Now that she was closer, she could tell from the sound that the shot did not come from Ed's .45 caliber Schofield, but from a Navy Colt using black po...der.She was still out of effective range, combined with the fact that John was not a very good shot, so she was not hit by the ball, but it came whizzing past close enough to get her attention. She jumped from the saddle and ran toward the rocks, drawing her Schofield as she ran. She was in sight for a few seconds, so John snapped off another. One hand moved from its position on my butt to come around to start to massage one breast while the other pulled me ever closer to him. The hand massaging my breast stopped to go under my shirt and feel smooth skin and play with a hardened nipple.It wasn't long before he tried to take my shirt off and I finally spoke up, "Rob, stop!" I said hurriedly."Why what’s wrong baby," he asked wondering if he had upset me in some way."Scars, I have too many scars. I'm ugly." I said breathlessly. I didn't. But you did a good job.” As he said this, he was rubbing at his crotch. “You want to be filming this, don’t you?”I realized that in the confusion I had dropped the camera. I picked it up and trained it on Mark and the girl. It was still running.Mark seemed content for the moment to hold her in his lap with one arm while he rubbed his crotch with the other. She was scared, of course. Her chest heaved erratically, her breathing choked with sobs. She was so young and pretty. I knew from what Mark. Riday, June 8, 1979After our morning cuddle and rapport, Bonnie, Missy, Sharon and I headed in to work for a while. We hadn't much more than got into my office before Ann came in."The police came by to see me last night," she told Sharon and me. "They wanted to know if I knew anything about my ex-husband getting beaten pretty badly yesterday afternoon. I assured them I didn't, and gave them the names of several people who knew I was at work when it happened." Did they say how badly he had been.