Man Beaten In Front Of ND Strip Club Dies
shadowcat
Atlanta suburb
WILLISTON, ND - Police say a man beaten in front of a strip club in the North Dakota oil boomtown of Williston died of his injuries.
Detective David Peterson says 25-year-old Dean Niederklopfer was pronounced dead at a Minot hospital mid-Saturday, after being beaten early Friday. Peterson says Niederklopfer is an "innocent victim."
Police in an affidavit say witnesses observed 29-year-old Kyle Siler hitting Niederklopfer with a closed fist. The affidavit says a video seen by police shows Siler's girlfriend, Jessica Gibson, filming the incident. The pair was apprehended in South Dakota late Friday.
Siler was arrested on an aggravated assault warrant and Gibson on a warrant for hindering law enforcement.
Peterson says Siler is a former employee at the strip club Whispers.
Detective David Peterson says 25-year-old Dean Niederklopfer was pronounced dead at a Minot hospital mid-Saturday, after being beaten early Friday. Peterson says Niederklopfer is an "innocent victim."
Police in an affidavit say witnesses observed 29-year-old Kyle Siler hitting Niederklopfer with a closed fist. The affidavit says a video seen by police shows Siler's girlfriend, Jessica Gibson, filming the incident. The pair was apprehended in South Dakota late Friday.
Siler was arrested on an aggravated assault warrant and Gibson on a warrant for hindering law enforcement.
Peterson says Siler is a former employee at the strip club Whispers.
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16 comments
But do we know more about the relations between the people and to the strip club? Could this Jessica Gibson be a dancer? What was any conflict about, and over what time interval did it develop? This does make a difference in how one perceives the situation and the degree of danger.
SJG
Sloe Gin
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1_6yCHn…
Would love to hear farmerart's stories about ruffians in the oil patch.
I wonder if this means the attacker (Siler) was a bouncer at the strip club at the time of the incident and was fired b/c of it and thus was a “former employee†at the time of the arrest; or if he was already a former employee when the incident occurred (if my question makes sense)?
w.r.t. N Dakota – b/c of the booming economy there and all the jobs; they have gotten a huge boom in population also. I recall watching a TV program not too long ago that did a segment about the area and how the area was not prepared to deal with the massive influx of people whether it was w.r.t. housing; medical facilities; enough police officers; etc.
The TV show described how the area had gotten a big influx of undesirables (drug dealers or just general low-skill workers with past criminal histories) that were causing issues not previously seen in the area.
What was the Wyoming boomtown where you spent a night? My boys and I were in Wyoming for a contract a few years before your time in Wyoming. Douglas and Guernsey are the towns that I remember. Douglas was bigger than Guernsey but neither was very large. Neither town was particularly rowdy. I didn't have to drag my boys out of any fights in Wyoming bars unlike my experiences in some of the hellholes in northern Alberta or northern British Columbia back in the bad ol' days before drug and alcohol testing.
We spent the night in Riverton and the next day we toured a field outside of town. If my memory is correct, Amoco had the drilling rights where we toured.
Worst bar scrap of my life was in Aberdeen, Scotland during my North Sea days. A buddy and I were in a rough pub on Aberdeen's docks killing the evening before returning to the off shore drilling platform the next morning. The regular clientele of that pub were mostly fishermen and dock workers, pretty tough guys.
Those boys really resented us oil guys and our hefty pay, particularly the Americans and Canadians amongst the rig pigs. Buddy and I had barely started sipping our first pints of ale before our accents gave us away. A pair of sailors started lipping us off. I was a feisty bugger back then with a bit of a temper so I responded with my own choice insults. The game was on. One of the sailors threw his glass at me. I kicked him in the knee and stomped his hand when he fell to the floor. Buddy took out the other sailor with a wicked punch to the kidney and a head butt.
The landlord of the pub shook his head at us and ran the wounded sailors out into the street. When he came back into the pub he told buddy and me it would be best if we moved on before those two louts came back with a bunch of mates looking for more aggro. "Pull us another pint of ale and then we will leave." buddy and I said, almost in unison.
Before we finish the pint of ale the two sailors that we pounded return with four of their friends. Immediately they come in the door the landlord pulls out a fearsome club, banging it on the bar making a hellacious noise. He waves the club threateningly and orders the sailors out the door; turns towards buddy and me, points the club at us and roars, "You rozzers out, too!"
Yikes! Buddy and I looked at each other and knew we were in trouble. Nothing to do but get right into it. We went out the door and attacked the first sailors that we could get our hands on. There were no Marquis of Queensbury rules in that scrap. Get in the first blow and fight dirty. Knees and ankles are fair game. Use your fists as little as possible. Paving stones are much better. Buddy and I came out on top but with some wounds. Buddy took a wicked shot to his face - broken nose and black eyes. I took a severe pounding to my belly and ribs - sore for many days after. The sailors were in worse shape.
There is a post script to this story. My buddy stayed in Scotland, married a bonnie lass, and made a good life for himself in Aberdeen. I saw him on my recent European vacation and he suggested we return to the scene of this sordid evening for the pint of ale that we didn't finish all those years ago. That rank old dockside joint is now a chi-chi gastro pub. No scrapping for buddy and me as we had our pints of ale.
You have stirred memories from the depths of my elderly brain.
Worst bar fight of my life in North America was in the parking lot of the High Level Hotel in High Level, Alberta. I wasn't really a participant in that particular fight. I was just keeping an eye on my crew to make sure that they were in shape for work the next morning.
My boys had been in camp for several weeks without a break and we were moving to a new camp site, passing through High Level on the way. There was no way in hell that I could have kept those boys out of the bar that night so I went along as a non-drinking chaperone.
The beer flowed freely and without incident until three of my boys started hitting on some native girls. I tried to put a stop to this but no luck. A bunch of native guys came over to defend the native girls. The rest of my crew came to stand with my three idiots. Testosterone was ablaze. I started pushing my boys out the door. More and more native guys gathered around, making 'chicken' comments. Things were not going well. I got the last of my boys out into the parking lot, heading to our trucks.
Native guys followed my crew out into the parking lot. I saw one native guy holding a knife. I quickly went to my truck to get my trusty pipe wrench and started brandishing it aggressively. Scraps started to break out but I kept my eye on the guy with the knife. I was scared shitless of that knife and the damage it could do.
Before things got seriously out of hand two cars of horsemen showed up and got things under control. Even though I was the only sober guy in the parking lot I had to do some fast talking to the horsemen to stay out of jail on an assault charge. The horsemen did not approve of my pipe wrench. I was lucky that the horsemen found the knife on the native guy so my story checked out.
The High Level jail didn't have enough room for my crew and all the native guys so the horsemen issued a mess of summonses to all the participants to appear before the local magistrate in the morning. I was seriously pissed with my crew to be missing all that work time the next day. When my boys and I showed up before the magistrate we were the only people before the magistrate. Not a single native guy showed. Damn crew cost me over $2K in 'drunk and disorderly' fines.
Save the cheerleader!
I am way too old for that kind of shit these days.
Yep......that's what a certain generation of us guys out here in the west call the Mounties.