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Message from Outer Space? The Mysterious Indecipherable Script of the Inga Stone

Message from Outer Space? The Mysterious Indecipherable Script of the Inga Stone

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Standing amidst the waters of the Inga River in Brazil, the mysterious Inga Stone of Paraíba, Brazil is an archeological treasure of much ongoing controversy. Covering most of its 150-foot length and 13-foot height are strange, unidentified geometric symbols, varied in size and shape, which are apparently carved into its Gneiss exterior. Although many observers have speculated on the origins and meaning of the symbols, no theory has yet been proven 100% factual. Are they a message to future generations from our ancestors? Did a previously unknown civilization exist, possessing ancient technology long since forgotten? What do the symbols really mean, who carved them, and why?

Dating back in origin at least 6,000 years, the stone is a worldwide wonder. There are other stones, as well as caves, around the Inga stone which also have carvings on them, however they are not of the same intricate level of craftsmanship or style as the Inga. Archeologist and researcher Gabriele Baraldi stumbled upon his first Inga cave in the year 1988 - after which several more were found. In total, Baraldi has examined up to 497 symbols across all the cave's walls. Most of the Inga's carvings are obscure, but a few of them are undoubtedly representative of celestial features, with two being almost identical to the Milky Way and constellation of Orion.

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Others are thought to be animals, fruits, weapons, human shapes, ancient (or imagined) aircraft or birds, or a crude “table of contents” of stories divided into sections with each symbol connected to the number of a chapter. Fr. Ignatius Rolim, Professor of Greek and Latin Theology, argued the symbols were similar to ancient Phoenician carvings, and was among the first to argue this theory. Other researchers felt the symbols were related to ancient runes, and still more asserted their similarity in complexity and linear arrangement to a possible short piece of religious scripture. Another researcher, Austrian-born Ludwig Schwennhagen, studied Brazilian history in the early twentieth century and found strong connections in appearance from the Inga symbols to not only the Phoenicians but also the demotic writings (linked more closely to business or literary document-style writings) of the ancient Egyptians. Further groups found a remarkable similarity of the carvings of Inga to the aboriginal artwork found on Easter Island

Inga Stone, Paraíba, Brazil. ( CC BY 2.0 )

A closer evaluation of each symbol was the task of some ancient historians, such as author and researcher Roberto Salgado de Carvalho. The concentric circles carved may be related to phallic imprints, while the spiral shapes might signify "transcosmological shifts or travel", likely due to shamanic trances/altered states of consciousness or otherwise ingested hallucinogens, while the "U" shapes could mean a uterus/vagina, rebirth or an entrance/door, according to Salgado de Carvalho. The series of symbols in this respect could therefore signal an ancient formula carved onto the Inga, possibly used for accessing a "door to the supernatural world," Salgado de Carvalho suggests. Others have drawn connections to the laws of exogamy at the time. Potholes, also filled with the carvings, found near the Inga are thought to have a connection to early civilizations' belief that the first mythical people arose from such shapes in the ground. Some have speculated an even more complicated hypothesis that the symbols are actually drawn upside-down and coded purposely for additional secrecy. Others have pondered the possibility that the ancient carvings were a warning to future civilizations of an approaching (or possibly recently survived) worldwide disaster, through which the ancients had briefly retained technology from an earlier existence. In addition, the possible appearance of more than one language being carved on the stone brings another realm of possibility into question.

Central part (more detailed) Stone. ( CC BY-SA 2.0 )

Since there is no historical evidence to date which links the representation of stars and constellations to the native Brazilians of the time period, a nomadic civilization, or group otherwise temporarily visiting the region, quite likely comprised the artists. Some insist common lithic carving tools of the time period would have sufficed for ancient Indian cultures to create the piece with enough effort and skill. Another theory, posited by Baraldi, holds that an ancient civilization used geothermal energy processes to create the symbols using molds and lava conduits of inactive volcanoes.

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An additional popular theme of extraterrestrial contact has been considered, since the Inga's symbols were so different than others found at the time, with some researchers, such as Claudio Quintans of the Paraibano Center for Ufology, going so far as to indicate that a spaceship had landed in the Inga area during this ancient time and the symbols were probably drawn by the extraterrestrial guests themselves onto the rock. Still others, like Gilvan de Brito, author of "Journey to the Unknown," ("Viagem ao Desconhecido"), share the view that equates the symbols with ancient formulas or mathematical equations explaining quantum energy or the distance travelled between planets like the Earth and the moon.

Closeup of the Inga Stone. ( Leonardo Chaves/Flickr )

Regardless of which theory you prefer, there is little disagreement about the significance of this finding. The carvings of the Inga Stone have had a meaning of some kind to someone which was very unique, and painstakingly expressed - but what was it and, most importantly, how is it relevant to us today? As we advance in our own civilizations' technology and awareness, we can remain hopeful for an increased understanding to shed some light onto this and other ancient mysteries.

Thunderbolts Forum (v2.0)

Alberta fossil site hints to ‘epic disaster’ for group of dinosaurs (the bone bed is merely one section of a much bigger find that stretches across two to three kilometres and may contain the remains of an entire herd of centrosaurs wiped out in one fell swoop . tens of thousands of individuals dying at once [the Great Flood!])
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/nat . le31219826

That Giant Asteroid Wasn’t the Only Thing That Killed the Dinosaurs (So Did Vulcanism [and the unmentionable Great Flood])
http://www.motherjones.com/environment/ . ate-change

Why did Tutankhamun Have a Dagger Made From a Meteorite?
http://www.ancient-origins.net/artifact . ite-006408

Even a dwarf galaxy with very low mass is capable of accreting smaller nearby galaxies
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-galaxies-v . -flea.html

How a star cluster ruled out MACHOs ([theory of] massive black holes hiding in the halos of galaxies . ruled out by a star cluster)

Astrophysicists discover [wrong as usual] mechanism for spiral-arm formation in disk galaxies

Scientists able to reprogram mice through laser-guided neuron manipulation
https://www.sott.net/article/325124-Sci . nipulation

This Woman sees 99 million colours more than the rest of us
https://www.sott.net/article/325173-Sci . r-receptor

About 20,000 kilometers beneath the sun’s surface, magnetic fields rise no faster than about 500 kilometers per hour . implying that moving parcels of gas help steer magnetic fields toward the surface
http://www.sciencenews.org/article/magn . our?tgt=nr

Humans may have taken different path into Americas than thought
https://www.sciencenews.org/article/hum . ght?tgt=nr

Re: Major Sci News Blog

Unread post by Lloyd » Sun Aug 21, 2016 6:29 am

Canadian meteorite may be first visitor from the Kuiper belt
https://www.newscientist.com/article/21 . uiper-belt

Have we detected an alien megastructure in space, at Tabby's Star?
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfr . -telescope

Message from Outer Space? The Mysterious Indecipherable Script of the Inga Stone (Brazil)
http://www.ancient-origins.net/artifact . one-006442

The giant pyramid hidden inside a mountain, temple at Cholula, dwarfs the Great Pyramid at Giza
http://www.bbc.com/future/story/2016081 . a-mountain

Remarkable ancient structure found just two miles from Stonehenge
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/scien . 90476.html

Giant planet and brown dwarf discovered in a close binary system HD 87646
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-giant-plan . inary.html

Classical nova observations before, during and after exploding
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-classical- . tured.html

Researchers [wrongly think they] uncover 340 million year-old oceanic crust in the Mediterranean Sea using magnetic data [Rapid continental drift after asteroid impact caused the seafloor magnetic striping]
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-uncover-mi . crust.html

Recent connection between North and South America reaffirmed [5,000 BP, not 3 million]
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-north-sout . irmed.html

Himalayan migration northward found to be result of tectonic lift
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-himalayan- . tonic.html

Close Encounters between Centaurs and Gas Giants Form Our Solar System’s ‘Pinky Rings’
http://www.sci-news.com/astronomy/centa . 04117.html

Re: Major Sci News Blog

Unread post by Lloyd » Sun Aug 28, 2016 5:49 pm

Origin of High-Temperature Superconductivity in Copper-Oxide Compound Uncovered
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2 . 142602.htm

Discovery of 'live' iron-60 in Pacific ocean sediment linked with 2.7 million year old Type II supernova event [Dating is wrong]
https://www.sott.net/article/326044-Dis . nova-event

Chinese scientists study viability of manned radar station on the moon
http://www.scmp.com/news/china/policies . ar-station

Interstellar probes will be eroded on the way to Alpha Centauri
https://www.newscientist.com/article/21 . a-centauri

Standing stones across the UK were used as astronomical calculators
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/ . paign=1490

Lost cities #9: racism and ruins – the plundering of Great Zimbabwe
https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2016 . plundering

Will the Voynich manuscript finally be cracked? [This says no word or letter from the manuscript has been decoded]
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/ . paign=1490

10 Words in Mysterious Voynich Manuscript Decoded [This says 14 words were decoded 2 years ago and the manuscript was first found in 1912 and is carbon dated to the 1400s]
http://www.livescience.com/43542-voynic . acked.html
[And this link says it was obtained in 1912 from a Jesuit college in Italy and included a letter dated 1666 which named previous owners of the manuscript]
http://www.csicop.org/si/show/the_voyni . y_can_read

Giant ancient supervolcanoes threw rock right across Australia
https://www.newscientist.com/article/21 . -australia

Ancient air pockets changing the history of Earth’s oxygen [still getting it way wrong]
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2 . 174234.htm

5,000-Year-Old Mystery Structure Discovered Near Stone Age Temple in Scotland
http://www.ancient-origins.net/news-his . and-020962

Astronomers discover a large cavity around the Tycho's supernova
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-astronomer . rnova.html

ALMA finds unexpected trove of gas around larger stars
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-alma-unexp . arger.html

Rosetta captured a dramatic comet outburst that may have been triggered by a landslide
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-rosetta-ca . burst.html

Scientists discover a Massive galaxy of [undetectable] dark matter
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-scientists . alaxy.html

Japan scientists detect rare, deep S wave Earth tremor for first time
https://www.sott.net/article/326395-Jap . first-time

Self-destruction of science: Most findings are wrong or useless
https://www.sott.net/article/326582-Sel . or-useless

Sci News Blog: Ball Lightning

Unread post by Lloyd » Wed Aug 31, 2016 12:34 am

Interesting 19 page article [I've only read the abstract] on ball lightning, apparently from about 2012. I just posted other science news Sunday in the previous post.

Ball Lightning: Bubbles of Electronic Plasma Oscillations
Auguste Meessen
Institute of Physics, Catholic University of Louvain, Louvain-la-Neuve, B-1348 Belgium
E-mail: [email protected]
We present a theory that explains all known properties of ball lightning (BL) in terms of collective oscillations of free electrons*. The simplest case corresponds to radial oscillations in a spherical plasma membrane. These oscillations are sustained by parametric amplification, resulting from regular “inhalation” of charged particles that are present at lower densities in the ambient air. BL vanishes thus by silent extinction when the available density of charged particles is too low, while it disappears with a loud and sometimes very violent explosion when this density is too high. Electronic oscillations are also possible as stationary waves in a plasma ball or thick plasma membrane. This yields concentric luminous bubbles. Ball lightning is a remarkable example of dissipative and self-organizing open systems, depending on non-linear processes.

Re: Major Sci News Blog

Unread post by Lloyd » Sun Sep 04, 2016 2:00 pm

NASA: Earth is Vulnerable to Invisible, Microscopic Black Holes – “Universe is Filled with Primordial Black Holes Speeding Through Space Like Bullets” [a different kind of "catastrophism"]
http://www.dailygalaxy.com/my_weblog/20 . es-fo.html

SETI has observed a “strong” ET signal that may originate from a Sun-like star
http://arstechnica.com/science/2016/08/ . -like-star

Another ‘Alien’ Signal Had Earthly Cause, Russian Scientists Say
http://www.space.com/33922-mysterious-s . cause.html

Hunt for ninth planet reveals new extremely distant solar system objects
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2 . 093242.htm

Ceres: The tiny world where volcanoes erupt ice
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-ceres-tiny . erupt.html
See Charles Chandler's explanation at http://qdl.scs-inc.us/?top=6199 especially the sections on Tidal Forces, Volcanoes and The Moho eruptions are caused by tidal forces on internal electric double layers.

Images from Sun’s edge reveal origins of solar wind
http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/ . 090116.php
Charles Chandler noticed that a few years ago too

Doomsday Asteroid Goes Undetected, Narrowly Misses Earth one week ago
http://mysteriousuniverse.org/2016/09/d . sses-earth

Sabercats Kept the World Green
http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/lae . orld-green
See the Savory Institute for modern implementation

Wood from a 5,000-year-old boat has been found on a building [time of Great Flood]
sitehttp://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales . t-11816247

How a ‘weather bomb’ shook the Earth – and why that’s not an earthquake
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-weather-sh . quake.html

Nasa [believers in black holes say] Earth is warming at a pace ‘unprecedented in 1,000 years’ [if you don't count the 1930s etc]
https://www.theguardian.com/environment . re-warming

Galaxy cluster discovered at record-breaking distance [except their distance calculations are way flawed]
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-galaxy-clu . tance.html

Two new fast X-ray transients discovered in the galactic plane
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-fast-x-ray . plane.html

Rosetta collects and examines space dust samples from comet 67P
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-rosetta-sp . t-67p.html

Sulfur, sulfur dioxide and graphitized carbon observed on asteroid for first time
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-sulfur-dio . eroid.html

Ice not a major factor of dwarf planet Ceres' surface features
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-ice-major- . lanet.html

Jupiter's north pole images show storm systems and weather activity unlike anything seen on any other gas giant
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-jupiter-no . solar.html

Eta Carinae 1840s Great Eruption was only the latest in a series of massive outbursts of the star system since the 13th century
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-supernova- . tions.html

Stratospheric deviation in wind pattern reversal observed for the first time
https://www.sott.net/article/327222-Str . first-time

Quantum computer created that can tap into parallel universes [& other fantacies]
https://www.sott.net/article/327317-Qua . -universes

Re: Major Sci News Blog

Unread post by Lloyd » Sun Sep 11, 2016 12:18 pm

9,000-[no, 5,000]year-old stone houses found on Rosemary Island, off Australia's north western coast
https://www.sott.net/article/327883-900 . tern-coast

China says it has stealth-defeating quantum radar with single photon detection technology
https://www.sott.net/article/327733-Chi . technology

Cracks are showing in the dominant explanation for dark matter. Is there anything more plausible to replace it? Duh, EM?
http://www.scientificamerican.com/artic . f-darkness

‘Impossible engine’ set for space test: Controversial technology to be launched on shoebox-sized satellite
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/ . llite.html

“Giant Comets from the Kuiper Belt Pose a Real Threat to Earth” –NASA’s New Horizons Spacecraft to Probe These
http://www.dailygalaxy.com/my_weblog/20 . obe-1.html

NASA’s Other Asteroid Mission: Grab A Chunk And Put It In Orbit Around The Moon [just as I requested]
http://www.space.com/34016-why-osiris-r . eroid.html

Dark matter clumps [or maybe something real] may have punched through star stream
https://www.newscientist.com/article/21 . tar-stream

Mini-lightning may flash in the coldest moon craters vapourising soil
https://www.newscientist.com/article/21 . -thin-soil

Accounts of Roman Infanticide and Sacrifice All Just Myth and Legend?
http://www.ancient-origins.net/news-his . nopaging=1

An exceptional palaeontological site going back 100,000 years is unearthed in Arrasate (Spain?)
http://www.heritagedaily.com/2016/09/an . ate/112588

Brown dwarfs hiding in plain sight in our solar neighborhood
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-brown-dwar . solar.html

Detailed age map shows how Milky Way came together [not likely]

Remnant of the early Milky Way harbouring stars of hugely different ages revealed [using bad dating methods]
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-hubble-rar . early.html

Mars rover Curiosity views spectacular layered rock formations
http://phys.org/news/2016-09-mars-rover . cular.html

Canadian activist: Canada and the U.S. have no right to preach about human rights
https://www.sott.net/article/328011-Per . estruction

The case against trust in Big Data: 'It's like you're being put into a cult, but you don't actually believe in it'
https://www.sott.net/article/327829-The . ieve-in-it

Re: Major Sci News Blog

Unread post by Lloyd » Sun Sep 18, 2016 12:54 pm

(I'm including a few excerpts in some of these article links.)

Fabricating science: discussing fraud can rebuild community confidence and deepen understanding of how science works
http://phys.org/news/2016-08-fabricatin . dence.html

Small Universe: M33 Internal Motions

The author of these pages is of the opinion that van Maanen's internal motions in spiral nebulae were actually [wrongly?] rejected by mainstream cosmology (which is focused on the idea of the big bang with it's expanding universe, populated by other island universes, i.e., galaxies). If van Maanen's internal motions are real, their magnitudes would imply that the whole observable universe is compri[s]ed solely of the Milky Way and its very nearby environment. Spiral nebulae wouldn't be island universes, and they would be no further from us than the Milky Way's galactic halo. For more on this idea, see Cosmology's Missing Mass Problems - Part 3.
. Comments on Knut Lundmark's "Studies of Anagalactic Nebulae"
Lundmark(2) reported internal motions in M33. These were on the same order of magnitude that van Maanen found, but he concluded that the motions were of a random nature. See M33 Internal Motions According to Lundmark. See the blink comparator (its not aligned right yet) which shows van Maanen's internal motions compared to Lundmark's.

Small Universe: Cosmology's Missing Mass Problems - Part 4

A fresh look at discordant redshift galaxies in compact groups 03/1996
http://adsabs.harvard.edu/abs/1996Ap%26 . db_key=AST
We reexamine the statistics of discordant redshift galaxies in compact groups. We find that 43 out of 100 groups in the Hickson catalog contain at least one discordant redshift galaxy. We show that, despite the prevailing impression, all previous attempts have failed to explain this large number of discordant redshift galaxies. The order of magnitude excess survives all of our attempts to refine the sample.

1811-12 New Madrid Earthquakes, A NEO Connection (Meteorite)?

- The New Madrid seismic zone earthquakes of 1811-1812 may not have been caused by strictly run-of-the-mill seismic activity. This is a study into the possibility that some Near Earth Object (NEO), such as the Great Comet of 1811, was an outside-the-box crustal stressor. If a NEO involvement is found, then some fear of the unknown about the timing of the next big one may come to be dispelled.
. Where's the New Madrid Event Crater?
- The first jolt of the 1811 New Madrid quakes is thought to have been centered near Marked Tree, AR. The region of Marked Tree would, therefore, be a logical place to search for a meteorite impact structure.
- Just north of Marked Tree, AR there is a swampy region called the Saint Francis Sunk[en] Lands. (The 1811-12 earthquakes are said to be responsible for the sinking of the lands.) This particular swamp is fed by the Saint Francis river.
- In 1889, in the middle of the swamp, . there was a body of water called St. Francis Lake. At that time it had a circular southern border (which doesn't look like an oxbow feature) and a centrally located island. The island is now known as Hatchie Coon Island. [The lake is SE of Jonesboro]



”Maffiabröder” är ett relativt modernt men ändå klassiskt gangsterepos signerat Martin Scorsese där vi får följa de så kallade bröderna Henry (Ray Liotta), Jimmy (Robert De Niro) och Tommy (Joe Pesci). Detta gangstergäng stod bakom en del lyckade rån mot flygplatser men hade också regulär maffiaverksamhet samt en del knarkaffärer. Knarket blir Henrys fall till [&hellip]


Jag får börja med att erkänna att jag inte behandlade ”The mexican” med alltför mycket respekt när jag TV-såg den förra veckan. Jag zappade nämligen lite då och då. Men jag har en känsla av att jag ändå är ganska nära när jag dömer ut dess kvaliteter litegrann (annars hade jag nog inte zappat). Jag [&hellip]

Sherlock Holmes

Personligen har jag läst det mesta av Arthur Conan Doyles verk om Sherlock Holmes och sett ett antal filmatiseringar (med framförallt Jeremy Brett som Sherlock). Så man har ju ganska mycket med i bagaget om man säger så. Efter att ha sett Guy Ritchies film finner jag mig ganska kluven. Det finns en hel del [&hellip]

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NARRATOR: Strange, unnatural forces.

DAVID CHILDRESS: Is this when you experienced a time vortex?

BRUCE GERNON: That's when it started.

NARRATOR: Mysterious disappearances.

DAVID PAULIDES: They find tracks in the snow, the tracks stop in the middle of the lake, he completely disappeared.

NARRATOR: Could black holes not only be found in the universe, but also here on Earth, and if so, could they be facilitating extraterrestrial visitations?

MICHIO KAKU: Eventually it rips the fabric of space and time, and that's where all hell breaks loose.

Act 1

Menlo Park, CA, May 2017. Scientists at SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory use an X-ray laser to knock electrons off of a molecule, when something goes wrong.  In 1/1,000,000,000 second, a powerful force sucks the electrons into a void, and the molecule explodes.  The result looked like a black hole.

A black hole in space is an object with such extreme mass and gravity in a small space that not even light can escape.  When a black hole spins, it creates an exotic vortex.

The SLAC Accelerator anomaly resembled a black hole, but it was not gravitational it was electromagnetic.  In Einstein's theory, any concentrated energy could become a black hole.  Previously, scientists believed black holes could only exist in outer space, from massive collapsed stars.  New experiments show that black holes can be created with electromagnetic energy.  Therefore, black holes can exist any place, such as locations around the Earth that have unusual characteristics.  Their existence could explain unusual phenomena of people missing time, or unusual transportation.  

Theorists suggest that ancient texts describe humans traveling through time-space portals.  One such story is of Moses on Mount Sinai.  According to legend, a cloud descended, Moses walked through a door and ascended to heaven for 40 days and nights.  The story suggests a transportation device within a vortex.  If black holes exist on Earth, could they allow travel through space and time?  Have they been used by extraterrestrials to visit Earth?

Act 2

Computer upsets on shuttle missions concentrated in the South Atlantic Anomaly

Space, March 26, 2016. Japan's X-ray astronomy satellite Hitomi malfunctions, spins uncontrollably  and breaks apart.  The satellite experienced glitches whenever it passed through the high-radiation "South Atlantic Anomaly" where there are imperfections in the Earth's magnetic fields.  Satellites and spacecraft are exposed to brief but intense radiation, and must be shielded.  The South Atlantic Anomaly covers part of South America and the Atlantic Ocean, and has caused problems with spacecraft for decades.  NASA laptops have crashed when space shuttles passed over the region.  Some scientists believe the South Atlantic Anomaly can create vortexes that alter time and space.  Nature could create black holes or rotating black holes because of the enormous electromagnetic fields developed in weather disturbances.  

Inga, Brazil.  An ancient rock formation known as the "Inga Stone" is covered with carved symbols of unknown origin and meaning.  Researchers claim those who carved the symbols had knowledge of astronomy and physics.  Some of the surrounding petroglyphs relate to the Southern Cross, Milky Way, Orion, and other constellations .    Some interpret the spirals as energy, vortices, and magnetic anomalies.  Theorists suggest the carvings may be inspired by extraterrestrial beings.  The Inga Stone is also located within the South Atlantic Anomaly.  The South Atlantic Anomaly could be one of many anomalies on Earth.

The Bermuda Triangle, the Devil's Sea, Easter Island, and the Indus Valley are some of twelve triangular zones spaced evenly around the globe, known for disappearances and other unusual phenomena.  They are collectively known as the "Vile Vortices".  Ivan T. Sanderson came up with a theory of twelve locations, known as "Vile Vortices" in a geometric pattern on the Earth, exhibiting paranormal phenomenon.  Extraterrestrials may have harnessed these energies.  The Vile Vortices and the South Atlantic Anomaly could explain mysterious disappearances, and could create black holes or portals that transport people through time and space.  Extraterrestrials could have used these portals to visit Earth.

Act 3

The Bermuda Triangle, between Bermuda, Florida, and the Bahamas

Ft. Lauderdale, FL, December 5, 1945.  "Flight 19", consisting of five Navy Avenger torpedo bombers experience instrument malfunctions during a training mission.  The pilots made a series of turns, which caused confusion.  The planes disappeared from radar and radio contact.  The Navy launched two sea planes to search for the missing planes, and they too vanish.  No wreckage was found of any of the planes.  The disappearance of Flight 19 is one of many strange events in the Bermuda Triangle.

Christopher Columbus found that his compasses didn't work, and he saw mysterious lights in this area.  The Mary Celeste was found without a crew.  Scientists and researchers have not been able to find a cause for the disappearances.  Storms, lightning, and ocean currents might combine to create strange effects.  

The story of Bruce Gernon is the best evidence that strange phenomena do exist.  December 4, 1970 (25 years, nearly to the day, after Flight 19),  pilot Bruce Gernon was flying from Andros Island to the Bimini Islands.  The airplane controls malfunctioned.

March, 2018, David Childress traveled to West Palm Beach, FL. to meet with Bruce Gernon and re-create his flight.  Gernon is the only person to have flown through a "time tunnel vortex", and survived.  

Bruce Gernon flies through a 10-mile long tunnel in the clouds

Gernon recounts his previous experience during the flight re-creation.  A strange lenticular cloud formed, expanded, and enveloped the plane.  There was lightning that intensified.  Rather than turning back, he continued through the cloud.  When he came out of the cloud, he was surrounded by an intense storm.  Then he noticed a tunnel that was a mile wide and ten miles long.  He went through the tunnel, where the clouds swirled counterclockwise, and he felt weightless.   The tunnel collapsed when he exited.  The radar controller excitedly identified his plane over Miami beach.  His plane had traveled 100 miles in only three minutes, which would be a speed of 2,000 MPH - far beyond the capabilities of his small plane.  The passengers on the plane noticed nothing strange, but lost 20 minutes of time.

Ancient Astronaut Theorists believe the tunnel that Bruce described was an electromagnetic vortex that could alter time and space.

Act 4

Easter Island was once home to the Rapanui people, who mysteriously disappeared sometime in the 18th century.  As many as 10,000 people lived there.  After Europeans began visiting, the population was 1,500.  The mass disappearance may be related to Easter Island being located in one of the "Vile Vortices".  There are places around the world that have unknown energy.  Megalithic structures were also built at these locations.  The only explanation is ancient contact with sophisticated alien civilizations.  

The Rapanui people believed they were seeded by the "birdmen".  The stories of the birdmen may be of extraterrestrials that were involved with the events of Easter Island.  Theorists believe Easter Island may have been a genetic experiment by extraterrestrial groups, and the Rapanui people were transferred out.

Because Easter Island is located at a place of increased electromagnetic activity, it may serve as an extraterrestrial portal for alien and human transportation.

Act 5

Missing skier's tracks stop in middle of frozen lake

Holland, MI, February 18, 1978.  Student Steven Kubacki goes cross country skiing, and does not return.  His backpack and skis are found on the beach to the great lakes.  There are tracks found in the snow leading out onto the ice, where they stop with no hole in the ice or other sign of leaving the area.  14 months later, Steven awakens in a field 700 miles away from where he disappeared, with no memory of where he had been or how he travelled across the country.

This and similar cases are investigated by former police detective turned missing persons investigator David Paulides.  He has concluded that there are places where unusual high numbers of missing person cases occur.  Disappearances of people on land fit the same profile of missing planes and ships in the Bermuda Triangle.  Many times weather events are in relationship to the disappearance.  Other times the disappearance or re-appearance is near a body of water.  A person could be found in a previously searched area.  David Paulides has identified 59 hotspots in the United States.  When a victim is found alive, they do not remember what happened.

Conversations with theoretical physicists has gone toward directed portals.  The lack of memory may be because the person was instantaneously transported through time and space.

Act 6

September 3, 2013.  Scientists from ETH Zurich and the University of Miami publish "Coherent Lagrangian vortices: The black holes of turbulence", saying the ocean eddies are the mathematical equivalent of black holes in space.  Scientists now ask if black holes have been on Earth for a long time.  There is a universality to vortices in nature and in black holes.  Scientists are searching for a unified space-time that will enable vortex portals to other star systems.  Black holes could provide gateways through time and space, that can also be controlled.  Ancient astronaut theorists argue that Earth's black holes have been controlled by extraterrestrials for thousands of years.  Black holes on Earth could be the gateways to the universe.

The Enigma of The Pusharo Petroglyphs—Depictions of A Cosmic Map?

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Peru is a nation blessed with an incredible ancient history.

Covered from top to bottom with mind-bending archaeological sites and countless rock art sites, deep within the Eastern Ridge of the Andes, we find what many explorers concur are some of the most mysterious, stunning and significant ancient sites.

The so-called Petroglyphs of Pusharo are a unique and extensive ancient rock site located in Peru’s Manú National Park, a jungle expanse considered one of the unexplored and little-known areas of Peru, for which an official government permit is required for entry.

A recreation of the Pusharo petroglyphs published in the Peruvian Archeology Handbook of F. Kauffmann Doig (1983: 57)

For many explorers, treasure hunters and followers of the esoteric and mystical arts, the area of Pusharo and the rock engravings are closely related to the legendary lost city of Paititi, reason why for several decades, the area has been visited illegally, or less commonly with an authorized permit from the Manu National Park Headquarters by countless international groups, including, film producers, writers, and scholars.

Some of the Petroglyphs represent strange beings, not human in nature.

The enigmatic site is composed of a number of deeply incised rock carvings covering a height of around 10 feet, a perpendicular geological formation spreading around 100 feet long, and 75 feet in height.

The unique glyphs hidden deep within Peru’s Amazonian rainforest represent a pan-Amazonian style.

The petroglyphs have a mystic-religious or shamanic significance to Amerindians that inhabited the region thousands of years ago, and who were most likely their creators.

Some of the rock carvings belonging to the Petroglyphs of Pusharo

However, in addition to symbols which many have dubbed shamanic in nature, there are many who argue that some of the glyphs present on the Pusharo Petroglyphs actually constitute parts of a map. More precisely cosmic maps.

However, since the area is nearly off limits to people, and little research has been performed on the site and its surrounding area, it is hard to understand what message the builders of the petroglyph wanted to convey.

What exactly the mysterious beings at the Pusharo Petroglyphs are, remains a mystery. Ancient Aliens anyone?

The glyphs feature a number of elements such as heart-shaped faces, spirals, zigzags, suns, X’s” and a number of other elements that defy verbal description.

It is unknown as to when exactly the glyphs were rediscovered. However, it is most likely that the first person to identify them was a rubber tapper in 1909. However, the first description of the petroglyphs was made by the Dominican missionary Vicente de Cenitagoya in August 1921.

These two composite images show the different motifs present at the Pusharo Petroglyphs.

The petroglyphs are found in three different sectors. All three sectors offer representations of faces and abstract symbols.

According to Italian researcher Yuri Leveratto, Pusharo Petroglyphs could be related to the petroglyphs of Quiaca and be the recorded history of Amazonian peoples who were traveling from the jungle to the mountains in the first millennium.

According to other researchers and authors—some of which have traveled to see them—some of the petroglyphs may be related to the ancient Inca.

As noted by Leveratto, it would be possible for ancient inhabitants of the Amazon to record Andean symbols in rock art, as some of the Amazonian natives may have been influenced by Inca incursions into the Amazon at the time of Pachacutec.

The Pusharo Petroglyphs and Pedra do Inga, a mysterious connection?

Having observed the curious Petroglyphs in Peru, I cannot help and notice a similarity in the carvings with the petroglyphs found at the so-called Pedra do Inga in Brazil.

Just as the Pusharo Petroglyphs, the Pedra do Inga petroglyphs offer countless symbols including, what many authors suggest is a cosmic map.

It is located in the municipality of Ingá, in the interior of the Brazilian state of Paraíba.

While the design may not feature interlocking stones and precision drill holes, this images has created great confusion among experts as it is believed to depict, among other things, an ancient star map.

The Inga Stone features hundreds of strange symbols and “Stars” that stretch over a rock measuring 245 meters in length, 3 meters in height. Several figures are carved in low relief in this set and there are entries whose meanings are unknown. The age of the inscriptions is unknown, but geologists estimate that the rock formation dates back at least 6,000 years.

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The Keeley Chronicles PART 32

The definitive account of the only case of its kind, a search for truth and a labour-of-love in memory of the victim of a unique murder mystery still officially unsolved 33 years on

By Keeley Moss

Chapter 84: Troubled Waters
Chapter 85: Heavy Storms
Acknowledgements for Part 32

Chapter 84: Troubled Waters

Keep on Truckin’: Ferry vehicle deck and passenger deck entrance, Cairnryan, Scotland. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

Every night I circle like the moon
It’s an act of simple devotion
But it can take forever when you’ve got something to prove

Crowded House – ‘Locked Out’

For anyone who hasn’t been following the previous eleven instalments of this blog, this is the next stage of my retracing Inga’s movements by undertaking a solo backpacking trip on an Interrail pass through England, Scotland and the north (and south) of Ireland for the purpose of researching my book about Inga and her case (which is a separate work to this blog) and to keep her memory alive by trying to complete the journey that she was so tragically murdered in the process of undertaking. I am also doing this in order to show just how far she travelled and the sheer effort she made to get where she was going before she was killed, a very important aspect of Inga’s legacy that was overlooked for too long. She came so far. So near and yet, so far…

Although I suspected that the next couple of hours would probably be intense from an emotional standpoint, I fully expected to find the ferry crossing itself a straightforward, benign modern-day travelling experience. I was here to retrace Inga’s steps but I genuinely did not expect any sort of danger whatsoever. After all, I live in a capital city and I’ve been all over the world. I’ve been on trains, boats and planes on my own countless times. I was hardly going to have a hard time on a ferry.

By contrast I was shocked at what I encountered. I have never experienced such a sexually-charged and intimidatingly macho environment anywhere.

After making my way up the stairs and onto the passenger deck I instinctively gravitated towards the most brightly-lit and open-plan area of the passenger deck, which is the cafeteria. The cafeteria led directly to the ferry’s bar and lounge which my instinct told me to avoid. Conscious of why I was here and that this was the same ferry crossing that had played a crucial role in sealing Inga’s fate, I reasoned that it would be best to spend the majority of the crossing seated alone, listening to music on my headphones and reducing the possibility of making myself in any way conspicuous. Despite the fact that there were only two other people seated in the cafeteria for the majority of the crossing, two males, and one of them had his back to me, the other of the two, a well-built older male, was staring straight at me. Neither of these men had been on the coach that brought myself and the other foot passengers from the ferry terminal, so I knew they had to be motorists. In fact their appearance bore all the hallmarks of lorry drivers.

I tried to lose myself in the music I was listening to on headphones. I’d had ‘Mad at You’ by Joe Jackson on heavy rotation all day, a six-minute-long post-punk song that crackles with a relentless intensity. Still, my curiosity was such that I could not resist looking up every now and again. Each time I raised my head, expecting to see him looking elsewhere this time, instead his eyes remained firmly fixed on me. Eventually this had happened too many times for it to be a coincidence, or merely a case of my being paranoid, and I tried to find a way to diminish his interest. Realising that before leaving Stranraer I had put my hair up in pigtails in order to remedy my hair being out of shape due to having spent much of the day in high winds, I decided to take the pigtails out of my hair, belatedly guessing that perhaps this was what had drawn his eyes to me, and hoping that this interest would now cease. But still he persisted looking at me like he was about to enjoy a large steak. This went on…FOR AN HOUR.

Now, you may think in the cold light of day “Why didn’t you confront him and ask him to stop staring?” Or wonder perhaps why did I not hit him with some withering one-liner? But it’s always easy to be wise after the event. At the time I was just too taken aback to react at all, the fact it had never really happened to me before stunted me from knowing how to react at all. Also, I was on my own and I just didn’t feel like confronting anyone, let alone this guy who, as the phrase goes, ‘Was built like a brick shithouse’.

Although I had partly decided to retrace Inga’s footsteps in order to try gain as much of an insight into her movements as possible, never had I expected that I might gain an insight into her predicament on board the ferry crossing to Larne. But in that moment it occurred to me that this was precisely what was happening. I suddenly found myself in quandaries I had never really experienced before. In Dublin I generally feel invisible, afforded the easy anonymity that is part and parcel of life in a capital city. I’m not used to being noticed, let alone watched. In the course of having to think quickly on my feet to deal with this, I found myself struck by the realisation that it is possible in the light of what happened to Inga that she may have found herself occupying a very similar mindset during her fateful last ferry crossing.

Chapter 85: Heavy Storms

Last Chance on the Stairway: The author sits it out on the staircase as the weirdness on board reaches a crescendo. Photo: Keeley Moss

All hands on deck at dawn
Sailing to sadder shores
Your port in my heavy storms
Harbours the blackest thoughts

Echo and the Bunnymen – ‘Ocean Rain’

Having sat motionless at the back of the cafeteria, and having been stared at the entire time by this guy seated halfway across the room with his travelling male companion, and with no sign of this situation changing, I wanted to get as far away from the cafeteria as possible. But how far could I go? I was stuck in the middle of the ocean, or the North Channel at any rate, with little room to roam. I was also faced with the issue of what to do with my backpack. Should I leave it in the seating area and run the risk of someone potentially tampering with it while I was gone? Or should I take it with me, and as a result impede my free movement? My thinking at this point was, what would be the point of going for a walk if I wasn’t going to be able to stretch my legs freely, having borne the weight of my rucksack almost constantly during the previous days of the backpacking trip. In that moment I had a blinding flash of clarity, as it struck me that Inga possibly grappled with such questions as she would have faced the same issues of what to do with her own rucksack when she prepared to explore the ferry (and it is a matter of record that Inga did indeed do that, thanks to the only two verified witness reports of Inga’s movements during the ferry crossing).

I decided to chance it. I left my backpack on the seat and walked out of the cafeteria and down a corridor, with little awareness of the layout of the ferry. And that’s when things took an even stranger turn. As I exited the cafeteria there was a man standing in the corridor that I took little notice of but as I passed by him I felt his gaze upon me, and in my peripheral vision I noticed his eyes follow my every step. What was this now? I tried to out it down to a coincidence but within seconds a third man passed me in the corridor and this guy was looking at me with even more intensity than either of the other two. I don’t go ‘out out’ very often but not even when I’ve been in clubs in Dublin dressed-up have I ever been subjected to anything like the intense male interest I was on this ferry. It was all the more surprising to me considering how rough I thought I looked due to having spent most of the day in the wind at Stranraer harbour and it’s train station.

Silence, Sea and Sky: The view across the North Channel from the ferry shortly after leaving Scottish shores. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

I found myself trying to figure out what it was about me on this night that was different. Why was it the case that suddenly I was apparently being deemed an object of interest by the men on board? I wasn’t doing anything any differently than I would have back in Dublin where as I said I seem to be invisible. I was dressed like a typical backpacker for purely practical purposes – jeans, a top, cardigan, sneakers. And yet the extent of this interest, far from diminishing as the journey wore on, was actually intensifying. I figured that it probably had very little to do with me personally. I was the only female travelling solo on the boat that I could see and this fact, in addition to the peculiar sense of abandon that is rife on a ferry among gung-ho alpha male types had seemingly created some sort of perfect storm. As I walked around the boat there didn’t seem to be anywhere I could go without picking up a predatory vibe. I am far from prudish and ordinarily would have welcomed some interest but there was a palpably primal and I would say slightly sinister edge to it in this case that my instinct told me to be wary of.

I tried to stay focused on why I was here. Only two things are known for certain about Inga’s movements on the ferry, both of which are entirely innocuous. The second of them involved her going up on deck for some fresh air and to look out to sea at the approaching Ireland of her dreams. She was not to know that that view was pretty much all she would see of it.

I would have wanted to go up on deck anyway, to see the sea and take in the oceanic vista. And because I was here to retrace Inga’s movements to the letter, going up on deck as she had done was obviously necessary to maintain the integrity of my mission. But now I had a third reason to want, nay, need to go up on deck The fact that I had by this point run out of places to go on the passenger deck that didn’t present one peril or another.

It was dark, cold and inevitably very windy when I ventured up on deck. Unlike when Inga walked up on deck on that fateful evening in 1988, there was no one else already there when I ventured up. So many things were running through my head. When I reached Larne, I would have to get to Belfast and find my hostel on foot and at night in a city that I’m not overly familiar with. I also had it on my mind that I would have to get from Belfast to Dublin the next morning to make it into work on time. But those more mundane concerns were now being overridden by blacker thoughts. I realised I didn’t really have a strategy for dealing with the situation I now found myself in. My instinct had already told me to avoid the bar and lounge area of the ferry. Then I had been practically driven out (no pun intended) of the cafeteria area by the guy who wouldn’t stop staring at me. Then I had gone for a walk through the ferry’s corridors only to find not one but two separate guys staring at me in a way that wasn’t what I was used to, and this had continued in other parts of the ferry that I wandered into. I reckoned there was no way of reasoning with the intensity I had been surprised to find on the passenger deck. Testosterone makes men crazy, at its zenith you can’t reason with it. It brings with it an incredibly strong compulsion, a drive so strong that it has played a vital role in fuelling the desire that has maintained mankind on this planet for millions of years as well as having been a significant component in the creation and perpetuation of wars, of the tendency of alpha figures to seek to control and dominate, and much else besides.

Darklands: On deck between Cairnryan and Larne. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

After a while up on deck I headed back indoors and decided to sit on the stairway for the remainder of the crossing. Then I remembered I had left my backpack in the cafeteria, where the creepy guy and his mate were.

I’d have to go back down there. Fortunately the ferry would soon dock. I was looking forward to getting on the train after arriving at Larne. A blizzard of images was flying through my mind.

The space between the boat and the train.

The wheres, the whats, the whys.

Above all else, her. On that night, on this sea, more than 30 years before me. Approximately 280,000 hours before now. She was here, oblivious to her magnificence, and equally unaware of the horrendous fate that lay in wait. A force for good, an artistic avatar, an intrepid explorer, a gleaming beacon of luminous youth. Unwittingly trapped in time. And fast running out of time as the precious seconds ticked by. Caught in the jagged jaws of a monster’s merciless urges. Guided by the guiltiest of hidden hands.

That night. That evening, even. 160 mystifying minutes on a cross-channel ferry in 1988.

Three decades on, the aftershocks still haven’t stopped reverberating. Over the last few years Inga’s case has become more relevant and more topical than ever before, which is extraordinary, and a feat perhaps unparalleled in crime history after such an elongated timespan.

Rabbit in the Headlights: A lorry in the vehicle dock of the Galloway Princess in a still taken from the 1988 Crimewatch UK segment on Inga’s case

Above all, what I found most surprising was that here I was on a trip where I had resolved to retrace Inga’s steps, and I was gaining a totally-unexpected insight into what it was probably like for her on the same ferry crossing. Except in Inga’s case it must have been so much worse. For 1988 was an era that predated many of the subsequent advances of feminism, and the significant softening of male culture that has simultaneously gradually evolved in society over the last three decades. Furthermore, the extent of alcohol consumption was arguably even more rampant in the 1980s, especially on cross-channel ferries which have a unique air of loose abandon to them, being literally ‘at sea’ and somewhat outside the confines of the codes of conduct that check the free reign of those so inclined on dry land. Even more pertinently, on the night Inga was on board this ferry crossing, she was one of 422 passengers. By contrast there seemed only a fraction of that amount of people on the ferry I was on, and yet despite that, and despite my belief that the present day is a far safer climate for people in general in Ireland and the British Isles than was the case in 1988, I was shocked at the predatory air that was filling this ferry.

I would walk off the ferry with one overriding, ominous question If it was that intense for me in this day and age, just how bad must it have been for Inga in 1988?

The answer to that question can be most accurately gauged by what happened to her shortly after she arrived at Larne…

Inga Maria Hauser

May 28 th 1969 – April 6 th 1988. Never forgotten.


Copyright: Keeley Moss ℗&©2020. All rights reserved.

Acknowledgements for Part 32

Locked Out written by Neil Finn. Published by Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. ©1994

Ocean Rain written by McCulloch/Sergeant/Pattinson/De Frietas. Published by Warner/Chappell Music ©1984

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Constellations in the Orion and Milky Way Depicted on 6,000-year-old Large Monument – The Inga Stone

As you can already guess, this ancient star map is amongst the most beautiful recreations out there as it depicts some of the most beautiful constellations in the Orion and most importantly even some of the less known stars from the Milky Way.

There are a ton of symbols that are obviously meant to represent animals, fruits, humans, and constellations, but a lot of them are unrecognizable to this very day, as many believe them to be depictions of creatures from other planets.

This was discovered in the municipality of Inga, in the Brazilian state of Paraiba. Often referred to as the Pedra do Inga or the Inga stone, it is the most famous rock formation here as it covers a total of over 250 square meters which is all drawn on from top to bottom.

On the surface, you can see stars and spirals, animals and flowers amongst others, but what is really impressive is the fact that on top of its vertical wall of 46 meters in length and 3.8 meters in height no expert was able to discern what it could mean to begin with.

The spirals, in particular, are especially strange as it appears as they might even have carvings of ancient astronomers on them, to begin with.

Its exact age is unknown, although the rock in itself dates back to around 6,000 years ago or so.
A total of 400 carvings were discovered on it. This was studied back in 1976 by Francisco Pavia Alemany as he was amongst the first to acknowledge the fact that it was a star map amongst other things.

The Keeley Chronicles PART 18

The definitive account of the only case of its kind in Northern Ireland, the ongoing campaign for justice and a labour-of-love in memory of the victim of a murder mystery still officially unsolved after 31 years

By Keeley Moss

Chapter 45: There is a Light That Never Goes Out

The last mile, the hardest mile: PSNI Detective Chief Superintendent Raymond Murray in Cairnryan, Scotland on April 6 th 2018

These storms always find her
To remind her

To the endless sky
The pink over grey
She looks for an answer
But it’s too late

Maybe it’s true
Some things were just never meant to be

Maybe not

The Pretenders – ‘The English Roses’

At the close of Part 17 I mentioned that it was my intention for this instalment to focus on the meeting John Dallat MLA and myself attended with PSNI Detective Chief Superintendent Raymond Murray at police headquarters in Belfast in the week prior to the 30th anniversary of Inga-Maria’s murder. Even though I was confident I could exercise sufficient discretion in discussing aspects of what was a very positive and encouraging meeting without revealing anything too sensitive, I still felt a degree of reluctance about discussing it in public at all. One of the reasons I have twice postponed covering it in this blog – and why I’m only going to reveal limited details of it now – is due to the great respect I have for DCS Murray and his investigation, and my wish to not run the risk of disclosing anything that he might prefer to remain in-house, even though he was clear with me from the outset of the meeting that there would be questions he would be prepared to answer and ones he would not, which was indeed the case, and which I understood and accepted.

I would like to take this opportunity to place on record my appreciation for the time that DCS Murray was willing to grant John and I to discuss the case and for John to inform him of the plans for Inga-Maria’s memorial event. I would also like to acknowledge the courtesy I was personally extended. DCS Murray had in advance proposed that the meeting take place in Belfast rather than Maydown (in Co. Derry) to take into account that I would be commuting all the way from Dublin, a most thoughtful gesture which was much appreciated. Some things from the meeting that I will disclose here is that DCS Murray told me he has read “most” of this blog and that although when he’d been informed that someone had written a blog all about Inga-Maria and the case he had approached it with a fair degree of trepidation, he found the writing “tempered” and “measured”, that “your research is good”, and that this had led him to read most of the reminder of the blog (which to be fair, at this stage after seventeen parts, some of which are considerably longer than those of any blog, is no mean feat). I consider that a great honour for this blog, given DCS Murray’s position in relation to the case. I would suggest that no one in the world knows more about the case than him, for no one else has overseen it for longer and more importantly during a period in which the case has advanced the most since its inception. He also told me he thinks the blog has a significant and beneficial role to play as it “helps to generate empathy for Inga”. I was especially heartened to hear that. For that reason I know I made the right decision to go ahead and self-publish all eighteen parts so far and make it free to read, rather than the alternative of hoarding it in a drawer while sending it to publishers. That might have made commercial sense but would have been of less benefit to Inga-Maria.

DCS Murray is a very busy man, responsible for overseeing not only the investigation into Inga’s murder but is also the head of the PSNI’s Serious Crime Branch. Chief Constable George Hamilton, the most eminent figure in policing in the province recently stated in relation to Inga’s case, “DCS Raymond Murray has a strong record in solving historical cases – on the 30th anniversary of this brutal murder he’s back doing what he does best”. One such historical case was the 1981 murder of nine year-old Jennifer Cardy in Ballinderry, County Antrim, the victim of notorious serial child killer Robert Black, for which Black was given a fourth life sentence in 2011, having already been convicted and jailed for life in 1994 for the murders of three young girls in England and Scotland in the 1980’s. The extent of thoroughness which Detective Chief Superintendent Raymond Murray and his team pursued the case against Black can be measured from the fact that circumstantial evidence attesting to Black’s guilt of Jennifer Cardy’s murder had been obtained by searching through petrol receipts – 560,000 in total – stored in his former employer’s archives to ascertain Black’s whereabouts on the dates surrounding Jennifer’s abduction and murder. Black’s trial for the murder began with the prosecutor, Toby Hedworth, stating that the discovery of Black’s signature upon these receipts was as good as signing his own confession. As an aside, can you imagine the unbelievable levels of patience and dedication necessary in sifting through 560,000 documents? And this was only one strand of what was a very wide-ranging and complex investigation. I would ask people to bear that in mind when they question the resolve and commitment, as they have done from time to time in the comments sections of the various parts of The Keeley Chronicles and elsewhere online, of DCS Murray and the PSNI to solve Inga-Maria’s murder. Although of equal importance, I think it’s fair to say that Jennifer Cardy’s murder didn’t have the degree of media focus and public attention that Inga-Maria’s case has been subjected to over the last year. In other words, if the PSNI were that determined to solve Jennifer’s murder, of which just one aspect involved them having to painstakingly sift through 560,000 documents, can you imagine them being any less committed to doing whatever is necessary to solve Inga-Maria’s case?

Jennifer Cardy

Police mughot of Robert Black taken at Selkirk police station shortly after his arrest in Stow, Scotland in 1990

We ended up getting to spend exactly ninety minutes with DCS Murray which was a considerably longer time than John and I were anticipating, which given his very busy workload meant a great deal and I think it is indicative of the depth of commitment he has to Inga-Maria’s case. The detectives working the case have to be vigilant and mindful of the potential legal implications of any public disclosures, and especially in a case such as this that has in recent times grown to such an iconic level of importance and public interest in Northern Ireland, the stakes have never been higher. But more than anything, at the heart of the investigation, when you strip away all the layers of the legalities, all the witness statements, all the facts and figures and forensic science, there is a young girl who was deceived and destroyed, and ensuring the safest passage for justice to proceed and finally be achieved on her behalf is paramount. The detectives have a job to do, official protocol must be complied with, and I like everyone else desperate to see justice done must be patient in supporting the police to conduct their investigation as they see fit. I’ve looked into DCS Raymond Murray’s eyes and seen for myself the resolve and determination to do all he can to bring the case to a successful conclusion, and it is my own personal belief that it is only a matter of time before he succeeds. So with that said, I hope the readers of this blog will understand that I have to balance my wish to be informative with a need to tread carefully when necessary with what is still an open investigation, all the more so given the sensitivity of the present time.

Keeley Moss & John Dallat MLA at Parliament Buildings, Stormont Castle in Belfast after the meeting with PSNI Detective Chief Superintendent Raymond Murray that left us feeling very encouraged about the prospects of justice for Inga. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

So instead I’ve decided to devote the bulk of this instalment to discussing another aspect entirely but one that illustrates how, just as Detective Chief Superintendent Raymond Murray and the PSNI have never given up hope in trying to advance the investigation and bring the chief suspects to justice despite it being thirty years since Inga-Maria was murdered, with the various detectives on the team having spoken face-to-face with approximately 1,700 people in their efforts to match the DNA sample of the crime scene donor, there are other people out there who are willing to go wherever it takes and do whatever it takes to honour the cause of Inga-Maria Hauser, this artistic adventurer whose incredibly-brief presence on the island of Ireland and the horror that followed continues to resonate in ways she could never have imagined on the fateful night the Galloway Princess docked at Larne with her on board. In this instalment we will learn that although Inga’s parents have had to vacate the space they had long occupied in holding a torch for her due to death or ill-health, there are other figures emerging to ensure that, as I’ve quoted many times on social media at the foot of my statements about the campaign, “There is a light that never goes out”. And we will see just how inspirational Inga’s cause is, and how influential and powerful the human spirit can be, that a young woman could arrive on the island of Ireland in April 1988 alone, unknown and almost completely unnoticed and end up being murdered that night, and yet whose untold story all these years later would have such an impact that it would change the course of my life. Also in this instalment I will reveal for the very first time the inside account of how I came to be in contact with Inga’s family in the first place, which is a story in itself.

Chapter 46: A Needle in the Haystack

Back to the Old House: Almut Hauser’s former apartment at 181 Einsteinstrasse, Haidhausen, Munich, just two doors up from Inga-Maria’s childhood home. Photo: Marcus Baumann ©2017

The last night on Maudlin Street
Goodbye house, goodbye stairs

The last night on Maudlin Street
Goodbye house forever
I never stole a happy hour around here

I am moving house
A half-life disappears today

Morrissey – ‘Late Night, Maudlin Street’ (1988)

Since 2009 when Inga-Maria’s mother Almut Hauser made a heartbreaking plea via a translator in the Belfast Telegraph to “Help bring an end to my 21-year nightmare”, nothing more had been heard publicly from any of Inga-Maria’s family members until recently. There had been intermittent media reports on the case on and off from 1988 up until early 2012 but then there were no more news reports or updates whatsoever for five years, until the spring of 2017 which was the 29th anniversary. Back when I began publishing this blog in 2016, at that time to all intents and purposes it seemed the case was dead – with their having been no updates or media articles for four and a half years by that point. My foremost intention when I started the blog was to try create something special for Inga-Maria, this person I had never met but whose story had touched my heart and left an indelible imprint on my psyche. It may sound naïve and hopelessly-idealistic but my thinking at that time was that if I could do something nice for Inga’s mum, then by proxy I could in a roundabout way do something nice for her, as a gesture from an Irish citizen to try make some very small amends for this horrible thing that Inga had suffered the night she arrived. Because there had been no new media reports for a full four years when I began researching what became this blog, and because no one I ever mentioned the case to in my native Dublin had heard of it, I assumed that that would be the case everywhere, and that nobody would be interested. That might seem hard to believe now given the eruption in interest there has been in the case over the last year or two. But it’s the truth. Back in early 2016, reading about what had happened to Inga had had such a profound effect on me that as I’ve said before that I simply could not get her or the case out of my mind, and as that feeling persisted and actually intensified week after week I resolved to try and do something, and spent the next four months researching and writing what would become Part 1 (I have since substantially enhanced and expanded the original text and photos).

When the blog captured the public’s imagination the way it did, going viral on the first day of publication much to my shock at the time, I felt so glad for one person in particular – Almut Hauser. I had read something she had said in the RUC press conference that she had addressed back in 1989 which was “I hope that the people of Northern Ireland do not forget Inga”. So when the blog took off in the way that it did, I was so looking forward to telling her that even after all these years, people had not forgotten Inga, and what’s more a large section of the community had felt inspired to come together to make a renewed and impassioned call for justice, that ‘people power’ was making its presence felt. So I wrote Almut a long letter, explaining who I was and why I had started the blog, and the response it had generated. I knew she didn’t speak English so I had my letter translated into German (Google Translate had turned out to be too unreliable so I asked one of my best friends who was originally from Dublin but had settled in Berlin if he would translate the letter and he kindly agreed). In the parcel I included a CD featuring four songs I’d written about Inga. I sent it off but was saddened not to receive a reply. After some weeks had passed, the parcel was returned with a message written (in German) on the front, on a sticker the post office in Munich had placed on it, which when translated read as “Unknown at this address”. This was a surprise to me, as I was fairly sure that I had the correct address for her in Haidhausen (a suburb of Munich).

So I continued trying to reach her, while working by day in the library where I was at the time and working on the blog by night. A woman from Larne who I’ve become friends with through this blog, her ex-husband’s friend just happened to be in Munich at that time and she very kindly asked her ex-husband to ask his friend to call to the address I had for Almut. When he did, he was told that there was no one named Almut Hauser there but that one of the previous occupants in the apartment block was an elderly woman who had since left the country. When this was communicated to me, I simply couldn’t believe that Inga’s mum would have left Munich and moved to another city much less another country as even though I didn’t know her, I knew she had always visited Inga’s grave and Inga’s dad Josef’s grave every day and I just knew how being able to do that would have been so important to her. Bear in mind that this was long before the news of Inga’s mum’s ill-health had been made public. And this is back when no one in Northern Ireland had heard of Viktor, or Friederike for that matter. The only living relative of Inga’s whose name was in the public domain (until 2018) was Almut. So at that time (2016) I had nothing else to go on. But I’m the sort of person who, if I feel passionate about something, I give it everything. So nothing was going to stop me.

I assumed Almut must still be living in Munich, and I set out to try to find her so I could tell her about the blog and that the people of Northern Ireland hadn’t forgotten Inga, as she’d feared might turn out to be the case back in 1989. The first thing I did was go on Facebook. I typed in the name Almut Hauser and it turned up a mere two matches. Surely it wasn’t going to be this easy to find her? Surely was right – it wasn’t. Neither of them turned out to be her. So next I typed in the name Hauser into the Facebook search engine, but I limited it to only people residing in Munich. It turned up 253 matches. I assumed at least some of them would be relatives of hers, most likely grandchildren and a few cousins. Saying that, it was becoming akin to looking for, as the fabled saying goes, “A needle in the haystack”. I felt however that if I was to stand a chance of these people responding to my request, that I would have to write to them individually and not just sending out a generic ‘mass message’ that given the volume of emails and messages people receive on a daily basis, plus how many demands are on peoples time, there would be more chance of being ignored. So I decided to address them individually, all 253 of them. The process took weeks. I eventually received replies from the vast majority of them. Those who did reply sent a polite message back, some more detailed and more warm than others. The majority of them kindly wished me luck with my search. But by the end, by the time I had messaged the 253 rd and final person on my list, not one of them turned out to be related to Almut or to even know of her. This really surprised me, and left me very disappointed. But still I was not deterred. “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better” as Samuel Beckett once wrote.

And so I tried again. I decided to dispense with social media altogether and went back to the fabled drawing board. I thought about my friend’s ex-husband’s friend calling to the address in Munich that I had for Almut and being told that there was no one living there with that name…but that one of the previous occupants in the apartment block was an elderly woman who had left the country. “Maybe she has left Germany after all?” I thought, perhaps because she could no longer bear to live with the memories of what had happened to her family, with her youngest daughter murdered and her husband now dead? I thought about it for a while and tried to put myself in her shoes. If I was her and if I was looking to leave Germany, for whatever reason, where would I go? I knew that she had been born in Austria and had grown up there, in a small town (the name of which I shan’t reveal here in order to reduce the chance of her being tracked down by any reporters, as she is not in a position to talk to anyone about Inga). I was conscious of how elderly people in general prefer familiar surroundings, how they find them more comforting. So I guessed that she had moved back to Austria, after many decades in Germany, and I guessed that of all the places in Austria it would be most likely that she would probably have moved back to her hometown. So I embarked on a search of the electoral register for the region of Austria where I knew Almut’s childhood home was located, and then eventually located the section of the register for that small town. And after a while of searching, there it was. I’d found her! It had to be her. What would be the odds of two separate people with the same obscure name having lived in the same small town? Well, probably pretty high given that quite a few decades had elapsed from when Almut originally lived there. Still, this was the best chance I had to reach her at last and communicate the news that the people of Northern Ireland hadn’t forgotten Inga as she’d feared back in 1989, and that in fact that her daughter’s case had become renewed with new energy, revived with new life, in a beautiful and poignant way that illustrates the indomitable nature of the human spirit and the refusal of this case to permanently fall silent until it is solved, until an ancient score is settled and Inga’s soul can be allowed to properly rest.

I ended up typing a completely new letter to her, in which I added a section explaining what had happened to the first letter and now I needed to find someone who could translate this new letter into German, as I felt I couldn’t ask the same friend who had translated my first letter due to my desire not to “melt his head”. After I sent out a request to all the staff in the RDS where I was working at the time, I was approached by a work colleague in another department who offered to translate my latest letter into German for me but who then proceeded to do nothing with it for months and no matter how gently I cajoled her or eventually how persistently I pleaded with her, nothing managed to rouse her from her inertia, instead she continually made every excuse under the sun (“The dog ate your letter” was about the only excuse she didn’t make for why she hadn’t translated the letter as promised). Eventually I ran out of patience and wrote a third, even longer letter, which the friend of mine who had befriended me through this blog very kindly arranged to have translated into German for me, something she managed to do within a mere two days. When it was sent to me I printed it out in work and sent this off in a parcel together with a new CD featuring four songs about Inga that I’d been inspired to write and record, to the new address I had for Almut in Austria, and waited.

Days passed. Then weeks. Then a month. But the only post that arrived was…The parcel I’d sent, returned – again. However, where the parcel I’d sent to the address in Munich had been returned because Almut had possibly left the country and no longer lived there, this parcel was returned bearing a most curious sticker. It read (in English) “Not collected”. Not collected? What the hell did that mean? I could see that the parcel was clearly unopened. So it hadn’t been refused. Just “Not collected”. I sat and tried to ponder what might have happened for the parcel to have been “Not collected”. I’d sent it to the address I had guessed she was living at in Austria, and unlike when I’d sent it to the address in Munich there was no word from the post office to say that the address was incorrect, or that the occupant wasn’t recognised at that address. If it was the case that whoever was living there was a different Almut Hauser then why hadn’t they opened what they would have expected was a parcel intended for them? And if it was the new home of Inga’s mum Almut that I was trying to reach how could she not have collected it if it was sent to her house? Surely she would only have to open the letterbox? So, now I guessed there must have been some reason that rendered her unable to open the letterbox. This was turning out to be a lot more complicated that I’d expected. But it struck me that ironically it was in keeping with the long and complicated route that the investigation had taken from day one. I then got the idea to send the parcel again but this time instead of addressing it directly to Almut I would address it “c/o Almut Hauser”, that way I figured that perhaps someone else other than her might feel more inclined to collect it and open it on her behalf and that hopefully they would communicate the contents of my letter to her. Still, I knew it was a long shot. It was becoming akin to sending out a message in a bottle.

But I sent it off again, for the third time, and again I waited. Initially I heard nothing back. However…a few weeks later an email landed in my inbox from a sender I didn’t recognise. From the tone of the opening words I just instinctively knew it was legitimate, and furthermore significant. I braced myself for whatever the email would contain. The author of the email identified themselves as Viktor Leibl, the grandson of Almut Hauser. He explained that the letter that I had sent had been passed on to him as his grandmother was unable to read it or reply to it. This – at last – would explain why I had received no reply to the previous letters I had sent her over the previous months. However when Viktor explained just why she was unable to read or reply to it, at that moment I burst into tears. I hadn’t cried for two years at this point, not since my own grandmother who I was extremely close to had died. But as I read Viktor’s first email further, it became apparent to me that one of the central aims I’d had in starting this blog and embarking upon the journey that had effectively taken over my life which was to try do something positive for Inga’s mum and therefore in a roundabout way as an Irish citizen to try make amends to Inga’s soul for the barbarism of those who murdered her, with whom I share the same nationality if nothing else, would not be possible. Ever. Because (as has since become public knowledge via the PSNI’s statements this year through the media) Almut had suffered a stroke not long before which had resulted in a heavy dementia, rendering her effectively no longer able to remember the past. This is something I learned twelve months (remarkably, twelve months to the day) before it entered the public domain but which I never went into detail about here in the blog or anywhere else online, not wanting to disclose any details unless or until the Hauser family themselves saw fit to do so.

The news that Almut, who had visited her daughter’s grave practically every day waiting for so many years to discover who had murdered her beloved daughter and what precisely had happened that night for Inga to have ended up many miles in the opposite direction to where she had intended to go, would now likely never be able to know or understand what had happened and who was responsible, I found incredibly-sad. It was a crushing realisation after everything else she’d had to suffer since 1988. In that moment I felt angry on her behalf, for that to be the outcome on top of all the other cruel injustices that had befallen her. But on the other hand it was some consolation to learn from Viktor that as a result of her condition no longer would Almut have to be conscious of the loss of her daughter in such horrific circumstances. It’s something I have since learned is commonplace among those who have had to bear the loss of a child in this way, where the development of Alzheimer’s or another such degenerative brain disease can be a way for the emotional system to guard against being overwhelmed by continuous grief.

Chapter 47: Eternal Flame

Two Sisters: Inga-Maria & Friederike pictured in the late 1970’s. Photo: Hauser family collection

Ein herz und eine seele

German proverb that translates as “One heart and one soul”, as quoted by Viktor Leibl in the 2018 BBC Spotlight documentary ‘The Life and Death of Inga-Maria Hauser’ to describe the relationship between Inga-Maria and Viktor’s mother Friederike

After that first email, Viktor and I began communicating regularly and soon began conversing on Skype. I liked him instantly from the moment we began chatting. He seemed a little shy which is always an endearing quality I find. One thing I remember vividly from our early contact was Viktor telling me that my email had been “a wake-up call” for him – he’d had absolutely no idea that there were people campaigning on behalf of the murdered aunt he’d never gotten to meet and that a large public movement had assembled and been mobilised. Viktor told me that he’d informed his mum, Inga’s sister Friederike, about this blog and the campaign that had by then been advocating for some time on Inga’s behalf, and that had brought her unsolved case back to public prominence after those four and a half years out of the spotlight between 2012 and 2016. Even so, I was not expecting to hear from Friederike. I was aware that she has never given an interview in all the years since Inga’s murder and I knew from Viktor how wary she is of people in general, which I understood given the terrible things that she’s had to face in her life. Viktor had told me that his mum never discussed Inga, which I perceived as being her way of dealing with the grief. Some people deal with grief differently, and I would never want to be judgemental of whatever way someone who had been through an enormous trauma had found was the best way for them personally to cope with it. Friederike’s way was to avoid discussing Inga, to avoid contact with most people, and to shun any requests for interviews for twenty-nine years at that time, and even though this blog is a true labour-of-love I did not expect her to deviate from this long-held policy and make an exception for me.

Therefore I was stunned when I received an email from Friederike out of the blue in May 2017. It was a very nice email and one that meant so much to me. She was much more forthcoming than I would have expected, and I so appreciated her trust and candour. Over the following weeks we exchanged several more emails. I greatly appreciated being able to learn more about her as a person, as well as Inga-Maria. I sent her a photo of me so she’d have more of an idea of who she was communicating with, and she sent me a photo of herself in return. When I saw her photo I was struck by how closely she resembled Viktor, almost a mirror image in fact. I am very respectful of her privacy, especially considering all she’s been through, and all the more so given her being so wary of press attention, so I have never revealed any of the contents of those emails to anyone, and on principle it’s not something I would ever do. I also resolved to never mention Friederike’s name, as I knew it had never (at that time) entered the public domain (subsequently in Spring 2018 the PSNI referred to her by name in a press statement for the first time, which is why I’m now doing so here. But if anyone combs back through previous parts of this blog they will see references only to “Inga-Maria’s sister” as I didn’t want to compromise her privacy or make it easier for the press to track her down by referring to her by name). In one of Friederike’s emails, she told me something that made me realise she’s had an even harder life than people would imagine, even people who are aware of Inga-Maria’s murder and the fact it has gone unsolved for thirty years now. And it made me even more protective of her privacy, which isn’t always easy given the extent of press interest there now is in Inga-Maria’s case and how at times over the past few years I’ve found myself being somewhat in the middle between someone who doesn’t want to speak and a ravenous media who sometimes struggle to comprehend the family member of a murder victim remaining silent. However, that is Friederike’s wish and everyone, myself included, has to respect that.

As I’ve said, I have never revealed anything from any of her emails to me, neither in this blog nor to anyone in private. However, I hope Friederike will allow me one brief and minor exception. On May 28 th 2017, poignantly on what would have been Inga-Maria’s 48 th birthday, she replied to my previous mail and in addition to a number of other things expressed her sadness about that anniversary. I had revealed to her in a previous mail about the song ‘Plundered Past’, the lyrics of which I had written about Inga-Maria, and which at that time was about to be released as the second single by my band Session Motts. We’d assembled a film crew and had spent the previous week in Larne Harbour and other locations working on the video for it, a video which depicts Inga-Maria prior to and during her journey to Larne (see Part 10 of this blog for the full story of the making of that video, and to see the video itself). The opening of that email read as follows:

Dear Keeley,

Today it is a very sad day, it’s my sister’s birthday today, thank you for writing your mail to me.

Hope everything will be great for your band’s new video.

I am sure, Inga will like it.

I am sure, Inga will like it. I couldn’t speak. Those few simple words blew my mind. For here was someone who actually knew Inga, and more than that, is the closest living link to this person who “crept in the back door of my mind” and stayed to quote one of the lines in ‘Plundered Past’. Whose cause continues to flicker undimmed and undiminished like an eternal flame. An internal flame. And now that the flame has caught aflame in the public domain no amount of dousing is going to stop that flame spreading.

Of course I have no way of knowing what Inga would have thought of the video, or the songs, or this blog for that matter. But having Inga’s family and friends respond favourably is the closest I’m going to get to know what she herself might have thought of it. And hearing from a number of them as I have that they think she would have liked it is enough for me to feel it has all been worthwhile, however long we have to wait for the case to be solved. I still believe it’s a matter of ‘when’ the case is solved rather than ‘if’, even if at the present time I seem to be in a minority where such optimism is involved. But as I’ve told many of the people who have contacted me since the most recent arrests in the case were made, I don’t share the current pessimistic mood that I’m aware is doing the rounds in response to the lack of further news and the fact no charges have yet been brought. I believe Inga’s case is going to be solved, and that those involved in her murder will see the inside of a courtroom. As the saying goes, it’s a marathon not a sprint.

Only time will tell if my faith is well-placed.

Chapter 48: Completing the Circle, Thirty Years On

Back to the Old Town: Keeley Moss & Viktor Leibl on the Ormeau Road, Belfast, June 2018. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

Going on to Ireland next. I think I’m looking forward to that the best.

Inga-Maria Hauser, diary entry, Scotland, April 6 th 1988

Viktor and I remained in contact and have become good friends since he first emailed me in early 2017. I can now reveal it was he who provided me with the recording of Inga singing and playing ‘Greensleeves’ when I explained to him my idea to publish it in this blog in the hope that the more people I might be able to get to hear it the more chance I felt there was of one particular person who is in a position to help bring the investigation forward hearing Inga’s voice, and that this idea, as unorthodox as it was, might succeed where other efforts behind the scenes had thus far failed in reaching out to that person’s conscience for Inga’s sake as I could not stop thinking that her soul must be crying out for justice. In early 2018 as the significant landmark of Inga-Maria’s 30 th anniversary approached, I got in touch with Viktor to inform him of John Dallat’s idea to install an inscription stone at Ballypatrick Forest that would be the first memorial for Inga in Northern Ireland, that would mark the area where her life had been so cruelly taken, and furthermore would give the local community a focal point to reflect and pay their respects to the teenage traveller who had only wanted to visit their country when she was effectively executed practically upon her arrival on these shores. John and I wanted to invite Viktor to the event that was being planned to celebrate Inga as a person and to unveil the inscription stone. Viktor informed me that he would be unfortunately unable to attend due to work commitments, although he had requested time off to do so. I kept him informed of how the day had unfolded and emailed him and Friederike (and friends of Inga’s in Munich) a number of links and articles about the event, so that even though they were not there in person, they would be able to feel a part of it. One of Inga’s schoolmates later informed me that she actually watched the memorial event from Munich on an online news feed broadcast live from Ballypatrick Forest.

While Viktor had been unable to attend the memorial event, he messaged me in April with the news that he would be coming to Northern Ireland after all, in the summer, on an internship programme in connection with his work. He had originally requested being sent to Dublin but all of the places on the internship there were taken so he asked for his second choice, which was Belfast. I wondered if his decision was motivated by the fact that when Inga arrived in Northern Ireland she had been intending to travel to Belfast and then on to Dublin. It felt very emotional reading this message from him, the symbolic significance of it was immediately apparent to me. For it meant that thirty years on from the fateful night she had arrived in Northern Ireland, now Viktor would be “following in her footsteps” as the saying goes.

Before long it was June and Viktor was on the verge of arriving in Belfast as planned. Like Inga herself I tend to have a very open, freewheeling attitude to life in general with a perhaps foolhardy faith in ‘the Universe’ where I generally trust that everything will fall into place, and so far for me it has. I’m of course well aware that that approach did not serve Inga well in the end but instinctively I’ve learned to trust it and it works for me. I used to be overly cautious, and it severely limited my life, and led me to harbour regrets that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. So I tend not to worry about anything. But where the prospect of Viktor arriving in Northern Ireland was concerned, I was worried. I’ve heard a lot about how statistically Northern Ireland is among the safest countries for tourists anywhere in the world, and I feel my native Dublin is nowadays more safe than ever, but Viktor is no ordinary tourist – he’s the nephew of arguably the most notorious unsolved murder victim in Northern Ireland, someone who was as I have said on more than one occasion in this blog the only tourist in history to be the victim of a sexually-motivated murder in the province. Lightning couldn’t strike twice…Could it? The idea was so unlikely as to be unbelievable but then again, as Almut Hauser had said about Inga’s murder, “It was, and still is, unbelievable” – that a young woman could arrive in a country where no tourist had ever been murdered in such a way, and for it to happen to her and (to this day) only her, and what’s more for it to have happened before she’d even set foot on dry land? That was statistically so unlikely, and actually unprecedented – and yet it happened.

So I felt an urge to wrap Viktor in cotton wool as the saying goes, just in case something, anything, might go wrong. Fortunately he touched down safely in Belfast and made his way to his lodgings on the Ormeau Road where he and I met a few days later for lunch with the BBC Spotlight team who I’d put Viktor in contact with a few weeks previously during the production of the landmark documentary The Life and Death of Inga-Maria Hauser. It was a beautiful sunny day as I made my way from Dublin by coach to Belfast to meet with him in person for the first time. I travel everywhere by public transport, and like Inga-Maria my favourite mode of transport has always been the train. Perhaps because so much of the last week of her life was spent on trains, and that’s the period of time that has been most prevalent in my mind ever since I took such an interest in her case in the first place, I find I can’t stop thinking of her whenever I’m in a train station or a bus station, or an airport or ferry terminal, or on board any of those modes of transport. And here now, as I travelled to meet the first relative of hers to set foot in Northern Ireland since 1989, that was even more the case. I gazed out the coach window at the miles of wide open spaces that stretched out before me like a yawning mouth, the beautiful sunny day taunting with its glory as just another to add to the list of things that Inga was being denied the opportunity to witness or experience. Three hours after departing Dublin, the coach approached the outskirts of Belfast, that familiar kingdom of red-bricks and relics, a fascinating city with as many scars as homegrown stars, the historical and the hysterical combining to imposing effect.

I disembarked at Glengall Street and soon after hopped in a cab bound for the Ormeau Road. Within a few minutes I was there, and there he was before me, the closest living link to Inga I was ever likely to meet. His mere arrival in Belfast was a notable achievement – it’s something Inga tried but was prevented from doing. His presence in Northern Ireland saw the completion of a circle thirty years on. I felt it was akin to the passing of a torch – from one ‘Universal Traveller’ to another, from Inga-Maria to Viktor, the nephew she never lived long enough to see enter the world. Instantly the warm camaraderie we’d formed over many emails and Skype chats was solidified in person. He said something to me like “Finally you’re no longer just a blur of pixels!” and I laughed (he’s told me how notoriously-bad the quality of Wi-Fi can be in Germany which amazed me as I expected the exact opposite to be the case given the perception here of Germany being at the apex of cutting-edge technology but Viktor assures me that view is very far from the truth). We immediately fell into easy conversation and had a lovely lunch with the Spotlight production team (Conor Spackman, Pippa Cooke and Carla Speer), all of whom I became very fond of while working with them on the programme about Inga-Maria. We took some photos and chatted amongst ourselves until the Spotlight team had to go back to the office after which Viktor and I stayed on at the restaurant. I asked him how his grandmother was knowing that her condition is not something that can improve but still wishing that somehow it might be otherwise. And I asked him how his mum is, and how his internship was going, and how he’s finding Belfast. Simple things really but significant things in a way. And as we spoke, the sun shone down on this beautiful day and I felt so melancholy that Inga couldn’t be here. For here I was I was in Belfast because of Inga. Viktor was in Belfast because of his internship (but although I didn’t ask him directly, I felt Inga must have had something to do with his initial choice of Dublin and then Belfast of all the places he could have done his internship, I mean why come all the way from Austria to those specific places otherwise?) But Inga – the reason I was there, and surely a reason for Viktor being there – wasn’t here. She’s nowhere.

And yet, in a sense, she’s everywhere. She may be dead but her inspiration is more alive than ever. There are several poets who have this year felt inspired to write poetry about her, there is a wonderful artist in Ballycastle named Oliver who was inspired to paint her portrait (which I intend to feature in the next instalment of The Keeley Chronicles) and in addition to this blog almost every song I’ve written for more than two years has been inspired by her. She was such a creative person, and although she died in a way that was an affront to creativity, she has inspired and is continuing to inspire creativity which I think will be her lasting legacy. And that can defy the lifelong silence her killer imposed on her. Because the individuals responsible for her murder can’t murder songs, or poems, or paintings. They can’t murder creativity, or passion, or inspiration. And all those things can live on long after those individuals have gone. Sometimes the quietest sounds are the loudest. There are some loud personalities in life who ultimately leave no lasting trace, perhaps for instance the sort of man who walks into a pub with scratches on his face.

And then there those who don’t live very long at all but who ultimately go on to make more impact than those who have lived more than three times the length of time they got to. Anne Frank is a perfect example of this. She died at the age of 15 and was completely unknown during her short lifetime. But after her death at the hands of the Nazis at the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in 1945 the diary she’d secretly written her thoughts in while hiding with her family in a basement from the occupying Nazi forces was discovered and following its publication would go on to win a large audience around the world, since becoming a hugely-celebrated classic, and granting Anne Frank posthumous fame. The Nazi soldiers who captured her and imprisoned her? Who were they? What are their names? No one knows. No one cares. But Anne Frank – who died unknown and unmourned at the hands of her captors’ cohorts – would achieve more in death than they ever would in life, or in death for that matter. Do you see what I’m getting at? This is I think one of the most important points of this entire saga I’ve spent the past few years immersed in, an odyssey that’s admittedly been as curious to me as any of the by-now countless number of people who during that time have asked me why I’ve felt so drawn to this one case above all – and this one person at the heart of it all. For Anne Frank in 1945, read Inga-Maria Hauser in 1988. Sure, the circumstances of their deaths were different. But the parallels are undeniable. Both were teenage girls who met with an horrific demise. Both left creative treasures that were fortunately preserved and which emerged into the world years later (Inga-Maria had to wait a lot longer than Anne Frank for her artistic flair to receive public recognition). But both are now remembered and celebrated, by so many more people than were ever aware of them during their respective short lifetimes. And are in turn inspiring new artworks to be born. It’s a bittersweet but beautiful legacy to have left behind, something both Anne Frank and Inga-Maria would surely be very proud of. Which is a lot more than can be said for the very different sort of legacy those who condemned them to their deaths will leave behind.

Chapter 49: Wish You Were Here

Come a Long Way: Viktor Leibl & Keeley Moss in Dalkey, Dublin. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year

Pink Floyd – ‘Wish You Were Here’

In Part 2 of this blog there’s a chapter titled I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish. Sharing a title with The Smiths’ 1987 single of the same name that was released five months to the day before Inga-Maria was murdered, I felt it described perfectly the journey she started but indeed, couldn’t finish. I have said many times that it’s one of the things that has bothered me most ever since I first read about the case, that sense of ‘unfinished business’, of a crusade that was never completed, a journey that had to be jettisoned. Inga-Maria’s trip through the UK and Ireland in the spring of 1988 was (or would have been) the realisation of a dream (her mum Almut was quoted in 2009 as saying, literally, “It was her dream”). In the period following the murder Inga-Maria’s parents visited Northern Ireland (on the first visit in 1988, Josef Hauser travelled to the province alone in order to identify her body, and the second, in 1989, in the period leading up to the first-year anniversary both he and Almut visited Ballypatrick Forest Park and later made the televised appeal for information through a translator in an RUC station that I referred to earlier in this instalment). So the fact that Inga-Maria never got to realise that dream that it could be said has hung suspended in the air for thirty years unresolved, is much like her unsolved case itself a continuous bugbear, and an undoubted source of angst and frustration for the good people of County Antrim and for people such as John Dallat and myself.

So when Viktor messaged me to say he was coming to Dublin, this struck me as having such a poignant but beautiful symmetry to it. As a result, thirty years after Inga-Maria should have reached Dublin, Viktor would became the first-ever member of the Hauser family to reach the Irish capitol, and what’s more, he would travel from Belfast to do so. This journey is precisely the one Inga-Maria would have undertaken on April 7 th 1988 had she not been murdered the night before. The significance of that did not escape me. I wondered how much Viktor would be conscious of that as he made that journey.

After meeting him in Belfast, Viktor had contacted me a couple of weeks in advance to see which date best suited to meet up. I work weekends and he works weekdays but on the weekend of June 23 rd -24 th I was set to work the Saturday and the Monday, having Sunday free, which I felt was an ideal opportunity to host Viktor and take him on a tour of Dublin. So we arranged to meet on the Sunday. Therefore it was a surprise, but a very pleasant one, to receive a message from him while I was in work on the Saturday to say that he was already in Dublin with a work colleague, having travelled down a day early, and what’s more he messaged to say they didn’t have anywhere to stay. His exact words were, “Keeley, do you have a hint about a place to stay for my colleague Simon and me? We actually didn’t think about this”. At first I smiled when I read that last sentence, as I felt it was something that only a young person (Viktor is in his mid-twenties) would do, to travel to an unfamiliar city or town without having planned in advance where they would stay (it’s something I myself still do).

Then however it occurred to me that that is exactly what Inga-Maria had done on the last day of her life, having written her fateful last words “Wonder where I stay tonight? Need more money” in her diary before boarding the ferry in Stranraer that evening, a journey that would irrevocably change the course of her life, with fatal consequences. But where Inga had been in the words of one of the many people who have left a comment on one of the parts of this blog, “incredibly unlucky”, I have always been fortunate to have avoided peril on any of the many times I have travelled to a unfamiliar location without having arranged anywhere to stay in advance, and here Viktor would also be fortunate. Viktor told me that the first thing anyone said to him when he announced that he was planning on coming to (Northern) Ireland was, “Don’t get yourself killed”. Even though I tell people on a regular basis just how safe I believe Ireland nowadays is, due to the circumstances of what had happened to Inga within minutes of her arrival at Larne and the fact that Viktor is her blood relative as I said earlier I felt more conscious of his safety, and more protective of him, than would otherwise have been the case. So when he messaged to say that he was in Dublin and was suddenly planning to stay in the city overnight but had nowhere to stay, I phoned around B&B’s close to where I lived to see if I could book him and his colleague somewhere to stay. Had it just been Viktor on his own I would’ve offered for him to stay with me but my flat is very small and has just the one single bed. However, every B&B I phoned had no rooms available at such short notice, and when I broadened my search to hotels I was shocked to find that the only hotel rooms still available in the city that night would cost upwards of €230 for each person. I informed Viktor of this and assured him that I would sort something out, and that he could stay with me and I would have a think about where his colleague could stay. He soon replied to say that his colleague would be happy to sleep on my floor. So with that, it was sorted. I was still in work at this stage and wouldn’t be home until 8.30pm so wouldn’t have time to try and source extra bedclothes but I figured I could try and cobble together whatever else might be needed on the hoof.

On my train journey home from work I listened to the playlist of songs I’d made for Inga-Maria, and thought about all of the events that had led to this point, of her arrival on this island on a spring night all those years ago and all of the many twists and turns that had ensued since. And now here we were, thirty years on, with the police closer than ever to bringing some or all of those involved in her murder to justice, and here was a blood relative of hers finally in the city, my city, that she had come so tantalisingly close to reaching back in 1988. Where Inga-Maria hadn’t made it that far, Viktor had. Where she had sought sanctuary but found only savagery, Viktor had sought a safe harbour and found Bulloch Harbour, the serene marina near to where I live.

As I made my way home, I wondered how it would feel to see him in Dublin. I couldn’t shake from my mind the significance of him finally reaching here, and completing a circle that Inga-Maria had commenced but can never complete. As I made my way on to my street that night, one of the songs on the special playlist to the right of this piece, ‘Tell Yer Loved Ones’ by the brilliant Dublin band Tandem Felix suddenly came on the random shuffle on my phone. This immensely-poignant song always makes me think of Inga (even though it’s not about her). And here it was playing, and there he was in front of me. Standing there, already a fixture in my future memories of the past. I was aware of how much this moment meant. Within seconds we had greeted one another and had fallen into easy conversation as I showed him and his colleague the way towards the door of my home. Once inside I urged them to make themselves at home while I set about fixing some food. We chatted late into the night and before going to sleep, I decided to play them some of the new songs I’ve felt inspired to write about his murdered aunt. I hope Viktor doesn’t mind me saying this but while he’s a lovely person who I’m very fond of I think it’s fair to say he’s not a particularly emotional guy. So it surprised me the way he reacted to all three of the songs I played him (I never perform solo acoustic anymore, far preferring to play as part of a band but made an exception for Inga’s memorial event and likewise for when I played for Viktor). In particular after one of the songs, one which I wrote from Inga’s mum Almut’s perspective, I saw that he had tears in his eyes. His subsequent praise for these songs, as I told him at the time, meant more to me than any reaction in the world. Because of the extremely slow way the music industry operates, it’s possible that no one outside of my flat that night will hear these songs for years, if ever, and I wasn’t sure when Viktor would be in Ireland again or if I’d ever get another chance to play these songs for a member of Inga’s family, so I’m glad that I had the opportunity to do so.

The following morning, after a pleasant night’s sleep, I made breakfast and the boys chatted among themselves (and had a frankly hilarious argument with each other). Then we took some photos and went out, into an even more beautiful summer’s day than had been the case in Belfast. I thought I’d take them up to Dalkey and on from there to Sorrento Park, at the summit of which is arguably the best view in all of Ireland, a view said to rival that of the Bay of Naples, which is exactly the sort of sight I think Inga would have been most captivated by had she made it that far. After that we stopped for some soft drinks in Dalkey village and made our way into the city by train. By train – Inga-Maria’s favourite way to travel. The DART was packed with people on their way to various beaches, it being a hot Sunday in summertime. None of the people on the train had any idea who Viktor was nor the significance of his visit. That in a way would not be surprising given that Inga’s case is nowhere near as big a deal in the Republic of Ireland as it is in the North. I sat there on the train opposite Viktor, and it crossed my mind that Inga would have loved this moment had she been able to be here. A beautiful day, summertime in full flight, a free day ahead of us, on a train her favourite mode of transport, en route to show her nephew Viktor around the city. She would love that. She should be here. I wish she was.

We arrived at Pearse Station (I had taken Viktor and Simon to Pearse in order to let Viktor play the piano as I had learned he can play the piano and there’s one at that station for anyone to play. But he was quite shy when we got there so all three of us had only a very brief bash on it). I knew Viktor has a keen interest in science so next I took him to the science exhibition in Trinity College. After spending some time there, I brought them to what I think is one of the best places to hang out on a hot day in Dublin, namely the cricket pavilion on the grounds of Trinity College known to some as “The Pav” where we had ice creams and soaked up the sun for a little while before we had to make a mad dash so Viktor and Simon could catch their scheduled Enterprise train back to Belfast. We had to run something like a couple of miles to make the train which we made with literally one minute to spare – our amusement and relief is evident in the photo I took as they boarded the train (see directly below).

Race for the Prize: We made the Enterprise train to Belfast with literally one minute to spare… Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

After we’d waved our last goodbyes, I turned around and headed for home. Feeling a little lighter, feeling fortunate I’d gotten to experience something so meaningful. I’d been given the chance to ensure that Viktor, my friend and Inga-Maria’s blood relative, had food, shelter and a safe passage while visiting the city that thirty years before had been Inga-Maria’s intended destination from Belfast. And as small a contribution as I’d made in that respect, it did feel a little like this was coming full circle, a chance to if not rewrite history then at least to ensure that history did not repeat itself. And that means a lot. Because as easy as it was for me to do, it was something that would have made all the difference in the world to Inga-Maria had those who murdered her instead been willing to see to it that she was granted the customary warm Irish welcome and safe passage that was the least she deserved on the night she arrived with a head full of dreams at the Larne ferry terminal on the 6th of April 1988.

But as I said, instead of being shown sanctuary she was shown only savagery. And so that shall remain the case for as long as justice is delayed. And justice delayed is justice denied. It’s high time we see the arrival of that tide, like the waves that carried a certain ferry forth on a long-ago Northern night…

Inga-Maria Hauser
May 28 th 1969 – April 6 th 1988. Never forgotten.

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without the permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Acknowledgements for Part 18

Thanks to Inga Richardson and Marcus Baumann for their valued assistance.

‘The English Roses’ written by Chrissie Hynde
Published by Hynde House of Hits/ATV Music Publishing ©1981

‘Late Night, Maudlin Street’ written by Morrissey/Street
Published by Warner Bros. Music Ltd/Linder Ltd/Copyright Control ©1988

‘Wish You Were Here’ written by Waters/Gilmour
Published by Pink Floyd Music Publishers Inc. ©1975

The Keeley Chronicles PART 27

The definitive account of the only case of its kind, a search for truth and a labour-of-love in memory of the victim of a unique murder mystery still officially unsolved 33 years on

By Keeley Moss

Chapter 73: Coming in the Ayr Tonight
Chapter 74: Blazing Your Trail
Acknowledgements for Part 27

Chapter 73: Coming in the Ayr Tonight

Ayr Apparent: The scene at the station upon my arrival. Inga made her last-ever train connection from this platform. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

Waiting for the last train
Standing in the pouring rain
Thinking, wishing, hoping

Clutching on the last straw
Seeing things I never saw

One step forward
Two steps back
And you’re gone

The Mighty Lemon Drops – ‘Inside Out’

For anyone who hasn’t been following the previous six instalments of this blog, this is the next stage of my retracing Inga’s movements by undertaking a solo backpacking trip on an Interrail pass through England, Scotland and the north (and south) of Ireland for the purpose of researching my book about Inga and her case (which is a separate work to this blog) and to keep her memory alive by trying to complete the journey that she was so tragically murdered in the process of undertaking. I am also doing this in order to show just how far she travelled and the sheer effort she made to get where she was going before she was killed, a very important aspect of Inga’s legacy that was overlooked for too long. She came so far. So near and yet, so far…

Boarding the packed train in Glasgow Central for Ayr I reach into my rucksack and check my phone for the time. The journey is set to take one hour. By the time of reaching the town of Troon however there is almost nobody left on the train and by the time it reaches the last stop in Ayr, I am one of only three people who get off. The weather on this night is suitably Scottish – blustery, cold and dank. But being Irish I am more than accustomed to inclement climes.

Coming up for Ayr: Signs at the station. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

Stepping onto the platform in Ayr that familiar feeling returns. I had felt it upon arrival in London, Oxford, Headington, Bath, Bristol, Preston, Inverness and Glasgow. The sense of her having been here. I have ninety minutes to kill. But where to go? There’s no seating area or waiting room in Ayr station due to an ongoing rebuilding job that has rendered any and all enclosed spaces inaccessible to the public. Then again, even if there had been somewhere sheltered to sit in the station, I would have preferred to take the opportunity to explore Ayr for the hour and a half I have here.

Times Change: ScotRail timetable, Ayr station. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

So that’s what I decide to do. Swapping one dark slab of concrete wetness for another, I exit the station and without the slightest clue where I’m going, set off in a randomly chosen direction. My phone has again run out of battery so I can’t access the satellite navigation. Before long I find myself on a motorway, which I hope will lead me towards Ayr town centre. I guess right, and after a while it looms into view. Sniffing out the scent of the centre, I keep walking. Despite the bad weather, I’m excited to be here, in Ayr. Somewhere new. Somewhere else. Somewhere else with a connection to her.

Chapter 74: Blazing Your Trail

Inside-Looking Out: The author at Ayr station, wondering when Inga’s killers will be behind bars… Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

You were there in the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars and you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon

Flags, rags, ferryboats
Scimitars and scarves
Every precious dream and vision underneath the stars
Yes, you climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon

The Waterboys – ‘The Whole of the Moon’

I have still yet to encounter even one person since I stepped off the train. Although a part of my nature favours safety, erring on the side of caution, the Gemini star sign I share with Inga means a larger part of me is drawn to the deep end. Those who are that way inclined tend to break loose and choose the choppier waters in life, unable to quell the curious urges.

And what of Ayr? The streets are completely deserted. No people. No cars. Nowhere. I walk further then choose a street at random, again guided by instinct. Passing by a pub named Rabbie’s, I glance at the windows. It looks like there’s life inside. It’s the only sign of life in Ayr tonight. I pause and ask myself if I should go in? I don’t drink alcohol and pub culture is not my thing. So, what business have I got going in a pub? But everywhere else in the town looks to be closed, and I mean everywhere. I still haven’t set eyes on a human being in the 25 minutes I’ve been here. I want to have an adventure. Going all the way to Ayr only to wander down a motorway and walk through deserted streets in the dark would be hard to qualify as an adventure. But the whole time in the back of my mind there’s the memory of her mission, a pursuit that plummeted from pleasure to peril. This decision is balanced on a knife edge. It’s such a mundane moment – I’m in a Scottish town at night and I’m merely trying to decide whether to enter a pub or not. However because I have spent literally every waking hour of the past three years with the details of Inga’s case on my mind, during this trip retracing her steps I am more conscious than I might be otherwise of the potential life-changing significance of what may appear on the surface to be straightforward events and innocuous choices. Deciding to enter this pub might make no difference to anything or it could change my life in some catastrophic way. Similarly, not entering it could leave me open to some other unforeseen threat to my existence. These are ultimately scenarios we are all faced with most days of our lives. Over-analysing the potential perils and permutations to the extent that you could become paralysed by doubt or fear is no way to live. The best of a bad bunch of options is probably to live on instinct and try to experience as much as possible in life while trying to balance the scales of safety and risk.

Pretty Vacant: The abandoned Ayr town centre after dark. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

So once again I let my heart and head be led by instinct’s instructions, and I open the door to the pub. I need to charge my phone for what feels like the 427 th time this day, and at the same time I’m thinking I just might have an experience in here that could be something to remember. I cross the lounge and try to find a power socket to charge my phone. There’s a football match on the TV – it’s the 90 th minute of a game Glasgow Rangers are drawing 0-0 against some European side. There are a bunch of men sitting around the TV watching the match. I’m just relieved to be in out of the wretched weather. I’m also wondering how the hell Rangers are in Europe, the last I’d heard they’d been relegated to Division 3 or something. I take my rucksack off my shoulders and place it on the seat beside me. I’m expecting a member of the bar staff to approach me any moment now and expect me to buy a drink, which would be fair enough. Except they rarely serve in pubs the kind of drinks I like (I have very childlike tastes) and I’m not enthusiastic about the idea of buying a drink I don’t want, plus I need to conserve what little remaining funds I have… Wonder where I stay tonight. Need more money.

Suddenly a man approaches me and asks me a question in such an impenetrable accent I don’t understand a word of it. Figuring he must be a member of the bar staff and is asking me what I want to order, I ask “What hot drinks do you have here?” It’s a cold night and I could do with a hot drink. I can tell by the confused expression on his face that he must have asked me a different question than the one I thought I was responding to. However, it soon becomes apparent that not only is that the case, but it turns out he isn’t a member of bar staff at all. He’s just a guy in the bar, and he had approached me to ask if I wanted a drink. This was the last thing I was expecting. I am never asked out in Dublin. Not that he is asking me out. He is asking me if I would like a drink. But is a guy in a pub asking you if you’d like a drink merely a pre-amble before asking or expecting other things? As I say, it doesn’t happen to me in Dublin, so I wasn’t sure how to deal with it now that it was happening in Ayr. I scramble my thoughts and hope some half-sensible reply might come tumbling out of my mouth. In a split second I have to ask myself several questions – namely “Who is this guy?”, “Is he expecting something in return if I accept his offer of a drink?”, “Is this a ruse of some sort?”, “Or worse, is history repeating itself here and is this guy going to end up doing to me what Inga’s killers did to her?” The fact that I was only here to retrace her footsteps had heightened my sense of awareness in terms of trying to avoid a similar fate, and had intensified my second-guessing analysis of the situations I was finding myself in. Since my arrival in Ayr I had already debated with myself whether to leave the leave train station and go and explore the area – I ultimately decided yes. Then I debated with myself whether to enter this pub – I’d decided yes to that as well. Now I was being confronted by a guy I had never met in my life who was asking me if I’d like him to buy me a drink. In that moment I recognised a strange parallel with the moment Inga was approached at Larne – do I say no and risk seeming impolite? Do I say yes and risk getting myself into a situation I might regret? Or do I bypass both of those options and instead say something that confuses the hell out of him?

Evidently my brain chooses the latter option. Having already wrongly mistaken the guy for a member of bar staff, I respond to his question of “Would you like a drink?” with some comment about how I’m looking for a way to charge my phone, which is at least a way to sidestep his question about the drink. This however doesn’t deter him. His next question throws me another curveball. “Would you like a game of pool?” he seemed to be saying. Pool? What sort of a follow-up question is that? “Would I like a game of pool?”, I reply rhetorically, and in doing so I buy myself some time to figure out what I’m going to do. I realise I’m asking myself as much as repeating his question back at him. Would I like a game of pool? I’m not sure. I again go through the whole “Is this some sort of ruse?” analysis in my head. Then I think, “Fuck it, you wanted an adventure, let’s see where it leads”. So I nod, pick up my rucksack and follow him through to the back of the pub where there is a pool table. To my surprise there’s a second guy there, who is clearly known to the guy who asked me if I wanted a drink and a game of pool, and there‘s also a girl here who appears to know them both. Hello. What’s going on here? And all the time unbeknownst to them, in my head the only sound I can hear is “Inga, Inga, Inga, Inga…”

I try to stop being paranoid and get ready for this game of pool. I plug my phone into the wall socket, put my rucksack on a tabletop where I can keep an eye on it, and take off my coat, hat and gloves. The guy who asked me to play pool introduces himself at this point. He says his name is Dean, and it turns out he’s not from Ayr but from Bradford, a city I have holidayed in several times so it’s hard to fathom why I initially found his accent so hard to understand. We begin the game of pool and he soon races into a commanding lead. I’m playing so badly it’s as if I have invented a whole new sport with the exact opposite objective of the game he is playing.

Soon after we began the game, he opens up and begins telling me his life story. His is a classic cautionary tale, but ultimately one that has led to redemption and salvation. He had been a heroin addict for most of his life, had become involved in crime in order to feed his addiction, ended up burgling what sounds like half the houses in Bradford and ended up in prison where he continued to abuse hard drugs. It took him until he met his second wife who he credits with having turned his life around before the self-destructive and reckless path he had been on for many years came to an end. We end up talking for a good while, and during this time it becomes apparent to me that rather than him being someone to be wary of, as I had first been when he approached me and asked if I would like a drink, I realise he is only someone to admire – his honesty, his willingness to recognise his flaws and acknowledge the damage he had done to himself and many others around him, and furthermore his intelligence. He’s an ordinary working-class guy from Bradford, a former long-term heroin addict with a string of criminal convictions, and yet he is as wise as anyone I have met. And what’s more, a genuinely lovely guy. By some miracle, the very same pool game in which he’s played like a pro for much of it, while for much of it I’ve played like a demented octopus, I end up finding form late on and somehow emerge the victor. He is magnanimous in defeat, I end up accepting his second offer of a drink, he’s totally sincere in expecting nothing in return and after a thoroughly enjoyable and illuminating time spent in his company playing the good game of pool and talking, we hug goodbye and I put my coat on, lift my rucksack onto my shoulders once more and prepare to return to Ayr station to catch the last train to Stranraer.

The streets of Ayr are still empty, the weather still dank and dreary. But something has changed. Nothing has changed on the surface, but I have just witnessed the enormous impact change can have on a human being, a person who managed to turn his life around and away from the hellish harems of hard drug addiction and criminality. I take several things away from this encounter, a rare minor sporting triumph for one thing, a soulful connection with a fellow human being for another, and one more example that not everything is as it first appears on the surface. It was ultimately a far better use of my ninety minutes in Ayr than if I’d spent the whole time in the train station. I had taken a chance in exploring this remote town late at night and I’d been fine. I had taken another chance in embracing the uncertainty of spending time in the company of a guy I didn’t know from Adam, and again it had all worked out even better than I had hoped. But with each thing that was going right for me, it caused me to cast my mind back to Inga once more, and the way her backpacking trip and even more so her entire life had suddenly and through no fault of her own unravelled disastrously and tragically.

The Ayr that I Breathe: The view from the station carpark. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

I make my way back to the train station and after exploring the station area I head for the platform. Huddling in my coat beneath the tangerine tones of the station lights the winter cold of an Ayrshire night unfurls its freezing flag. Looking up, through a haze of Scottish fog I see the electric information board display the following statement…

In the Midnight Hour: The last train to Stranraer appears on the departures board.
Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

Only eight minutes left to wait now. I stand on the platform with my rucksack and visualise her standing here the same way three decades before. She was here, on this same platform, in this same station, albeit for a mere two minutes as she hopped off one train and onto another. But the second of those trains would unwittingly deliver her into danger, into a sequence of events that would reverberate far into the future and continue doing so right up to the present day. And beyond.

And it was beyond where she was bound. And in retracing her steps through the rural and urban jungles of all these cities and towns, beyond was where I too was bound.

And so, the next leg of this spiritual mission dawns. Ayr to Stranraer.

Here It Comes: The last train of the night arrives at Ayr. Note the absence of passengers waiting to board. Photo: Keeley Moss ©2018

Suddenly, the distant glimmer of lights appear on the horizon and gradually become larger as the locomotive draws closer. I grasp for a semblance of security by putting my hand in my coat pocket and fumbling around for my Interrail pass which I hadn’t seen since Glasgow two and a half hours ago.

It was still there. I was still here. She is gone. Soon I would be too.

Bound for whatever lies beyond.

Inga Maria Hauser

May 28th 1969 – April 6th 1988. Never forgotten.

Copyright: Keeley Moss ℗&©2019. All rights reserved.

Acknowledgements for Part 27

Inside Out written by Newton/Linehan. Published by Warner Bros. Music Ltd. ©1988

The Whole of the Moon written by Mike Scott. Published by Warner/Chappell Music ©1985

Watch the video: Message From Space 1978 Official Trailer (June 2022).


  1. Kagale

    I can recommend you to visit the website with a huge number of articles on the topic of interest to you.

  2. Mazutilar

    Bravo, this excellent thought has to be precisely on purpose

  3. Tekree

    It was and with me. We can communicate on this theme.

  4. Rodes

    I saw it by chance. Not expected.

  5. Rayce

    Wow :) How great!

  6. Cormack

    and you tried to write to him in the PS. so more reliable))

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