This time, it's not about the turtle.
Not directly.
This time, it's about Evelyn Carmichael.
And a boathouse.
And a question no one likes to ask:
How many coincidences does it take before you can call it a pattern?
Weeks after the disappearance of Stanley Carmichael, the not-so-seaworthy mayor of Pittsfield, and the equally mysterious “absence” of a librarian in Salisbury, we are hearing new, shocking developments.
Evelyn Carmichael is dead.
She was found in a boathouse outside Rockport.
Cause of death: a fall. Officially. “Unlikely,” we say.
Because Evelyn, who according to her Pilates group was ‘scary flexible,’ was not known for hanging out on slippery docks, or even going near the water alone.
Her last known phone call?
A delivery service—two loaves of bread, cheese, hummus, and a bottle of white wine.
No sign of escape or desperation. No suicide note.
Evelyn Carmichael – more than just the wife of a missing mayor?
Officially, she was “Evelyn,” wife, gardening enthusiast, watercolor artist, and occasional Pilates participant at the Pittsfield Community Center.
Unofficially?
Well, let's just say there are indications that Evelyn Carmichael had more influence on her husband's political career than anyone would have thought.
An anonymous source said that Evelyn “never wanted to be in the spotlight—because she preferred to shine the light herself.”
Other sources suggest that she may have done more for her husband's political rise than campaigning and tie-tying.
More than once, her name has been linked to missing documents, sudden changes of heart in city councils, and... certain dependencies of influential figures.
Nothing concrete.
Nothing provable.
But enough to raise the question: Was Stanley Carmichael's political success really his own – or the price others paid for Evelyn's ambitions?
And if so, did anyone ever have enough of it?
And where is her husband?
Stanley Carmichael, mayor of Pittsfield, is still missing – along with his boat. Nowhere to be found.
He was last seen weeks before Evelyn's death.
But suddenly he got in touch—not with the police, but with us.
Here are some excerpts from his message:
"I had nothing to do with Evelyn's death. I am... I wasn't even there. Please believe me. I had no choice but to leave—but I never wanted anything to happen to her. I will not return. Not because I am guilty. It's because I know no one will believe me."
The police now believe that Stanley has fled.
We believe that Stanley is running from someone.
The only question is – from whom?
And then there's the librarian.
She remains missing.
No phone call. No clue. An empty desk. Almost as if she had never been there.
Conclusion? There isn't one.
Just
one dead person.
Two missing persons.
A few loose ends.
And a turtle that hasn't resurfaced.
We're not saying it has anything to do with it.
But we're not saying it doesn't either.
What if Evelyn wasn't in the wrong place at the wrong time, but in the right place at the most dangerous time?
What if her death wasn't an accident—but a final act?
Because if there was one thing Evelyn Carmichael wasn't, it was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Everyone who knew her described her as controlled. Methodical. Determined.
So why was she alone in a boathouse near Rockport?
Who was she meeting?
And was she possibly playing her own game behind the scenes?
Did Stanley Carmichael leave his wife—or was he fleeing from what she had set in motion?
Or... was it someone else who was now pulling the strings?
What remains is the feeling that something much bigger is at play here.
But one thing is certain:
If the word “turtle” comes up again somewhere—we'll be listening.
(P.S.: Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was murder. But if Evelyn Carmichael has fallen, then perhaps an entire system is falling with her.)
(P.P.S. If you see Stanley Carmichael: He seemed shaken. Not dangerous. And above all, like someone running from something. Maybe not just the police. But someone we don't even know about yet.)
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