Reunions with old friends at Morris Hill Cemetery by Kevin WIkse.

After meeting a friend for what became gas station coffee in a chilly park on a frosty bench (I am happy to report Jackson's has leveled up their coffee game, and the cold, iced-over park provided a wonderful ambiance and atmosphere for this long overdue reunion) this morning, I made a side trip on my way home. I re-visited the Morris Hill Cemetery on Latah, which has quietly carried significant meaning for me—a sort of "origins story" for a cornerstone in my life. 

Circa 2002 (maybe 2003), I recruited a few local ghost hunters and paranormal research enthusiasts on Yahoo Messenger in Boise and scheduled a meet-up. I called and asked to speak with a manager at Morris Hill Cemetery. I explained that three others and I would like permission to enter the grounds around midnight that coming Friday night to take some pictures from a media project I was working on at Boise State University (which was true). We wouldn't be there for more than 30 minutes and would be discreet and quiet. I was given the "A-OK" and informed my improvised ghost-hunting team of the tie and place. 

Friday night, Midnight came, and we all parked across the street. Silent as cats glided through the front gate, left open for us, and into Morris Hill Cemetery. It was dark. Very dark. I let myself be guided to when and where our photographer should take a picture. There were a few whispy chills, like the strand of a spider's web caressing my skin, but everything mainly felt...still. Suddenly, a sense of panic ran through me. I was odd; it was brief, but it was intense. I made a snap decision that it was a sign to leave. My team was solid and did not question my decision.  

Good thing. As we got in our cars, I shouted that we would drop the film off at the 24-hour Walgreens for their "one-hour photo" that we'd pick up after a late night hang out at Sherri's Restaurant; you would have thought some terrorist event took place at Morris Hill. Eight or nine police patrol cars came roaring into and around the cemetery. One even scraped the front gate with the car. Sirens, lights flashing, spotlights on. It was a full-on circus, and trust me, Boise PD is notoriously a bunch of clowns. I shook my head and shuddered at the idea of what utter buffoonery my team might have been subjected to if those badged, armed imbeciles had been even a minute earlier. 

I can only speculate they were there because of us. A nearby resident might have seen us and called them. We had permission to be there, but they didn't know that. I was happy that what almost assuredly would have been the resulting fiasco in explaining the situation to individuals of extremely average intelligence never needed to occur. A force in the cemetery had been looking out for us. 

The pictures that developed were like nothing any of us had ever seen. Going further, they are like nothing anyone else has ever seen. I talked to photography experts who, stunned, had to admit that even they couldn't have faked or manufactured them. I have had Amy Allen from Dead Files look at them, get wide-eyed, and hand them back. Attempts to steal have been made, and my earliest doxing experience in 2004 (revealing my personal information online to harass and even have violence happen to me) happened in conjunction with the existence of these photos. These days, I hire an ex-CIA friend to find out who is doxing me, and I show up at their home. It's not pretty. I don't play. 

I have jealously guarded those pictures for over two decades now. It's time to reveal them publicly and with my name all over them. I've learned how to brand. So today, I want to show you a beautiful spot in Boise, Idaho's more historical district. It is a place where the dead seem to look out for the living a little bit, and no matter what time of year, Morris Hill Cemetery never disappoints in its seasonal displays, nestled nicely between an upcoming and just "urban-enough," smattering of coffee shops, bistros and cafes, and not one of them is a Starbucks.

In part 2 of my Morris Hill Cemetery, I will post those original pictures from over 20 years ago.  

-Kevin Wikse.