#my optometrist said he has the eyes of an 85 year old man

[peapod20001]

thing I never thought of asking before:

do YOU have EDS? :0

No XD but I do have a connective tissue disorder called Stickler syndrome! :> I have type 2 if I remember correctly

[the-homicidediaries]

Terry Jo Duperrault

Alone: Orphaned on the Ocean

Hi guys!

So as most of you know, I love true crime. I love learning new stories I’d never heard about and trying to break down why evil, sociopathic people do the things they do.

I started writing essays on my wall after I was laid off from my job, and it low key kinda blew up, haha.

I haven’t been on it lately, but that’s changing right now!

I want to share crazy, true stories that most people don’t know about.

Most of us know Bundy, Ramirez, Ridgeway, Gacy, Dahmer, etc.

I want to talk about the lesser known, the most evil. Muahahaha.

The story I am telling now is quite literally unbelievable, but it is fascinating. And it has a (sort of) happy ending.

This is the story of Terry Jo Duperrault.

(I first heard this story on one of my favorite podcasts, My Favorite Murder. It’s episode 28 - His Liver With Some Fava Beans and A Nice Chianti.)

I really tried to find out where Terry Jo was born, but I can’t find anything about her childhood or what city in Wisconsin she’s actually from, so I’ll start from what I did find.

Terry Jo was the middle child to Arthur Duperrault and Jean Duperrault. Together they had three children; Brian, 14, Terry Jo, 11, and René, 7.

Arthur was an optometrist, Jean’s occupation wasn’t disclosed.

Arthur had been dying (lol pun) to take his family out sailing. His plan was to sail for an entire year, all over the world.

In 1961, Arthur had become so successful that the opportunity to sail with his family arose and he seized it. Instead of spending the winter in Wisconsin, he decided he and his family would sail to the Bahamas.

The plan was to rent a boat, sail for a week, like a trial run, and see how everything went. If they enjoyed their time, they would extend the trip further.

I’m not even good at geography, but I know you can’t get to the Bahamas from Wisconsin, so Arthur and his family traveled to Fort Lauderdale, FL, and rented the ship, Bluebelle. They hired Julian Harvey, a former Air Force fighter pilot and a very experienced sailor, to man the ship.

Julian’s wife, Dene Harvey, would also accompany them.

On Wednesday November 8, 1961, the Duperrault’s and the Harvey’s began their voyage.

Eventually, they all reached the Bahamas safely, an island called Sandy Point to be specific, and Arthur was completely astounded by how beautiful the beaches were.

The Duperrault’s and Harvey’s spent the next four days snorkeling and collecting shells.

(Honestly, goals.)

Early Sunday, Arthur and the Harvey’s stopped by the office of Sandy Point village commissioner Roderick W. Pinder to fill out forms for leaving the Bahamas and returning to the United States.

“This has been a once in a lifetime vacation,” Duperrault told Pinder. “We’ll be back before Christmas.”

That night, Dene prepared a dinner of chicken cacciatore and salad. It was to be the last meal ever served on the Bluebelle.

(Just for reference, because I’m a foodie too, cacciatore is an Italian dish that’s prepared with braised chicken or rabbit and a sauce made of tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and herbs. It looks heckin’ good on Google images. 😂)

‘Kay anyway.

This isn’t about Arthur. This is about Terry Jo.

Around 9 pm that Sunday night, Terry Jo headed down the the sleeping quarters. Normally her little sister René would sleep with her, but this particular night, René went upstairs to sleep with her parents and brother in the cockpit.

In the middle of the night, Terry Jo was abruptly awoken by her brother, Brian. He was yelling, “Help, Daddy! Help!” (Completely horrifying.) She heard footsteps and someone running around, then silence. She laid in her bed, shivering, terrified, and disoriented for about five minutes.

When she finally crept out of the cabin, she saw her mother and brother lying in a pool of blood and she instantly knew they were dead.

Just a uh, a friendly reminder. She’s 11.

She slowly climbed the stairs and saw more blood and what she thought might have been a knife.

Suddenly Captain Harvey lunged at her and shoved her down.

“Get back down there!”

She quietly went back to her quarters. Once she reached her bunker, however, she realized the ship was sinking. Her room smelled of oily water and she was sloshing when she walked. Once she realized the ship was sinking she was too afraid to move.

Suddenly she saw the captain’s dark form silhouetted in the cabin’s doorway. He had something in his hands, possibly her brother’s rifle, and stood looking down at her.

Then

He turned around and went back to the upper level of the ship.

Thinking fast, she climbed to the top of the stairs again. She noticed the ship’s dinghy and a cork life raft floating in the main cabin.

She called out to Harvey. “Is the ship sinking?”

“Yes!” he yelled back. “Hold this.”

He handed her the line to the dinghy but she was so shocked by what she just witnessed, (and who wouldn’t be?), the line slipped right through her fingers. As the dinghy floated away, Harvey jumped in after it and disappeared into the night, leaving a, (AND I AM REITERATING HERE), an ELEVEN. YEAR. OLD. CHILD. On a sinking ship where he had just murdered her entire family and his wife. (Yes, his wife. We will get into that. Did I mention they had only been married for a few months?)

This smart girl, dude. She’s so smart. She remembered the cork life raft and quickly ran to the main cabin to retrieve it. It was barely above water when she reached it. She scrambled for a bit to untie it and just as the float came free, the boat deck sank beneath her feet into the ocean. Half crawling, half swimming, she pushed the float into the open water.

But right as she was getting used to floating on this cork float, one of the lines got caught on Bluebelle and she began sinking with the ship.

SOMEHOW it came loose and she was floating all alone, in the dark, in the middle of the ocean. She huddled low though. She was so afraid that Captain Harvey was waiting for her and was going to kill her next.

She had no water, no food, and, in her thin white blouse and pink pants, nothing to protect her from the cold night.

She could hear the wind but couldn’t see anything. The waves kept hitting her like a ton of bricks and the salt was stinging her eyes and lips.

SHE WAS ELEVEN.

Okay. Got it? Get it got it got it good?

Okaaaaay

The next morning, Monday, she went from freezing cold to being scorched by the 85° weather. Her float was beginning to disintegrate and her legs were being bitten by parrot fish. Her tongue was becoming drier and drier.

On Tuesday, a red plane flew by and she waved her blouse for what seemed like an eternity hoping they would notice, but they didn’t. At one point it dove in her direction and she could reach the print on the underside of the plane, but it was at an angle and the pilots couldn’t see her. 🥺

Okay so this is the part of the story where I cry. And if you don’t cry, you’re heartless.

This also seems unbelievable, but my heart of hearts tells me to trust it.

That afternoon, about 30 yards away, Terry Jo noticed these figures in the water.

What were they?

People coming to rescue her? No.

Sharks? No

Octopi? No.

Dolphins? Y E S

FRIGGIN

🐬DOLPHINS🐬

They swam closer to her and stayed by her side for hours.

I just die, that’s so cute. 😭😭😭

Anywayyyy, so Tuesday came and went. I believe we are up to 36 hours at sea now? I’m bad at math but it sounds good to me.

Wednesday came and the sun was burning bright on her tight, sunburned skin. Her eyes were also dry from the salt and the heat. Her lips were dry and swollen, probably from being dehydrated. At this point her float had all but disintegrated and she had to balance herself to stay afloat. She also began hallucinating this point. She saw a tiny little island with one single palm tree and frantically swan towards it. But it disappeared.

She fell unconscious.

When the sun rose on Thursday, she did not feel its burning rays. She was in a deep sleep close to the threshold of death.

On the fourth day of this eleven year old little girl being lost at sea, she suddenly woke up to see a huge shadow being cast over her. When she looked up, she saw arms flailing and she could faintly hear screaming.

And at last, she felt herself being suspended into the air and rescued.

Wow anyone else feel like a huge weight has been lifted off their shoulders?

I’m going to copy and paste this next section from https://www.rd.com/true-stories/survival/orphaned-on-the-ocean-the-unbelievable-story-of-terry-jo-duperrault/ because they describe this better than I could.

(It’s late fam. Leave me alone.)

“When Julian Harvey was hired as skipper of the Bluebelle, not a lot was known about his earlier life. The 44-year-old was a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel married to Mary Dene Jordan, an aspiring writer and a former TWA flight attendant.

The day after the Bluebelle went down, the lookout on a Puerto Rico–bound oil tanker spotted a small wooden dinghy floating in the middle of the broad and deep Northwest Providence Channel. When the captain pulled the tanker closer, a man in the dinghy yelled, “My name is Julian Harvey. I am master of the Bluebelle.”

In the days that followed, Harvey told the Coast Guard in Miami that he was the sole survivor of a grave accident. In the middle of the previous night, he reported, a sudden squall damaged the sailboat. His wife, Dene, and the Duperraults were injured when the masts and rigging collapsed. Gas lines in the engine room ruptured, and the ship caught fire as it slowly sank. Harvey said he had managed to launch the dinghy and raft and dive overboard, but tangled rigging trapped everyone else on board.

A few days later, installed at the Sandman Hotel, Harvey heard that Terry Jo had survived. The next day, a maid at the hotel saw blood on the sheets in Harvey’s room. When she couldn’t open the bathroom door, her manager called the police. They forced the door open and found Harvey’s bloody, lifeless body on the floor, a suicide.”

Coward.

After Terry Jo was rescued, she was air lifted to the Miami hospital. After a week of recovery, she was questioned by police and she told them of her interactions with Harvey and how she saw her brother and mother lying dead in their own blood.

Her father, mother, brother, and younger sister, along with Dene Harvey, had been slaughtered aboard the Bluebelle, at the hands of Julian Harvey. The police suspect that Harvey killed his wife to collect money from her life insurance, and one theory suggests that Arthur caught Harvey in the act, prompting the other murders. No survivors to rat him out, butttttt.

Why leave Terry Jo, though?

It almost seems like a game of cat and mouse to me. He could have easily killed her and gotten away with this, (it was 1961 ya know). But he didn’t. He even tried to get her to help them escape the sinking ship.

Miraculously, Terry Jo did not have any permanent damage to her body and made a full recovery after 11 days. (Coincidence?)

When she was 12, she changed her name to Tere and moved in with her aunt and three cousins.

And wanna know something crazy? She JUST came forward about all of this in 2010. She wrote a book called Alone: Orphaned on the Sea, which I will eventually be buying.

She also had an interview with Oprah.

She seems to be living a normal life and moving on the best she can. I’ll post a picture of her today.

And that is the insanely true and utterly unbelievable story of Terry Jo Duperrault.

Pictured below her Terry Jo in the raft that the rescuers took and her in the hospital. Also a more recent picture of her.

Thank you for reading. ❤️

[janiklandre-blog]

Saturday, April 1st, 2017

still grey outside  already 10:20 a.m.  - computer would not send an earlier message - leaves me a bit worried - yesterday came all sorts of messages about undeliverable mail and it took a while before old and older appeared and I was already getting resigned to possibly have lost it - but then it did appear - oh writing by hand - I love it - wish I had a secretary who then would post it - as beautifully as Molly has been posting - once again: janiklandre.tumblr.com  has to be entered way on top where it says https and then click enter - took me a while to learn - she double spaces, uses bigger letters, much more readable than this here - she has shown me how to do it - but - I despair - if only I was three again - really wish I could master it - Molly has been doing it faithfully - but then again - so few things in my life last - she is young, she is wonderful - but many new things in her future -

Gesine was posting in Germany - I have not heard from her, I worry - my grandson also is posting and it appears automatically on people's smart phones - still have not quite figures out what they are doing, but those of you with smart phones may be getting it automatically - probably even on my smart phone - who knows - it all is somewhat beyong me - and I wish I was writing by hand - yet thank Ken time and again for at least getting me into what I call pre school computer skills - adding wonderful dimensions to my life that I treasure.

Ten minutes gone. Yesterday - was planning on church, was planning on a few words to Marie (more and more requests on my friend, scaning of documents and what not, her daughter emailing now from Berlin requesting her mother to be taken care of - and they do) - in any event, I never made it to the church. Nerviously I called the optometrist about when I am to appear on Monday, was told a service would let me know - then complained about the $250 for the drops - the woman I was talking to "oh you don't have this insurance, that insurance" no - I don't - "I can prescribe something cheaper" - I rush to the druggist, Carmine, a sweetheart, one of the very few not in the monster entities that have taken over, replaced super markets and where you have to search for everything in masses of goods) - anyway Carmine was able to return the expensive one - antibiotics to prevent infection, four drops a day) - I had paid by credit card - it all took a while, I got $85 back - something - it was pouring rain - had to return later to pick up cheaper replacement, the present eye drops only $14 - them my friend told me the generic version is $4 - it all is such a racket -  Carmine said to me "ask Joanne at the CW" - well she is busy with all the totally helpless Maries - my friend had to go with Francesca frrom Guatemala to the eye doctor to translate - well - I already realized years ago that I basically fall into the category who should be helping all the totally helpless - and I don't mind doing some of it - but then I realized that at the CW "they" consider that their domain - I can wash dishes. We live in a totally crazy world.

Rain was pouring all day yesterday - flooding everywhere - because all our money is spent on wars - no money for what is called infrastructure - like providing drainage systems - or something sane, everything - the other the "fast" Amtrak called Acella, between Washington and Boston, derailed side swiping a commuter train - all trains stopped for hours - all our public transportation a sad joke - and by now not even money to keep many roads in shape - the bus I take in NY state shaking like crazy.

So. I find hardly the time to read the NYT  New York Times - $2.50 a copy on weekdays - $6 on Sunday - the smart know how to use their tablets and pay $100 a year vs the $600 I end up spending - only my sweet, smart grandson said: Grandma, you allow yourself so few luxuries - you love the feel of paper in the morning - of course it alsowould be cheaper if I had a subscription - not in my type of housing. - it is amazing that she still can hop on a plane and come to New York - in pouring rain come to the meeting - she is the daughter of a French general - the French have a term: chnapeau - all my respect - she loves New York - even though she never became a citizen here - and I watched 

Luckily there still is so much other people spend money on that I don't - all my life, no matter how little I had, I always saved a few dollars and never have borrowed a cent.

Still, other than my breakfast muesli I ate little yesterday that was reasonable - find it harder to find food that is heaalthy and also tasty - as I have often said - I would do well with a staff - a secretary, a cook, a butler, a chauffeur, a gardner for the garden I would love to have, a trainer, a companion - there are people who do have staffs and then manage to put out books that make them rich, famous and respected. Dostoyevski hand wrote at the kitchen table, surrounded by noise - much of his writing for newspapers in continuation, every night a deadline - so - there are many styles.

I do want to mention what a German friend just told me on the phone about her rich brother in Frankfurt : 17 families with RV's - recreactional vehicles where you can live, plan to form a caravan and drive to China via Russia and back via India - a six months journey. Now, how is that?

Well, yesterday before I knew it it was close to seven, my friend who had promised to come earlier rang the bell - on Friday's the CW has a meeting - talks, lectures, films - at times very interesting, a times less so - CW style, no money is ever asked, some make contributions in a little basket - yesterday a woman who spent five years researching and publishing a book about four nuns who were murdered in El Salvador, I believe 30 years ago - I already have heard a lot about them and also have seen a movie and yes, they should be commemorated - and yes - with pouring rain few people would come - so I went -the speaker was not the greatest, I could not get my mind on it, sat in the back, anxious to leave, then I saw French Christine and then I saw her ready to leave - she could not get her mind on it either, so I followed her, the rain was still pouring, she said she was very tired, looked very tired, still wanted to walk to East 9th (CW on 3rd) to catch a taxi to go to West 9th where she was staying with a friend - so I said I would go with her, we ran, through the deluge - she still does have her apartment on the 5th floor, steep stairs but there were problems there - today she said ahe would move there - she is in new york for two weeks - when she was about to leave Paris her doctor called and said a suspicious growth on her kidney - too much cancer in her body - and I do want to take back here all I said about her earlier - she loves New York, she is the daaughter of a French general - and to hop on a plane and fly to New York, come to a meeting in pouring rain - there was a cab on 9th street and I got her to grab it - old and older, often painful to watch.

It's 11:30 - I should look for something reasonable to eat - not sure yet what the day will bring - there are my guests but mostly they want to be by themselves - when they appear the Lebanese talks a lot - his life absolutely and totally has nothing in common with my life - he too has heaalth problems and other problems that are not my problems - he is a sweet and generous man - and I wish I had them better to offer than my noisy, overheated room - still at this point there is no room to find in nyc for less than $150 a night - in the hotels next to me they run into the hundreds - 

And I too am running out of steam here. Am nervous about the op - prepared for the worst as far as costs will go. Many tell me: I paid nothing - and yes, medicaid for which I am no longer eligible pays a lot more than medicare - I did consider doing it in Amherst that turned out to be too complicated - after the op you have to see the doctor three times - and then there will be the second on April 17 and I don't know yet who will help with that. I do remember telling my mother as she was getting old - you have to pay for help. But as I too am finding out - good paid help is hard to find - I'm lucky for Molly to snow into my life for a while - and yes - now I also do remember what made me tired yesterday afternoon - Molly came at 1:30 - when I have been falling asleep these days - I did have the idea of cleaning up my contact list - but soon saw how tedious that is - still she maneuvers the computer with such ease and skill - her father is an internet technician - alas I only can marvel - and mourn my old age, my technophobia and my just about non existant learning skills - just getting with this here smart phone lying next to me where I am - a small wonder. The techno world has taken such a leap - me no longer able to leap with it. And, it is getting worse. Reading about A.I. = artificial intelligence, robots - makes my head spin - perhaps I should start hording pencils and paper - soon they may become hard to find. Sending a snail mail letter already takes me weeks - many post offices closing - and so it goes. Noon. Time for a proper meal in company - I am afraid, no proper meal, no company. But then - perhaps  hope this will send  - adios  Marianne