It was a warm and sunny day in June that my wife and I decided to visit the Robison murder site. The scene of the crime. It isn't much of a scene anymore. The twisted brush, humus and burnt tree marks are all that remain in this quiet but desolate setting. No cottage, only a few pieces of flagstone that mark the walkway to the front door and the stone cover for the septic tank. These are hard to find unless you know where they are. As you stand on one of the steps, your mind travels back in time and you wonder.
The sounds of birds and the waves of Lake Michigan lapping the shore is music to one's ear, however the thought of that tragic moment in 1968 always surfaces even under the most pleasant of circumstances. It is still difficult to imagine how anyone could have found this secluded setting without knowing exactly where it was. It is even more difficult to picture someone who did know the location yet be secure enough to believe that they could kill 6 people and get away with it. But it happened. That is the most mysterious thing of all. Every star, planet and human condition had to be exactly right for this to come together.
On June 25th, 2009, precisely 41 years after the tragic event, I noticed that it took almost until 10:00 p.m. for darkness to completely cover the landscape in Lansing. It should have been the same in Good Hart, even a little later because of the vast horizon of Lake Michigan which does not obstruct the sun's rays. Even on an overcast day, which it was in 1968, there would have been sufficient light around the Robison cabin. Such is life. Such is death.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
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