Floragatan.3

In 1983 our son Olle Högbom disappeared without a trace. Still to this day there has not been an explanation to what happened. Below I want to state the facts that I have collected during the research made by us, Olle’s family, and by the Swedish police.

Sunday December 30, 2012

Tragedy or Trifling matter

Olle wants to go home, but first he wants to find his buddy Acksell. He went downtown while Olle was talking to Nilsson, a young diver. The five or six schoolmates he came with from the apartment continue to the Pub. Olle is waiting at the railroad crossing on Floragatan street, since he is expecting Acksel to come sooner or later as this is the main passage over the railroad.

So, Olle sits down by the road leaning against a fence waiting. I can visualize my son, en experienced woodman, is sitting right on the ground, making sure he has back support.

Nobody knows how long he was sitting there, but most likely his rest became quite short. From further down the Floragatan street, by the church loud voices are heard, words of commands, screams and racing car engines. Cars are rushing up the Floragatan in wild speed, civilian vehicles leaving an odour of hot tires and burnt oil. After comes a police car with the siren on and flashing lights at top speed.

Maybe it was not like this at all. Maybe just a single car slowly driving up the Floragatan street, or else an occasional police car cruising around the block.

We do not know what really happened there on the Floragatan. And those who know won’t tell. But the curious young man from the country is eager to find out what is going on near the church and starts walking down the street. He walks one block to the crossing at the corner of the Gym.

There! A police car coming in the opposite direction steps on the brakes making traces in the tarmac photographed and registered as Journal number H 43:5.

Two policemen jump out of the car, press the tall boy dressed in dark clothes against the side of the car and grunt: “Now, we got you! You ran away, but didn’t get very far. That’s what happens when we are on the lookout! So, what’s your name?” Olle is petrified. He has a speech impediment, he stutters, and at this point his faculty of speech is totally blocked.

“Oh, you are too drunk to speak, are you! But, we’ll help you!”

Now something is happening which several fortune tellers, whom we have contacted or who have contacted us have said:  Olle is hit by a truncheon against his neck and head and he cries out loud: “Ouch, ouch!”

A lady living in the caretaker’s apartment hears noises, thuds and banging car doors. She reports her observation but her testimony is considered of lesser value; the witness being an older person.

What actually took place on Floragatan and on the asphalt area in front of the house is wrapped in mystery to say the least. Very likely Olle is being thrashed violently and his eyeglasses, designed for orienteering with frames fitted around the ears, are knocked off.

The bicycle key was found on the grass strip outside the asphalt square. How did he lose it? Maybe when unconscious and beaten he is dragged into a (police) car. Fortune tellers have contacted us and said that Olle is throwing up in the car. The policemen go into a rage and give him more thrashing and he chokes to death in his own vomit.

Now there is a problem…where to find a place to dump the body.

I have scanned the area and found many possible places to get rid of a body; Perhaps the road construction area west of Stavreviken, perhaps the bridge at Nedansjö, perhaps the brook Armsjöån, perhaps a desolated cape or a beach accessible by car.

Two police officers in the Sundsvall Police corps know where.

Ruben

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