By oppressing me through repeatedly punishing me for notebooking information you are denying me my right to freedom of speech and freedom from censorship. Constitutionally protected rights. 

Consider this; you, and or your associates notebooked personal items my dad had kept for me for a quarter century. Sentimental items with no value to anyone but me, which could only cause emotional damage by denying me them, after promising to deliver them to me. That, in of itself, proves a personal vendetta was being acted upon. It proves, I was hurt just for the sake of causing me trauma. It proves that those actions were deliberate and malevolent. You want to be the best conartists of all time, then so be it, but for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. For every choice there is a consequence.  Good, bad, or indifferent. You’ve rode the coattails of indifference for far too long, and the way you’ve handled yourselves speaks volumes about your ability to be unbiased, reasonable, and be trusted to make decisions for the betterment of all, rather than personal gain. You acted out of emotional upset and did so to cause me greater upset.  You succeeded. How did anyone outside of your network benefit from that?  How did it help me become a improved version of myself?  How did it uplift instead of oppress?  Don’t I deserve redemption or at least the opportunity to rehabilitate myself?  Shouldn’t I be granted a chance to learn from my mistakes?  Or, do you really hold me in such regard that you think I should be denied even that?  Name a time when you really put my best interest ahead of your agenda, with no ulterior motive or motivating factor steeped in achieving a goal to further your cause. 

I get it, you don’t care about the money. Yet , your actions say you care enough to keep it from its rightful owner at all costs. You do care about not being proved wrong by me being right. How petty is that!??

 This is completely outta thin air in this post; Anuli met my aunt Kathy Lee Noyes at weight watchers.  In Manchester. Near our family church. Still have a shake for breakfast and lunch and a lite dinner?  You still doing deal a meal? 

Know how much 500lbs of weed is worth? 1.5M USD 

Let’s pretend for a moment we aren’t dense. Who do we each suspect might have stole the weed from Anuli’s basement?  You know, I did love Nick. Not in a crazy, obsessed way. I just loved him. I couldn’t help the way I felt around him, but I never made that an issue. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the day he drove me to the PCH.  I’d have stopped talking after my initial reaction. We’d have been happy for the rest of our lives.  He had the know how to make my head smart worth more than winning at Clever Endeavor every game. And, spoiler alert, tmi right here. Best sex of my life. 4 standing ovations without even touching myself once and that was immediately after I had finished having my special alone time twice!! In twenty minutes.  Remember the silver cross he wore all summer that year.  The chain didn’t open and the cross didn’t come off?  My cross.  I stopped wearing it for the same reason he did, it started to give me a severe rash. His touch was like electricity on my skin.  He said it could be just him and I, and slipped my 2003 WSOP pale yellow gold ring on my finger down on one knee.  Circa 2000 February  Ryan was there for the first time we hooked up.  He took a turn next. That was after the first time they visited my room.  The first time they did it, they used my special sauce to make things fit.  Thank god for recent advances in forensic pathology.  Apparently, they could tell the difference between fresh and used as lubrication. A-L-I-B-I  I ain’t got no alibi.  Just science.  

Our last family trip to Tucson was the year I graduated, 2000.  I was 17.  I believe it was during my spring break, April. He came over at 8am on a Tuesday  it was his birthday.  He claimed he was 19 that day.  Like clockwork, twenty minutes later and he had to rush back to class. At the Days Inn. Later, I learned he’d gone absent from his early morning family gathering for his birthday.  

I remember Ryan and he told me he was my age, but he looked so weird, no less desirable, just awkward, in the tightly stretched matching pajama set that had cartoons on them and only came down to mid calf on him.  They had sports equipment on them.  Hockey pucks and basketballs and baseballs.  He was still plenty skinny enough for the pjs but the shirt rode just barely on the elastic waist of the bottoms.  

But I couldn’t help but think of how mad Ryan would be at me if I kept him all to myself. The guilt would have killed me. I chose his happiness over my own. 

Only, it was Paul’s boyfriend masquerading as Ryan. Chris. And, Uli’s brother in law masquerading as Levi’s boyfriend’s brother.   

They ruled his cause of death food poisoning. But, it was antifreeze. Levi’s boyfriend, he just couldn’t live with it. The motorcycle accident nearly cost the family another young reckless life. Then, the drag racing accident with Michael. The son of ABC dance company. 

Michael told me his brother was not well.  Severe autism.  Then explained how he pooped his pants and had to wear a diaper. Until Michael had moved out of the home. Since he came back into the boy’s life, it had started happening again.  

He was a loose cannon. A brilliant, talented, passionate ticking time bomb. He would scale to the roof with his rifle and stay there for days. No water or food. I sent my roommate up to coax him down one morning. 

Now, can we all agree that information shouldn’t be notebooked, but there is intrinsic value to the truth being known? And, if you share information with someone obligated by law to report information about past, present, or future crimes against protected individuals, you have added to my burden and given me special privilege to notebook it at my discretion. 

Katherine liked reverse French tips minus the tips. 

Nick’s dad is/was an Arizona Supreme Court Judge.  

Sterling Chrysanthemums

 On the verified Twitter call with Benjamin Netanyahu, during which he told me to call him Ben, he bestowed upon me three gifts which were supposed to be given to me by his relative here in the States. I never received them, but know what they were because he made mention of them in an itemized list. The three most precious tokens of his gratitude:  1. Dignitary status 2. Unlimited spending 3. Unlimited purchasing power. I asked how the last two were different from one another and he explained that one was for my personal expenses and one was for my investment portfolio. 

Those responsible for these unimaginable, and unbelievable financial frauds are a threat to notional security. That level of economic fraud is treason.   It is funding terrorism and makes them all war criminals of the United States of America. Why hasn’t anything been done to apprehend the most prolific criminals in this country’s history?  Is there a political agenda at work here?  Is there protection being afforded by unseen forces?  Why should war criminals living on U.S. soil allowed to become state police officers who continue their corrupt ways while hiding behind a shield??  Swearing an oath to civil service does not afford absolution or clemency. You are obligated to disclose your criminal history when you become a peace officer.  Even the stuff you didn’t get caught doing. I’m looking at you car 62. You framed me for stealing from the circle k with the help of every employee there including the manager and assistant manager.  I reported you and I still got fired. On three different occasions I witnessed them disable the surveillance for the four hours I was there. They pocketed all the cash from cash transactions and smuggled it out in a bank envelope and it was handed off to a state cop with long long hair in car 62. 

This is a list of what I did during my last four hour shift there. There was three employees working. The second time I witnessed the same thing, the manager and the short boy with glasses were working (he used alligator clips to connect a small laptop to the wires behind the monitor), were working and the assistant manager, Bryan was there for my entire shift, “helping out” off the clock. The manager had a 6+ carat diamond ring she was wearing. They told all the customers the card readers were down,  which I thought was weird because I’d just worked at another location and knew that their claim it was company wide was not true.  They even put a sign on the door that read “Cash Only”. That location is visited by regulars that frequent that store exclusively. One even said it was strange the atm was working and the lottery was up and running but the card readers weren’t working. Additionally, the gm and assistant manager appeared to be a couple. 

121 Terrace Drive ~ I bet she didn’t mention the time I woke up on her couch covered in a blanket, which I hadn’t covered myself with, and she and her date were making out on the opposite end of the sofa and leaning towards me, causing me to wake up.  Or how I sat for her for a year almost every Friday and Saturday night until past two a.m. and despite me bringing up that she should be paying me more, three different times, using three different arguments, she still only paid me twenty dollars per nights no which she gave her date to give me.  One night it was 340am Eqwhen I walked in my house.  She double booked herself another night and had me come down at 430pm and was out till 3am.  It was easy  money, her kid was always already in bed asleep and I just sat and watched television.  The little girl sometimes woke up but she told me to let her cry and she’d go back to sleep, so that’s just what I did.  In fact, I don’t even know what the child looked like.  I even pointed out that the Cry It Out method was not the proper response for a toddler crying in the night . She was adamant that the Ferber method was tried and true and that I shouldn’t acknowledge the child’s crying. Even going so far as to tell me to not go into her room at all. So, I didn’t .  Some nights she’d cry for hours, which I always kept track of as far as the length and time she started and  when she quieted, and told her mom when she got in.  She seemed unconcerned by that fact.  She never left a number where she could be reached and gave no other instructions besides that I could help myself to any food in the fridge.  I discovered I love dolmas because of that rule. 

Or that the couple she referred me to stiffed me on thirty bucks after Dennis called me at 945 on a school night and asked me to sit for his and Mary’s daughter and then spent the two hours I was there in the basement smoking crack and exposed himself to me after insisting on driving me home from ryefield which was a two minute ride to my back door, if even that.   He had the biggest privates I’ve ever seen still to this day and I was horrified.  He obviously intended to do so because he pulled off in the area between their condos and my complex that had no street lights and was covered by tree canopy.  Otherwise, he would have parked atop the hill from my back door or around the corner at the top of the sidewalk that led to my front door.  

All the molesters flocked to me like moths to a flame.  Like I was a lighthouse beacon in the night. From miles and miles away they came. Hungry.  In search of the perfect victim.  Like I had a homing beacon in me.  As if I were chum in the water.   Like Edward can’t resist Bella, they all wanted to get a piece of me.  

Just look what happened in Weekapaug. They flew in from Aruba and Arizona, from Pedophile Island, and even London. Kathy and Jim didn’t even know because Kristen and Joe didn’t want to get in trouble for letting Katherine go back after she was picked up after being there for two hours max when I told my mom what happened. The cops couldn’t find the address and when they did it was only Chelsea Katherine and Ryan there except he said he was little Arne.  I asked the cops for a description of the three they spoke to. Two girls, both who I knew for half my life or more and a dark haired boy in glasses named Arne.  

Tommy picked them all up and gassed up Chelsea’s stolen Pilot private jet with the expense card on board. He made more than a couple emergency landings because he wasn’t cleared to land at the three airports he flew into.  He had his dad’s license with an AFA endorsement. He must’ve went to jfk because he had a Barney’s bag and chicken parm from Aruba. Gizlayne picked him up. 

WCZ-409 

circa while Kath and Jim were in Hawaii on their second honeymoon. Late May the summer princess di died. 

I remember how uncle Jefferey and uncle Arne were staring at me across the Christmas dinner table in Kathy’s fancy living room, the one no food or beverage was ever to be in, the winter before. Jefferey over his steepled fingers tapping on his lips like he was masterminding a plan of epic proportions.  The way he kept licking his lips and seemed transfixed. I was uncomfortable just being in the same room as him.  

The heir of a billionaire, even though I mean nothing to him, and I had only just learned of that fact, generates a lot of attention.  

Chelsea wasn’t even supposed to be anywhere I was.  She’d molested me and the little boy that was her neighbor and then brought her grandmother in to show her what she claimed I’d done. She made us strip to our underwear and lay on the leather bench by the back porch, so she could examine us with her stethoscope. Which she swung nonchalantly with a smirk as her grandmother, Elsie, condemned me.  She made me sit in the chair in the hallway till uncle jim came to pick me up.

Jefferey brought us to the Oyester Bar and Grill three times and we had the sit in the round corner table.  Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And, we got pizza from the place Judy worked on Thursday. I paid for my own food with the Amex gift card given to me by sandy for Christmas and left the remaining two bucks on the card as a tip by just leaving the card in the check cache.  I had mozzarella sticks and French fries.  One of the boys had a macaroni and cheeseburger or something weird like that. Tommy had the surf and turf. 

***sidenote (pretty sure the U card OTC card is where they laundered my money to.  Easy to produce, easy to replicate and distribute.  No one gets busted with a card with my info). 

Nick was one of the cops that shook me and graham down!!! 

Fraternity X.  My concept. I was also the unwilling first performer to be premiered on the site.  I didn’t want to fool around with the ethnically diverse member of the scene. Not because of color, we had prior personal disagreements.  So Matt slipped me a loosen up pill when I asked for a Tylenol. 

Also, def being poisoned again. For sure. Roommate is in on it. Sworn affidavit.  Paul Raymond Theriault 12/31/2024

Walmart was out of their generic brand of soda in 2 liters?? Really?  Not even plausible. Plus I know this is not untampered with RC.  If there is one thing I know better than anyone, it’s soda.  It’s one of many , many things my expertise far exceeds a majority of the population in.  

Paul Gardner got blamed for the missing liquid Adderall and Ryan told him that it was me that had done it or fingered him as the culprit. I passed out cold while on my knees in an upright position, on the bed between 8-9pm. I NEVER go to sleep that early, ever. 

But, I digress.  Go illusion someone else.  Harry Copper field mother effers.  The power of distraction is one of a beguiling sort. Bewitching and manipulating.  AIt’s a control tactic.  A play.  Just a game for them. And they deny all harm.  Conartists, charlatans, and Houdini assholes.  

Dave was just rapping to me about the “bust” when I finally asked what happened to the r.vs and mom’s car and the pop up.  He told me that the female agent was a buxom, curvaceous Latina with a middle eastern sounding name, wearing Oscar Delaurenti’s.  My blood ran cold, because I knew that I’d just unraveled all their lies.  Just like I predicted I would. How’d I get such corrupt friends?  How’d I get tied up with such hoodlum outlaws with not a shred of real respect amongst them. Even when they’re busy they go all in. Playing by the rules was never really their forte. 

Little do they know, the little favor I did on a makeshift stretcher under that tall oak. Little do they full well know just how much of a mistake they’ve made. My connections Trump yours, no matter what you might think. Make me prove it, I dare you. In a suburban maroon and dark blue.  

I held my friend’s skull in my hands and brushed away what I thought were pieces of his head and I weeped as the EMTs took charge and were telling me to back off when a brilliant white light came from my hands. Shooting straight up into the night sky. It stayed on for several seconds and was witnessed by the two paramedics and several other drivers  reported seeing the same.  That was why Ben had called.  

But ask Chris where he’d appeared from on the highway shoulder??  Levi hurt his buttocks and rode off on the dirt bike after crashing and ditching.  Dave hauled the Tercel off and brought Levi’s dirt bike. 

To having a perfect memory: I say no one does. I delineate and prioritize and recollect better than most. That’s all. 

 What about the eight months I spent in Canada. With no phone or internet or even mail?  What was I ding so wrong then?!  What prevented you from making things right during the whole year and a half I spent every day visiting my mom at St Francis Hospital??  I wasn’t doing even a single thing wrong then. And that year and a half came directly after my eight months spent in Canada. Working full time to support my mom and myself and Dave for the few weeks he was there. We had no vehicle, no outside communication with the rest of the world. No television and the only radio station that came in was Canadian NPR. 

 All I ever wanted was to be everyone’s friend. All I ever did was what everyone else wanted to do, because nobody likes a bossy person. Nobody likes someone who always gets his way. So, I just went along with what anyone wanted, because a person that goes with the flow is better liked than one who makes waves. 

I was bullied throughout my entire school career. I’d make friends easily, but then the attention of being my friend would quickly become too much for them to take and I’d find myself all alone again. Never have I been truly accepted by anyone but my mother, and now I see, my father, as well. Him and I did not have a particularly close relationship, but he imparted on me some of the most important life lessons and qualities that he valued in the times we spent together. 

That no person is worth sacrificing your own happiness for. That you only get one family, and even if you don’t agree with them, you should still love them. Even if you rarely get to see them or spend quality time with them. That nature is this world’s most precious resource and we have an obligation to revere it. That tomorrow is promised to no one and we only have today. That animals deserve their way of life as much as people. That hard work is the measure of a real man. And, that compassion is not weakness, but often can be seen as such. That people are only human, and make mistakes. Often. That nothing is out of reach if you are willing to do whatever it takes to attain it. That business should be kept separate from personal life and that devoting your energy to reaching your goals does mean more than achieving them. That spontaneity should be taken in small doses, for it can lead to poor planning.  That even the best laid plans can fail.  That intentions are the excuse of those unwilling to enact change.  That a formal education is not the mark of a wise man. That no school can teach you how to be kind, cultured, and morally upstanding. That no religion can come between you and your idea of God. That no problem can be solved through violence. And , words are only as credible as the actions you take to back them up. That being well liked isn’t the same as being a push over. That if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything. That opportunities only ever come but once, and we can’t afford to squander even one moment of the flash in the frying pan we call life.  

My mom was my lifelong best friend.  Even when all the world was dark and there was no escape, she provided me safe harbor to weather the storm.  Even when I knew couldn’t, she was there to know I would.  She taught me to love unconditionally.  That love has no bounds.  That it is insurmountable, even when it’s the very thing that breaks you down.  That it can make you crazy, both in a good way and in a very complicated, inexplicable way.  That kindness is the only weapon of any use in the face of adversity.  That imparting lessons means leading by example and setting out to teach someone something without their knowledge is manipulating and controlling and will leave you disappointed and likely the person you tried to teach will no longer want you in their life.  That there’s always going be those that you can’t please, don’t let them be the people who you expend energy trying to make happy.  That even those we trust can do us wrong, and they are the ones that can do the most damage.  That compromise is the universal language and that even when we do our best, sometimes it isn’t enough, but that doesn’t make us any less.  That moving on, is the hardest thing of all to do.  That you should never let them see you sweat and to fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.  That happiness doesn’t have a price tag, and the people you surround yourself with make up the memories you’ll cherish the most.  That it isn’t the destination so much as the getting there that counts.  That life can be unfair, even when it should not be.   That only quitters quit and quitters never win. That there’s a difference between giving up and giving in.  That wearing my heart on my sleeve makes me special and that she chose me and that meant she’d always love me most.  That perfection is when you have nothing to worry about and it is fleeting and should be held in the highest regard.  That being right should never, ever come before doing what’s right. To defend those that can’t stand up for themselves.  That it isn’t the strong that conquer life, but those that are determined to persevere through strife.  To never look down on anyone because we are all equal and deserve the same level of respect.  That words have great power but are only as powerful as the intention they’re conveyed with.  That you should never have to go unheard, but holding your tongue can mean your the winner of the fight.  That walking away is the only victory of opposition.  That only a fool argues with the unreasonable.  That logic doesn’t always arrive at a tangible solution.  That who you are when no one’s watching is just as much important as who you are when others are around.  That although apologies are easier to make than asking permission, you can never undo choices that we make and apologizing repeatedly detracts from credibility.  That we don’t get to chose our family, but, to chose to love them, anyway.  That facts never change but new knowledge can change our beliefs and that the world’s most educated once all thought the world was flat.  That while rules may feel like they were made to stand in our way, we should do our best to follow them, anyway.  To not take things personally because you may not even be the reason you’re treated that way.  That tears can be cathartic and sometimes you just need to give it a day.  That being wrong is an opportunity to learn what’s right.  That there is no such thing as love lost, it never stops, you can never turn it off, even when it’s far away and hard to recall.  That we all deserve to be happy and to love like crazy, as much as you possibly can, even at the risk of losing every one that you do.  That the most important decisions are almost always the hardest and that the easy way out is never as fulfilling. That getting lost means finding your way.  That life is worth living, even when it feels like it’s not. That it is always darkest before the dawn and tomorrow might well be a brighter day.  That love knows no bounds and trust in others will never be as pivotal as trusting in yourself.  That in the end, no man regrets having lived too much.  That regret is wasted time and energy, which we all are afforded in a span so short, it feels like the blink of an eye.  That the hardest moments seem to last longer than the years spent living our best life.  To appreciate what you have and not always seek what you want.  That being grateful and giving are the most precious gifts you’ll ever have, and to spread them around as much as you can.

Truly, he was a great man and she was the best mother I could ever have wanted. I miss them both so much this holiday season. My heart is breaking all over again, all these years later.  

 Never have I begged so unabashedly, as I did for the return of my mom’s newly prescribed heart medication, two types of insulin, and her blood thinners. She could have died without them. Having chatted with all parties aside from Anuli online over the years, I can say without a doubt that it was one hundred percent Ryan, because, he is the only person that had as perfect of grammar and use of punctuation out of all of them. Nearly perfect grammar, punctuation, and spelling typed as quickly as me.  It was Ryan that mocked me when I pleaded for the return of the medications that my mother could not replace. 

I even asked he drop them off to Paul’s apartment or that we could meet anywhere to pick them up and he refused. 

Much as Anuli doesn’t remember the first time I was in her home, she likely doesn’t remember the year I accompanied my roommate and his parents for Thanksgiving dinner. They made deep fried turkey. Of course, I was still meat free at the time, so I didn’t partake. That’s when I saw my mother’s china and the Milsaka globes which I bought the entire stock of when the Milsaka artist was signing pieces in our Filene's Home Store, at which I worked.  The chipped one was my mother's, broken in the Holiday Rambler during their travels. 

 Notebooking my info, for any reason, is equivalent to plagiarizing the sworn statement of an expert witness.  

 And why does Susan Oullette look like the late Helene Cyr’s twin and same hubby too???? And that picture was taken in my dad’s kitchen!!!

 Tell Azaelea Renfield to go easy on the spray tan and fake tan toner. I almost can’t see she is Katherine under the 10 pounds of makeup. 

 Surely if a person can be accused of having too many note booking partners, then a person can be afforded too many sweet heart deals. Too many breaks. Too much leniency. You can’t buy your way into being above the law. It debases the very judicial system. Can you have underwear belonging to too many people in your dresser drawer?? Ryan?

I bet my dad sent his accordion for me and his harmonica as well. 

 You want to criticize me when you have how many pairs of stolen underwear from how many people in your underwear drawer!?

 That’s the thing about consequences, sometimes they just sneak right up on you. Your reasons were and are multifaceted, but the one thing you hold over all else is loyalty to the cause. Much like Nazis. It is greed motivated and almost like an inverted pyramid scheme. Or, a Russian nesting doll might be a more accurate comparison. I think of it as a siphon with ever another avenue of diversion should one fail. 

The risk benefit ratio was too stacked in your favor for you to walk away from and now you will have to answer for your actions.  This is not the way I wanted things to go, and I do regret letting myself be victimized repeatedly by your little gang of misfits, amongst others.  Just remember, you brought this on.  All you had to do was follow the golden rule.  Yet, even that proved too honorable a task for you.  Too shaped by devotion to a higher being.  Those that have faith in something greater than themselves, blind or otherwise, see the light.  They walk not in the shadows even in the dead of night.  Because the transformative and transcendent can only evolve from those that are believers.  Not in God, but in ourselves.  Not in a Him, but in us.  The power to become more.  Better.  Ethereal perhaps, or assimilated maybe.  A step towards man becoming divine.  The key to the next stage of life.  Lest we are doomed to be like the rest and will always lack fulfillment in life.  Those that will never pass a test they can’t even believe in.  Those that will be staring right into the pole they crash into, (metaphorically).   

 Let’s go over the facts and see if we can’t uncover the truth. Ryan moved the money from Leah’s accounting software, either because he knew it was to supposed to be there or because he stole it from Leah, who it didn’t belong to. Griffin was sent to boy’s academy to stop him from continuing to molest me. If Ryan knew that the money wasn’t Leah’s and that griffin was molesting me, by default the money should have been returned to me. Notebooked or because it was notebooked illegally to begin with.  

They sent him using my scholarship, which they unjustly stole from me. Neither Ryan or Levi was in the eighth grade. The teacher’s aide was an incoming teacher the following year, a Miss Zimmora.  She had her monogram on her handkerchief, FAZ.  She used it twice during the four hour test period. It was embroidered in pink with lace on the outside trim.  We had a conversation about it because I loved monograms and customized anything. I asked if her first name was Anne.  She looked at me surprised and worry creased her brow, as she said it was her middle name and began to ask how I’d known.  I looked at her quizzically just as Levi said it was on her hanky. She realized that was where I’d deduced her middle name from and said she styled it herself and preferred her initials in the order of her full name rather than the middle initial coming first on her monogramed items. I asked if it was still a monogram then.  She said it can be if she so chose.  She smelled like the cleanest laundry I’d ever smelled.  I called her faz the rest of the day.  She looked just like Griffin’s secret identity, Ainsley Greff.  Imagine that!!!

Mark, Laura, and I ALWAYS had the highest scores in our class.  Our entire middle school career.  Every single test, quiz, book report, we were the top three scores.  My grades were faltering, because of the ongoing molestation, which, by all rights, at least one grown up should have picked up on.  I was sleeping through all my classes.  My mom found my sheets covered in a two foot circle of blood stains.  I withdrew from extracurricular  activities.  I was tired all the time.  So how did Ryan know that was what was happening?  And, what sort of cockamamie solution was stealing my 611K USD scholarship and giving to my molester in order to abate the year of trauma I’d been put through?  Surely, he would understand that wouldn’t help me heal, and that I wouldn’t be able to get past what had happened.  Surely, at some point, knowing I’d been rape shamed by my family, the police, everyone who knew, had doubted me.  My attitude and performance got worse and worse: shouldn’t that have been enough to trigger a response? A call to action to help me?? 

Miss Carter left Rockville High just two years later.  Retiring from teaching permanently.  Only to reemerge as an administrator approximately twenty years later. 

Moreover, my mom got robbed by your associates who were impersonating federal officers.  Regardless, if she was involved in the trafficking at that time, no person deserves to be denied life sustaining medications. That’s inhumane in a way I didn’t think existed anywhere in real life. You stole her independence for what Dave did and doomed her to live out her life to almost the very end having to be victimized by him repeatedly.  

Also, the money was in my moms’s secondary checking account. A personal checking account she opened for my business. So, which of us did you pull a notebook on?!

Ryan said he regretted not returning me to my mother when I was kidnapped. Why doesn’t he regret kidnapping an 11 year old boy to begin with? 

And, what sort of apology has zero remorse? They apologized but still don’t regret what they did. That’s a backhanded apology. 

Griffin said Ryan saved him from me. That is not true. Ryan did save me from Griffin, but at what cost?  Was it the most reasonable course of action?  Was it in the best interest of the victim?

I never knew my ex was a junior. Until just now. It’s a presumption but I’d bet the farm on it. 

Hagenbauer

 Paul is Levi’s dad!!

 Son of a bitch!  They robbed me too!! Or tried to, at the Super Inn. Graham was with me and two cops with mustaches who weren’t even on duty came in and insisted that we had drugs, which we did not!!! Fuckin A!! Then they tried to say I contaminated the water system by flushing the nonexistent drugs down the toilet even though I immediately answered their knock.  Circa 1998 I was in the far back corner room upstairs. 234. Only one had a name on his uniform and a shield; Prince. And it was only fastened by a single stitch on each side of the patch.

They searched that room top to bottom three times. Looking in the vents and curtains and mattress and box spring. Then they wanted to know what I had only 50 bucks for the three days I was staying for. I was so incensed, I said, “what do you mean? How much am I supposed to have”??  I told them my mom’s boyfriend had told me he’d order a couple pizzas for me and gave them sent to my room the next day, which he did. They searched and questioned us for over an hour and a half. In a small little hotel room. I only had my backpack with a couple changes of clothes and my hygiene stuff and they demanded to know why I didn’t have luggage. 

They left and came back claiming they tested the water and it was positive for meth.  They tested my water in a hotel with 200 rooms.  

Then I noticed they weren’t armed and there was no cruiser outside the room.  I asked what probable cause they had to be harassing me.  

Paul still owed me thirty dollars from the last time I was in town and was supposed to come by approximately 12 hours prior to their arrival.  Within fifteen minutes of their departure, Paul showed up, with Ainsley.  Paul left and Ainsley and Graham locked themselves in the bathroom for 12 hours until I asked for the third time if I could use my bathroom. Then, they both went out to meet Paul who was supposed to pick them up but when I went out for a cigarette Ainsley was mulling around downstairs.  He came back up to the room for an hour or so, before Graham came back and Ainsley left again with Paul.  Graham stayed for the remainder of my trip, another two nights, and left about an hour before Dave arrived for our return trip.  He loved Disney movies and teriyaki flavored anything  

And don’t even try to blame Levi’s twin, Carter. I could always tell them apart. Carter had an innocence and an air of being more reliable and responsible. More trustworthy. It was Eli, the same kid that was in the backseat with Ryan and I when I took that photo right before I was assaulted by the four of them with the hammer. First MMS to 8602140884. Ryan was wearing grahams “E” hat that night because Bradley was wearing Ryan’s “G” hat at the notebooking party with Levi. Graham was in my Stussy hat and I was wearing my brand new Boston Red Sox baseball cap and my zip off Bugle Boy pants in olive.  Size 18 boys. Those were my favorite non jeans pants!!

Imagine my chagrin when I woke up in a Colorado Springs hospital and they wanted to discharge me with no clothes but the hospital gown I was in, no wallet, no phone, no personal effects whatsoever. I’d never even been in Colorado before!!!!

The next time I got on my email, I had a letter thanking me for my amicable attitude towards reaching a resolution from IGT.  

There’s no such thing as stealing fair and square. A thief is a thief, no matter how you slice it. They’re far worse than just thieves though. At least thieves know when they’ve been beat. Not these people, they’ve got more outs than a no hitter. Guess they didn’t anticipate every patrol cop in the town being on duty at my work tonight with nothing to do. Fo shizzle my nizzle. 

I only wish my dear late mother were here to watch this unfold. She would have laid Levi out cold, and enjoyed watching them all chained together in their brown jail getups.  

 It feels good to be on the winning side. Being a registered Republican is going pretty well so far. I like that in t-minus 23 days and counting the person I picked will be taking the reins again and then we are in for some big changes.  I think I’ll lobby for my own executive action, named after me. 

I know they you think you’re unsinkable, but that’s what they thought about the Titanic. Just ask Levi. He was there. Hahahahhaha 🤣. This has been going on for a quarter century.  They dream up new ways to oppress and harass me and when I threaten to expose them they scatter like cockroaches in the light.  One of the people not accused becomes the sacrificial lamb, protecting the gangs assets.  That way, the accused is  never really the guilty one in the eyes of the law.  It is 💯 a Ponzi scheme of epic proportions, minus the instability of being able to be defeated by the money being discovered in the possession of the guilty person.  

Using personal relationships as a weapon is as low as it gets and even if I stand alone against the entire gang, then that is what I’ll have to do. You are nothing but a bunch of school yard bullies that think they can get away with murder, racketeering , money laundering, extortion, armed robbery, impersonating federal civil service officers, espionage, economic fraud, and funding terrorism. What’s next? Chemical warfare? Biological warfare? Genocide?  War?  The next Holocaust?  How far should extremist home-grown terrorists be allowed to carry out their secret agenda? When should a stop be put to their evil and manipulative ways? 

I say enough is enough. I say it ends today. I say it’s long overdue that somebody stand up to their conniving social engineering and I won’t be silenced. I’ll be Captain Save a hoe, even if I go down with the ship. Even if I’m the last one standing against the entire world, I will not stop lobbying for justice. For what’s right. For the quiescence of corruption.  Financial crimes are the plague of the greedy and mentally unwell.  And, I am the vaccine.  

They used all the most devious and dastardly parts of failed systems of control and compiled a new governing system for their cult. A terrorist organization right here on American soil. Operating under the guise of petty crimes and amortization of other people’s money. It’s ludicrous. Anyone with half a brain would look at their financial solvency and think, wow they must be doing something illegal. Yet, they hide under the umbrella of protection afforded to them by the hierarchy that is their gang’s modus operandi. 

They have such vast influence that they think they are above the law. Is that what Nazi Germany thought when they killed six million Jews? Is that what we are going to sit back and let happen for lack of a course of action? Unprecedented problems require unprecedented solutions. The only way to get over this, is to go through it. 

What kind of court system allows multiple cases to have the complaintant amended? What kind of district attorney’s office allows for the biggest cases in the history of the state to fall to the wayside because they can’t access a previous employee’s files because they were password protected?? What kind of employer lets an employee lock them out of information which should always be accessible to the administrator?  I even offered to attempt to hack the computer, but they declined my offer. What kind of district attorney is pseudo sister to a double murderer for hire?

 I told Levi, before I had even been made aware of the theft of my mom’s car and pop up, that he was driving her car!  I was pissed! When I did find out, I demanded Paul put me in touch with the responsible party. Whoever I needed to speak to in order to have them returned. He had Ryan contact me and we exchanged a lot of words. He was not nice and refused to even let me have my mother’s life saving medication from the camper. I can’t believe I ever thought anything more of any of them than I do now. There’s low life’s everywhere in this world, but when it turns out they were some of your closest friends, it really hits deep.

Keep it up. I’ll subpoena pictures of your birthmark for comparison to my sketch. 

And if that cops are not receptive to capturing Tucson’s most notorious banditos, well I’m sure the public will rally around having them brought to justice. And, if not, I’m sure the owners of that weed will be glad to know who stole it. They may also be interested to know about drug dealers who rob old lady’s and break into homes even ones with small children using fraudulent credentials. 

(Wonder if she’s related to the inventor of the burrito?)

 When I moved back to Connecticut, as planned, the case against EthicsPoint and Circle K was just about to finish in a settlement and assistant attorney Nicole Green said the HIPPA lawsuit against the city of Tucson would still be at least a year from finishing. Then, she disappeared. I left voicemail after voicemail and when it was full, I contacted the district attorney’s office. They were as dumbfounded as I was by her sudden resignation and were not able to access her case files because they were password protected. Circa 2005 My cases were all filed by major entities. The AG filed two and the EEOC filed the EOE DADT discrimination case, ten of which accompanied me to the open interview to apply themselves.  I had hundreds if not thousands of witnesses for the HIPPA suit and an even stronger case against the DoD. Everyone involved with the EOE discrimination case should be court martialed. Every single one of them. 

Have none of you ever heard of due diligence? You can’t just punish someone without verifying that it is deserved. Furthermore, not giving someone the right to defend themselves is unconstitutional. If you aren’t afforded due process, then you cannot face punishments for allegations. It’s the whole process which our entire justice system is built on. You cannot circumvent it, even if you think you’re right. That’s taking the law into your own hands and it is highly illegal. Even for criminal informants and those in the witness protection program. What they’ve done is economic espionage and treason. 

The charges were nullified and expunged from my record entirely. My record was sealed so that information couldn’t be used against me and that is what you are citing as your reason?? You are going to end up in federal prison for the rest of your lives. 

 Paul said that Ryan hated drug users, I’m not sure if that included himself and Paul. He thought he was doing the community a service by robbing those that Paul and Chris scouted out. He’d knock on the door and flash his stolen badge, and then restrain them with zip ties. He’d search the home and “confiscate” the drugs, which he already knew where to find, take any cash and then tell them they were being let off with a warning this time, but he’d be keeping an eye on them. Paul and Chris would keep a list of addresses for Ryan’s weekend vigilante escapades.  He looked like a narc, so no one ever thought twice. Especially, in my mom’s stolen Roadmaster.  

Paul showed me the spreadsheet they used to notate the address and where to find the drugs and valuables.  

I wonder how many?  Dozens?  Hundreds?  More??  The spreadsheet had about ten slots per page and the one he showed me was a page and a half, which he said was a weekend’s worth. 

Tomorrow, when I arrive early for the game, there are approximately 500 TPD and PCSD all just milling about. Think I’ll chat them up a bit. 

Griffin claimed he picked the lock on the bathroom door when I was drawing my bath. I never heard any noise or noticed the knob jiggling, and it wasn’t like most bathroom door knobs. It had the type of lock that you have to push in the knob and rotate to lock. I don’t think they can be defeated from the outside. Plus, it had a very snug latch and fit in the frame tightly. There was no hole or any part you could turn on the outside. I think they were mismatched knobs. There was no way to defeat the lock. The door had trim, and there was no crack on the outside to jimmy it open. I even tried to get in there myself after that, with Katherine, I believe, locked inside, and there was no way to unlock it from the outside. We had very limited tools in our home and they were all packed up in the basement.  I even check to see if anything was out of place after my bath, but everything was where I left it. My mom was very particular about the home, there was no visible damage. Then, just before we moved out, I was in a hurry and something got snagged and the whole piece of trim came off. There was a distinct spot where someone had repeatedly pried it open but was careful not to cause any cosmetic damage. After that, it wouldn’t even stay in.  Behind the trim was a large hole cut through the drywall. Just big enough for a hand my sized. With a matching hole on the inside.  There was a chuck of the frame missing as well.  Just a big old hole.  

I bet it’s still there too.  

Mind you, that apartment was renovated right before we moved in.  They replaced all the trim and cabinets and counters and fixtures, all the hardware.  We even got new doors and closet doors.  You could still smell the sawdust from the trim being cut.  

It seemed so inconsequential at the time.  I pointed it out to my mom and she was horrified.  Then she got mad because of how bad it looked without it. 

I think she asked Jimmy Junior to repair it, at least so it didn’t have a gaping hole looking into the bathroom, and we had a heck of a time getting the trim to stay in place. 

He was out of our lives though, and for that, we were thankful.  We just chalked it up to a learning experience and tried not to focus on the past. As it were, it wouldn’t be the last damage Griffin caused in our life.  Not by a long shot.  

 The other two students who i had to compete with in the fraudulent tie breaker scored a 99 and a 96. I scored 100.  Then they told me that the student returned the cash portion of the scholarship package, yet, he still went to the same boys academy. One of them wasn’t even in the eighth grade. Actually, I didn’t recognize either of them as being in my class. I thought this was particularly odd because it was usually me, Laura White, and Mark Snow that scored the highest. The tests were highly regulated. Like kept under lock and key, more secure than the voting ballots. 

I didn’t find out it was Mrs Carter Luke’s stepson they awarded the money to until more than a year later when he came into the school at the end of the year. I remember thinking, “gosh, he looks like he is her real son not her stepson”. 

 Everything my mom owned was in that pop up Jayco camper. Her medications and insulin, which had her name on them, all of her clothes, she didn’t even have a jacket to wear. All our important paperwork.  Christmas ornaments I made as a child.  EVERYTHING!!

Now I’m beginning to think they were responsible for the Holiday Rambler fifth wheel being taken as well.  Then the Palamino the Jayco and the Buick Roadmaster. Probably the box of money in Dave’s office as well. 

She almost died because she couldn’t afford to refill her prescriptions and Medicare wouldn’t let her get a new supply until the refill date. She was on eleven different prescriptions plus two different types of insulin. Do you realize the cost of replacing all of that out of pocket?  Plus, Dave was all spooked thinking they almost got busted and thrown in jail, so she wasn’t allowed to call anyone to ask for help. Not to mention, he was now indebted to the cartel for 500lbs of marijuana. 

 The IGT settlement 

The gift that keeps on giving

Remember how you sprung it on me that you were still healing from an outbreak when we first did it. Six months into our relationship yo-yo? Then, you proffered a perfectly reasonable solution. Let’s go to the clinic together and get tested, together. Then, we decided to honor my request that protecting one another’s health meant suiting up when getting strange from strangers. Or anyone else, is more concise. Imagine my chagrin, when of all times to make me doubt you again, you chose the moment before the doctor told us our results to pull him aside, just outside of earshot. To have a private word with the doc working at the free clinic. Something inconsequential and unrelated you assured me. But you never did anything to worry or hurt me.  

 When the uniformed police officer gave me a ride back to the Green’s I told him I was shocked the boys weren’t already in jail. He spoke with all four members of the household who all agreed I was supposed to meet my mom and Dave in Colorado and then go home, but Levi said he thought I was from California. He knew exactly where I was from. Furthermore, both Levi and Ryan told the cop they knew no one by the name of Josh. 

 Throughout this entire ordeal, over a quarter century worth of my life has been spent trying to undo the damage caused by people who destroyed my reputation and had intimate details that would have proved my innocence all along. Their oppression has made me into the person I am, and I will never become the person I was supposed to be. However, I know, I will never be like them, and for that, I am grateful. 

Don’t think I don’t know exactly how you will twist that statement, just like you contort everything about me into something negative. You’ll say that they prevented me from becoming like them, but that was never even a possibility. They were born the way they are, and they will die that way. I was pigeon holed by rumors and misinformation by people who knew the truth. By people who knew me all my life and never once saw me be anything but kind and gentle. I abhor violence, and because of the traumas that make up a majority of my life, I could never stomach victimizing someone in those ways. I was a good boy, and told the truth, and was punished regardless of those undeniable facts. 

 The night of the church polka, Kathy pulled over and turned around in her seat and almost like you would swat a fly, but with the back of her hand 🤚 hit Katherine squarely on her lips. Katherine recoiled with abject fear and consternation. Kathy turne the vehicle around and dropped me off at Coventry video before returning home to change Katherine out of the dreaded high water pants she had been screeching about for forty minutes or so in the car. I assume she got to wear a skirt as she wanted with no tights because she ruined all of the ones she owned. She gave her a fat lip. Later she claimed she had caught Katherine with her diamond ring, but it was her right hand she struck her daughter with. I was so looking forward to the polka. They served my favorite refreshment, 7up and rainbow sherbet and had a balloon drop at the end!!

Almost in the exact same geographic location, she slammed on her brakes, stopping dead in the lane of traffic on the side street adjacent to the high school. Katherine was unbuckled from her car seat to get her sippy cup from the floor and halfway back into the car seat when she stopped suddenly, to reprimand her for unbuckling herself.  Katherine summersaulted down to the floor, hitting her forehead on the little button you had to lift to push the seat up. Kathy didn’t see the cop parked across the street who sauntered up to survey the situation. He looked a lot like Michael Hicks come to think of it, maybe his father?  We got a lights and sirens escort to the emergency room that night. 

I tiptoed around the subject when asking my mom if she believed in hitting kids as a punishment. She looked at me concerned and grilled me about if anyone had hit me. I tried to not directly disclose what promoted my question, wanting an unbiased answer. She thought for a long moment before saying she had never really thought about it because I was such a good boy that discipline had never been an issue she had to consider. I pressed on, asking if she believed other parents should hit their kids as discipline. She was of the school of thought that a swat on the butt may be appropriate at times, but leaving any sort of mark on a child was unacceptable. I asked if that applied to family members as well. She then demanded to know what the third degree was about and I recounted the two incidents which made Katherine bleed. She looked so hurt by my words that I almost wished I never broached the subject. She stopped leaving me alone in Kathy’s care at that point though and always questioned me thoroughly when it had been just me and Katherine with her sister. We were still living at Donna Gamache’s across the street so I think I was only six. 1988. 

It’s critical to remember that throughout all this, they had knowledge of what happened. I, on the other hand had to piece together who was responsible based on my own investigation into the worst extortion in history. 

Is an illegitimate father the same thing as a dead beat dad??

 Geez, this is going to take a long time to write. 

Let’s cut to the meat and potatoes. Ryan claimed to have witnessed something that is not possible. We were inside the small section of yard enclosed by PlaySkool playhouses right off the step of the apartment, when the incident he claims he saw happened. Unless he had a higher vantage point, he couldn’t have seen what he claimed to have seen, if it had happened. Regardless, what he says he saw, did not happen. If it had, I’d have been arrested. Period. 

Also, the evidence that was stolen from my mom’s camper, a settlement agreement had been nullified and expunged from my record before they sealed it, because three people were found to be at fault for tampering with evidence, and providing false testimony in an attempt to set me up. By the FBI. Damienne was one of those people. Ryan’s brother was another.  Deanndre was the last. 

The boy who lived with us, who I only knew as Griffin, was not even supposed to be living with us.  He swapped places with Nancy Reno’s stepson and my mom and I had no idea.  He molested me and Damienne then they both blackmailed me into not telling on him by saying they would both say it was me. He had a birthmark on a very private part of I’ve seen lots of those parts and never seen one just the same as his.  He was a year younger than me and my grades went down the toilet because I was sleeping through all my classes.  

Prior to all this, I was kidnapped by two people, when I was only 11 years old. Kathy said it was accidental, and I never even spoke of one of them exposing himself to me because everyone was so dismissive of the trauma I suffered. Chief Rudolph pulled me aside, away from my mom, with no ad litem guardian, and told me flat out he wasn’t filing a report because I went willingly. Two key components to the entire spreadsheet ending in one name; Theriault, Paul R.

Dave Dumas was having a lot of consensual sex for weeks with the much younger, “E”.  Then, he forced me to participate and as I was about to, he ran out and E’s father barged in and got really mad.  I told Dave I wasn’t even supposed to go that far away from my house, but he insisted we go over and invite E along. 

Then, I got blamed for the boys watching titanic while I was at school auditioning for the school play. I told the father or stepfather that was what they might be watching while my neighbor Sarah watched them for the afternoon.  He approved of everything then served me with a complaint.  

Now, my aunt will tell you she notebooked Katherine with my money, but Katherine’s notebook comes long after I was blamed for the fat lip Kathy gave her. Also, does Katherine still live with Sandy and Damienne?

One of the store’s owner told my mom she didn’t have to check her blood sugar or take insulin once she began the açaí berry juice daily.  And Leah was given my day shifts so she could keep her night job with state benefits.  I went from 40+ hours a week working 5 days to 30 hours a week working 6-7 nights.  Plus, they claimed a shitload of insurance money for what someone living in their home did, where the tickets were stored in a locked cabinet.  Guess who lived with them!

Lastly, Kristen can say what she wants. I know that the money given to the little boy was gifted before I even lived with Kristen and Joe because his father brought him to the cedar swamp address to thank Dave for the money on Christmas. My mom was still alive. 

 While I know this is one of many reports I have submitted, I ask that this complete account be taken as my sworn testimony to which I will gladly testify to. With over twenty years experience as a Court Mandated Reporter sworn to the Arizona Supreme Court, I can only hope that my story is taken as seriously as it needs to be. I swear on the Holy Bible, my dear dead mother’s ashes, Pepsi, and everything I hold dear in this world, that every single word of this statement is a factual account of the events, and as a Court Mandated Reporter, my testimony is evidence enough to begin prosecution. Furthermore, I can provide multiple highly credible witnesses that I am confident will verify my claims if subpoenaed. Without naming names a few examples are; a former First Lady, a federal prosecutor, a U.S. Marshal, members of the International Court of Justice, a special agent of the FBI, and administrators of one of the most prestigious boys academies in London.  

There can be no gray area in the pursuit of justice in this country.  Justice is supposed to be for all, not just all those that can afford it. I have followed the proper channels of recourse, only to be stonewalled by the very authorities I am obligated, by law, to report to. The failure of those elected to serve their constituents is unparalleled and the dereliction of duty is mind boggling. Not only do I expect justice be served, I demand it. My life has been spent trying to overcome not just oppression of unimaginable amounts, but attempting to correct the aberrant miscarriages of justice that have plagued my existence. Yes, the problems herein are on a scale that has never had to be addressed before, but surely this is not a reason to turn a blind eye to these issues. If anything it should make them a priority. I hope that the Office of Efficiency can help expedite resolutions to my many, many complaints, which deserved to be rectified some more recently than others, and to do so they must be itemized and fully explained on the record to be addressed.  That being said; I am not going to mince words or leave out the parts that paint me in any way in a negative light, and I hope in doing so that my forthcomingness is taken into account. However, should I be on the list of those facing prosecution, I will gladly take being charged with whatever deemed appropriate and still testify to this statement. Justice is the way liberty is protected. Liberty is the result of freedom being defended by justice. Our country was founded on protecting freedom and the future of our country is dependent on the fulfillment of the rights afforded in our Constitution. Ignoring my complaints is discrimination and can no longer be tolerated. These matters deserve public attention and regardless of the repercussions, I am entitled to due process and I will settle for nothing less. Due to the extremely long timeframe that these events have unfolded during, the chronological preciseness is not what is normally required for court proceedings. However, due to the extremely complex and unprecedented nature, I believe that extenuating circumstances can be cited as grounds to move forward with the case undaunted by any prior rules in which this case may be encumbered by. Legislation takes time, and that has thwarted me time and again, yet due process provides that trials be granted in a speedy and efficient manner. These two facts contradict one another and it is my hope that we can eliminate the bureaucratic red tape and find a way to force my Constitutional rights supersede any and all obstacles, objections, and obstructions of justice even a moment longer. I would also like to point out that my memory and recollection have been measured in numerous controlled environments and both areas have always been touted one of the best in known history. I am very careful to only rely on the things I know to be true and any information provided that is second hand hearsay has either been verified via cross referenced data or I have stated as such. I apologize in advance for the lengthiness of this account. Providing summaries of this information has resulted in no action being taken so I have expended a lot of time and energy to be as thorough as possible. Thank you in advance for taking the time to hear me out and I look forward to being contacted when the decision to proceed has been made and resolutions are on the horizon. 

I founded the Park West Residents Association when I was only ten years old. My mom and I held monthly board meetings for eighteen months before anyone else attended. I drafted the monthly invites and hand delivered them to the 302 units in our apartment complex every month. There is a tree planted on the property with a placard thanking me by name for my help in the acquisition of the property. My mom and I lobbied in DC for two years, fighting for HUD and demanding that low-income households not be forgotten by the government.  My mom was on CNN answering an affiliate correspondent’s question regarding the importance of low-income housing with the White House in the background after spending the day picketing on Pennsylvania Avenue. In my first cell phone, the memory only allowed for ten contacts to be saved. Two of my contacts were then Congressmen Joe Liebermann and Christopher Dodd. My mom was in the Hartford Courant describing the obstacles we were trying to overcome as a foundation. I sent the application for nonprofit status to the Secretary of the State mistakenly, who was kind enough to forward it to the Secretary of the State of Connecticut. It was on our third trip to Washington that our bill was passed into law by Congress in 1995, piggybacked onto the Low-Income Housing and Urban Renewal Act of 1995. 

We hired contractors to remove the asbestos from the ceilings of our complex one unit at a time, and update the almost fifty year old buildings in accordance with the market and bring them up to code. The entire property was to be renovated from the landscaping to the hazardous materials found in the popcorn ceilings. This was a very exciting and busy time for those that were now clamoring to be a part of my company. We hired an Executive Director, Nancy Reno, who responded to the advertisement to replace my mom when her health began to decline. Nancy had experience in property management having worked for The Community Builders prior to coming aboard as an employee of Park West Residents Association Inc.  Nancy’s stepson lived with my mom and I for a month to avoid a long daily commute. As it turned out, he decided to keep living with us, or so we thought, for over a year. I’ll circle back to this momentarily. 

Before we continue, let me tell you a little about me and what life was like during these years, a formative time in all teenagers development. I volunteered every day after school at a hospice that was a couple miles from my home. I’d spend time with the residents, particularly those that had few visitors. We’d read the newspaper or magazines, sometimes the novels they were reading, take walks on the grounds weather permitting, (I’d push them in their wheelchairs), they regaled me with stories from their past, (I even quoted one in a report I did for a class), and sometimes we’d just sit and enjoy the company of not being alone. I was in my church’s choir and I took karate classes every Saturday. I loved reading and spent my free time at the library. I also founded a second nonprofit which made the newspaper for replenishing a clothing bank in the early months of winter, because I saw in the news they had nothing to offer those in need. We donated several dozen bags of freshly laundered clothing, so much that they had to improvise a storage solution for the excess items which didn’t fit in the large walk-in closet which had been converted from a bedroom at the local soup kitchen. We held a bake sale to fund the weekend we spent sorting, laundering, folding, bagging, and delivering the items and had a pizza party to celebrate afterwards. I even compensated my mom for the gas we used to make it all happen. I transitioned from volunteering to running my own afternoon school program during this time. My mom was the Executive Director of the company and worked two doors down in our office which was an apartment only a moment away from our front door. I babysat for approximately a dozen of our neighbors regularly and had many referrals for parents interested in having their children taken care of of during the afternoon. At one point I had six kids from five different families attending the program, which was less structured than some daycares, but offered more flexibility than our competitors. I helped supplement my mom’s income during that time, as she made only ten dollars an hour running my company. I provided snacks for our clients children if approved by the parent, helped them finish their homework which was mandatory to help eliminate that stressor from their home life, and allowed them to make use of any of my personal toys that they wanted, while keeping everyone safe and happy. Most of the time was spent in our backyard which was situated in a way that provided a closed in courtyard bordered by a steep incline on one side and the apartment building on the remaining sides. If ever a problem arose my mom was a phone call away and only had to come home once that I recall to help handle a behavioral issue that was beyond my skill set to address. She checked in regularly between 2:30 and 5-5:30 when she would come home and prepare dinner.  My mom was slightly insulted when I revealed I was making more than her weekly, but I did my best to contribute to the household despite her objections. I never gave a specific cutoff time for picking up the kids, but almost all the parents were respectful enough to have their kids out of my custody by our dinner time at six every evening. If not, a place was set for them at our dinner table and we included them in our meal. I babysat almost every Friday and Saturday night. I also befriended our postman during this time. We gave him cookies for Christmas and he cried when he thanked us, telling us how delicious they were and that in his whole career we were the only ones to think of him during the holidays. My mom and I went camping every summer for two trips each two weeks long, where we were joined by her sister and her sister’s family in various amalgamations. I went to Christian summer camp for two weeks every summer, as well. I brought homemade cards for the cafeteria staff and janitors at my school for all the major holidays. I had trouble adjusting at school as I got picked on everyday. Back then schools didn’t know how to address bullying and despite my mom rallying for my cause time and again, it went on unchecked throughout my full twelve years at public schools. Three years in a row they considered having me skip two years to catch up with those on the same academic level as me, but my mom insisted on the importance of functionalism and symbolic interactionism, despite my challenges interacting with my peers on a social level. I was gregarious and outgoing, but got teased constantly.  In fact, I was almost awarded a scholarship to an overseas school for gifted and twice exceptional students after scoring the only perfect score ever on the statewide aptitude tests given to all eighth graders. This is still one of the biggest let downs of my life and at that point was the worst injustice I could have suffered. To begin with there were some procedural errors in the administration of the exam. Our class had too many students so they decided to either dedicate an additional day to the exam or to split the group in half and allow the teacher’s aide to read the instructions for our group, as she was set to become a full time teacher the following year anyway. However, all students were supposed to take the exam at the same time, so they opted for the latter choice. The scholarship was awarded to the very teacher’s soon to be stepson who had been assigned to administer our exam after they first accused me of cheating, then of being unable to qualify for not following instructions, (I finished second or third and did not check over my answers which was part of the instructions, but why I was singled out for this seemed unfair because most students finished and turned in their exam without double checking them, just as I had). Then, through their own volition the school administrators decided to have a tie breaker to determine the recipient of the scholarship.  The three highest scores were given a single essay question, which they dreamed up much like the tie breaker for what was not a tie.  They asked what the one reason was each of us should be chosen for the scholarship as the question for us to respond to. I was so upset by the whole process that I found it very hard to concentrate. They were potentially robbing me of a scholarship package valued at over half a million dollars.  I cited numerous reasons why I should be awarded the scholarship; because I scored the highest and because I was the person it was supposed to be awarded to, and then focused on the fact that my mom and I were impoverished and that this opportunity would be unattainable to a kid from a low-income, single parent household. I went on to say that my home life was not particularly unbearable, but that giving an opportunity to me which would be so out of reach otherwise, would be more dramatic a change for me than the other two students who both came from higher socio-economic tax bracket households than me. The degree of change to my trajectory would be greater than their’s. I didn’t love my essay, but it was solid and I knew that it should have secured the scholarship, but there were other factors at work, unbeknownst to me. The following year, the same teacher who was supposed to administer my exam returned from the summer break with a new last name and two stepsons. Nonetheless, I began my college applications in eighth grade, with my then guidance counselor, Mr Barnas, who was a big supporter of college and insisted on his students applying, because our Advanced Placement classes meant that if you were pre-enrolled at an affiliated university you would be earning college credits in those classes while in high school. My five year plan was to graduate with a Master’s when I was only eighteen. I even knew that I would be working for the same company my aunt was a manager for and my mom worked for during the holiday season, the May Company, and they had just begun building one in the new Providence Mall just a block away from J&W, which I envisioned myself transferring to in order to help pay for my continued education. I rode my bicycle everywhere back then, sometimes twenty miles in a single day, and Providence is one of the most bicycle friendly cities in the country, so I planned to save money by commuting on my bike.  I was accepted to my first choice, Johnson and Wales for a culinary degree and had four A.P. classes originally scheduled for my freshman year. This would prove to be one of the worst years of my life, as it turned out. My mom began dating after being a single parent for the past decade. It took a lot of encouragement from me for her to reluctantly accept the repeated requests from our mailman to take a night off and accompany him on a date. She was so nervous, but I was sure they’d hit it off. Dick was so supportive of me going to college that I knew my mom would like him. She did, but not in a romantic way. They dated for a year before my mom got involved with a former boyfriend she had dated at the end of her marriage in Maine. Dick retired the same month my mom broke up with him. The following month he died. He bequeathed to me 77K USD, which I knew he wanted spent on my college education so that I wouldn’t be stuck in a menial job, with little benefits, all my life, like he had been and had told me so multiple times. He considered being a mailman a blue collar job because it had ruined his knees and he had been viciously attacked by two different dogs while on route, and the insurance wouldn’t even pay to have his knees operated on because it had yet to become debilitating to his career of over 30 years with the United States Post Office. 

 Paul told me after their little heist using Jake’s badge that Ryan became a sort of vigilante. He’d come down every weekend and they’d go kick in people’s doors and rob them of drugs, cash, and any other valuables they could find. Mostly they were just looking for drugs and cash, because they’re untraceable. Paul would scout out people by selling them drugs and then, they’d return and rob them. I wonder how many people would come forward if they put his picture on the news and asked victims to come forward to help prosecute a suspect who impersonated either a border patrol agent or a federal marshal?? I wonder how many people they victimized? I wonder how many drug dealers they robbed? I wonder how many well connected people they got one over on!?

The problem with sociopaths is they can never be rehabilitated. They feel no remorse for their actions, ever. The only recourse is lifetime confinement.  

Circa summer 2003

 I remember that they claimed to have bought a camper and the cargo was a shocking surprise. Anuli planned to turn the packages in to the police and was nervous to even have them in her home because her husband was in law enforcement. I told her I could probably find someone willing to buy them from her with a single call and she could make a lot of money, but she was insistent that they turn them over in the morning. 

When I finally talked to my mom again, I asked Paul to put me in touch with the responsible parties. He had Ryan contact me, but Ryan was less than cooperative. At one point he told me I could pick up my mom’s pop up where he dropped it off, in the middle of a busy intersection. 

So, if Anuli was married to a Green in law enforcement, I would have to assume she was married to Wayne Green who was a border patrol agent. Good old Auntie Anuli. 

Makes me wonder how Uncle Wayne died? Makes the flyer about the dangers of ingesting antifreeze which Anuli gave me, seem rather suspicious.  

 Now, you can say it was Ainsley all you want, but Kristen told me she picked up Levi and Ryan at Bradley international airport the same day Dave and I drove in from DC. Paul told me that he and Chris followed Ryan and Levi to Maine. Regardless of which Chris it was, Ryan was definitely there. 

Also, I told my mom that I should be able to trust you to deliver the currency collection and other heirlooms because you wear glasses, and generally people that wear glasses are more trustworthy. I don’t know that this is the case, you obviously did not contribute to that statistic if it is true. 

 After the incident when Sara didn’t tell Dave about her having a warrant while she was babysitting me while my mom accompanied Dave to Arizona the first time and then her not divulging that she was picking up thousands of dollars worth of OxyContin while I was driving her, from our family pharmacy, Vincent’s, then making me buy McDonald’s for everyone when I knew my mom was making dinner for all of us and then Sara didn’t even have money for the fast food. She did say she’d pay me back, but didn’t. Then the money that she claimed was hers that was in my slacks after she was seen in my bedroom while I was showering for work, my mom was pretty fed up with her lifelong best friend. When Sara and Dave had a one night stand, my mom began saving up to break up with Dave. 

She wanted monogamy and he didn’t. There was no way to reconcile the two. It took a whole year, but she bought the pop up all by herself and was so proud of having done so. She used a composting chemical toilet and bought herself an entire cast iron cookware set that she named her pioneer woman cowboy cookware. She perfected a recipe for green chile and cheese corn bread that was divine. She found the campsite all by herself and had set it up the way she wanted. It may well have been the only time I saw her genuinely happy in my adult life. Possibly ever.

She had struck out on her own from Canada and traveled all the way to Arizona, taking her time and enjoying the freedom.  She stopped at tourist traps and made detours that she chose.  It just so happened that after six months of radio silence I left a pleading message asking her to please answer when I called the next time at a specific time a couple of days later, because I was very concerned.  Unfortunately, Dave happened to call from an unrecognized number about a half hour before I called.  She said she knew it wasn’t me because I am always punctual, always and when I plan to do something I do it as scheduled.  She answered for some reason anyway.  Dave was in a bind and needed to leave the fifth wheel while his truck was serviced overnight. She agreed somewhat reluctantly, but when they went to drop off the Chevy, the appointment was not in the system so one night turned into a week until the next available time slot was open.  She said she did miss having him around.  His companionship, but she loved that it was on her terms.  He slept in his rig and she in hers. He was scheduled to leave the next morning  last we chatted.  Then again nothing for months.  

They robbed her of her independence. With no home, no vehicle, and just the clothes on her back she had no choice but to stay with Dave until she could buy a vehicle. They slept in the truck, but as soon as he found her the old dodge she bought a tent and left him as quick as she could. She didn’t contact me for another several months but I figured she was just laying low to avoid becoming entangled with Dave again. I had no idea they had been robbed of everything. 

Oddly enough, I was there, in the Casas Adobes basement when they unloaded some of the saran wrapped bricks of marijuana. I immediately called first my mom then Dave, but got no response. I tried to abate my anxiety by reassuring myself that it probably was a common way to wrap drugs that are being transported and there probably were lots of these types of packages, so I needn’t be paranoid about them belonging to Dave, but they were numbered, the same way he numbered his. It was dark outside, so I didn’t see where they had brought them from. Nor did I see the campers. 

It wasn’t until a week or two later when Paul offered to have Levi bring me home that it all sank it. When I got in the Roadmaster, I said, “This is my mom’s car “. He was cool as a cucumber and responded casually, “You mean your mom has the same kind of car” he asked without missing a beat. “No, I mean this is her car”. We rode in silence for the rest of the way. The center counsol had been her piggy bank and had contained 500 bucks or so in the large compartment. 

Her basement opened to the left and had a square support post in the middle of that quadrant. Low ceiling. 

 And what of the homeowner’s insurance claim I took out while using the Casas Adobes address?  Bet no one lined their pockets with that money either, right!?

The mere way you were so cavalier with all that money, is, in of itself, an admission of guilt. 

The lengths that were taken to cover your tracks, the amount of maneuvering and social engineering, the creativity and attention to detail required, all to oppress and profit is mind boggling. Your little gang of hoodlums is led by next level evil geniuses. Narcissistic sociopaths, likely raised by two A type personalities in their childhood homes. They’re devious and refuse any accountability even when there’s no denying it. Tucson’s 99’s are the real threat to liberty and freedom. Their methodologies are based on archaic principals that resemble a feudal government in many ways. Struggling to commandeer as much as possible, at any cost, they use personal relationships as one of their primary arsenals. They prescribe to logic but refute reason based on their inability to hold themselves liable for any wrongdoing or damages caused. Their lesser brained groupees often place blame on others to escape feeling inferior. The leaders are contortionists of the truth and make a mockery of democracy, the Justice system, and even the Executive branch. Absolute power, corrupts absolutely. Ask a Jew if you have any doubts. Those that act as a buffer, a voice of reason, cling to nativity pretending it’s not ignorance. 

 As it were, I declared a moratorium on note booking two decades ago. All notebooks pulled since are being charged as funding terrorism under the Patriot Act, and treason on the grounds of causing a threat to national security by means of a social engineering economic espionage and treason via a Ponzi scheme. That’s life without the possibility of parole n times.  

Brandi Fenton was with all of you the day before her body was discovered. I saw you all on my way to work. On the bike loop. 

And, who notebooked my DB Cooper tip?

First responders found a young man who identified himself as Chris Benda on scene at the country club, but who dialed 911? Is pulling notebooks postmortem legal? 

 I got blamed for Cindy’s drunk driving accident in the driveway in Shahurita. I got blamed for Anulis accident in the muscle car over the railroad tracks. And I got blamed for Paul Gardner crashing your car by Pima west. None of which I was behind the wheel for. Paul asked you, “Do you trust me”? He gunned it and the next thing I remember is we were upside down. You were trying to beat your parents before they got up for the morning. When you called your dad you said, “Paul crashed the car”, but you left out that the driver, Paul Gardner got picked up in a blue muscle car. Someone died in the scooped engine muscle car that barrel rolled through the air after launching over the berm, into the dark desert night. My phone, was lost in the fray. There were cacti everywhere. And.. so much blood. She had a Burberry handbag and a plaid catholic girl skirt with thigh high platform  boots. I couldn’t drive a stick. So, I climbed in the back.  By that nice development with the walking tunnel. Gladden Farms. I lost consciousness walking down the divided yellow line, in search of help. I was wearing your brothers Chuck George All Stars. I had no phone numbers for anyone. I heard you had a lot of staples. I’m sorry. Worst Fourth of July party ever. I remember thinking what a nice skin tone she had.  Not tan. Not brown, golden. My Pepsi was in the cup holder. I didn’t want to go because all I had for footwear were my Jesus sandals, but you said I could wear the Converse’s belonging to your brother. Weird thing is, I woke up in Cindy’s condo, and I know that twice I noticed only a single drop of blood dotted one of the toes, but when I put them on before leaving, they were stained dark brown in splotches and splashes all over them. We just happened to be leaving the day of your summer party, so I left them by the gate or by the garage. She was practically in the passenger’s lap the whole time up until the accident. I asked if she could operate the clutch in her patent leather hooker heels, but she said they were alligator skin. I was wearing my seatbelt and it saved my life all three times. Sometime before I awoke in Cindy’s condo I regained consciousness long enough to glance my reflection in the pane glass of the circle K where o was attempting to use the pay phone. Every inch of me, save for the shoes was covered in dark red dried blood. I think it was the circle k by Tucson estates, somehow. I think they let me use the phone inside to call Dave, the only number other than my mom’s I knew by heart that would be of any use. I futilely tried to wipe the blood off my hand to not get it on the white cordless phone inside the store. 

 I decided to donate all my Christmas presents after my mom said she was going to donate one because she said I tried to peek inside the wrapping of one of my gifts. I thought that if there were needy kids that didn’t have presents that I had enough so I donated the entire PlaySkool kitchen set to needy kids. Labels, wrapping, and all. The funny part was, I just poked one of the presents and there was nothing behind it so it ripped the paper. I was trying to get an idea of what it might be, but I wasn’t trying to peek inside the gift wrap. 

 The year that Kathy told me she would spend the Epstein money on Katherine and I, we were pretty short on funds. My mom got me 10 dollar high tops on a blue light special at Kmart. By the end of the week they were falling apart at the seams. I wore those sneakers with duck tape holding them together until February. I remember hating walking down to photography class because it was a long empty hallway and my socks were so soaked they made squishing noises. Photography was my last period class.  

 The way I see it is; the money was stolen from my mom’s account. You spent the next ten years trying to find a way to pull a notebook on her. Levi telling on Dave was as close as you could manage. 

 So the savings bank of Manchester really screwed me. They let my cousin open a joint account using only my ssn. Then they closed the account and sent the money back to her even though the entire sum was one check made out to me, for 3B. 

 Can we just for a moment, imagine what I’m claiming is true?  Now, if it were true, wouldn’t I be a plaintiff and all of them be defendants?  What sort of scope would the regress have to be on?  Now, still assuming it’s all true, what scale of injustice is it to do nothing?  How horrendous is it to let them continue torturing me? Even murderers get lighter sentences than I’ve served. 

 Now, they’ll try and tell you they made me wealthy just so they could steal from me. However, I was about as poor gets all throughout my life. If you’re stealing from me, then perhaps you’re better at being me than I am. And, if that is the case, it’s terribly offensive and still falls under racketeering, funding terrorism, and a Ponzi scheme. You know what kind of sentences those charges carry??

I never really understood what a nemesis was, until now. Ever read the Count of Monte Cristo? Man of La Manche?