Lakeland, Florida She snapped. That’s what that authorities are saying about published poet, 43-year-old Sabrina Stevens. This begs the question: is there something about being mental that is conducive to writing poetry or is it the polar opposite, poetry sends one over the cliff? Throughout history, there sure seems to be an awful lot of writers in this genre that were crazier than a shit-house rat, but their writings were spectacular. My favorite book, “The Prince of Tides” by Pat Conroy, features a poet who was not only accomplished at moving people with her words, she was achieving mastery of slicing herself. She used her “visions” of angels hanging from meat hooks and spun them into some interesting work. But see, the difference between most poets and Sabrina Stevens: she put her crazy right on out there for her neighbors to see.
He’s out of town picking fruit – he’ll probably be gone for a while. And oh yeah, he’s puking a lot of blood. Now, I can’t put that in quotes, yet those are the three things she told neighbors about her boyfriend, 69-year-old James Milliken. Catching one neighbor walking toward the laundry room, Sabrina stopped her and said, “Don’t go over there, you’re going to step on Mr. James’ blood.” Yeah, she claimed it was due to him coughing it all up, not that she’d allegedly slit his throat and got all poky with a socket driver and other handy tools.
By looking at James’ picture…and hers…it’s an understatement saying that she outweighed him by 100 pounds. Nonetheless, she admitted to snapping, grabbing a big ol knife from the kitchen, pushing him down onto the couch and damn near cutting his head off. Well, not exactly, she only managed a slice from ear to ear. Guessing she wanted to make sure he was dead enough, she made a few more holes in his body. And as with all respectable murderers, she phoned 911 and reported the mugging/break-in/or other concocted story.
Haha. Yeah right. Sabrina, being an “artist” and all, decided to do something a little more, say…creative with her boyfriend’s body. A sure-fire way of keeping her sculpting talents a secret…cause you know, the adoring fans get all confused when there’s a genre or medium swap. She carted James’ body off to her closet and closed the door on that chapter of her life. That is until he started stinking about a week later. Nothing that a little baby powder couldn’t cure, right? Note to murderers: baby powder doesn’t cover up the smell emitting from a shitty diaper. What the hell makes you think it’s going to conceal the smell of a rotting corpse?
Don’t worry. Sabrina caught on to the fact – hiding this body in her apartment wasn’t a super-duper idea so she came up with plan 2: hide the body by the dumpster. Wait. Someone might see him. Let’s move the body one more time to the bushes. Yes. That’s the ticket. No one will see nor smell him there…not if he’s covered with branches.
Fatal error. Don’t clean up the bloody mess and then throw the clothes and rags in the community dumpster. That amount of blood on various items PLUS bloody skid-marks on the sidewalk is enough to get the neighbors talking. Especially if someone is popping out trying to divert their routes to the laundry.
When authorities responded to the apartment complex, they quickly pieced together what must have happened. Along with a pseudo confession from Sabrina and the bleach-soaked couch…I doubt it was a difficult case to crack.
Held without bail, Sabrina Stevens is sitting in Polk County Jail awaiting her fate. I certainly hope they give her a pen and paper – I’d love to read her next batch of poems.