UPDATED: October 12th 2023

Hello, Stevie here…

Just a quick note, I am re-sharing this story from a few years ago on the 45th Anniversary of my Brother Gib’s untimely death at the age of 19.

If you have followed or read any of my TUFF DIAIRES, I thank you, and hopefully you will find this enjoyable to read the same.

With a small warning, it’s pretty graphic and ugly at points, but it seems that in the end, there was something amazing that happened, a full 42 Years Later, hence the title.

Thanks for reading,

Stevie Rachelle

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Los Angeles, CALIFORNIA — Hello, and thanks for checking in.

I wrote this story in late 2021, and I am re-sharing it today, on my late brother’s birthday September 20th.

He left us in the fall of 1978 after just turning 19 under very suspicious circumstances.

He was the oldest of 4 kids, and my brother Gilbert would have turned 63 today… but sadly he didn’t make 20.

Everything I do in life, I do for 3, and have lived thinking this for many years, decades even.

I live for myself, along with both my Father and my Brother.

Both (in my eyes) got the short end of the stick in life when it comes to time spent on this planet, so I like to think I am living for them as well.

There is not a day that goes by where I don’t think: “What if…”

With that… life is always full of surprises, and that “What if…” happened last summer on July 4th 2021… well, kind of… but in a way none of us ever expected.

To read my story, his story and the crazy twist of events that happened more than 40 years after his untimely death, read my story below, that I wrote last fall!

Happy Birthday Gibby.

Thanks for reading, Stevie Rachelle
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Metal Sludge — Hello to all the faithful readers and fans of Metal Sludge, and those who have enjoyed my related music, writings and works.

Below is a true story about my Family… but more directly – it’s about my Brother, my Father and their unfortunate passing at a young age.

As some of you may know, the song “So Many Seasons” by Tuff is a song I wrote about both my Brother, and my Father.

Now many-many seasons after the fact, there is something related that has happened.

The events below start roughly 50 years ago and include everything from family deaths, a possible murder, a love triangle, scandal, drugs, alcoholism, abuse, arrests, adultery and someone’s Ancestry DNA results.

The story is long and detailed, and I won’t spend anymore time here, I will let you read it all below.

Thank you so much for all of your support and belief in what I do.

Now I will let you read, “What if… 42 years later”

Stevie Rachelle

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Hi everyone…

This story is going to take you on a crazy ride, one that started over 4 decades ago and then something mind bending happened this past summer.

You are not going to believe this (at first, I didn’t either) but it’s true!

Some of you may recall that I had an older Brother who passed away in 1978.

Gilbert Gerald Hanseter was born September 20th 1959, and died on October 12th 1978, just 3 weeks after he had turned 19.

For reference, the Tuff song “So Many Seasons” is a song I wrote about both – my Brother and my Father dying so young.

My Father also named Gilbert died May 31st 1974 after Cancer took his life at the age of 38.

He was born January 25th 1936, served in the Navy and Fathered 4 kids (Gilbert, Jeanne, Steven and Cindy) with our Mother (Christine) and he also had 2 daughters (Jody and Shannon) with a girl-friend named Bonnie.

In short, my Father cheated on my Mom, with Bonnie, who oddly was renting the apartment above our home.

Bonnie was 12 years younger than my Father, she in her early 20’s and he was in his mid 30’s.

It also turns out my Father had broken it off with Bonnie while she was pregnant with their 2nd child, and he was dating a new girl named Sally at the time of his death.

My Father was a bit of a lady’s man… and yes, I have no problem admitting the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to womanizing.

The difference is, I never went forward with any marriage vows and only had children with 1 woman, that I know of.

My Dad was a greaser in the 1950’s who smoked Lucky Strikes, drank Miller beer, gambled, loved the Brewers, the Packers (he was at the Ice Bowl) and yeah, he loved his women too.

My Mother divorced my Father for his cheating ways in the early 1970’s and she was left to raise us 4 kids, all of whom she had by the age of 26.

This was well before a lot of Father’s Rights were made law, and in short – we didn’t see much of our Father in his final years, and I very much resent that to this day!

From my knowledge, sometime around 1973 he got sick and was diagnosed with Cancer, it was already at stage 4 and by the spring of the following year he was dead.

38 years old and 6 kids from 2 women… that we knew of.

My Father was 1 of 7 children and his siblings; Ronnie, Russ, Susie, Mary, Gloria and Patty all lived on.

Ronnie was the oldest, and just passed away very recently, he was 89.

Mary too passed away in late 2019, she was 72.

After our Father’s death, I along with my older Brother (Gib or Gibby), older Sister (Jeanne-Ann) and younger Sister (Cindy) all grew up on West 10th Street on the South-Side of town.

We were poor, no two-ways about it.

Our Mom applied for food stamps, we drank powdered milk, ate government cheese and those black and white generic labeled canned goods filled our cupboards.

Anyone remember mixing tap water, with that powdered milk stuff?

Wow… this was the equivalent of paste soup… and over your breakfast cereal was not good.

I also remember standing in the lunch line at school and handing the lady that little colored ticket.

I was so ashamed, as the only kids who had these were those whose families were on welfare or simply put, were poor.

I would often keep that ticket deep in my pocket, and at the last possible second quickly hand it to her, and hope my friends didn’t see it.

But regardless of those challenges, we were always taken care of, dressed in mostly K-Mart brands and our house was spotless.

Our Mother always looked younger than her age, was a sharp dresser and most everyone thought she was pretty.

She was also a neat freak and that is an under-statement.

Our beds were to be made (military style) every morning before we even left our room for breakfast.

Every drawer, every single shirt was folded, underwear and socks included.

Our closets were the same, with all shirts and pants hung neatly and color coordinated from left to right, light colors to dark.

No questions, no exceptions.

She was very strict on certain things… with organization, doing chores and cleanliness being at the top of the list.

But again, we were always struggling financially.

My Mom worked, but it seemed she picked two different husbands who both seemed to drop the ball when it came to being providers for the family.

I have memories of our hot water being turned off for lack of payment, and her boiling water on the stove, to fill the tub.

We would then share the same luke-warm bath water, as there wasn’t enough time, water or money, to have all 4 kids taking separate baths.

In reality, our Mom was in her early 30’s, divorced with 4 kids and I am sure the pressures of life were enormous on her.

The 1970’s for me was watching the Packers (lose), Evil Knievel, walking to school, going to church, riding skateboards and oh yeah, our super lame Step-Dad Jack.

I hated church most of all, and at a very early age felt that our Pastor and some of the related religious festivities were, well… creepy.

My Mom met and remarried a guy named Jack at some point in or around the time our real Father died.

In a nutshell, Jack sucked as a Step-Dad.

He also sucked at being a provider, a good husband or even being sober for that matter.

A drunken asshole, who at some point I also learned was illiterate… yes… illiterate.

Here is a man in his mid 30’s that could not read or write.

Huh?

Exactly my thoughts…

Even as a 6 or 7 year old boy Jack to me was a joke, so imagine what his influence on, or impression was to my older teenage Brother.

Gibby was almost 7 years older than I, so in looking back, I understand how he was likely not thrilled about this Jack guy coming in and acting as the head of our household.

It wasn’t good, and I remember many family arguments involving my Brother at the age of 13 and 14 as he grew into a young man.

Simply put, he did not like Jack and vice versa.

Jack had and lost various jobs over the years but somehow was also an Auxiliary Policeman.

Yes, a uniformed, badge wearing, gun carrying Policeman, but could not read this sentence I just typed.

How in the hell does that happen?

And I won’t waste much more on him, but I recall many nights when he was drunk arguing with my Mother, and at times we’d hear: “I’ll get the gun” from him.

WTF…

At times our home was beyond dysfunctional, but I learned a lot from that dysfunction.

In 1976 my Brother (Gibby is 17) had dropped out of High School as he was failing badly, and for what it’s a worth, he was not a great student.

Add to that, it seems he was always in trouble.

Gibby also smoked cigarettes, and my guess is… was taking (or dealing in) Quaaludes, maybe acid, drinking and getting into trouble with the law.

All the juvenile delinquent type of stuff that you expect from the small town, Midwest troubled teenager from a broken home.

At some point there are more and more arguments between our Mom, Gibby and Jack, and eventually Gibby is kicked out of the house at age 17.

I am pretty sure my Mom was in agreement with this decision, but I feel like Jack was the one who forced the issue, and sent him packing as a juvenile.

In Oshkosh there was a place for troubled youth called The Place 2-B, operated by a local Pastor named Father Carr.

Father Carr would take in riff-raff off the street, troubled kids and guys who had been in and out of jail.

At some point my Brother was given some help, advice and direction by Father Carr and his establishment.

It’s now 1977, and my Brother turns 18 in September, which officially made him an adult.

At that time, you could also drink and go into bars at that age (18) in Wisconsin.

For me, my memories of my Brother were mostly between the ages of 5 and 10.

I mean, who remembers much from being 2 or 3 years old, not me.

By 1976 I was 10, and my brother was 16 turning 17 in the fall, and around this time he was kicked out of the house.

The handful of friends I do remember him hanging around with were Jim R., Dave R., a guy named Louie and Freddy M. who was a few years younger.

Around that same time, Gibby met a girl named Julie who was 15 and from the North-Side of town.

Ironically, Julie’s Father Tom Z., was a cop in the Oshkosh Police Department.

Her Father (from what I recall) knew of my Brother from being in trouble with the law, but to what extent I am not sure.

It was no secret that my Brother and most of his friends, were into some, shall we say illegal activities.

Gibby continues to get into trouble… which at some point becomes more alarming than booze or marijuana related.

A group of my Brother’s friends have a party, and there is an argument, and a fight breaks out… someone pulls a knife, someone is stabbed and the Police were called.

And this was not the first incident involving violence, there was a shooting and murder of one of Freddy’s older Brothers in 1977.

At the time this happened, Freddy was about 16 and Gibby was 18.

As for the stabbing – as things unraveled, it becomes clear, someone was at fault and others were witnesses to the assault.

My Brother was subpoenaed as one of the main witnesses and from what we knew, is that he was going to testify in court as to what he saw.

Something like: “Person X, stabbed Person Y” and so on.

Was my Brother a rat?

Say what you will…

… but I don’t follow any code, other than my own.

And if I saw someone stab or shoot my friend, I would tell too and I am guessing my Brother was going to do the same.

There was another incident involving my Brother, where he was arrested for burglary and during the arrest he assaulted a Police Officer.

As the old saying goes, he was a bad egg.

It’s now early 1978 and my Brother is still dating Julie who is in her freshman year at North High School.

He also started living in an apartment on Frankfort Street in Oshkosh.

As an adult at 18, lucky for him, all the stupid stuff he did as a juvenile was now behind him.

But at the same time when you become an adult at 18, anything you do illegally going forward… well, you also get charged like an adult.

Which means you will go to jail or prison, and not a juvenile detention center.

Later in the year on December 18th 1978, Gibby was scheduled to appear for the arrest involving the burglary and assault on the Officer.

I am not sure of the court date for the stabbing that he witnessed, but I know that was up coming as well.

My Brother was a smaller guy at 5″5″ and 145 lbs, and I know this because I still have his Wisconsin State Identification Card.

But like Salvatore “Sammy The Bull” Gravano of the Gambino crime family, who is also 5″5″ – regardless of height – my Brother too lived a very dangerous life.

It seems by the age of 18 he was already in much deeper than just committing local petty crimes.

There were talks of drug deals, burglaries, robberies and associates in bigger cities like Chicago.

He was a bad guy there is no denying it, but to me, he was just my older Brother who use to rough me up around the house.

I think it’s safe to say, a lot of little Brothers get their ass kicked by their older Brother at some point.

But when I was in 1st grade and he was in 8th, well… there is too much of an advantage there.

Gibby comes and goes from our home on 10th Street, occasionally stopping for dinner that my Mom cooked, and I recall them not getting along too well.

One day I hear him ask: “Mom, can you lend me 5 bucks?”

My Mom snaps back: “I ain’t got 5 bucks!” as she rants and raves at him.

He didn’t say much, looked sad and at some point left the house in his Gass shoes, Bell-Bottom jeans and a down ski-vest.

After he was gone, I asked my Mom: “Why are you so mean to Gibby?”

I recall her doing the dishes and ranting to me about him, so I just left the kitchen as she ranted some more.

Five bucks… doesn’t seem like much to an alleged drug dealer, but I was so young when all this happened, I didn’t have the capacity to understand it all.

I believe my Brother was a low-end guy on the street, who was just getting his feet wet into a life of crime, but clearly at some point he was getting in over his head.

By the time I turned 10 or 11, I had already learned a lot of lessons in life, especially from being poor and wanting for things beyond what was in our cupboards.

I also knew that breaking rules… be it at home, at school or on the streets, there were consequences for that too.

I will admit that there were incidents with my Brother at home, that included some questionable behavior.

I loved watching All-Star Wrestling, and it was he who introduced me to the Crusher, Baron von Rashcke and Andre the Giant.

But at some point he acted out much of what we both saw, using me as his opponent.

When I was 6, he was 13, so you get the idea.

Off the top of the couch, he would bomb drop onto me as I lay on the floor unaware it was coming.

I also recall being thrown repeatedly against our backyard fence as he narrated the moves out-loud: “Into the ropes he goes” as I cried the entire time.

I guess it’s not far-fetched to say that he bullied us, all of us, but being the only other boy I got more of the physical abuse than my little Sister.

I also recall my older Sister Jeanne making us dinner while our Mom was at work, and he got upset about something and spit into the food on the table.

There were other incidents as well, and they were even more disturbing.

Regardless if Jack was a shitty Step-Dad or our Mom was strict, there were things that Gibby did that were not okay with 3 other kids in the house, so he was kicked out.

It’s now the fall of 1978, it’s early October and I come home from school one day and my St. Louis Cardinals football helmet is gone.

I had a Packers helmet too, but I really liked the Cardinals as well and had both.

Shortly after getting home from school Gibby comes in the house and says, “Let’s go to the mall… I want to buy you a birthday present.”

I obliged and was excited… but didn’t give much thought to the fact that my birthday was March 2nd, and it’s now October.

We go to the Park Plaza Mall, which is a small little mall in Oshkosh that opened in 1970 and had all the typical chain stores.

He took me to Athlete’s Foot, and offered to buy me leather Nike tennis shoes, but I wanted suede Addidas instead.

He also paid to have a cage (mask) put on the front of my football helmet, and even let me pick out a jersey.

Just for perspective, to show you how brazen, bold and troubled he was… he tried to steal (rob) money from a bank with me, while at the mall.

I vividly recall him taking me into this small bank branch inside the mall, and we approach the front counter.

It’s an old 70’s fashion big wooden counter, and Gibby is talking to the bank-teller asking her for something specific.

She then leaves the front area, and goes to the back of the bank.

While she is gone, Gibby is now reaching over the counter, lunging forward and trying to access the money drawer.

I am only 12 at the time but also realize this is not right and think to myself: “What is he doing?”

He never could reach the drawer and soon the lady reappears and they chat some more, he thanks her and we leave.

I don’t know, maybe he couldn’t reach because he was too short, as I noted above – he was only 5’5”.

Of course this is 1978, so few if any banks or establishments had video cameras and most mall mini-branches only have a few staff working.

So yeah, my older Brother was trying to steal money from a bank with his little Brother next to him holding a football helmet.

We leave the mall and walk the 1.4 miles home to the house on 10th Street.

Yes, I googled it.

We’re now home with my new Adidas tennis-shoes, my Cardinals jersey and he tells me, “I am coming for dinner next Wednesday, we’ll throw the football around.”

When he leaves he also handed me a birthday card.

The card had a rabbit on the front, with signs pointing every which way and the writing read: “Sorry I missed your Birthday, But these days — I don’t know whether I am coming or going!”

Inside he wrote: “Sorry late, but what the Hell… Love and Remember, Gib.”

This was the first time that I recall him giving me any type of gift or card.

This would also be the last time I ever saw or talked with him.

The next week comes and I tell my friend Mike from school that he should come over after school on Wednesday so we can play catch with my brother.

We both attended South Park Middle School.

On that day, October 11th,  Mike and I get our football gear on after school and we’re in the backyard playing catch.

I am dressed in Cardinals stuff, and Mike in his Packers’ uniform, we are running around the yard and soon 4pm, turns to 5pm and my Brother never shows up.

It’s a beautiful fall day with leaves falling down like rain.

Mike eventually goes home and now I am in the backyard alone throwing the ball up as high as I can and catching it, until my Mom calls me.

“Steven… time for dinner…” and I rush into the house.

The table is set for 6 people; Mom, Jack, Jeanne, Cindy, me and Gibby… whom was invited over for dinner that day but never showed.

I recall eating and my Mom saying that it’s unlike him to not show up for a hot meal.

The next day is Thursday October 12th and I wake up and go to school like any other day.

Friday the same, and after getting home I am excited as I am going to the YMCA dance that night.

In the late 1970’s, they had the Y-Dance every Friday in the fall and winter and a lot of kids would go.

The weekly Y-Dance was my first experience meeting new people in a party like setting.

One of my earliest memories was asking a girl named Mary to dance with me when “You Light Up My Life” came on and she said yes.

It was also my first time making-out and I thought my head was going to explode!

It’s now about 6:30pm and I was finishing up taking a bath… we didn’t have a shower in our home, just an old school style bathtub.

I am standing in a towel now, drying off and combing my styled (feathered) hair and already had laid out what I was going to wear that night.

Then I heard a loud shriek or scream coming from the living room… and thought to myself: “What was that?”

I open the bathroom door and my little Sister Cindy is standing there.

“Gibby is dead.”

Her big brown eyes filled with question and sadness… my reaction was: “What?”

She repeated herself; “Gibby is dead.”

I walk into the living room and see 2 men in trench coats with mustaches standing there talking to my Mom.

Our Mom is hysterical.

She is crying and tears are running down her face as my little Sister and I sit on the edge of the couch listening to the two men talk to her.

I walk into the kitchen and Jack is on the phone with my Grandpa Mathe (My Mom’s Father) and is telling him the news.

Jack is also crying and hangs up the phone… and I couldn’t help but think: “Jack is crying, because he probably feels some form of guilt.”

Jack and my Brother did not mesh well, and Gibby wasn’t taking any of Jack’s shit, so to solve that, Gibby was kicked out on the street, as a juvenile to boot.

Well, it’s Friday the 13th, and the Winnebago Country Coroner Michael Stelter and an Oshkosh PD Detective have just left our house after informing our family, that Gilbert Hanseter is dead.

His body was found in downtown Oshkosh, early in the afternoon in a stair-well behind Brooklyn’s Walk Over Shoe Store on Main Street.

My Brother’s death was always considered suspicious, but never solved.

And over the years, the case had been reopened a few times.

It made the front page of the local Oshkosh Northwestern News Paper again in 1992, but nothing ever came of it.

As I grew older, I learned more, but not much as I had moved away to California by 1987 and never returned to Oshkosh beyond vacationing or visiting.

Every once in a while someone pops into my social media inboxes and tells me some crazy stuff like, “I knew your brother Gib” and “I think I know who was involved in his death” etc..

There are a handful of names that are always being mentioned when Gibby’s death is talked about, from his friends (or enemies) and even the local (at the time) Coroner was somewhat accusatory.

Later in life I heard less than stellar things about the County Coroner too.

Correct, Michael Stelter was the Winnebago County Coroner I named above and was 1 of the 2 men who came to the house to inform my Mother her Son was dead back on October 13th 1978.

A quick google search will show you that Stelter was convicted in the early 1990’s, after serving as the Winnebago Country Coroner for almost 15 years…. and … he was convicted of “signing illegal death certificates and cremations.” 

An article in the local Wisconsin Journal Times quotes: “Stelter, 38, who was defeated in a 1990 re-election attempt after 14 years in office, pleaded no contest Friday to illegally authorizing cremations, obstructing an officer and failing to report a suspicious death to the district attorney’s office.”

The article goes onto read: “The criminal complaint filed against Stelter accused him of also giving pre-signed cremation and embalming forms funeral homes in Winnebago, Outagamie and Fond du Lac counties. It said he did not always view corpses or make personal inquiries into “the cause and manner of death.”

In short… the Winnebago County Coroner at the time of my Brother’s death was Stelter.

And Stelter, had a history of failing to report on suspicious deaths and at times, seemed to be involved in, accused and convicted of illegal procedures over his time as Coroner.

Oshkosh is not a huge or even big city with a population of right around 50,000 people at the time, and it was not a common occurrence to find dead teenagers on Main Street.

Yet in the end, nothing was ever found out, or confirmed as to how my Brother suspiciously died just 22 days after his 19th birthday.

Add to this, my Brother was absolutely a known person to the local Oshkosh Police Department, and don’t forget as mentioned above – was subpoenaed and about to testify in a local trial – as to whom stabbed who in that brawl amongst the young men in his circle of friends.

He was also scheduled in a separate court case, to appear in December of 1978 for the burglary and battery on an Officer charges.

My Grandfather on my Mother’s side, Gerald T. Mathe who passed away in April of 1994, had reportedly told family members previous to my Brother’s death, that Gibby had come to his home and told him he was scared.

My Grandpa, for what it’s worth, kind of wrote it off and knew Gibby was in trouble, but also told him to do the right thing, and try to stay out of hot water.

Of course I am sure Grandpa never envisioned his Grandson would be dead a few weeks later.

This would be the second such death of a Grandson in less than a year’s time.

In November of 1977, my Mother’s Brother Jim and wife Pat, lost their Son Mark at the age of 17 in a drinking and driving accident over near our home on the South-Side.

I can recall Gibby being at Mark’s funeral, and he was crying…

Mark was our first cousin.

I can also vividly recall seeing him weeping out loud and I asked my Great Grandma Mathe (My Mother’s Grandma) “Why is he crying?”

My Great Grandma just kind of looked at me with a blank stare.

She was already in her 80s at the time and she knew why, but couldn’t bring herself to explain anymore.

Of course, it seems obvious as to why, but I was an 11 year old kid in 1977 and just coming of age.

Fast forward 11 months later, now we were all at Gibby’s funeral and there was more crying.

I can still see my Brother’s face, and him laying in that open casket.

I can also recall the last time they closed the casket cover, and watching my Mom break down.

She cried out loud as she wrapped her arms over the top of his casket: “He wasn’t that bad…”

My Grandpa holding onto her and trying to console her.

Seeing my Mom like this just destroyed me inside.

Regardless of how bad of a kid he was, or in trouble with the law, I cannot for the life of me imagine what it’s like for a parent to bury their child.

There were 2 teenage boys, 17 and 19, whom died 11 months apart in our immediate family… not easy for the parents, grand-parents or us siblings to say the least.

To say this is a brutal memory is a beyond an understatement.

I have always wondered, and wondered often…

What if… my Brother had never been killed.

What if… my Father had never got Cancer, and died so young.

What if… and how might have my life been different as I grew up and grew older.

But there is no ‘What if’ here, they both died, and they’ve been gone for decades.

So, life must go on… right?

The 1980’s arrive…

I was now in High School, discovering rock n’ roll, watching MTV, trying to solve the Rubik’s cube, more skateboarding and many more girls.

In March of 1984 I turned 18, in June I graduated High School (barely) and by August I moved into my first apartment.

But by the time winter hit, with sub-zero temperatures, I was over it.

In early January 1985 I flew 1-way with my High School friend Kevin to Orlando Florida.

We both wanted a change of pace, and to leave Oshkosh and the cold weather of Wisconsin behind.

I also felt like I was leaving some bad juju behind as well.

Florida was fun and I skateboarded daily at Ron Jon’s Surf Shop in Cocoa beach.

I worked at a Mister Donut during the day and along with Kevin, we both worked at the Jubilation night-club as janitors after hours.

Oh yea, and I screwed a cashier girl who worked at the Winn-Dixie grocery store a few times too.

However, by spring time I was back in Wisconsin when the weather cleared and I became more obsessed than ever with being in a rock band.

I spent the next few years playing in local bar bands, the first was called X-iter and then Talon.

In June of 1987 I move to California to audition for some Hollywood band called Tuff.

I flew from Chicago Midway Airport, 1-way to LaX for $106.00 and my friend Pam from Milwaukee said I could sleep on her couch (in Van Nuys) once I arrived.

I had no audition set up, and never even spoke to anyone in the band, but knew they were looking for a singer.

So, I quit both of my jobs and gave them no notice.

At this time I was working at Warehouse Foods as a over-night stock boy and was also building beds at Waterbed Factory during the day.

I also moved out of the “room-for-rent” apartment I was living in.

This was a Three’s Company situation, 2 girls and me, 1 was cute, the other was, well… a mess.

Anyway…

So I spent the weekend of June 20th and 21st (1987) moving all my belongings back into that house on 10th Street where I grew up.

I loaded all of my stuff into the basement and permanently parked my green Ford LTD at the end of the driveway.

On Thursday June 25th my friend Sam drove me, my 1 suitcase and the $140 in cash I had to my name, to the Midway airport in Chicago.

It was 190.4 miles (yes, I googled that too) and it was just over a 3 hour ride.

You can read more about all of those details in the Tuff Diaries > HERE

Well… we know what happened with that… and then the 90’s came and went… and then into the early 2000’s.

Soon enough I was having kids of my own.

Our daughter Cerasela was born in January 2004 and our son Steven in March of 2005.

Our son’s middle name is Gilbert Laurentiu… my Brother and Father’s first name, along with his Romanian Mother’s Father’s name as well.

Moving along….

Fast forward another 15 years or so… and 2020 brought the world this ugly pandemic.

What could 2021 have in store… well, hopefully whatever it is, it’s going to be better than last year.

Scroll down below these images, to read what happens next…

“What If… 42 Years Later” – Part 2

So it’s Sunday morning July 4th 2021…

I am lying in bed and open my Facebook messenger. 

I received 2 messages that morning from strangers in my filtered folder.

This is that little section where a lot of messages sent from people who are currently not your friends on Facebook (or similar social platforms) end up… in short, it’s like a spam folder.

The first is from a woman named Barb and the other from a woman named Julie. 

Barb writes something along the lines of: “Hi, this is a picture of Gib’s daughter… I gave her up for adoption… sorry if I am overstepping any boundaries, but she did a DNA thingy, and your family name is coming up!”

I am kind of baffled, and not sure what’s what, as part of the message had a typo or two and I am trying to decipher the gist of her message. 

The second message is from Julie, and in short says: “Hi Stevie! I won’t lie, my message may seem kind of wild, but please take the time to read. I know you don’t know me, but I believe we may be related and you could hold information regarding my Father.  I was adopted in 1978. Based on DNA information and various other (info)… I believe you could have known my Father.  I would love to hear back from you!”

Hmm… this is odd but the year jumped off the page, along with the previous message from Barb mentioning my Brother’s name Gib.

As I noted earlier, he passed away in October of 1978.

I reply to both and ask for their phone numbers.

I call Barb first… and so it begins.

Barb tells me: “I use to date your Brother Gib, and I got pregnant in early 1978.” 

She also admits there was some fooling around with one of my Brother’s friends, but for what it’s worth, it wasn’t totally consensual with the other guy. 

Barb is now telling me about my Brother and naming all of his buddies he use to associate with. 

I inquiry about someone named Jim R., and she confirms “Yes” she knows him and oddly she is friends with this person on FB.

I check her friends list and sure as shit, there he is. 

She also mentions Freddy M., Dave R. and a few other names that sound familiar as well.

Barb goes on to tell me she was just 15 when dating my Brother who was 18 at the time. 

She also admitted she wasn’t 100% sure (at the time) as to whom she was pregnant from, but felt more than likely it was Gib’s child. 

Based off of her story, and what she is telling me, all of this does make sense and certain dates, times and events, all seem to line up.

I ask other questions, and she answers with what I would consider to be accurate information and other details related to my Brother, his friends and more.

Also remember, I was 12 when my Brother was killed, and that was over four decades ago, so not everything is crystal clear.

I talk to Barb for about an hour and then call the other woman named Julie.

I am now on the phone with Julie, who tells me her story as best she can, from what she knows about her birth parents.

Julie tells me she was born in early November of 1978 and was adopted from Oshkosh Wisconsin.

The family that adopted her lived in Green Bay, where she grew up, attended High School and eventually went onto attend St. Norbert College in DePere, which is a suburb to Green Bay.

At some point in the late 1990’s, Julie says her birth Mother (Barb) had reached out to her through her family and at some point they all met.

Barb at this point would have been about 34 or 35, while Julie was 18 or 19.

Julie’s family included 2 others, a boy and a girl, with her making 3 children, all of whom were adopted.

There was a meeting, some phone calls and general information exchanged about who, what, where, why, when and how.

Both Barb and Julie agree that it was known, that Julie’s birth Father had passed away years earlier.

But it seemed like most other information about her birth Father was left unsaid, or not discussed.

Julie at the time (late 1990’s) is right out of High School and starting life as an adult.

By all that I have learned, it seems she had a good up-bringing and meeting her birth Mother (Barb) was all good… no drama, no “But why?” questions, and everyone went on with life.

They kept in contact here and there over the years, but not on a daily or weekly basis from what I was told.

Now it’s almost another two decades later and Julie is married, a Mother of 2 kids and thinking a bit more like we all do as we get older.

At some point, she decides to get a DNA test.

Of course Julie knows she is adopted, and has met her birth Mother (Barb) and was told that her birth Father had passed away.

But… like a lot of us, we all have questions and so did she.

It’s now early 2015… roughly February and she decides to take one of these now widely available tests courtesy of Ancestry.

Sign up online, they send you a kit, you spit in a tube, mail it back and a month or so later – you get the results.

In March 2015 her results come back, and she has several matches to various people living in the state of Wisconsin.

Julie has since moved away and now lived in Indiana for several years, but her adoptive family was all still back in Wisconsin.

Of course her DNA won’t match to her adoptive family members, but obviously would match to whoever her birth parents are or their relatives.

Julie sees several matches on her DNA results, but does not recognize most of their names.

She reaches out to her birth Mother (Barb) who at this point was living in Florida, and inquires about the names.

It seems her and her birth Mother talk a bit more about what she finds with this DNA stuff.

On March 12th 2015 Barb messages me through 1 of my 2 Stevie Rachelle Facebook accounts.

However, I never saw that message.

These messages like some others, went into that (spam) filter folder.

I discovered these folder years ago, but rarely check it as most of it is usually junk mail.

There has been a time or two when I found myself surfing online, and like Facebook or some other social media platforms – I end up in one of these folders and it’s all mostly garbage.

Stuff like, “Do you want to make $1,500.00 a day while sitting at home” type of messages.

Either way, I ended up in this folder again on the morning of July 4th 2021 and just by chance saw these (newer) messages and now I am talking to these 2 women.

Also, to note, I say newer, as this was the 2nd time Barb had messaged me, but the first time that Julie had reached out.

Not exactly sure what prompted Julie to ask (her birth Mom, Barb) more questions, but she did.

During our phone chat, Barb told me that today (July 4th 2021) was the first time that she mentioned Gib Hanseter by name, to her birth Daughter.

And Julie admits the same… that this was the first time she had ever heard that a man named Gib Hanseter might very likely be her Father.

You see what happened is the following… at least from what I have now learned from Barb.

In late 1977 Barb was a freshman at North High School in Oshkosh and ironically, so was another teenage girl named Julie.

Not to be confused, with the Julie I am talking to in Indiana, that Julie is Barb’s Daughter  who wasn’t even born yet in 1977.

So going forward here, I will refer to Julie Z. as my Brother’s girlfriend and Julie W., as the adopted baby from 1978.

Anyway…

So my Brother Gib was dating Julie Z. from 1977 into 1978 until his death, and this was his girlfriend for lack of a better description.

My Brother Gib was also screwing around with Barb on the side.

I guess my Brother, was like my Father, and for what it’s worth, I am like both of them.

Just being honest here…

And for the record, to this day… I have never been married and have no plans to be.

Back to 1977…

Barb told me, “I was the side-girl” in her own words, and it seems she knew she wasn’t the only one.

But let’s be real here, these were teenage kids in the late 1970’s, so we get it.

So Gib is 18 in the fall of 1977, and both of these girls were 15.

In early 1978, Barb gets pregnant, but admits she didn’t know she was, until the summer of 1978.

Barb says she was very thin, and it didn’t really show until she was almost 6 months along (July – August) that summer.

Ironically, Barb and Julie Z. both knew of each other during their freshman year but were not friends.

Now the fall is here, and it’s late September 1978, and my Brother turned 19 on September 20th.

He comes to visit me in early October, and buys me that football gear and gives me a birthday card.

Around this same time, he tells my Grandpa Mathe that he was scared, as he was going to have to testify in court over a fight and stabbing that injured one of his friends.

Barb who is 15 at the time, is talking with Gib more seriously, and detailing to him, her being pregnant and the concerns about that.

Barb also tells me that Gib was aware, there was an incident involving his friend Freddy, who allegedly also fooled around with Barb at a party one night, but Barb said she did not consent to it.

In short, Barb alleges Freddy raped her and even went to the Oshkosh Police to file a report, but later dropped it and didn’t follow through on the charges.

According to Barb, my Brother was not happy with his buddy Freddy, and apparently he and Freddy were arguing over this (underage) girl being pregnant, and who was to blame.

Barb then tells me that Gib was suppose to come see her after school one day in early October (1978) to talk more about their situation, but he never showed up.

Oddly, he never showed up to play football with me either and missed our family dinner that same week on October 11th.

Now the tragic events of October 12th happen and our family is informed of my Brother’s death the following day, on Friday October 13th 1978.

Gilbert Hanseter is dead, at 19 years of age under very suspicious circumstances.

Our family has a funeral and it’s a horrible memory to say the least.

In addition to all family and friends, Gib’s girlfriend Julie Z. is also at the funeral with her family for support.

Including her Father Tom Z., who was that local Oshkosh Policeman I mentioned earlier.

In early November 1978, Barb gives birth to a baby Daughter.

Less than a month after my Brother’s death.

And a few weeks later, Barb turns 16 in late November.

Her and her family decide to put the baby up for adoption as Barb is too young to be a single Mother.

As Barb and her family were likely struggling through a hard time, it was likely even more complex that the young man, whom she was dating and likely pregnant from, was also just killed.

At the same time, Julie Z., who was my Brother’s girlfriend, and had turned 16 in July of that summer, was devastated that her boyfriend was now dead.

Just to keep everyone informed here…

Both girls went to the same High School, were both now in their sophomore years, and both had a relationship with my Brother, Gib Hanseter.

However, neither knew the other was dating or involved with him.

After speaking to Barb, and Julie W. the daughter, I also called Julie Z. my Brother’s girlfriend at the time of his death, and informed her of this crazy news.

Julie Z. who was from Oshkosh, but now lives in Green Bay, was flooded with emotions, and was genuinely extremely happy to hear this.

Regardless of the fact that the guy she was dating and in love with at 16 years of age, had obviously been screwing around behind her back – she was ecstatic that Gib has somehow lived on in the world.

It’s been more than 42 years, and now thanks to Ancestry DNA testing, our family has come to learn, that we have a new member.

Actually in reality, we have 3 new members.

I myself along with my Sisters have all gained a niece and my Mother a Grandchild from her late Son, but also, Julie W. is a Mother too, so in turn, this makes my Mother a Great-Grandmother to her 2 kids.

And if that all isn’t mind boggling enough, it was even more crazy when we learned that Gib’s only Daughter, when adopted, was named Julie Ann W. by the adopting parents, whom named her without ever knowing, that his girlfriend at the time of his death, was actually named Julie Ann Z. as well.

I know I am long winded, and this story has so many twists and turns… but thank you for bearing with me.

In the end, I and all of my relatives and family, are thrilled to know that my Brother who has been gone since October 12th of 1978, has somehow lived on with a Child, and 2 Grand-kids that we have only just recently learned of.

His birthday, is September 20th which has just passed, and Gilbert Gerald Hanseter would have turned 62 years old in 2021.

But sadly at the same time, on October 12th 2021, we will remember his death from 43 years earlier.

I am not sure that my Brother’s death will ever be completely understood by our family, or what we perceived as a crime (murder) to be solved, but we’re over the moon with excitement that somehow, Gilbert Hanseter has lived on with his Daughter and Grand-kids.

He’s not here to celebrate her, but his Daughter Julie W., and his 2 Grand-kids are, and we as a family are here the same and we could not be happier.

All of us including Julie W’s birth Mother Barb, Gib’s girlfriend Julie Z. and all of those somehow intertwined are happy to report this amazing news.

Thank you for reading, and just a few final notes, since learning of this, I too, along with my Mother, have taken an Ancestry DNA match test.

And guess who is our #1 match across the board… Julie W., my Brother’s Daughter.

Celebrate life, you only have one, and if someone has left you, celebrate for them, no one lives forever, but if you are reading this now, you are still here… so am I, and what a great day it is to be alive.

Stevie Rachelle

“So Many Seasons”

Seasons changing leaves like rain, are falling down
Last week just passed me by you never, came to town (Whoa, oh)
Mom said, it was strange, now I don’t know what to do, yeah
Sitting in the wind, I’m all alone, I’m waiting

It’s been So Many Seasons
You can’t go without reason

Dad’s left me and now you’re leaving, it can’t be true
So many years so little time, was spent with you (Whoa, oh)
Mom said, you’d be proud, now I wish we could make that true, yeah
Singing this song, I’m praying real hard, maybe, I’ll get through

It’s been So Many Seasons (Whoa-yeah-yeah)
You can’t go without reason (Whoa-whoa-yeah)
It’s been So Many Seasons, Seasons, Seasons
Seasons, changing all around you (Ah, ah, ah)

-Solo-

Mom said (Mom said) it was strange now I don’t know what to do, yeah.
Singing this song I’m praying real hard maybe, I’ll get through, I’ll get through, for you (Whoa, oh)

It’s been So Many Seasons
It’s been So Many Seasons
You can’t go with reason (Whoa-whoa-yeah)
It’s been So Many Seasons (Whoa-whoa-yeah)
It’s been so long, you can’t go with reason.

Music & Lyrics By: Stevie Rachelle & Tuff