Austin Johnson
The Life of Mary Anne Bell
My name is Mary Anne Bell and here is my story. I was born on April 17, 1951 in the small town of University Heights, Ohio. When I was growing up it had a population of around 16,500 people, and today it has a population of 14,000people. In this small town is where I met the future love of my life, Mark Fossie. Mark had such a vibrant personality and was definitely a people person. We hit it off as soon as we met in the gymnasium at Roxboro Middle School. We dated all throughout middle school and high school. I was deeply saddened when I learned Mark had to go off to Vietnam but I always knew that I would see him again in one way or another. I was ecstatic when I found out that Mark would fly me out to Vietnam but I do vaguely remember having a bad feeling about the upcoming trip.
I don’t remember the first couple of months in Vietnam. They were all this one big blur of passion and rage. Even though The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien is fiction, the chapter entitled The “Sweetheart of Song Tra Bong”, from my knowledge, is entirely true. The day I left camp is the first day of me really and truly living life. During the first couple of weeks after leaving the camp, I was plagued by the sadness of leaving Mark behind, but I knew deep down he never would have understood why I ever left the camp. I traveled very slowly through the thick and hostile jungle because I had very little experience with jungle exploration. I would say I walked approximately 2.5 miles a day for the first three weeks. After three weeks of relentless walking and exploration, I stumbled upon the people known as the Người Brâu. They were a very unique tribe of peopleabout 50 miles from the Tra Bong River. Their population, from my estimates, was about 130 working males, 120 working females, and 45 non-working females who cared for the children. There was just something about the way they lived their lives that just stuck with me. I decided to live with them for about 3 ½ years and let me tell you it was some of the best years of my life. Every single day I would get up and try my best to help the children in the village. For my work I was taught their language and I was fed every night by the tribal leader and his family.
After 3 ½ years of staying in this village, I got the urge to movie on with my life. I then made it my mission to move to the future capital of Hanoi. Over the span of 8 months, I hitchhiked all the way from that small village in Southern Vietnam to the future capital of Hanoi. I was treated like royalty in every person’s car that I entered because of my close connection to that chief of the small village in Southern Vietnam. The chief had been a war hero during the CommunistUprising in the mid-1960’s, which granted him much respect throughout the country. By just saying that I was a respected guest of this man, I could get anywhere I wanted to. Even though I could get anywhere I wanted, It still took me 8 long months of slowly but surely getting through all the unpaved and muddy roads of Vietnam that lead right up to Hanoi.
Once I was in the Hanoi, I started to mix and mingle with the rich and famous oligarchs of post-war Vietnam. For a long time nothing came out of this lifestyle other than a place to live , but then my life changed forever when I met a man by the name of Nguyễn Đăng Quang. He was the banking protégé of TanatePhutrakul. We hit it off right from the start; this was the first time in 4 years that I had felt such a strong connection to another person. We dated for about a year than we got married in a traditional Vietnamese wedding.
We were married for a time around 5 years before the cracks started to show. I was the one who had become lustful for violence once again. The urge I felt was the same urge that pushed me to do the things back at the base on the Tra Bong River. After weeks upon weeks of feeling that urge, I acted on it. I’ll spare you the details but all you have to know is that my husband is dead. They couldn’t figure out it was me. They thought it was a mugging gone wrong. Well they couldn’t figure it out for sometime around 7-8 years, until the fateful day of April 17, 1986. It was my 35th birthday and I remember it like it was yesterday. They knocked on our manor’s door at 12:33 p.m. and handcuffed me there on the spot and said “Ma’am you’re under arrest for the murder of Nguyễn Đăng Quang”. I was taken to jail and had a speedy trial that only 2 days. I was found guilty of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. Without that fateful day, you would’ve never heard of Mary Anne Bell again. After my imprisonment, the US government payed the Vietnamese government the equivalent of 1Billion USD to release me from my sentence and to extradite me to the USA.
Once I returned to the US, I was used as an informant for the Central Intelligence Agency. They settled me back down in my hometown of University Heights, Ohio. Which is where is I write this today. I met back up with Mark Fossie in 1990. We hit it back off; it was like we’ve never been apart. We were married on the January 12, 1997 on a beach on the Island of Moloka’i. We lived happily married until Mark’s death in October 14, 2003. He died of complications from undiscovered Multiple Myloma caused by Agent Orange. As of November 1st, 2007, I’m 56 years old and healthy and I live by myself. As a friendly reminder, always remain true to where you came and how you were raised.
The Life of Mary Anne Bell
My name is Mary Anne Bell and here is my story. I was born on April 17, 1951 in the small town of University Heights, Ohio. When I was growing up it had a population of around 16,500 people, and today it has a population of 14,000people. In this small town is where I met the future love of my life, Mark Fossie. Mark had such a vibrant personality and was definitely a people person. We hit it off as soon as we met in the gymnasium at Roxboro Middle School. We dated all throughout middle school and high school. I was deeply saddened when I learned Mark had to go off to Vietnam but I always knew that I would see him again in one way or another. I was ecstatic when I found out that Mark would fly me out to Vietnam but I do vaguely remember having a bad feeling about the upcoming trip.
I don’t remember the first couple of months in Vietnam. They were all this one big blur of passion and rage. Even though The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien is fiction, the chapter entitled The “Sweetheart of Song Tra Bong”, from my knowledge, is entirely true. The day I left camp is the first day of me really and truly living life. During the first couple of weeks after leaving the camp, I was plagued by the sadness of leaving Mark behind, but I knew deep down he never would have understood why I ever left the camp. I traveled very slowly through the thick and hostile jungle because I had very little experience with jungle exploration. I would say I walked approximately 2.5 miles a day for the first three weeks. After three weeks of relentless walking and exploration, I stumbled upon the people known as the Người Brâu. They were a very unique tribe of peopleabout 50 miles from the Tra Bong River. Their population, from my estimates, was about 130 working males, 120 working females, and 45 non-working females who cared for the children. There was just something about the way they lived their lives that just stuck with me. I decided to live with them for about 3 ½ years and let me tell you it was some of the best years of my life. Every single day I would get up and try my best to help the children in the village. For my work I was taught their language and I was fed every night by the tribal leader and his family.
After 3 ½ years of staying in this village, I got the urge to movie on with my life. I then made it my mission to move to the future capital of Hanoi. Over the span of 8 months, I hitchhiked all the way from that small village in Southern Vietnam to the future capital of Hanoi. I was treated like royalty in every person’s car that I entered because of my close connection to that chief of the small village in Southern Vietnam. The chief had been a war hero during the CommunistUprising in the mid-1960’s, which granted him much respect throughout the country. By just saying that I was a respected guest of this man, I could get anywhere I wanted to. Even though I could get anywhere I wanted, It still took me 8 long months of slowly but surely getting through all the unpaved and muddy roads of Vietnam that lead right up to Hanoi.
Once I was in the Hanoi, I started to mix and mingle with the rich and famous oligarchs of post-war Vietnam. For a long time nothing came out of this lifestyle other than a place to live , but then my life changed forever when I met a man by the name of Nguyễn Đăng Quang. He was the banking protégé of TanatePhutrakul. We hit it off right from the start; this was the first time in 4 years that I had felt such a strong connection to another person. We dated for about a year than we got married in a traditional Vietnamese wedding.
We were married for a time around 5 years before the cracks started to show. I was the one who had become lustful for violence once again. The urge I felt was the same urge that pushed me to do the things back at the base on the Tra Bong River. After weeks upon weeks of feeling that urge, I acted on it. I’ll spare you the details but all you have to know is that my husband is dead. They couldn’t figure out it was me. They thought it was a mugging gone wrong. Well they couldn’t figure it out for sometime around 7-8 years, until the fateful day of April 17, 1986. It was my 35th birthday and I remember it like it was yesterday. They knocked on our manor’s door at 12:33 p.m. and handcuffed me there on the spot and said “Ma’am you’re under arrest for the murder of Nguyễn Đăng Quang”. I was taken to jail and had a speedy trial that only 2 days. I was found guilty of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. Without that fateful day, you would’ve never heard of Mary Anne Bell again. After my imprisonment, the US government payed the Vietnamese government the equivalent of 1Billion USD to release me from my sentence and to extradite me to the USA.
Once I returned to the US, I was used as an informant for the Central Intelligence Agency. They settled me back down in my hometown of University Heights, Ohio. Which is where is I write this today. I met back up with Mark Fossie in 1990. We hit it back off; it was like we’ve never been apart. We were married on the January 12, 1997 on a beach on the Island of Moloka’i. We lived happily married until Mark’s death in October 14, 2003. He died of complications from undiscovered Multiple Myloma caused by Agent Orange. As of November 1st, 2007, I’m 56 years old and healthy and I live by myself. As a friendly reminder, always remain true to where you came and how you were raised.