For me, April 7, 1984 would forever belong to Pam.
Repeatedly I squinted at my watch and rolled high on my toes, searching the crowd for my best friend Pamela Bulik. Familiar faces from the Green Bay community and surrounding area milled in and out of the Joggers Joynt, a running-gear store that sponsored local races. Notoriously indifferent about running fashion, the group resembled Goodwill shoppers.
Approaching the registration table I sipped my addiction, a cooling mug of coffee. Its scent mingled with the odor of runners’ sweat from early warm-ups, and menthol gels being liberally applied to leg muscles. Dick Lytie sprawled behind a rickety table, wearing a psychedelic jacket and matching tights taken right off his store’s closeout rack, yet modeling the best shoes money could buy. Affectionately known as our local running guru, he looked like a mountain man with his salt-and-pepper shaggy beard and frizzy hair.
As Dick checked in runners for his Spring Classic half marathon, he handed out numbers, safety pins, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. My drawers were stuffed with dozens, but this was my first black one. Even though many participants donned their funeral-appearing attire, the atmosphere swung to the other extreme. While stretching inside and out they burped, farted, and gulped down fluids. Conversely, runners lined up by the Joynt’s one-stall bathroom for last-minute pit stops to void their fluids. Nervous excitement flowed on this sunny 45-degree day.
Where was Pam? I kept expecting to hear, “Hey, girl’’ followed by her nudge and memorable smile. Perhaps she was sick or overslept. Maybe one of her two children had a problem that she’d needed to deal with. There had to be a logical explanation. Once again her husband, Bob, was at his Marine Corps Reserve weekend in Denver, leaving family issues to fall on her shoulders.
Close to starting time, hyped-up runners crossed the street and gathered next to St. Bernard’s Church. I scurried back to the car to lock my mug inside, placing it next to Pam’s gift. It wasn’t her birthday. It was simply a token of friendship—to remind her how special she was to me.
I then corralled Dick to see if I’d missed Pam in the process.
“No,” he frowned. She’d never checked in. Because she’d pre-registered, he too agreed her absence was strange. He purposely held up the start, still anticipating her arrival. As runners got antsy, Dick could wait no longer. At 11:10 he raised the gun.
The crowd quieted. Only the wind whispered through leafless trees.
Then the shot exploded.
Caffeine-wired, I took off—without Pam.
Deeply immersed in the close-knit culture of long-distance running, Pam and Bob Bulik were avid competitors. To all appearances, they were also a happily married couple, devoted to each other and their two young children. Then, Bob made a fateful decision. He began an extramarital affair that led to his wife's tragic death and to one of the most sensationalized and heavily attended trials in Green Bay's history.
Candidly written by Pam's best friend, Run At Destruction exposes the irresistible human passions that make us so vulnerable and the ultimate price we pay for choosing to act on them. You'll relive every detail of the crime and the exhaustive police investigation, and watch the courtroom drama from a front-row seat as a major homicde case unfolds in a small town where everyone knows all the players. Then, when you've heard all the evidence, you can decide for yourself - was Pam Bulik's death a terrible accident, intentional suicide, or premeditated murder?
Author Website: http://www.lyndadrews.com
Buy Link: At the author's website.
Buy Link: At the author's website.