Glad that police got this settled before I, and more importantly, the woman I refer to as SuperGirl, got back into town. They refer to Reynaldo E. Rapalo as the Shenandoah Rapist because, it is supposed, he followed a girl home from Shenandoah Junior High to commit his third attack. Shenandoah Junior is across the street from my house, so I found out about this when news trucks parked en masse outside my front door and I awoke at 4:45 AM to the smell of diesel exhaust.

I don’t like local TV newspeople. I call them the newsbunnies – yuk-mouthed talking headshots who sound perky even when describing death and do to the English language what mulchers do to downed trees. But I had to admit that they did their jobs on this one – incessant, hyperbolic coverage of this in the TV news got the word out and they caught him, frazzled and harried, even though my house appeared all week in reports about a rapist, filling in the background of faux-live news coverage. (Finally, I knocked on the window of one of the news trucks, after about three days of getting awaken before 5 AM, and explained that there were laws that prevent me from, say, mowing my lawn at 4:30 in the morning, and they were breaking them. They agreed to move down the street a little.)

Rapalo broke out of jail on a rope made from bed sheets. No word yet if he cut through the bars with a file that had been smuggled in inside a cake.

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