By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
By Jesse Marx
"She revealed to me she was a vampire hunter," Sharkey says. "They're attacking my people. I was out for her blood and the blood of her buddies."
He faced charges in both states, but he took off for Tennessee instead, purchased a plot of land near Altamont, about 100 miles southeast of Nashville, and announced that the property was a vampire compound.
Don Kamtman, who sold Sharkey the land, knew nothing of the man's vampiric reputation, and said that at first everything seemed normal.
"Never said a cuss word or anything," Kamtman told local TV station WTVJ.
But when local police tracked Sharkey down and arrested him on a warrant from Minnesota, it made a lasting impression.
"In my 18 years on top of the mountain, this is one of the most bizarre cases that we've dealt with," Grundy County Chief Deputy Lonnie Cleek told the station.
Authorities hauled Sharkey back to Minnesota and prison. Indiana authorities learned of his incarceration and sought extradition. By last July, Sharkey was back behind bars in Marion County, which released him in December.
It sounds like Marion County prosecutors are happy to see him go. In most cases, parolees are in violation of their agreements if they flee a state where they were prosecuted. In Sharkey's case, the judge ordered him to stay out of the state for almost a year.
"It's not a common plea agreement," admits Mario Massillanamy, a spokesman for the Marion County Prosecutor's Office. "But he wanted to go run for governor in Minnesota. We decided that it would be best for him and for the state of Indiana if he just left."
Sharkey wears the verdict like a badge of honor.
"I've been kicked out of a lot of places," he says, "but I've never been kicked out of a state before."
Documentary filmmaker Tray White, who created the movie Impaler after following Sharkey's first quest to be Minnesota's governor, is amazed by the continued media fascination with the guy. In all the time he spent with him, White says, Sharkey was earnest and charming, and it's impossible to tell if he was putting on an act, or if he really believes he's a vampire.
"You will never, ever get the truth out of the guy," White says from his home in Dallas, adding that he wonders if Sharkey has approached "the brink of true madness."
The Impaler has no time for such questions—he's got a gubernatorial campaign to run. And much like Governor Ventura, he won't tolerate media fools gladly.
"To the media and those who speak out wrongly against me, and tell lies, I promise you this: Upon becoming governor, I will have you arrested and personally try you myself," Sharkey promises. "Upon finding you guilty of your crime, I will cut out your lying tongue, and nail it to your chin, so the world knows that you're a liar."
So don't be surprised if you're driving on 35W and see the car in front of you sporting an Impaler 2010 bumper sticker reading, "My governor can rip your governor's head off and piss down his throat."