My Forgotten Night Out

What Did I Eat?

Part of me is comforted by the fact that Glenn Flothe is hosting a post-sentencing dinner at the Corsair Restaurant in downtown Anchorage.[1] It’s only blocks from the Courthouse. We can walk. Glenn is there, of course, along with his wife, Cherie. And tonight — this night — is supposed to be our time to say goodbye to this whole Hansen mess. A special night, for sure. We’re joined by the two women who kept watch over me. Two very different women. Each one, in her own way, helped steer me off the streets and keep me out of trouble.

One of them was the woman I called the Roto-Rooter Lady, because she and her husband owned the local Roto-Rooter franchise. She took me in after I ran away from the massage parlor where I was working — ran away because the pressure of the Hansen case was starting to get to me. I just disappeared, you know? Started dancing in this really crappy night club, if you can even call it that. We straight up worked for tips. That was it. That was all. The place was a dump.

Glenn Flothe: I located the scene where she was dancing and doing all this cocaine and she, you know... She heard I was looking for her and she came out and she started dancing. G-string, very – very thin top. Her boobs were hanging out. And she looked like death. Her legs were all skinny and her skin was all white. She was bruised all up and down her legs and arms and she was shaking. Her hair was just a mess. She looked like death warmed over... She looked worse than when I first met her. She just gone downhill fast. The pressure was getting to her. She was having a hard time. And that bothered me... 

My Rescuers

So Glenn looked around and took it upon himself to – he knew these church people personally – and he got them to take me in.[2] He told them what’s going on and I need your help and they said no problem. Yeah, yeah. I got lucky for once. I called them the Roto-Rooter people, cuz they owned the local franchise.

They were really nice people. I even started cooking! Yeah, get me off the street environment and I can cook! But mostly I remember playing in the snow. And sledding. It was winter and they let me go out a little bit. Let me sled. Let me get in touch with my inner kid. Which I was. A kid, I mean. A kid who grew up too quick.

One time, I took a sled down this hill and went right under a moose. It had its neck stretched up and was eating tree leaves. And I thought ohhh shit I could have died. Them things are big! And then I looked up and all I saw was sparkling snow everywhere and all these houses…

Magic In The Air

At the Roto-Rooter house, everything was quiet and magical. At the top of one house was a palace of colored glass. The Chapel, I called it. It wasn’t a chapel, but they had a building with stained glass all around. And it was just sparkling out on the snow, a kaleidoscope of light. I just stood there and watched. It was amazing and dreamlike.

But at the restaurant, everything was swirling. A bubble of voices and thoughts are in the air, but they don’t belong to me. There’s Russian caviar and Escargot on the menu, with roasted quail and pate maison, but I’m not hungry. I’m somewhere else. Thinking about my future. I’ve been a sex worker since I was twelve. I just turned eighteen. What am I going to do next? I can’t go back to what I was doing. That part of my life is supposed to be over.

Why Is She Here?

So here I was, at this fancy place, picking at my food… And I keep looking over at the other woman, wondering what she’s doing there. I know her, of course. I know her. Her name is Sherry. She worked at Gentleman’s Retreat. She cooked frog legs for me once. Was always getting in trouble with Billy Joe. What I didn’t know was that Flothe got her to keep an eye on me when I was at the massage parlor. She was the one who reported me missing. I wouldn’t have guessed it. She wasn’t somebody I ran with. But Glenn was really worried about me. Or, to be exact, worried about my “life style.”

Glenn Flothe: I had to wean [Cindy] away, as far as her commitment to this pimp that was running this massage parlor, that she was doing all this stuff for. He would take some of his women down to afterhours joints and make ‘em take off their clothes and put ‘em up on the bar and table and let everybody in the bar screw them. Then, when they were all done, he’d take ‘em back in the room, rape ‘em and beat the shit out of ‘em... This is this pimp that she had.

That wasn’t all that Glenn was worried about. He knew — from his narcotics officers — that Billy Joe was also dealing cocaine. It was, after all, the early 80’s, when cocaine was the drug of choice. And, from personal experience, I know that dealing drugs is a lot easier than managing a stable of sex workers. The drugs just sit there in the corner, keeping quiet.

Glenn Flothe: I already had an informant up in Fairbanks, used to work for him. He beat her up real bad. And she was willing to come down from Fairbanks and make a buy. She would make the introduction. She didn’t have any money, but I already had that one set up.

Going Home

So there it is. Or was… A dinner I hardly remember. A night I can scarcely recall. Conversations that are a blur. I don’t even remember what I ate. If I had to guess, I’d say I ordered the steak. That was all I seemed to eat up there in Alaska. That or lobster.

I do remember one thing, though: Glenn had arranged for me to go home, back to the Lower 48. The plane was set to leave at midnight. I’ll be home by morning. I’m grateful that he remembered my prayer: I had begged Hansen to send me home to my mom, even as he kept me chained in his basement. Except… I’ll hit my hometown with only a few clothes in a paper sack. On the streets, I was pulling up to $700 a night. And now? Nothing. They’re sending me home with nothing.

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[1] The Corsair is no longer in business.
[2] Ironically, the Roto-Rooter people attended the same church that Darla Hansen attended. Yes, that Darla: Robert Hansen’s wife.

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