gerald Richards got pinched for molestation of an eight-year-old boy. And promptly snitched out everyone. Despite having gotten the head photographer to cough months before, the search warrant for Shelden’s home wasn’t issued until freaking December. Think about that for a minute, the cops had had five months to get a warrant for the sicko.

Frank Shelden had long since liquidated his assets and fled for the Netherlands. Even in this age of the internet, information about Shelden is sketchy and he has no Wikipedia page at all.

His sponsors list was long since burnt to ashes.

And now we circle back to the Oakland County Child Killer.

From the A Father’s Story blog:

“Gregory Greene was a known pedophile and companion of Christopher Busch. The Michigan State Police reports have extensive history of his pedophile convictions in California, including one case in which Greene thought the boy was dead and dropped him off at a hospital. Fortunately, the boy lived. After he served his jail term in California he returned to his home town, Flint, Michigan. Greene and Busch were codefendants in the pedophile case in Genesee County, Michigan. Busch was granted probation and Greene was sentenced to life in prison for violating the same child. Greene died in prison in 1996.

In driving from Alma to Flint on January 28, 1977, (Christopher) Busch stated that Greene and he planned to have one of them get a day job and the other, a night job so that they could have someone present with a potential future victim. See Chapter 26 and 27. Busch did not answer the question when the police asked him what they would do when they were finished with a child.

The most upsetting part of the Greene story took place in Flint, on January 27 and 28, 1977 when Busch and he were investigated by the police. On more than one occasion, Greene stated that Busch had murdered Mark Stebbins the first victim.”

Christopher Busch was given a polygraph test. Passed it and was promptly released.

In November of 1978, the police found the body of Christopher Busch. He had been killed with a single shotgun shell to the head delivered at contact range, right between the eyes. There was no blood splatter and no gunpowder residue on his hands. His blood alcohol was at 0.4% which means he should have been unconscious, if not outright dead from alcohol toxicity. He was neatly tucked into his bed. There were ropes with dried blood found in the bedroom.

The police ruled his Busch’s death a suicide.

Nobody was even trying to make it look good.

Taped to his bedroom wall was this picture:

A mere twenty-five days later the Oakland County Child Killer Taskforce was completely disbanded, despite having arrested no one.

There is DNA evidence persevered from the murders but no member of the Busch family will submit a DNA sample without guarantees of police witness protection.

The bloody ropes found at Busch’s suicide vanished years ago. If you make an FOI request, you will be informed that the FBI’s evidence “was destroyed in a flood.”

There was another convicted child molester who supposedly had information on OCCK. Theodore Lamborgine But he wouldn’t talk. He was already convicted so was going to do time. He was offered his choice of facility., reduced time and major bonus, the prosecutors said they would change his paper work so that everyone at the prison would think he was a Check Kiter instead of what he really was. And the guy still wouldn’t talk even facing some of the hardest time you can do. The guy was still afraid to talk.

Who was this man with nothing to lose so afraid of?

In the end, there are so many questions. Why did it take so long for a warrant to be issued for Shelden? Was someone making sure that things were delayed long enough so that Shelden could make his escape? The children held by the OCCK were held so long that the killer had to have had help. Who was it? Why has so much evidence vanished? Who exactly was on the Fox Island sponsor’s list?

Was there something bigger at work?

And are they still in business?

* Salò was not Citizen Kane you dip-shits!  You are only impressed with it because you have been told by rich Communists to think it’s art.  From a technical standpoint alone, Caligula was a better flick.