Cops Find Hash Lab in Fortuna Motel Room; Two Arrested For Burglary, Possession of Stolen Property, Etc.
Hank Sims / Yesterday @ 7:21 p.m. / Crime
Fuller (left) and Shinn.
From the Fortuna Police Department:
On February 19, 2018 the Fortuna Police Department received a report of a burglary that had occurred on the 1900 block of 9th St in Fortuna. The victim reported that they had several subjects and vehicles on surveillance entering the property and taking items.
At approximately 11:00 am, the victim contacted the Fortuna Police Department and advised that one of the possible vehicles associated with the burglary was located on the 800 block of Main St in Fortuna. Officers responded and observed items in the vehicle with the victims name on them.
Officers contacted Carrie Fuller in association with the vehicle at a motel room on the 800 block of Main St. A probation search was conducted on the room. More suspected stolen property was located in the room with the victims name on them. Through the investigation, officers identified the suspect of the burglary as Leland Shinn. While officers were conducting the probation search, Shinn arrived on scene and he was taken into custody.
A detective with the Fortuna Police Department responded to assist with the investigation. While searching the room, the detective located a butane hash oil (BHO) extraction lab. Based on the items located in the room, Fuller was taken into custody.
Shinn was arrested on the following charge and transported to the Humboldt County Correctional Facility:
- 459 PC- Burglary.
Fuller was arrest for the following charges and transported to the Humboldt County Correctional Facility:
- 496(a) PC- Possession of stolen property.
- 11379.6(a) H&S- Manufacturing a controlled substance by means of chemical extraction.
- 636.5 PC- Using a scanner for the purpose avoiding police detection.
This case is still under investigation, anyone with information should contact the Fortuna Police Department at (707)-725-7550.
Humboldt County Superior Court Calendar: Today
Us101 N / Fields Landing Ofr (HM office): Traffic Hazard
Ryan Burns / Yesterday @ noon / How ‘Bout That Weather
Just when it seemed like spring had arrived for good, bringing cherry blossoms and t-shirt weather …
“Uh, it’s snowing.”
That’s the text my friend and Eureka neighbor sent last night at 9:26, and sure enough, here’s what my backyard looked like at the time:
Humboldt County snow isn’t uncommon in the upland/inland locales such as Berry Summit, Kneeland and McClellan Mountain (pictured up top). But when it starts falling near sea level, it’s notable.
Wendy Pickett Monolias sent in the following images from Cummings Road, just southeast of Eureka:
And Madelyne Rose Salmon sent in this shot of early morning snow accumulation in Fortuna:
There was even snow on the field at Humboldt State University’s Redwood Bowl this morning:
And, predictably, the upland areas were transformed into a winter wonderland this morning. Here’s some footage submitted by Dottie Simmons looking west from her spot on State Route 36 near Dinsmore, elevation roughly 2,500 feet:
And all the way out near Mad River, just over the line into Trinity County, impressive icicles had formed:
According to data compiled by the National Weather Service, the temps in Eureka have dipped into the cold side of normal over the last week or so, but we haven’t broken any records. (The all-time low for Eureka in February was 24 degrees, recorded all the way back in 1899.)
As for snow, the National Weather Service’s Eureka office is out on Woodley Island, and while Lead Meteorologist Matthew Kidwell said there were “some flakes” out there last night, he didn’t think there was enough to get recorded in the official measurements.
The last time there was enough to hit that mark was almost 15 years ago, April 2, 2003, when Woodley Island got a whopping tenth of an inch of snowfall. One night in 2002 saw four tenths of an inch, according to Kidwell.
For significant snowfall at the coast you have to go all the way back to the day before Valentine’s Day, 1990, when a full inch of snow fell at Woodley Island. The year prior, 1989, saw an inch-and-a-half of snow on February 3 and another two inches on February 4.
Kidwell said the showers have diminished and tonight should be dry, but with the clouds cleared out the temperatures are expected to drop further still. A hard freeze warning has been issued for tonight, so make sure your critters are indoors, and stay safe on the roads.
ADDENDUM, 3:20 p.m.: One last photo here. LoCO reader Cathy Spinosa emailed us this one — just some tire tracks in her driveway where a truck reversed and then drove away, inadvertently leaving a belated homage to Valentine’s Day:
John Ross Ferrara / Yesterday @ 9:05 a.m. / How ‘Bout That Weather
A hard freeze warning has been issued for Humboldt, Del Norte and Mendocino Counties tonight.
Eureka’s National Weather Service Office reports that coastal areas will see temperatures in the 30s, while inland areas will be hit with frigid temperatures in the teens.
Read more form the NWS below:
Cold temperatures are forecast tonight for northwest California with the coldest temperatures being found inland. Near the coast, temperatures are forecast to fall to roughly 30 degrees thus a Hard Freeze Warning is in effect for coastal Del Norte, Humboldt, and Mendocino counties. For details you can visit weather.gov/eka
With temperatures at or below freezing and the recent precipitation, many areas may see patches of black ice on the roadways. Motorists should remain alert and take it slow. Check quickmap.dot.ca.gov for road conditions in California.
John Ross Ferrara / Sunday, Feb. 18 @ 4:03 p.m. / How ‘Bout That Weather
Hail and snow fell across Humboldt County today, and meteorologists with the local National Weather Service expect it to keep on happening later this evening.
“There have been numerous reports of small hail covering the roads today in Humboldt and Del Norte counties,” the NWS writes on Facebook. “This is expected to continue this evening. Small hail can quickly result in very slick conditions. If you find yourself driving on a hail covered road, remember to slow down by easing off the gas pedal. Do NOT slam on the brakes and try to avoid over-correcting as you could lose control of your vehicle.”
LoCO readers shared these photos and videos of today’s weather.
Snow on Titlow Hill. Video by Joshua vining.
Woman Shot to Death Following Disturbance Behind Hoopa Gas Station, 30-Year-Old Man Arrested for Murder
John Ross Ferrara / Sunday, Feb. 18 @ 10:06 a.m. / Crime
Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office press release:
On 02-17-18, at approximately 2:30 PM, the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office received a call regarding a disturbance behind the Hoopa Gas Station. Deputies, along with officers from the Hoopa Tribal Police Department, responded and located a female victim with a gunshot wound. The victim succumbed to her injuries on scene.
Through further investigation and with the community’s assistance, 30 year old Antone Aubrey was arrested and transported to the Humboldt County Correctional Facility where he was booked for PC 187- Murder. His bail has been set at $1,000,000.
This is an ongoing investigation and anyone with information for the Sheriff’s Office regarding this case or related criminal activity is encouraged to call the Sheriff’s Office at 707-445-7251 or the Sheriff’s Office Crime Tip line at 707-268-2539.
Barry Evans / Sunday, Feb. 18 @ 7:40 a.m. / Growing Old Ungracefully
It’s a no-brainer, right? Poor health causes unhappiness, and poor health causes early death, so unhappiness is correlated with mortality, QED. Except, maybe you’re unhappy because you’re sick — that is, first comes the illness, then the unhappiness. In which case, the heading should be, Long Life = Happiness.
In an attempt to unravel this conundrum, researchers looked to the UK “Million Women Study” of women recruited between 1996 and 2001 and subsequently followed electronically. Their conclusion: “In middle-aged women, poor health can cause unhappiness. After allowing for this association and adjusting for potential confounders, happiness and related measures of wellbeing do not appear to have any direct effect on mortality.”
Hence the question mark in my title.
I wonder, though, whether we get too hung up on the actual numbers. We’re living longer than anytime previously in history. In the developed world, thanks to vaccines, sanitation and evidence-based medical care, men live to 75, women to 80 on average. According to the Smithsonian, the number of Americans over 100 jumped from 50,000 in 2000 to 72,000 in 2014. The world record is held by Mme. Jeanne Calment (1875-1997) who lived to 122.
(It’s hard to see how that could be much improved upon, given that aging isn’t a disease but “a side effect of the many different genetically determined processes that keep us functioning,” quoting Harriet Hall MD. For instance, every second, some four million cells in each of our bodies clone themselves by copying their DNA into two daughter cells. It’s an imperfect process and occasionally a mutation occurs. Plus some telomeres, the repeated nucleotide sequences at the end of DNA molecules, are lost during the replication process. Plus mitochondria — our cellular power stations — produce damaging free radicals as by-products.)
But what’s the point of living to a ripe old age if you spend your last couple of decades lying in a hospital bed, kept alive by IVs, bored out of your gourd? Isn’t there a more useful measure of life beyond mere quantity? “Yeah, he died at 105, but he was the most miserable man I knew!” Or the quip about the doctor telling this old coot that he had another 20 years of life if he gave up smoking, drinking, gambling and sex. “You call that life?” he asks.
I’m reminded of Ray Kurzweil, the genius inventor to whom the word “futurist” is usually attached. He’s convinced that the Singularity — when science will have conquered disease and death —is just around the corner. In his book Fantastic Voyage: Live Long Enough to Live Forever (co-authored by Terry Grossman MD), he says that all he has to do is to live to 120 and then he’ll be immortal. To get to 120 (he’s now 70), he drinks massive quantities of green tea and red wine, downs 250 supplement pills daily, eats a restrictive diet and spends a day a week in a clinic getting IV infusions of vitamins. (You call that life?)
So there should be another metric that somehow combines the number of years with quality of life (happiness / satisfaction / appreciation / creativity…). Call it quears. Which would you rather, to die at 100 years or at 50 quears?
I’ll take this up again next week with the Dalai Lama’s (age: 82, disposition: happy) prescription for long and happy life.
Barry Evans gave the best years of his life to civil engineering, and what thanks did he get? In his dotage, he travels, kayaks, meditates and writes for the Journal and the Humboldt Historian. He sucks at 8 Ball. Buy his Field Notes anthologies at any local bookstore. Please.
James Faulk / Sunday, Feb. 18 @ 7:24 a.m. / Dead Reckoning
It’s a secret we’ve kept for
these several years, just between us.
Every night, the two of us travelers don our flannel traveling suits — soft like whispers on the skin, warm as a goodnight hug, yet tough enough to brave the astral blasts of interdimensional travel, by God, as many of these trips take us into some rough-and-tough country where wild winds blow and black birds’ll peck at your shiny buttons.
The bedtime countdown is always the same.
One kiss, one hug, and a bottom’s up pink cup to fuel the heart furnaces and cool the boilers for the hard work of the mind just ahead, then two extra kisses from mom, a lick from Bobo the dog, a tickle or two, and finally we’re sitting pretty.
We settle into the cockpit on our backs, run through our checklists, flipping imaginary switches and settling scores.
The machine beneath us bucks and rattles, anxious to depart, a beast of imagination and adventure, attuned to our excitement and expectation, especially hers, the little one, the important one, my Juniper, codename: Junebug. This is my time with her. Our traveling time. Her bedtime.
From the map safe opposite the bed, she’s chosen her destination. Maybe we’re joining Mickey in the milk bottle, or using our fingers and toes to help Jeanne-Marie count her sheep, or helping Little Cottontail figure out what it means to be All Grown Up.
Tonight, the engine unwinds with a plume of joy and delirious laughter as I intone in my most serious narrator’s baritone:
up at the sky on a very clear night
you may see a star with a curious light.
Well, that star is red, to yourself you might think,
but study it close — it’s a planet — it’s pink!
And we two were aloft again, into universes populated by animated stuffies and dragons, magical horses and pegasi, over-plumped creatures that defy biological categories yet somehow feel perfectly at home in the confines of a toddler bed, the starry skies whirling by at lightning speed.
Uplifted and transformed by making stuff up, and loving it.
This night’s adventure follows a little girl desperately trying to bring a dash of variety to an all-pink world. She ultimately convinces the Queen of Pink that her favorite hue would be best served by having other colors to contrast itself against.
This demonstration of sweet courage, logic and good taste wins the day. Astronaut Junebug and I bore witness to the whole episode and saw a world transformed from one color to a diversity of hues exploding across the landscape.
So. Much. Fun.
One thing I’ve figured out as my months turn into years and my years turn into decades, is that little moments matter. A good and happy life is a quilt of such instances spent with those you love, mindfully curated, stored in a safe and dry place to haul out when times turn bleak and support networks crash.
One job parents have and too often neglect, I think, is to fill their child’s head with a bank of such recollections, warm happinesses with their mom and dad, their brothers and sisters, with a book or without, during a walk or on a hike, anywhere at all, making life-affirming associations and doing all they can to uphold the positive in life, raise their child up.
Stoke the fires of imagination, and grow their spirit.
I’m not just talking about books, and I’m not trying to preach. I don’t know more than any other parent who has raised kids. But I do believe that children are people, whole people, and deserve to be treated as such. Celebrated as such.
As part of that, they should certainly be allowed to occasionally take relativistic interdimensional excursions with their dumbass father.
So Junebug and I, we’ve charted the skies, tracing each constellation with our outstretched hands. Many of these worlds we’ve visited countless times before, read and reread the books so many times their pages are shredded and falling apart and their realities have become so vivid we arrive within instants of take-off and land with virtually no wake at all to explore among the citizens gone wrong in the township of Wacky Wednesday, perhap, or in the park and tenements of Anna Banana’s city playground.
Anna Banana, written by Lenore Blegvad, is especially good, I might add. It’s gotten to the point that I’ll probably read kids’ books even when my kids are grown. There’s a haunting charm to some of them that’s a balm to an old grouser’s soul. It’s a chapstick for the whole body callous.
As it stands, with no government support and little corporate fanfare, I launch her to sleep each night under a blissfully thick red comforter that shields us from cosmic rays and all sorts of background radiation.
I punctuate the action off the pages with all the charm and bravado an old man can muster after a hard day work in public television. It’s not Masterpiece, but it’s not penny ante. It’s one a heckuva ride.
And when I finally close the book, we’re suspended, aloft in this strange place I find myself almost every night: She sleeps and breathes in my arms while the rest our brood remains tangled in the web of their lives downstairs, making all the usual racket that goes along with going along.
In these moments, their raucous lives to us stand muted somewhat by the carpet, by the 125-year-old ancient redwood framing of this stark green farm house on a hill; and for now, as I listen to the rabbit kitten’s heart beat against me, feel her warm forehead against my cheek and her hand curled up in mine, that’s just about the finest thing in the world.
I’m right where I want to be.
James Faulk is a writer living in Eureka. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.