March 15, 2023
NAOMA
Naoma, West Virginia, is fifty-one miles south of Charleston. It is an unincorporated community in Raleigh County. The population totals slightly over one thousand people. A historical document at the University of Michigan confirmed, from a 1937 citation, that the area was known as the “Flats.” Imagine black water flowing in a creek. The entire creek was black—jet black. On February 25, 2021, that was a reality for those living in Horse Creek, a hollow inside the town of Naoma. Those residents were downstream from Horse Creek Eagle Mine.
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Three black unmarked FBI cars stopped behind the fire truck. Fire hoses lay on the ground like giant white snakes. One fireman stood with a firehose in hand, watching the smoldering building for flare-ups. The remains of a building stood haphazardly, with only one five-foot portion of the back wall standing. Brick, wood, and mud littered the exterior of the building twenty feet in every direction. Smoke drifted up slowly from three areas of the charred interior. No visible fire was seen; only smoking wood remained.
Four FBI agents approached the county sheriff, who stood at the side of Coal River Road. One agent approached the sheriff and extended his hand, saying, “I’m Agent Winslow. Did you find anybody inside?”
“Good afternoon. Nobody was inside.” Sheriff Hoyt commented, “Why is the FBI interested?”
“This location of interest may be related to the electric grid outage. Mind if we take a look once it cools down?”
“Don’t mind at all. It should cool down in a couple of hours.” The sheriff continued, “Old buildings like this go up fast. The only thing we can speculate now is that it looks like a gas leak. See how the debris is spread out, like an explosion?”
The sheriff pointed to an older man sitting on a chair under a large oak tree. “There is the owner of the building. He may be able to help you.”
Agent Winslow pointed to two agents and said, “Go into town and see what you can dig up.” To the third, he said, “Stick around here, and when that building cools down, see what you can find inside.” Then he walked over to the older man.
Agent Winslow introduced himself and questioned the man, “The sheriff said you own this building. What is your name, sir?”
“I do own the building. I’m Elmer Johnson.”
“Do you know who was staying here?”
“No. My daughter rented the apartment upstairs to someone she found online. I don’t know much about computers.”
“What is your daughter’s name, Mr. Johnson?”
“Ashley Jo.”
“Did Ashley Jo ever meet the renters?”
“Young man, my daughter lives in California.” He coughed once, then again. Catching his breath, he continued, “They sent her cash, and she told them where to find the key out back.” He pointed to the back of the building, which was still smoldering.
When the fire department left, the agent searched the rubble. They found a melted laptop and bagged it for forensics. The agents that went into town didn’t find any information.
Hopefully the laptop is too melted to be of any use! Thank you, Joel!