The Red String of Murder
An Oral History
In the summer of 1992, a mysterious death entangled the police department of Fishpot, Louisiana. This is the story of the survivors in their own words.
Police Chief Weatherby Pike (PIKE): “Come to Fishpot if you want to sleep with the fishes. I ain’t being coy; there’s usually so little going on that fish can sleep in the streams. It baffles scientists.”
Detective Chester Lambeaux (LAMBEAUX): “The median age in Fishpot is ‘older than God’s grandpappy.’ We’re a retirement community of about fifteen hundred. You want more of the particulars, you gotta talk to Swamp Ass.”
Detective Parker Swampass (SWAMP ASS): “For starters, it’s pronounced ‘Swam-puss’ not ‘Swamp-ass’, okay? I used to go by my mother’s maiden name, but that didn’t sit well with the East Fishpot Mustybutts.”
At 12:32 p.m. on June 11, 1992, Dispatcher Dorothy Dalrymple received a call from frantic teenager Jim-John Hockenberry. He arrived at the residence of seventy-eight year old Gabriela Ruttencutter to paint a fence, where he discovered Ms. Ruttencutter unresponsive on the porch.
DALRYMPLE: “I remember when the call came in: ’Mih Gabbie dee-ah!’ It was a little hard to understand. Jim-John had burnt his tongue on some gumbo earlier in the day.”
LAMBEAUX: “Gabbie’s death stands out because crime decreases substantially during the summer on account of ‘Fanning Season.’”
PIKE: “People look forward to it all year. White suit. Church fan. Mint Julep on the porch. You know how hard it is to get blood stains out of a white suit? Heavens.”
At 12:41 p.m., Detective Swampass was the first to arrive at the crime scene.
SWAMP ASS: “So I get there and sure as shit, Gabbie’s dead on the porch with a broken julep glass jabbed in her neck. Blood’s everywhere. Got some on me too. I’d tripped coming up the steps on account of my side hustle shoes.”
DALRYMPLE: “We’d spoken to Swamp Ass several times about the department dress code.”
SWAMP ASS: “Look, I had just finished volunteering at the hospital. You think a murder suspect is gonna wait for you to change out of your clown outfit before he skedaddles?”
LAMBEAUX: “He also knocked over a citronella candle on the porch. By the time I pull up, there’s a blood-soaked clown dragging around Gabbie’s body screaming ‘I didn’t do this’ in front of a burning house.”
PIKE: “Fowl play if I ever saw it. He’d shat all over the scene like a duck on an all-chili diet.”
While waiting for autopsy results, detectives gathered in the station conference room to sort out the existing evidence on corkboards. Conference Room Monthly once described the room as ‘hotter than a Miami armpit and twice as fragrant.’
LAMBEAUX: “Most folks don’t know this, but upwards of 85% of murder cases fall apart at the corkboard stage.”
PIKE: “The red string keeps falling off. People can’t agree on the card color — not to mention most cops write worse than a chicken in a hurricane.”
LAMBEAUX: “Lucky for us, we had ‘Corkboard’ Dutton.”
SWAMP ASS: “Bobby ‘Corkboard’ Dutton joined the department in the spring of ’92. Never seen finer qualities in a recruit. His finest was being the mayor’s nephew.”
LAMBEAUX: “It was Dutton’s first ride with a murder case, so he was on corkboard duty.”
PIKE: “After much deliberation, we agreed that the severity of the situation called for the eggshell white cards.”
LAMBEAUX: “Dutton put the first card up and all of a sudden — I mean, what he did really knocked our hats in the crick.”
SWAMP ASS: “He wrote clear as a third grade teacher. It was like he’s a-typing.”
PIKE: “Impeccable penmanship.Perfect curves. Gorgeous lines. It was beautiful.”
SWAMP ASS: “So we start throwing out the facts. Boom, here’s a suspect. Boom, here’s a picture. He was an artist on that board — I mean flawless pin placement. Just incredible.”
LAMBEAUX: “It got to the point where we were throwing out words just to watch him work the board. ‘Albatross.’ ‘Small mouth bass.’ ‘Hell — Gabbie had a killer brownie recipe. Let’s throw that up.’”
SWAMP ASS: “He said ‘are you sure about all this?’ And we hollered ‘don’t tell us how to do our job, Corky!’ Honestly, I was glad not to be in the hot seat for a change.”
LAMBEAUX: “Ol’ Swamp Ass always had a hot seat if you know what I mean.”
SWAMP ASS: “After about three hours, Dutton was getting wise to us.”
LAMBEAUX: “So I go over to the arts and craft drawer, and pull out the red string. I said ‘Alright Corky, let’s start tying some of these theories together.’”
During a total of twenty-two combined hours of interview tape, the department declined to discuss the actual evidence regarding the death of Ruttencutter. However, several were moved to tears while recounting Dutton’s work on the corkboard. One even held his hat over his heart and requested a moment of silence.
DALRYMPLE: “It’s a small town. You have to appreciate the little things.”
LAMBEAUX: “By the time we were done, Dutton was exhausted. The room looked like a big red spider web. It took us about forty-five minutes just to get out of there.”
PIKE: “If the Fire Marshal saw that rat’s nest, he’d light the place up. It was wall to wall string.”
The following day, the case took an unexpected turn when the autopsy results were delivered to the precinct. The findings greatly concerned the department.
DALRYMPLE: “The coroner found that Gabbie had suffered a mild heart attack from over-fanning herself. It was believed that caused her to fall forward, crush the julep glass, and stab her own throat.”
SWAMP ASS: “What a buzzkill. We were ready for a whole other day of Corky the wonder boy. Sure, justice was served, but a big ass bowl of disappointment was on the menu.”
PIKE: “Then we got word that Mayor Dutton was paying us a visit. Apparently an anonymous source had claimed that department resources weren’t being used to their maximum potential.”
LAMBEAUX: “If he’d walked in, and seen our ‘Hamburglar Done It’ theory — we’d all be clearing lockers.”
SWAMP ASS: “Naturally, we sent ol’ Corky in there to clean it up.”
LAMBEAUX: “The rest of us were in the bullpen when we heard a big crash.”
The officers burst into the conference room to find Corkboard Dutton on the floor, tangled in red string. He was dead from asphyxiation when the officers arrived.
DALRYMPLE: “Swamp Ass made a passionate attempt to revive Dutton.”
LAMBEAUX: “It was a little too passionate. I don’t recall cradling a body and screaming ‘I didn’t do this’ being a crucial part of CPR.”
SWAMP ASS: “I swear to God, if I ever find the person who snuck in there and strangled Dutton, you bet your ass I’ll be pinning your name to a board.”
DALRYMPLE: “Oh yeah. He said that. I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to let Swamp Ass deliver the eulogy.”
PIKE: “The saddest part is we never did crack Dutton’s case. We tried, but we just couldn’t get the corkboard right.”
