Daryl Ashby - 85 Grams: Art Williams: Drug Czar

Dedicated to the memory of
Dale Stuart Elliott

Contents

Prologue

Im out of control!

Arthur James Williams

The evening of November 30, 1977, was not a busy time for the traffic controllers at the Vancouver International Airport. The high-level clouds from the early afternoon had changed to fog with light rain. According to meteorologist Tom Gigliotti, who was on duty with the Pacific Weather Centre at the Vancouver Airport that evening, one feature of concern was a low-pressure system west of the Haida Gwaii Islands, formerly known as the Queen Charlotte Islands. Local forecasts offered no encouragement for incoming or outgoing flights, as the same weather system was predicted to linger for several days.

Commercial traffic had slowed to a trickle, with everything on the tarmac either loading or unloading its manifest. Those with private aircraft had found the comforts of home far more attractive than the thrill of beating the odds.

Except for Arthur James Williams.

Settled in to his Cessna, Williams picked up the handset to his radio and contacted Norman Daynor, the traffic controller on duty.

Daynor thought it was strange that such a light aircraft would attempt to fly into the kind of weather that was bearing down on the area, but he had no knowledge of the pilots experience, and it was not his place to question the wisdom of an individual. Later, he would recall that Williams took an exceptionally long period of time at the end of the runway before accelerating.

Vancouver Ground, Golf, India, Whiskey, Quebec.

IWQ, ground, Daynor responded.

IWQ south terminal taxi clearance Nanaimo with Oscar, said Williams.

Once airborne, the plane moved over the wetlands to the west of the Vancouver airport and swung southwest towards home. Norman Daynor heard Williams contact the Control Center, to which Daynor responded, Say your destination and altitude.

Williams replied, IWQ, westbound to Nanaimo, leveling at 4,000 feet.

Daynor clarified Williams current position and reminded Williams that his directional transponder had not been turned on. A few moments later, Daynor picked Williams up on his radar. Okay, I see you there, about four miles west, heading towards Nanaimo, but Im not getting your transponder.

Williams replied, IWQ, yeah. Ive run into this problem here before. Ill try it again a few miles out.

A minute or so later Daynor acknowledged receiving his transponder signal. At precisely 9:15 p.m. Daynor noted that Williams had commenced an unauthorized turn. He radioed Williams inquiring what his intentions were.

Im experiencing problems with my ADF (auto directional finder) and am returning to Vancouver.

Yeah, okay fine, Daynor replied. I kind of wondered where you were heading there.

Daynor asked Williams if he would like a vector (magnetic compass heading) to the airport, and Williams replied that he would just proceed back to the VOR; a lit marker on Westham Island. When he asked Williams if he had the airport in sight, Williams replied that he did not. Next, he asked Williams his altitude. It was 2,500 feet.

Daynor gave him the current weather at the airport. IWQ, Vancouver weather is measured, 1,000 feet broken, 2,400 overcast, visibility four miles, very light rain showers and fog.

By this time, Air Canada 217 was approaching Vancouver at seventeen miles out. Daynor began talking to a couple of other aircraft, as well as the tower, and during the process of the conversation, he looked back at the target on his monitor and saw that the Cessna had completed the right turn. He pointed out to the tower that it appeared that Williams was having some difficulty.

Daynor radioed Williams once again. IWQ, are you between cloud layers?

Williams only response was IWQ.

The tower came on at this point and confirmed that Williams was twelve miles southwest, and according to its observation, Hes got a problem and so do we.

Williams right turn never straightened out and kept getting tighter and tighter until it became a stationary dot on the radar. Daynor radioed, IWQ, how are you making out?

Twenty seconds passed until Williams replied WQ, recklessly dropping a letter from his identification. And then, with the last syllable trailing off, came these words: Im out of control!

Daynor shot back, Okay, just take your hands off the controls and let her relax a little bit there. Twenty-five seconds later, Daynor inquired, IWQ, how do you read me?

At this point, Williams blip vanished from Daynors screen.

Daynor immediately contacted the tower. I think we just lost IWQ.

Not wishing to give up, Daynor tried Williams again. IWQ, Vancouver. Do you read? This he did twice, but with no reply.

Arthur James Williams had vanished.

Chapter 1:

Truth or Fiction?

When it comes to Art, I had no reason to doubt that he was telling me the truth. However, if Art trusted you, he was always truthful. If he didnt like the way you looked on a given day, he would just string you a line.

Happy Laffin

Margaret watched as Arthur James Williams, her husband of twenty years, crossed the threshold of their home one last time. He picked his way across the fifty yards to the rental duplex they kept on their property, a satchel in his left hand holding a few essentials and a couple of books in his right that represented his latest source of study.

In the kitchen window of the rental Margaret could make out the image of Shirley Ferguson gloating over her victory. Since she moved in just shy of a year earlier, Shirley had been the primary source of Margarets real life drama; a secondary source was Art himself.

Known by those close to him, Art was a man with an oversized libido; one that simply couldnt be satisfied by the average woman. Caring as Margaret was, she clearly fell into that bracket. She had tried to reason with him, but whichever brain he was working from at that moment seemed heavily clouded by his physical needs. Shirley on the other hand, had the stamina of a race horse plus an extremely liberal view of sex.

Fact is, Shirleys two boys were the product of her free and easy sex life with two separate men who desired nothing more than to relieve their pent-up emotions. Both gave no thought to the child they sired and certainly made no effort to represent the father figure either boy so dearly needed.

Just prior to her taking occupancy of the rental, Shirley had fled yet another relationship headed nowhere. Thinking each would be different from the other, she entered this relationship confident it would be longstanding. If only she knew Arts philosophy: To survive, one must be able to sever their ties with family and home without as much of a second thought or the courtesy of a farewell.

Shirley gave no thought to the upheaval of Margarets life; her own survival was paramount and she clung to the principle of being the fittest, by discarding relationships that stood in her way.

Margaret continued to embrace Shirleys boys as though they were her own. As Shirley, will attest, Margarets inability to conceive was not her fault but a matter of Art shooting blanks, hence the boys filled a void in her maternal needs. Following school each day the youngsters would visit Margaret, chow down as many freshly baked cookies as she offered and then plunk away on her prized organ. Before they left, Margaret would review their day and coach them on homework, confident such moments would prove to be the only positive influence theyd have in their lives.