[Devery Doleman is a woman. A woman with a QUEST FOR JUSTICE! She has asked those of us at Tiger Beatdown to aid her in bringing a killer to light. As quasi-responsible bloggers, we have no choice but to aid her in this quest. Read her story of mystery and suspense below.]

Dear Representative Franklin:

I need your help. I need your Uterine Investigatory Crime Unit and every bit of biological lady-part know-how your degree in Biblical studies and Business Administration from Covenant College in Lookout Mountain, Georgia, can bring to my case. I’m scared, Representative Franklin. Because I think – I think there is a killer inside me. The killer is MY UTERUS. Help me stop it before it kills again.

I first experienced “the curse” in August, 1986. I’m pretty sure there was no prenatal murdering since I didn’t have sexual relations with a boy until 1993 – but then, what do I know? You seem to be the science expert here. It happens every month – it’s been 24 years now of tampons and blood and cramping and all apparently BEYOND MY CONTROL. Now I’m married and my husband and I have been trying to get with child for the past two years – but every month instead of two pink lines I get a gush of blood all over the little white stick, like Lady MacBeth in a shitty rom-com. Please tell me – Am I a prenatal murderess? Given that I have been menstruating since 14, am now 38 and have never been pregnant? They don’t call it THE CURSE for nothing, Mr. Franklin.

I’m trying to do everything right: I have the ClearBlue Easy Fertility Monitor. I stand on my head after sex. I even wore a red muu-muu while we did it with a picture of Faye Dunaway as Serena Joy taped to the headboard! And then there’s that period of suspense when I think I am with child: the metallic taste in the mouth, the dizziness, the rage out of nowhere, the yen for a salt lick. But turns out it was just hateful old PMS. The killer has struck again.

Now when I start crying for no reason during a channel-surfed glimpse of the finale of LiLo’s remake of Herbie: Fully Loaded, I have no idea. I could be pregnant — OR AM I ABOUT TO KILL AGAIN. I’m on tenterhooks here. Wait a minute. Is a “tenterhook” kind of like a coat hanger? Am I metaphorically standing/laying/walking on a the motherlode of prenatal murder weapons? Is the killer yet again Mrs. OfHusbandsName with the Tenterhooks on the Sofa? I could call my doctor — but what if the radiation from the cell phone causes prenatal murder? What about my prenatal vitamins? They’re Dr. Furhman Gentle Prenatals – they’re vegan – oh my god, could not harming animals be killing an innocent angel baby EVERY MONTH?

Another thing. If “’prenatal murder’ means the intentional removal of a fetus from a woman with an intention other than to produce a live birth or to remove a dead fetus,” does this mean that I have to leave my tampons in my vagina until they fall out of their own accord? In 1999 I forgot about one up there after a wild weekend, got toxic shock and had to go to the ER at Bellevue where a doctor removed it – do you need to shoot him? (At least I’m off the hook for that one, right?) I don’t remember his name, but he was blond and looked like a stoner Jeff Daniels. Maybe a posse should track him down?

Your proposed law declares that “[prenatal murder] does not include a naturally occurring expulsion of a fetus known medically as a ‘spontaneous abortion’ and popularly as a ‘miscarriage’ so long as there is no human involvement whatsoever in the causation of such event.” I’m so confused, Bobby! Don’t you see? The event is happening inside me which would seem to indicate that this particular human, aka ME!, no matter what happens, no matter what I eat, breathe, say or do, is deeply, deeply involved! The killer is calling from inside the house! What is happening to me every month that I am not pregnant? Is it a “miscarriage”? Or a MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE?

I can’t take this uncertainty any more, so if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start sending you evidence right away. There’s still a bloodstain on our mattress pad, I have a bunch of old period underwear, and I’m happy to bag and send you my tampons next week if the killer strikes again. Usually I go through an OB Super once every 2 hours the first couple days so there will be ample material for your lab to analyze to determine what in the hell is going on here and to help bring the relevant parties to justice.

Help me, OB-GYN Kenobi – I mean, Representative Franklin. You’re my only hope.

All my best,

Devery (aka, OfClay)

Many of us have been stirred by Devery’s unswerving commitment to finding the killer within. Although, sadly, US law prohibits us from sending unsolicited, used tampons and pads — don’t do it! Don’t do it or you will GO TO JAIL, REAL TALK — we are collecting photos of such, as evidence, which we will be sending to Rep. Franklin along with our reports on the potential crime, and our urgent pleas for him to investigate the OBs, Tampaxes, Keepers, sea sponges and other potential crime scenes in our possession. You may send Bobby Franklin your crime reports and photographed evidence here:

Rep. Bobby Franklin

401 Coverdell Legislative Office Building

Atlanta, Georgia 30334

Fax number: 404-656-5562.

E-mail: bobby.franklin@house.ga.gov



