On this day in 1974 in Deer Park, Texas, optician and Baptist deacon Ronald Clark O’Bryan poisoned his eight year old son Timothy with a Pixy Stix laced with cyanide, ostensibly collected during neighbourhood trick-or-treating, to collect on a life-insurance claim and ease the family’s financial difficulties, O’Bryan having accumulated one-hundred thousand dollars in debt having problems holding a job longer than six-months and defaulting on several loans. While fears over tainted Halloween loot and accepting candy from strangers had been on the minds’ of parents beforehand, this gruesome, callous and senseless murder has perpetuated anxieties and is why candy is x-rayed for razor blades and carefully inspected for signs of tampering. 
Despite trunk-or-treat, the only occurrences have been cases of filicide with parents pretending it was the work of some mad poisoner. In order to make his crime seem plausible, O’Bryan and his son and daughter accompanied their neighbours and their children on the outing, and visited an apparently vacant house. No one answered the door and having grown impatient, the party left with O’Bryan catching up a few moments later, producing five packets of the sweet and sour powered confection that one pours into one’s mouth. Saying that they came to the door, O’Bryan distributed them amongst the children. On returning home, O’Bryan urged his son to eat some of the candy, claiming he chose the Pixy Stick—an unlikely first choice. Less than an hour after consuming the poison, a dose large enough to kill three adults, the son died, convulsing on the way to the hospital. The other children had not touched the poisoned candy (again, garbage candy). There was panic nationwide over the possibility of poisoned treats and investigators did not suspect O’Bryan initially, until his story began to fall apart—none of the homes in the two block radius of their trick-or-treating had given out Stix (...) and eventually locating the house with authorities that was slow to answer, O’Bryan maintained that the door only opened a crack and a man’s hairy arm emerged with the deadly candy but in implicating the owner, an air-traffic controller who had been working late that evening and had a solid alibi, police began to doubt his version of events. Undertaking a thorough inspection of his accounts and career history, authorities learned that O’Bryan was about to be dismissed from his current job and hid assets were on the verge of foreclosure and repossession—plus the high value of the policies he had taken out on his children and the purchase of two kilograms (the smallest unit of sale) of potassium-cyanide. O’Bryan was sentenced to death (given the title monicker and “the Man who Ruined Halloween”) and a decade later was executed by lethal injection.
synchronoptica
one year ago: International Savings Day (with synchronoptica)
seven years ago: a mythological horror plus the CIA and wax museums
eight years ago: campaign music, phreaking and toll-fraud plus Tales of the Unexpected
nine years ago: pale blue dot plus the hunt for the tomb and treasure of a Visigoth king
ten years ago: a prototype ambulance drone
a continuation of the genocide against the ethnic group, the monument “We Are Mountains” (Տատիկ-Պապիկ or locally as Debo-Babo, Դեդո-Բաբո), a memorial executed in the traditional, signature volcanic tuff stone of the diaspora in 1967 by artist Sargis Baghdasaryan to commemorate an earlier wave of expulsions, still stands but has disappeared from Wikimedia Commons, citing that the territory does not afford acceptable freedom of panorama (see previously) and hosting such images could land Wikipedia in legal trouble. Relying on the internet to remember their homeland lost, for those resettled, having their symbols vanish online is almost as painful as their outright destruction—or re-appropriation as something sanitised and acceptable to the de jure government of this region that has been struggling for recognition and autonomy. More from Hyperallergic at the link above.
