While the Miami zombie attack has been all the rage as of late, theres an older bit of demonic drug-related mayhem thats been on my mind again.
About a year ago, my dear Aunt Tina brought this sensational murder case to my attention. Although she’s an old hippie who lives off the grid, so to speak, she shares my morbid fascination with gruesome deaths, and couldn’t wait to report on this one.
The thing that particularly shocked her about this case was that it took place near to where she lives, in Del Norte County, right around the mountainous border of Northern California and Oregon. Though violent crime and crystal meth are nothing new to this ravaged reservation community, this particular kind of thing was a shock for everyone in the region. That’s because this kind of killing is what my friends and I refer to as “really fucking black metal.”
The whole thing occurred in the wee morning hours of March 21, 2010, when mixed marshall arts fighter Jarrod Gaylen Wyatt attacked his training partner Taylor Powell with a knife. When police arrived on the scene, Powell’s corpse was strewn on the couch, his chest torn open, his tongue cut out, and the skin completely peeled from his face. An organ that turned out to be his heart turned up in the wood-burning stove. The autoposy revealed that it was still beating when it was pulled from Powell’s body. Wyatt, who was naked and covered in his friend’s blood at the time of his arrest, insisted that he’d been fighting with the Devil.
In a recent article that my aunt sent to me, dated 5/22/12, there was speculation as to whether or not Wyatt was competent enough to stand trial. (A judge ruled the following day that he was, in fact, competent.) Wyatt’s defense claims that the fighter was not in his right mind at the time of the murder because he and his friend had been drinking psychedelic mushroom tea.
Now, in my own case, I’ve shroomed a few times, but I’ve never seen or felt the presence of Satan, as much as I’d like to say otherwise.
I look at Wyatt, here, with his unfortunate hair bun, and I have to wonder (whether the tea induced madness was real or not) what gives this dude a direct line to the Devil? Was it one too many cage fighting concussions? Or maybe the big “D” was the only opponent he was still subconsciously afraid to grapple with?
Before resorting to such extreme combat tactics on his friend, I think he should have at least attempted to heed the warning of those churchin’ southern black folks.