Lori Hacking

My gut feeling is that her body is not in the park area. Too many people around even at night for him to get her body in there without being seen.

A final thought before I go out and do my chores today is that the helicopter I keep seeing flying around is probably a working helicopter that is involved in setting utility poles or something.

horses and people riding horses, are there alot of ranches/stables/popular horse riding trails in Salt Lake City, and surrounding area?

Any new ideas with the developing news that the family has asked the search cease because Mark has provided them with information that renders the search unnecessary???

When did this happen? I have been watching the news this evening and they haven't mentioned that.

For Ken:

Link

The families of Mark and Lori Hacking issued a statement late Saturday saying Mark Hacking had provided information that makes a volunteer search for his missing wife unnecessary.

I'm sorry - I should have included a link.
tv.ksl.com...

I�m not a psychic, but I have witnessed what could be considered psychic phenomena. I don�t astral travel (knowingly), don�t remote view (although I think I�ll look into remote viewing) don�t do tarot carts, Ouija boards, etc. I do meditate, mainly to relax and clear my mind.

What I do is use �intuition�. While I can�t say it�s accurate in the �paranormal� world, I have used intuition extensively in my work with computers and other technical equipment. In fact, intuition has been the primary skill I have used in my career, and it has been very good to me. I am a very quick troubleshooter.

While meditating, images come to my mind, sometimes very vivid ones, but I don�t actually �see� them with my eyes. So they are just as likely to be my imagination as anything else.

I was touched by this story (but admittedly hadn�t really been specifically interested in it until today) and, since I came to ATS with an interest in �paranormal� things, decided to think about this case and see what came up. I took a nap, trying to think back on what happened, looking for clues to where she can be found, then woke up with a bunch of impressions I had not expected. Frankly, it is extremely unnerving, and I�m not sure I want to do this ever again. Ever.

When I woke up, I wrote a LOT of things down, including impressions of the murder itself. I don�t intend to post them here. I just can�t do that. It feels like I was in the murderer�s head, sort of, and that�s absolutely terrifying to me. I don�t think I want to go back there, and I hope to God this is all just my imagination. That would be very reassuring if this is all bull.

�Impressions� is the best way to describe it. I know this is probably all just my imagination and a bunch of nonsense, and the reality is probably completely different, but consider this a benevolent enough forum to post some of this stuff here just to see if any of it matches what might be found later. I thought about just keeping the file and not sharing it, but what the hell. It�s not like anyone here knows my real name anyway and in the interest of science, blah blah blah.

DISCLAIMER: So with the explicit understanding that this is all probably nothing more than an exercise in morbid thinking, and no warranties expressed or implied, and purely in the interest of tasteless parlor entertainment and tabloid-grade speculation and hopefully inviting minimal ridicule, no matter how well deserved, those are my terms.

I belted this out not in chronological order and didn�t do much editing, mainly rearranging things, so it may sound sort of bizarre. Here it is (some of it, anyway).

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the husband. They argued when she told him about the baby. He didn�t want it and was terrified. His life was imploding. He snapped and �dissociated�. He went �silent� on Lori and that scared her. She was afraid because he went �glassy-eyed�. He went into the kitchen, she was in the bedroom, crying He felt like he was watching a movie.

There�s more, but I�m not going to post it. Let�s skip ahead.

She laid there sort of on her left side for a long time on top of the bed. Later, when he came to get her he wrapped her in the blanket and sheets. They were completely soaked in blood.

She was wearing a red or dark pink tank top and black pants. No shoes. He didn�t think to put shoes on her feet.

He left the apartment and went to the car. It�s a small silver passenger car, rounded, four doors, maybe an import. He emptied some things from the trunk, a cardboard box and some things in white plastic grocery bags. He also cleaned out the front of the car, there was some trash in it. He put the trash in one of the plastic bags. He threw everything away into the apartment dumpster.

He got into the car and went to the store. He parked way out in the parking lot. It was evening, starting to get dark but still light out. It was a store like Home Depot, a big home improvement store with a gardening department. He got the shovel and gloves there, some big dark plastic trash bags and two green plastic tarps. Someone may remember him buying these things, but he paid cash so there would be no record he was there.

In the parking lot, he unfolded one of the tarps and laid it out in the trunk.

(Fast forward -- he carried her body out of the apartment wrapped in the bedding, with the tarp around the outside, and put her in the trunk of the silver car. It was night.)

He drove to an area west of town, but not next to any homes or businesses. If was far from the apartment. He went west, not into the mountains. The mountains are east. He went away from the mountains to the west, west of town. He went to a place where it was flat with low rolling hills in the desert, not the mountains.

It was dark, and he was driving on a dirt road. Dust in the headlights, and sagebrush in the dark. It was like a movie to him. He was wearing the gardening gloves while he was driving, he had worn them ever since he carried her out of the apartment and put her in the trunk. He was wearing gardening gloves with little plastic grip nubs on them. They were light green.

There were no buildings standing where he stopped, but there was debris off the road, it had caught his eye, rusty sheet metal and pieces of old gray wood, boards with rusty nails and 2x4�s. Tarpaper, ripped tarpaper. There was a shack there before but it had been torn down. Corrugated sheet metal, galvanized but rusting in small pieces, 2 feet or so, like patches pulled apart, no real big pieces. He left the car on the road. He didn�t pull off. No one was around. There were no lights around.

There are cans and broken bottles on the ground, all colors of glass: white, brown, green, in little pieces like jewels, scattered with silver cans, beer cans. There�s a lot of sagebrush, big bushes in clumps with clear sandy dirt between the clumps. It was dark, no moon, and not many stars, but a clear night. There is amber light from the city in the sky, behind. The north is to his right as he faces away from the city.

He walked past the ruins of the shack, looking for a place. It was dark but he could see. He didn�t use a flashlight. He was still wearing the gloves. He walked to a dry wash about 60 feet past the shack, it was flat on the bottom and sandy. He decided to bury her there.

He buried her near where the shack had stood, but not right next to it. Maybe 60 feet away. There�s a dry wash with sand near it. He buried her in the wash. The sand was shallow, only about 6 inches deep with dirt underneath. No big rocks.

He went back to the car and got the shovel. He dug the grave with a short, square-bladed shovel, the kind with a cross-handle at the end. The shovel was new, he�d just bought it that night, at the same place he bought the tarp. He paid cash. The blade and handle are green and the handle is light-colored wood.

The grave is very rectangular. This is a strong impression, that the grave is a very rectangular hole. He dug it carefully with the square-bladed shovel and was going to dig it much deeper, but became scared while he was digging. He was suddenly afraid someone would see him as the dirt piled up high -- it was making a big pile, bigger than he expected -- and know what he was doing, so he rushed it. The grave is about two feet deep, but carefully dug. He was acting very deliberately and mechanically throughout this. He could not look at her face.

He did not carry her very far from the car, but it was still a long way to carry her, maybe 100 feet. It was dark and he didn�t use a flashlight. He didn�t think about foot prints and left foot prints, lots of foot prints.

She was wrapped in the bloody bedding inside the tarp. He rolled her out of the tarp and into the grave. She fell face-down into it. He didn�t want to see her face as he buried her.

The dirt over the grave is very flat, and it is dirt, with a little sand mixed in and spread from around, but it�s mostly dirt.

He smoothed the grave over very carefully, spreading the dirt around and trying to make it look flat as possible. He was ambiguous, he didn�t want the grave to be found but he did. He didn�t want her laying there forever. He could see the outline of the rectangular grave, though, and worried. So he put some pieces of the shack over it, pieces of the sheet metal. Corrugated sheet metal, galvanized silver but rusting. He scattered them over the grave to hide it.

He threw the shovel into some brush, not very far from the grave site but not right next to it. Maybe 100 feet away, on the same side of the road as the shack. The shovel is in a big clump of sagebrush, about waist high. You would have to look closely to see it even in the daytime.

He threw the gloves into some brush not very far from the grave, but farther than the shovel. Opposite the car from the grave, on the other side of the road. He made a point of walking far off the road and threw them into a big clump of sagebrush. Both gloves together.

He drove off. There was a lot more that needed to be done.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That�s where I�d like to stop. You can probably tell from the point of view of this story why I don�t want to do this anymore. Even though it�s probably utter fiction, I cried the whole time I wrote this.

I�m done.

Maybe I'm obsessing on this too much, but I've been re-reading my account to see if it makes any sense. As I do this, some things come to mind. Even though this feels like such a wretched exercise, I may as well just go with it.

- The dirt road goes east-west. It's west of town in a desert area. The highway it intersects to the east sort of curves around from east-west to north-south in a wide gradual curve. The dirt road branches off from that curve.

- The shack is to the right of where he stopped. The grave site is behind the shack, in a dry wash behind it, north of the road he drove on.

- The shovel handle description is a bit confusing in the narrative. The metal parts are green, bright green, and the shaft and cross-handle are light wood. The metal part of the cross-handle is bright green.

- When he wrapped the tarp around her, he wrapped her first in the bedding, the blanket is dark with flowers on it, then set her on the tarp next to the bed. He wrapped her in the tarp like a big burrito, folding it in at the ends so it wouldn�t leak. It was a really big tarp, bigger than needed.

- He took the tarp and bedding with him. He did not bury them with her. I think he put them in a couple of trash bags -- he double-bagged them -- and dropped them in a dumpster. The dumpster is for a warehouse or light industrial park. Metal buildings, sort of yellow-tan colored. The dumpster area was well-lit.

- He turned the car around when he left, backing up and going forward repeatedly to turn the car around. The tracks of his doing this may still be visible.

- Here�s a part of something I didn�t include, just a detail about the knife: He got a knife from the kitchen, maybe 8� long with a pointy blade and a wooden handle. It was in a drawer. Not a butcher knife, more like a chopping knife with a straight edge and point at the end.

- He was cool and detached, like a robot, until he started driving back from where he buried her. Then he panicked and started freaking out. He was crying hysterically, sobbing in big gasps. He had to park for a while.

I know a lot of the narrative is repetitive in weird ways. That�s because the impressions didn�t happen in order. I cut and pasted them more or less in order later. I started at the gravesite, then sort of skipped around. It was very strange how this stuff just sort of poured out after I woke up. Very weird.

All in all, an unnerving exercise. On the bright side, if this all turns out to be bullpuckey, I guess I shouldn�t feel so bad about it.

If I'm going to be wrong, I may as well go all out and be amazingly wrong.

He drove south, down a freeway, then west on a smaller highway. He drove for about an hour one-way. It took a while to get out of town, and he didn't want any witnesses.

He stopped for gas on the way, with the body in the trunk. He paid cash for the gas.

I keep thinking �Delta�. There�s a town in Utah called �Delta�. He didn�t go there, but kept seeing it on the road signs. He was heading toward Delta.

He had to drive a long time, it may have been longer than an hour.

He left a LOT of footprints at the gravesite scene. He walked back and forth between the car and gravesite several times, and between the shack and the gravesite carrying the sheet metal.

His tracks are sort of deep, maybe an inch, and the ground seems soft. The tracks may still be distinguishable today. They can be followed from the road, there are many of them back and forth between the car and the grave.

The wash runs roughly parallel to the road, east-west, and is on the north side of it. He did not go north of the wash.

The road doesn�t seem very bumpy, and seems well-maintained. It may be a major connection road, but it�s a dirt road, not paved.

The shovel is on the north side of the road, south of the wash, and back down the road a bit behind where he parked the car. So northeast of where he parked next to the shack, maybe 40 or 50 feet. It�s in a big clump of sagebrush, bigger than average. The blade is dark, not painted, just the metal trim parts are green. It is lying with the blade pointing roughly toward the grave, to the west. The back side of the blade is facing up.

The gloves are south of the road, about even with where he parked. They are about 40 or 50 feet south of the road, and he put them together before he dropped them into the clump of sagebrush. Not a big clump like the shovel, a regular clump. The gloves are still together, palms facing each other, fingers down, resting on branches in the brush. I don�t see any blood on them. His tracks lead to and from the shovel and the gloves, and it may be possible to follow them to these places.

I don�t remember moonlight but he could see without a flashlight and the light from SLC dominated the eastern sky. It was dark, but not pitch black. He was able to see his way.

The shack is a pile of debris. Dark and gray wood with sheet metal pieces in a pile. He took some of the smaller pieces to cover the grave, some bigger pieces remain at the shack.

There is debris all around the shack, pieces of wood and garbage, and a lot of broken glass in little pieces on the ground. Cans blown up against the bushes. There�s some faded plastic things white paper too, but not much. Shotgun shells on the ground: red and green plastic shells.

The ground around the shack is darkened, maybe from fire, but the wood does not seem burnt.

While driving west on the road, the shack will be on your right, about ten feet off the road to the north. Bushes have encroached on its clearing, but it is mainly clear. You can�t miss seeing the pile while driving by. The road widens a bit around the shack as well, from people turning around.

I don�t want to look at the gravesite. It may have been disturbed by animals. I think it has been disturbed. There are flies.

wow majic, maybe you're the one that should be contacting law enforcement. :-P

Has anyone read news of this young girl's death in New Jersey?
Even here in New Jersey there was not much news of the tradgedy as it unfolded and even after she was found it did not hit the news.
Seems the media exploits stories that could be made into movies but when it comes to innocence it's kept quiet.

news.google.com...

Delta is southwest of Salt Lake City, and is aprox. 104 miles from it. MAP:



According to the map, a person would need to drive south on 15, then west on 8/50.

According to Delta, Utah's website, there exists deserts; it is in Millard country, which has a lot of geography that looks like this:










Majic, have you spent a lot of time in Utah? It seems a lot of your descriptions were pretty good. Maybe these images of the countryside of that country will jog some more memories.

My money is on an area much much closer to SLC. Sandy is a good place to look. Somewhere not too far from I-15 perhaps.

Anyway, now I know why I saw this Mark Hacking guy with a knife in his back. He was "betrayed" by a family member last night or early today when the police were told this new "significant" information that Mark supposedly gave to this family member.

[edit on 1-8-2004 by Ken]

Originally posted by radardog
wow majic, maybe you're the one that should be contacting law enforcement. :-P

Well... as vivid and compelling as those images are to me, I'm willing to bet that a lot, or possibly all of what I wrote is probably just the product of a vivid imagination. I must have dreamed it up by falling asleep thinking about all this stuff.

I can troubleshoot to faulty components with ludicrous speed using intuition, but I'm not so sure about my accuracy in matters such as these. But it's weird, the images were very vivid and distinct, and have a consistency that is surprising to me.

I�m trying to think back to a comparable experience and not seeing any parallels. The details, and things like the ability for me to �return� to the alleged gravesite and see it in the daytime, and �zoom in� on things to find out more (were those "Ralph's" bags in the car? I see horizontal red ovals on them. Do they even have �Ralph�s� supermarkets in Utah? Does he smoke Marlboros? Does he even smoke? Gardening gloves?), are weird, but not necessarily accurate or true because of that.

All of this stuff may simply be my hyperactive subconscious or whatever taking ideas from this thread and other sources (although I�ve made a point of not really following this story much at all until yesterday) and constructing some sort of fanciful scenario. Maybe it�s some form of unintended role playing, with me putting myself in Mark Hacking�s shoes (yuck! ick! I hope that�s not it!).

She�ll probably actually be found in a dumpster, or buried at the landfill after being dumped in a dumpster or something like that. Probably nothing so elaborate as what I �saw�. I have no reason whatsoever to believe my �impressions� are accurate just because they are vivid and detailed. Maybe I�m just constructing all this with bits and pieces of movies, novels and posts from this thread. I truly don�t know.

So why did I post those huge free-association rants to the thread? Because you never know, maybe I guessed a few things that might turn out to be right. If so, that doesn�t mean I�m psychic, but maybe have some potential.

By posting this stuff to this thread (and I wont be editing any of those posts), there's a record of what I "saw" and said about it. As details come out, we can post them to this thread, compare them to what folks have posted here, and see who has the mojo.

I do plan to look into this stuff more and maybe make a hobby of it, but I don�t think I want to do missing person or murder cases anymore, no matter how accurate or -- far more likely -- utterly inaccurate my �visions� might be. Even if I�m dead wrong, the whole experience was so jarring, just thinking about that stuff, that I don�t think I could handle it repeatedly. I�m still not sure what technique might work for me, or if any will, but my expectations are low, so I�m probably not �headed for a fall� in that regard.

On the bright side, considering the dark circumstances, there is good news. If I�m embarrassingly wrong, it�s not like my reputation as a �psychic� is in danger, because I don�t claim to be a psychic, and doubt that I am one. Or maybe I'm a not-so-wannabe Uri Geller prot�g�.

So in the end, if I can�t even be sure that any of my impressions are really true, I have no business even thinking about bothering law enforcement. I suspect they�ll find out what needs to be found out, and I think it�s probably not being presumptuous to posit that Lori was dead before she was reported missing.

Still, until news showing me otherwise comes out, in my mind I see her resting place by the side of a dirt road southwest of Salt Lake City on the way to Delta, Utah. Maybe it�s an alternate universe.

Geez, is it even possible for me to write a post about this topic that isn�t novel-length?

Originally posted by Ken
My money is on an area much much closer to SLC. Sandy is a good place to look. Somewhere not too far from I-15 perhaps.

It was puzzling to me why in my "view" he would drive so far. My sense was that he was paranoid about witnesses. He needed a very remote location, or so I thought.

Of course, he may have indeed hid her somewhere in the mountains. There's a lot of rough terrain there. Or maybe he just dropped her in a dumpster. When she is found, I imagine it will become public information. We'll see soon enough, I imagine.

Anyway, now I know why I saw this Mark Hacking guy with a knife in his back. He was "betrayed" by a family member last night or early today when the police were told this new "significant" information that Mark supposedly gave to this family member.

A very interesting vision. Mark seems to be a pathological liar; such a metaphor as being "stabbed in the back" by someone exposing his lies seems in character.

Originally posted by radardog
Majic, have you spent a lot of time in Utah? It seems a lot of your descriptions were pretty good. Maybe these images of the countryside of that country will jog some more memories.

I lived in Ogden for a year back in the '70s, and last passed through SLC about 4 years ago (heading west on I-80 from Philadelphia to Reno with my sister, fun trip), I think, so I'm not a stranger to the place. I live in western Nevada, so seeing sagebrush is probably my default condition.

I knew Delta was SW of SLC, but thought it was closer to the border -- a lot closer, actually. It may be that the name is just stuck in my head from something (a song?), hard to say.

Anyway, the idea that my �visions� may be cobbled together from memories of driving through the area is certainly strong in my mind. But it has been a while since I was there, I have traveled to a lot of other places since, and if my memory of the area southwest of SLC is as accurate as it seemed to me, then I guess I have a better memory than I thought.

Terrain-wise, what I "saw" did seem flat, with rolling hills around but I am not seeing any nearby. The sagebrush is sort of spread out and looks a lot browner than any of the pictures in your post. You can easily walk between the bushes in most cases without touching them. The ground is sort of sandy with little pebbles, but not super soft, just a little yielding. There aren�t a lot of big rocks, just pebbles mainly, and not a lot. There�s almost no other vegetation, just tufts of brown grass here and there.

I guess it remains to be seen if any of this is factual or just noise from my own personal experiences. One thing that definitely is not among them is a brutal murder, thank God.

I don't know why, nor can I reason what, when or where with this case, but I have a sense of water- does anyone else?

On trying to reason this, I'm thinking bathtub, pool- something with water.