"The Talk" Leads to Explosive End

The District Attorney brought up the restraining order, which I addressed as factually as possible. I admitted to grabbing my wife's wrist right after she kissed Brent Finnegan in our home. The J.P. allowed me to describe my feelings and the desperation I was feeling. The stress, strain, my poor health, and the guilt pushed me over the edge while explaining how I felt watching my wife walk out the door and drive off with another man. I broke down in honest, heartfelt tears. That seemed to restrain the questioning a bit.

I never mentioned the strange things Maria said that evening during 'the talk', which she recorded. In my pre-inquest session with Forsythe, we discussed the dubious nature of the recording. He indicated that support for the restraining order didn't mention the recording. However, Judge Smith likely listened to it but could not admit to having done so. So, he reasoned, I'd better not mention it because it officially didn't exist, and I didn't want to give it life.

When asked about the photos I took of Brent's possessions in my home, which I got to examine while testifying, I admitted to taking them as evidence in my planned divorce, where I'd planned to cite 'adultery' as grounds. Then, I innocently asked about the missing photos of the Viagra, anal-lube, and dildo on the nightstand. The suddenly chagrined Justice of the Peace took the District Attorney into his chambers for a "discussion." The resolution was that I got to recall those photos from the cloud, and the jury passed around my phone. It was apparent to the J.P. and the jury what the D.A. had done.

The most aggressive questioning concerned my work on the basement water heater. I described what I found on that Saturday, which matched the fire investigator's findings gleaned from the explosion's debris. I also told the inquest I shut off the supply valve.

"Did you make any attempt to repair the damage, Mr. Brown?" the D.A. asked.

"No, I didn't, because I didn't have the parts or the expertise. So, I made the water heater safe by turning off the gas supply. I was going to call a plumber the following week," I replied truthfully.

"You didn't think to tape the valve or wire it closed to prevent what happened?"

"No, sir. I'm the only one who ever goes into the basement, and the valve is in no danger of being accidentally turned on. I've shut off gas or propane lines before and never had this issue," I answered.

"In hindsight, do you think it would've been better to secure it?" It was a classic, gotcha.

"No, sir. Not at all. I mean, the last thing I would've ever imagined happening is someone tossing my two heavy filing cabinets down the basement stairs, with the second one landing on the first one and bouncing three feet into the supply line...sir." Two of the jurors smiled.

Unfazed, the D.A. pressed onward. "And you didn't think to call a plumber to fix this dangerous condition?"

I forced myself to be calm. "No, sir. I was in jail Monday night and was out of the home from Tuesday onward."

"When you were required to leave your home, don't you think Mrs. Brown should've known about this problem?"

I looked at the Justice of the Peace and said, "You have the temporary restraining order there. It's my understanding that contacting my wife in any manner would've violated that. Am I right, sir?"

After a short examination of the TRO, the J.P. replied, "That's right, Mr. Brown. Contacting your wife or Mr. Flannigan, even by text or email, would've violated that order."

I turned to the District Attorney and said, "Truthfully, sir, it slipped my mind because my life was blowing up beginning with being arrested. But that valve wasn't in any danger of being accidentally turned 'on', sir, except in an extreme case. Also, had I thought of it and contacted Maria, in her state of agitation, she would've had me arrested for violating the restraining order."

That's how it went for much of that long session. It wasn't a trial, but it sure felt like one.

I found out later that Robert testified to the state of my being the night of Maria's and Brent's 'date' and my actions in the days leading up to the explosion. Sandra also testified. They even called Beatrice Sandoval to discuss her efforts to get Maria to release me from the temporary restraining order or not to try and make it permanent.

The deputy who took me to my residence that last time, Oliver Brown, described the severe pain he was in and how he could not climb down the basement stairs or up to the second floor with me. He testified that he never came closer to the basement door than the kitchen table, which was 8-feet feet away, nor did he smell natural gas.

When Tonya Barrett-Flannigan testified, she cut loose on the cheaters with both barrels. Even though the D.A. tried to "keep her testimony relevant," she described the threats made by her husband if she pursued a divorce, which exactly mirrored my testimony.

Mrs. Barrett-Flannigan confirmed that her husband left their marital home for the cheating couple's 'date' weekend. Additionally, Brent's widow confirmed that he left their home when the restraining order compelled me to my residence. She said her husband freely admitted he was moving in with Maria to carry on his affair with her. Though struck from the Official Record of Inquest, Mrs. Barrett-Flannigan uttered the unforgettable line, "I hope that bastard was balls deep in his slut when their love nest exploded!"

A prominent Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist from Fort Worth testified concerning the loss of olfactory senses during severe colds and sinusitis. He said, in effect, that different people reacted in different ways. His testimony essentially stated there was no way to prove that I could or could not smell the gas leak.

There were many unanswerable questions and indeterminable facts in this inquest. The primary reason was that two of the principal witnesses were dead. Also, the explosion utterly destroyed the place of death, along with most of the specific physical evidence of what occurred. Based on the best evidence available, this is what the jury in the Justice of the Peace Inquest determined:

The blast occurred at 05:37 a.m. February 3rd in a semi-rural area of Prather County, Texas.

The cause of the blast was the ignition of a natural gas-air mixture in a residential basement, with the probable ignition source being the natural gas central heating unit located in that same space. The source of the natural gas was a broken supply line fed by a partially open inline ball valve, which the homeowner had previously shut off. The actual events or actions that caused the leak were indeterminable due to the subsequent blast and flash-fire that caused near-total destruction of the structure and its contents.

Crucial to understanding when the leak started depended on knowing when the filing cabinet or other object pressed that valve to partially 'open.' No one knew exactly when my property was thrown into the basement because the two people who knew were deceased.

Brent's cell phone showed him leaving our home at 9:37 that morning for an 11:10 deposition at the Courthouse, and deputy Brown and I arrived at 10:05. So, if the filing cabinets went down the basement stairs sometime that morning, causing the leak and the partially opened valve, the odor of natural gas might've been missed, especially with my diminished olfactory senses.

Or, those items could've been in the basement for days with the broken connection posing no problem. This would mean the valve was turned on afterward, by 'an unknown person or person(s) or by some inadvertent means'. There was simply no evidence to support any conclusion. Because of its speculative nature, the final inquest report did not contain that information.

The Final Inquest Report concluded: According to the fire investigator's report, the source of the ignition of the fuel/air mixture in the basement was the central heating unit located approximately 26-feet from the water heater. An examination of the failed water heater supply line showed both an installation error and corrosion introduced by an unknown water leak. Black paint from filing cabinet #2 (Filing cabinet #1 was gray.) showed on both the water heater body and the lower 'L' section of the supply line. The impact of the filing cabinet likely caused the weakened joint to separate and, most likely, partially opened the ball valve.

The jury accepts the coroner's findings on the death of Brent Alton Flannigan (WM/36) and Maria Elena Sandoval Brown (HF/44). The autopsy determined that they died of a combination of standard penetrating and blunt trauma, along with blast lung and over-pressurization force impacting their bodies' surface. The power of the blast ejected both from the residence, and they came to rest in the debris field. He was 63' NNW of the northwest corner of the home, and she was 84' N.E. of that same corner. Both wore remnants of garments consistent with sleeping, except for the deceased female, who still wore what the jury confirms is an adjustable pelvic harness of a type that allows attachment of certain specialized sexual and/or marital aid devices.

Based on that last sentence, Tonya Barrett-Flannigan's final statement, long struck from the official testimony, proved prescient, if somewhat inaccurate in detail. And no, the Medical Examiner's autopsy report didn't confirm finding the missing 'specialized sexual and/or marital aid device' inside the person of Brent Flannigan Jr. Propriety, as well as his well-connected parentage, would preclude such a non-substantive mention.

The official Statement of Conclusion was: The jury finds this explosion to be an accident, the exact cause of which is indeterminable due to the lack of conclusive evidence. The bodies of the deceased are now released for final post-mortem disposition.

That was it. In a nutshell, nobody knows precisely what happened to cause the leak or turn on the gas valve because there is no evidence. Even the circumstantial evidence is contradictory. So, absent my confession, the case is closed.

AFTERWARD

Brent Flannigan Sr. was apoplectic at the jury's findings. The old man immediately posted a $150,000 reward for finding the perpetrator(s) of this "crime," even though the formal inquest found no evidence of a crime. He says he knows I did it, but even he understands that knowing something and proving it are vastly different things.

To the average cheated-upon husband or wife, what I did probably seems like a no-brainer, given the golden opportunity to exact revenge upon the cheaters. Those same people would call me weak or foolish for feeling guilt and remorse over my actions. To those people, I would say they've never walked in my shoes. As bad as it feels to be betrayed, abused, threatened, and lied about, you can take comfort in knowing you are unequivocally a good person. You are the aggrieved, the one with moral standing. However, when you cross that inviolable line and take a life or lives, you have joined their side from which there is no return. It's true that when you start on a quest for vengeance, dig two graves, or three in my case. Sadly, that revelation occurred only in hindsight!

Opining at a distance on another's situation is so clear and absolute in the abstract. However, as a rapper once succinctly stated, "Everybody wanna be all gangsta, 'til dey gotta do gangsta shit!" Even a low double-digit I.Q. moron gets it because when you consciously decide to start something that cannot be stopped, everything is going to change forever. It's a bit like choosing to be a cheater, which brings us back full circle.

The guilt has faded some because the human mind has a way of preserving itself. I still regret my actions, and I continually try to atone for them. By trying, I've become a better, more caring, giving, and loveable person in all aspects of my life. Now, there are grandchildren to dote over, a new and loving relationship to grow, and I'm closer than ever to my deceased wife's family. I'm also closer to my parents and relatives on that side of my life.

When we remember Maria, it's the caring mother and loving woman I fell in love with and lived with for all those good years. In death, she is thoughtfully rehabilitated in our hearts and minds, and I have indeed forgiven her. My sincere forgiveness also extends to Brent Flannigan, senior and junior. The only one I still struggle to forgive is David Wayne Brown. He's forever a work in progress. That struggle keeps me humble, contrite and trying hard every single day.

If anybody asks, yes, February sucks!

Also, in Honour of Our Man In Oz, Vandemonium1, it's now lighten up for a joke time.

A man meets a good looking woman in a bar, and sure enough, they end up in bed, where they have great sex for a couple of hours. Finished, they're relaxing together, and the guy is dying for a cigarette, but he doesn't know if she smokes.

So, he looks over at the woman and asks, "Hon, do you ever smoke after sex?"

The woman looks at him with a strange expression and responds, "No. I don't think so, but truthfully I've never looked."