Today, a rather sad coda to the story of feuding bikers Rodney ‘Hooks’ Monks and Russell Merrick Oldham.
As you will recall, Oldham, a man with ‘a passion for astronomy and a history of violence’ shot Monks dead in a dispute involving a romantic liaison between Monks and his parole officer. Oldham, packing heat in his handbag*, fired three shots at Monks at close range, and escaped in a taxi (I’m not making any of this up).
Oldham has been at large ever since, until last night where he waded into the ocean and, in keeping with his history of violence, shot himself. I like to speculate that he was looking at the stars.
Even this last recounting of the story has elements of the bizarre. Witnesses to the incident record that they heard two shots, before they discovered the lifeless body of Oldham. This either means Oldham was a really lousy shot, or that he was one mean and determined bastard.
RIP Russell. I hope you and Hooks make it up in the Big Club in the Sky. Or in the Other Place.
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*It was in the news report. Handbag. Read it for yourself.
