The Sassy Gazette

🦃 THE MERHIGE THANKSGIVING MASSACRE Twenty Years of Resentment. One Night of Ruin. Dicking Around With Richie: A True Crime Feed Carole Merhige’s upbeat family email unaware she had just invited disaster into Thanksgiving. THE OPENING SHOT: TWENTY YEARS OF BREWED EVIL Paul, you waited twenty years, two full decades, to pull the trigger on the people who should have been your lifeline. Twenty years to let resentment ferment into something poisonous and predatory. Twenty years to turn a holiday meant for gratitude into a bloodstained headline that will follow your name long after your bones go cold. You walked into that Thanksgiving gathering with a smile stitched onto a lie, pretending to be family while nursing a grudge that had grown fangs. Your sisters did not die because they wronged you; they died because you felt small , because their accomplishments shined a light on everything you refused to fix in yourself. You were not a victim of circumstance; you were a man who...

🩸 THE LARIMER MANSION THANKSGIVING MASSACRE (1924) Dicking Around With Richie: A True Crime Feed By RICHIE D MOWREY for The Sassy Gazette (The Gossip You Didn’t Know You Needed) There are houses that hold memories… and there are houses that hold grudges. Larimer Mansion, perched at the edge of North Huntingdon like a scorned matriarch guarding her secrets, belongs to the second category. Locals whisper its name like an ex-lover. Historians pretend they don’t hear the tales. And the paranormal crews who’ve prowled those hallways swear the place has a pulse. But nothing in those creaking walls compares to what happened on Thanksgiving Day, 1924 , when the mansion earned its reputation the violent way. This is the case the county buried. And this is the story the house never forgot. 🕯️ THE FAMILY FEAST THAT TURNED FERAL Thanksgiving morning, November 27, 1924. The Larimer family what was left of them gathered for dinner in their ancestral home: Horace Larimer , patri...

THE RIBS THAT RUINED THANKSGIVING Dicking Around With Richie: A True Crime Feed INTRODUCTION Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving quite like Omaima Aree Nelson slow-cooking her husband’s ribs in barbecue sauce. Not pork. Not turkey. Her. Husband’s. Ribs. A toast to America’s most deranged holiday side dish. But here’s where we slide the knife deeper you can condemn the act and still understand the storm that created it. You can say “No one deserves to die” and still whisper, “but I can see how someone got pushed over that edge.” That’s not darkness. That’s clarity. Because nothing about the world is clean. People aren’t clean. Trauma isn’t clean. Desperation isn’t clean. Power imbalances aren’t clean. And the justice system? Lord, that thing hasn’t been washed since the Truman administration. I don’t look at cases for excuses or absolution. I look for the blueprint of how a human being fractures. Sometimes a murder is cold-blooded. Sometimes it’s the last erup...

🩸 The Line I Don’t Cross And Dee Dee Blanchard Sure Did There are a few rules carved into my bones, the kind that never bend, never blur, never soften: I don’t tolerate crimes against children. I don’t tolerate crimes against animals. I don’t tolerate crimes against people with intellectual disabilities. Dee Dee Blanchard didn’t just cross those lines she bulldozed them, lit them on fire, and danced in the ashes. She didn’t just ruin her daughter’s life. She dismantled it piece by piece, wrapped the wreckage in pink sweaters, and dared the world to clap. But the part that crawls under my skin and scratches from the inside? She knew her own father had a history of hurting children. She knew the danger. She knew the risk. And she still handed Gypsy over to him while she “recovered.” That’s not negligence. That’s not desperation. That’s deliberate betrayal dressed up as motherly sacrifice. Dee Dee, you weren’t a caretaker. You were a catastrophe in human form....

THE GYPSY ROSE BLANCHARD CASEFILE Dicking Around With Richie: Where the Truth Cuts Back THE OPENING FILE The Convergence of Lies & Collapse It didn’t start with a murder. It started with a lie hundreds of them stacked like medical charts no one bothered to read until the blood hit the floor. This case isn’t a curiosity. It’s a crime scene built brick by brick over twenty-four years of unchecked medical abuse, weaponized sympathy, and systemic paralysis. Gypsy Rose Blanchard wasn’t just failed she was fed into a machine that chews children alive and spits out silence. Born in 1991, Gypsy spent her entire childhood imprisoned by her mother, Clauddine “Dee Dee” Blanchard. The façade collapsed on June 9, 2015, when Gypsy and her online boyfriend, Nicholas Godejohn, conspired to kill Dee Dee. Gypsy would plead guilty to second-degree murder, serving 85% of her 10-year sentence before parole in 2023. Godejohn? Life without parole the system’s attempt to separate the vi...

THE MADNESS FILES: The Case of Richard L. Greist and Pennsylvania’s Four-Decade Nightmare THE PRECEDENT THAT WOULDN’T DIE Some cases don’t fade. They claw their way into the legal bloodstream and sit there pulsing for decades. The saga of Richard L. Greist is one of them a four-decade tug-of-war between a man who committed unimaginable violence and a legal system trying to decide if he was a killer, a patient, or a prophecy of everything that can go wrong when madness and the law collide. This isn’t just the story of a brutal crime in 1978. It’s the story of a state forced to confront its own contradictions a Commonwealth caught between public safety, psychiatric ethics, and a system that keeps insisting it can predict the future. The stakes were never just about him. They were about dangerousness , civil liberty, and how far a courtroom will bend before it snaps. And like every good Pennsylvania ghost story, it begins with a state institution that was already rotting fr...

📍 The Pennhurst Files: Where Pennsylvania Buried the Truth By Richie D. Mowrey for The Sassy Gazette’s Dicking Around With Richie A True Crime Feed Little Dickies , gather close, because the deeper I dig into the haunted arteries of Pennsylvania’s forgotten institutions, the louder the past starts pounding on the walls. Pennhurst was supposed to be a sanctuary, a “school,” even a mercy. Instead, it became a crucible of neglect and cruelty so profound it still stains the Commonwealth like a crime scene nobody wants to tape off. And as I sifted through the ash and echoes of that place its shattered bones, its silenced names, its bureaucratic brutality I found myself staring straight into the eyes of another Pennsylvania nightmare. A man whose violence didn’t hide behind brick walls or institutional tunnels, but erupted in the middle of a suburban street. That’s where this investigation is headed next: Richard L. Greist . Because the Pennhurst mindset didn’t die when the doors close...

📡 The Lost Signal The Jesse Lee Farber Investigation How a Missing Father, a Broken Tower Ping, and Ten Years of Search Redefined What We Call a Cold Case By Richie D. Mowrey | Dicking Around With Richie A True Crime Feed  A Mystery Buried in the Mountains Jesse Lee Farber vanished into the Pennsylvania wilderness on August 11, 2015  and for ten years, his name became a prayer whispered into the mountains and mine shafts of Tamaqua. What started with a single terrified phone call morphed into a swirling storm of confusion, false starts, and pain. A 29-year-old father of two, Jesse told his girlfriend he was “up a tree,” surrounded by “ten or eleven coyotes,” and begged her to bring guns. Then nothing. His phone died. His voice disappeared. And the search began… in the wrong place. This wasn’t a case solved by luck or a last-minute confession. It was solved by one thing: rethinking the very data that defined it . Because the biggest mistake of the Jesse Farber invest...