Category Archives: words

I have to stay on this bus forever

Canada bus beheading suspect says ‘please kill me’
By ROB GILLIES – 1 day ago
TORONTO (AP) — A man accused of stabbing and beheading another passenger on a Greyhound bus in Canada pleaded Tuesday in court for someone to “please kill me,” and was ordered to undergo a psychiatric evaluation.
Prosecutor Joyce Dalmyn, who argued for the evaluation, revealed new details about the attack Wednesday night. She said Vince Weiguang Li had a plastic bag containing his victim’s ear, nose and part of a mouth in his pocket when officers arrested him. The only response officers received from him was: “‘I have to stay on the bus forever,'” Dalmyn said.
In an interview with police after his arrest, Li declined to speak for the most part, said Dalmyn. On four occasions, however, he did indicate in a low voice that he is guilty, she said.
Li, who immigrated to Canada from China in 2004, is charged with second-degree murder in the slaying of 22-year-old carnival worker Tim McLean — an attack which witnesses aboard the bus said appeared to be unprovoked. He has yet to enter a plea.
Li was scheduled to appear Tuesday to determine whether he should undergo psychiatric testing, but the judge in Portage La Prairie adjourned the hearing for a short recess to allow a legal aid attorney to confer with him.
Since his arrest, Li has declined to speak to prosecutors and his court-appointed attorney.
When asked again by the judge after the recess if he wanted a lawyer, Li shook his head and then quietly said “please kill me.”
Dalmyn said many heard the plea.
“There were some people in the courtroom that were taken aback by it,” Dalmyn told The Associated Press. “Those were the only words I heard him utter in the courtroom.”
Dalmyn said Li appeared to understand what the judge was asking him.
“He shook his head in response to questions from the judge. Some shakes of his appeared to be in the affirmative. Some of them appeared to be in the negative,” Dalmyn said.
He is due back in court Sept. 8.
Thirty-seven passengers were aboard the Greyhound from Edmonton, Alberta, to Winnipeg, Manitoba, as it traveled at night along a desolate stretch of the TransCanada Highway about 12 miles from Portage La Prairie. Some were napping and others watching the movie “The Legend of Zorro” on bus television screens when Li attacked McLean, allegedly stabbing him dozens of times.
As horrified passengers fled the bus, Li severed McLean’s head, displaying it to some of the passengers outside the bus, witnesses said.
A police officer at the scene reported seeing the attacker hacking off pieces of the victim’s body and eating them, according to a police tape leaked on the Internet.
A church pastor, Tom Castor, who helped hire Li soon after he immigrated in 2004 with his wife, Anna, said the man never showed any sign of anger or emotional problems when he worked there as a custodian. Church officials said they vetted Li by contacting references listed on his application and running a criminal record check.
More than 105,000 people have joined an online memorial group for McLean.
Accused chatted with victim’s co-worker
Prior to decapitation, Vince Li sat with victim’s colleague

Mike McIntyre, Winnipeg Free Press, Tuesday, August 05, 2008
WINNIPEG – The seeds for Tim McLean’s brutal murder on board a Greyhound bus last week may have been planted when the man accused of his murder, Vince Li, spent nearly an hour chatting up the victim’s co-worker during their ride through western Manitoba, the Winnipeg Free Press has learned.
Li, 40, took a seat at the front of the bus beside a woman named Stacy after getting on board in Brandon. The pair chatted and were even seen smoking together during a rest stop.
As the bus resumed its ill-fated journey towards Winnipeg, Li suddenly moved to the back of the bus and sat beside McLean, who was listening to his headphones and apparently asleep.
Moments later, McLean was being repeatedly stabbed until he was decapitated. Horrified passengers fled the bus but managed to lock the killer inside the bus.
McLean’s family and friends don’t believe Li’s change-of-seating was a coincidence. And they question why he was charged with second-degree murder and not first-degree murder, which indicates planning and premeditation.
“I have this unbelievably strong feeling that him sitting beside Stacy had something to do with this,” McLean’s former girlfriend, Alexandra Storey, told the Free Press in an exclusive interview Monday.
Tim and Stacy had become friends while working together at various western Canadian fairs through North American Midway Entertainment.
They were travelling together to Winnipeg – although seated separately in different areas of the bus – and had planned to meet up with a mutual friend in the city before all heading to British Columbia.
McLean’s loved ones now desperately want to speak with Stacy – her last name is not known to them – to find out more about her dealings with Li on the bus.
They only know that she quickly returned to B.C. after McLean’s killing, and presumably after an interview with police.
A call to North American Midway Entertainment seeking information about the woman wasn’t returned on Monday.
Storey is also haunted by a series of text messages McLean sent to her as he made his way through Manitoba. Her ex-boyfriend – to whom she remained very close – mentioned that some people were doing ecstasy on the bus.
Some medical experts say the combination of a powerful stimulant drug such as ecstasy, combined with pre-existing mental health conditions, could trigger a violent episode.
Storey isn’t buying it.
“Even if he was doing drugs, it wouldn’t make him do something like that. There’s no excuse,” she said.
A Winnipeg family that had extensive dealings with Li during his two years spent living in the city told the Free Press on Saturday they believe he was suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. However, he refused to go see a doctor to be diagnosed or prescribed any medication, despite a strong push from the family and members of a local church where he attended and briefly worked as a janitor.
Li’s erratic behaviour included making statements about always being watched and taking sudden, unexplained bus trips to various locales including The Pas and Toronto. He eventually left his wife, Anna, in 2006 and moved to Edmonton, where he began delivering newspapers and briefly worked at McDonald’s. Anna recently left Winnipeg to join him in Alberta.
Li last delivered newspapers on July 28, according to his boss in Edmonton, Vincent Augert. On Tuesday, he “fell off the face of the earth,” Augert said, which was unlike Li. Augert phoned him and a woman who identified herself as Li’s wife called back, saying Li’s disappearance wasn’t planned.
“She said to me, ‘I don’t know where he is, he had to leave town, it was an emergency,'” Augert said. Li had told Augert three weeks ago that he had plans to go to Winnipeg for a job interview.
It’s not officially known yet why Li was on the Greyhound headed for Winnipeg Wednesday. Li has no prior criminal record in Canada, according to RCMP.
Justice sources say his background in China will be examined closely as the case proceeds through the courts.
Storey told the Free Press they are disgusted by media reports that they believe paint the accused Li in a sympathetic light, regardless of any medical issues he may have.
“Everyone is talking about his background, how he went to church, was a good guy . . . He never gave Tim a chance,” she said.
“Mental illness or not, you don’t do that to another human being.”
They also want police to closely examine Li’s time in Canada for fear there could be other violent incidents that have yet to be uncovered.
McLean’s family is currently in the planning stages for his funeral, which is expected to be a small, private affair despite the worldwide attention and condolences his killing has generated, she said.

liminal

we dream of ways out of the heat into exhaustion. i swat spiders that crawl along knobs weaving weak webs that crack in the wind. my daughter, capricious as ever, makes lists of the best parts of her day. they are always imagined. while my son has begun to crawl up and over the furniture leaving little teeth marks wherever his grip had slipped. we remember none of this waiting for the sky to break and i grab her hand in the dark. all of this is too real to keep. all of this snaps me into a million pieces.

one lilac or not

i had many things up my sleeve inside and out and she with her lilac in her hair, always one mind you, always one and purple at that, hitched into her hair above an ear all a glitter with stones and hoops and hooks of earrings, all the better to ignore you with dear, she would say slinked into a tight black dress that left little room for anything else, and we hit the town square in the face and she would claim righteously that she would rocket us all of out of here, that we would all be riding her coat tails and all i wanted was to ride this feeling she gave me when she smiled like that, all stupid and goofy and free of whether she was wearing one lilac or not.

name given

rustling out of the brush of trees that grow along the side of houses and take root beneath the foundation and raise the edge until the walls crack and my fingers fit between the frame and the beam and she yawns listlessly and sleepy as i break my back with the struggle with pushing it all back in and i cannot put it all back in, and she says, why don’t you throw your back into it, and i laugh this hoarse whisper cursing your name and everything that came with it when you gave it to me

i need you to need me

i need you to need me to touch me to push me to dig your fingers into my hair and yank me to your neck i need you to push me to pull me to make me feel alive to make me feel i am there i am here that i mean something to you that you need me too that you need this silly flesh that you need me and only me to make me feel as if i am seen as if i am real i need you to remind me why i am alive

to listen

we wait. we wait by supermarket checkout stands and convenience store lottery lines. we wait, itching, reading fake headlines and rabid text juxtaposed by sultry flesh, to move, to get out. we’re been stuck for so long in airline seats too narrow, between angry couples and air nozzles set directly at our foreheads. we would peel the foreskin if it would move the world. we would crack our forearms into ridiculous angles until the jagged end pierced outward, if only you would be quiet enough to listen.

maw

there is a certain kind of longing in death, it is absolute and irresponsible. it is careless to pine for someone who is dead. dead to the world, he writes, i have missed you for so long and it is impossible to continue. he stops. you cannot forgive, he cannot forgive you. he cannot forgive the fact that you have forgotten and i stand idle by deeply dug graves and mounds of freshly wet earth. it is not the dead that we mourn or long for. we are rather compelled by the impossible distance between us, we are drawn by the void. it is the absence of hope, the absence of longing, the absence of despair that we find beautiful. he writes, the look of death in your eyes when you had looked at me for the first time after such a very long time was startling and precious and i knew right then you were never to be mine again. you cannot forget him and he mocks you.

poker star

finally hit the hard rock casino at tampa. sign up list for 1-2NLHE for a little less than an hour. smoke filled slot floor but the poker room was smoke less. got sat at a table that had 3 lifers but i had only initially noticed the old man more or less opposite me.
first hand, had to bluff, just to get it out of my system. opened with QTs (hearts), old man called. flop comes out KJrag rainbow. he bet, i insta-reraised. he studied me, i studied the table, thinking, control your breathing, slow it down. after a good solid minute, he folds his hand and taps the table.
i don’t show it.
another hand, guy in his late forties with a wide brim straw hat (known from here on out as Panama Jack) who i had split a pot earlier with (straight with both of us holding Q9) min raises (going from 2 to 4, what the heck is that all about? i had seen him do it with pocket kings) and i was in the big blind. i had 23o but with 3 other limpers and being in the big blind, it was only 2 more to call, so why not.
flop comes KJ3, rainbow. awesome. i study it, then check (funny, i never looked at my cards again after the flop, which i don’t know if anyone else noticed). panama jack turns aggressive, betting close to the pot (~16), and i call. he nods his head. turn comes, it’s another three, flash of disgust across his face. he checks. i bet, he’s annoyed but calls. river comes and it’s a deuce.
i made a full house out of 32o, ain’t that something? and i’m fairly confident all he has is some sort of high king. i bet, he goes all in, i call. i turn over the boat and everyone goes “oooh” and “nice hand” and you can tell panama jack absolutely hates me.
so it went on like this, i wasn’t catching alot of good cards, caught a pair of 9s twice fairly close to each other: the first time someone flopped a pair of aces, the second time i flopped a set and was able to milk it.
another hand, fairly early, and the only time i got scolded for the way i played: button (this korean woman who was very nice) raised 6 pre-flop, small blind folded, me, big blind with K7s called. flop comes AK3 rainbow. i check, she bets out 8, i call. so, there’s a little over 30 in the pot. K peels off on the turn, i bet out 40. she blurts out, “why so much??? i know you go the king. why so much?? i know you got the king, why no slow play??”
and i really don’t know why i did that other than i was afraid of her catching that 2 outer on the river. but i guess she’s right, i could’ve made some more money on the hand instead of just taking it down right then and there.
last hand, against panama jack, he min raised again, i had pocket 3s on the button so i called as did 1 or 2 others. flop comes KJ3, same as last time. he bets, again, strong, previous callers folded and i re-raised. again that flash of disgust with a nod but he calls anyway. turn is a blank, he checks, i check. the river was a jack and i was fairly certain that he didn’t have a set of kings to make a full house with the jack, beating mine with the 3s.
he checks to me, knowing he’s beat. so i took a deep breath, looked at his stack, then looked at him.
“i’m going to put you all in. you gonna call?”

a little souvenir of a terrible year

“…but the only thing I ever really wanted to say was wrong, was wrong, was wrong.” The Sundays, “Here’s where the story ends”
always the wrong thing at the wrong time. timing issues. misfiring spark plug. an engine horribly out of tune, out of sorts. i’ve done all this sorting through my life only to find it is all a mess. i have no idea where anything is or how it got there. but we got there. we are there. some where in the thick of this. thick fingered, i spread my hands wide. sheafs and sheafs. right beside me and i miss you constantly, like a bone fracture that hasn’t healed quite right during the rain.