Free The End of the Dream by Ann Rule Page B

and featured his incredible sculptures made of marble and steel. And in the fall, Diana Gerhart and Steve Meyers were married. Interestingly, the Reverend William Scurlock, Sr. , Scott’s father, presided over the ceremony.
    Steve hoped that the fact he and Diana were married would show he was maintaining a stable home. His dearest wish was to have Cara come live with them. By the time Steve came home to Virginia, Kevin had finally found the ramshackle house he was looking for in Great Falls, Virginia.
    He and Steve were alike in that way, they could see possibilities where no one else could, and they were creative workhorses, willing to put sweat-equity into something that would one day be beautiful.
    Kevin’s dwelling had been built long before the Civil War, with various owners slapping layer after layer of peculiar facades over what had once been a classic log cabin. There was no running water, and a large family of snakes lived in the ceiling. But it didn’t matter, it was his. In a way, Kevin had come full circle. Steve was back in his life, and so was Scott. Bill and Mary Jane Scurlock were still living in Reston during the eighties, and Scott came home for Thanksgiving.
    He’d been there just in time to help Kevin move into his Great Falls home. Scott slept on the floor there, and, for a day or so, it was almost as if they were back in Hawaii, “brothers” and best friends.
    But they were a decade older, and they had gone in different directions.
    They promised to stay in touch, and they did.
     
     
    Back at Evergreen, Scott was gearing up to go into full crystal meth production. He couldn’t actually make the stuff in the university lab, the chemicals produced a noxious smell like cat urine. Some meth labs were set up in trailers out in the woods, some particularly stupid “chemists” set up temporary labs in motels but the smell almost always gave them away. Scott paid people he met to find deserted houses far from town where he could actually put the chemicals together and start them cooking. Once he found a likely spot, he set up elaborate venting systems to carry the pungent odors produced high into the trees until it was blown away by the next brisk wind. The crystal meth project brought in more money than Scott had hoped, and he liked the element of danger.   What he was doing was a criminal offense, and Scott enjoyed watching true-life police dramas on television, feeling it would help him keep one step ahead of the police. (Later, “COPS” would be one of his favorite programs. ) One thing, however, that Scott never worried about was that he would be betrayed by his dealers. The small army of men and women who took the speed from him and fanned out to Seattle and Tacoma to the north, and the Olympic peninsula to the west seemed, to him, to be only extended members of his loyal crew. While some might consider friendship among drug dealers and manufacturers to be a paradox, Scott didn’t. Just as he felt no guilt about the product he was selling, he took pride in his team.   As his crystal meth network expanded, Scott often traveled all the way back to Reston, Virginia, to deliver his product to a dealer there. His Virginia connection was an old school friend who had lived an apparently straight life, but who had very expensive tastes. His friend, known only as “Hawk” to everyone but Scott, was ready to take all the product Scott wanted to sell to him.   Scott flew into Dulles Airport, handed over the crystal meth, and got right back on a plane to Washington State without ever leaving the airport. He could wake up in Olympia, fly the roundtrip across America, and return to sleep in his own bed. Sometimes, though, Scott stayed longer in Reston, visiting his parents and sisters, catching up with old friends.
    He visited Kevin and saw that he had performed miracles with the dilapidated house he had bought in Great Falls for $45,000. The original log cabin beams were exposed now, and he had