Dennis was a complicated person. He's one of those sorts who are keenly intelligent, and as you get to know them the thought occurs to you that perhaps both he and the world at large would be better off if his I.Q. were closer to 80 than 140. For there is no doubt in my mind that he was frighteningly bright, but at the same time, I can't especially say that it really benefitted him or anyone he came into contact with. His was more than a wasted gift, it was a misused one. If he hadn't had a natural knack for malice, deceit, and sadism, perhaps matters might have been different.

My inital impression of him had been that he seemed like a big teddy bear (oh, what a fool a 13 year old kid can be!). After just a few weeks I realized that I had grossly underestimated the man. Naturally socially avoidant anyway, I began to circumvent him when possible. He was full of mixed messages: he might smile and laugh when you were done for, or look serious and forbidding when you weren't in trouble at all. Above all, he was unpredictable.

Between my mother's superstitions and penchant for drama and Dennis's suspicious rooting around for satanism, conspiracies, and hidden truths, life with them was almost akin to a comedy movie that looks funny at first, but gradually turns tragic.
"The end is near", "Flee unto the mountains", "Come out of her, my people"....these passages from the scriptures were taken very seriously, and we began to ponder what they might mean for us personally, because it certainly seemed like we were entirely too comfortable here in the Sam Bernadino mountains.