Coloring with the Catholics: My Story of Criminal Mental Health Care and Higher Ed Gaslighting in Larry Nassar’s Michigan (Part One:) To the Looney Bin (Crazy Lady on the Loose, Get Her!)

UNDER CONSTRUCTION. THANK YOU! November 2021.

I’m currently editing this chapter, which needs transitions, for one thing. In order to polish a piece, I need to edit a lot and still need an outside editor. I publish now because I need accumulating actual mental torture to stop.

This defense attempts to correct the record. It requires some elaborate time structure. And documentation when one is falsely accused of delusion, hallucination and psychosis. This is not a memoir. This is me still trying to save my life from retaliatory criminal (not forensic) psychiatry.

This novella-length first chapter sets the wide net of my snowball from hell story.

Since the spring of 2019, when I first drafted this website, I’ve been filing rounds of Michigan Civil Rights complaints in response to current retaliation and harassment from my many attackers (school, police, Catholics, state of Michigan). My complaints have been accepted and are still under investigation, delayed due to COVID. They are means toward possible legal redress, as I understand it.

For a another view of my claims against Oakland Community College (called Land of Motown Community College in this narration with documentation), see my latest legal demand to the school (by clicking Google docs link below):

Part One Section Titles:

• The Set Up by My Nemesis, My Larry Nassar
• Mr. Online Shakespeare
• The Bizarre Tale of Bully Teacher Eric Abbey
• Witchhunt, Officially
• The Political Context, Democrats and Republicans
• Kill Bill!
• Gaslighting
• Hack Shrink#1 The Wolf
• Compare and Contrast Evaluations Land of Motown Community College Hack Shrinks vs St. Mary Merciless Absent Doctor
• Hack Shrink #2 The Terminator
• Something Wicked This Way Came
• Set Up For Suicide Swatting
• Crazy Lady on the Loose, Get Her!
• Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad
• Save My Life!” My Version of Events.

By Gina Fournier

Introduction.

I am a survivor of suicide swatting who was murdered by higher education gaslighting and criminal mental health care.  One can never forget.  February 22-28, 2013, I was held without initial evaluation in a mental ward for week, set up by my hostile employer, with the aid of bully teacher peers and the complicit silence of too many sheep.

Yes, I know what day it is and understand what is really going on.  Today is March 12, 2019.  I have been a pawn in a cruel game of mental and financial torture officially since April 13, 2012, when a bogus paper trail was created.  This paper trail was purposefully crafted to mislabel me all kinds of suddenly crazy dangerous, using specific jargon of the trade.  I was sent to hack shrinks to have me declared crazy, to create paperwork saying I was mentally ill and potentially dangerous, regardless of the fact that I was not.

~ * ~

This story is very complicated and way too long. This attack actually started earlier, before 2008, with greedy union teachers who did not want to share teaching literature classes.

Of all the things to a torture and murder a woman over.

~ * ~

This story stretches back and forward for years beyond the onset of the initial attack and illegal looney bin lock up. Its sounds dramatic, perhaps grandiose and unbelievable, but I am a pawn being sacrificed because there are too many bad actors in my story and it’s just easier to silence me, even though it means my torture, and the end of a livable life.

A basic understanding of human history and current events reminds that there is no limit to human cruelty, still.

~ * ~

When weaponized, to a dangerous and malignant tune, psychiatric terms can end a person’s life, like a gun.  Many people may not realize that there is no scientific basis for the labels given by supposed mental health care practitioners, who are biased, 100%, like preachers and politicians.

English teachers and so-called mental health care workers have something in common: both fall short, as groups, of being ethical and truly caring about students and patients. Students and patients should be told that English teachers and mental health care workers do not agree on the fundamentals of their fields. In other words, they don’t agree about what makes a good student paper or if bi-polar exists.

Disclaimers would be appropriate.

~ * ~

I was illegally held without initial evaluation in what amounts to a human trafficking Catholic mental ward. This action meets the definition of torture set by the United Nations, for I was held against my will but not charged with a crime. 

I was set up for this calamity by my hostile employer, documented hostile through an Equal Employment Opportunity Claim, a useless gesture.

The largest community college in the state of Michigan, with the assistance of my hometown mostly white male police force, who hurt not helped, suicide swatted me, that is, made purposely false police reports, saying I was suicidal when I was not, to set me up. 

When one cop, the top cop at the school, called another cop across town and said there is a crazy lady on the loose, in her home, in sexist America, in President Trump’s grab a pussy and rape America, I was stolen from my house like a television.  I was a 48-year-old woman, recently widowed, wearing a pink bathrobe and quickly police hand cuffs. 

I was not suicidal. No one listened to me. No one listens to me still.

I had posted on Facebook within the previous hour that I was literally, actually, actively, trying to “save my life” from the actions of my employer, Land of Motown Community College (a pseudonym), who called the cops to say I was suicidal when I was not, in order to cause chaos, which ensued.

~ * ~

My words were ignored.

They still are.

~ * ~

Breathe. 

~ * ~ 

As an artist, a painter, I seek color, and as a writer I speak in metaphors.  I need people to understand the violence and criminality of what happened to me.  I need to record my loss. I need some form of overdue delayed justice to survive this ordeal.

Jesus raped me.  I wish things were very different, but this is an extra ugly tale of criminal mental health care, criminal mental abuse, in America, that involves the Catholic Church.

The same Catholics who raised me, in Livonia, Michigan, later criminally violated me, in an almost secret hidden Catholic Siberia, steps from the nun’s motherhouse. 

~ * ~

I doubt most people know there is psychiatric ward at the heart of the Felician nuns’ tax-free campus, on the north side of town. 

I didn’t learn about its existence, until I did, while riding handcuffed in the back of a police car for the first time (but not the only time).

To silence and crush me, to make a buck off my hide, I was locked up inside an insane asylum without recourse. 

I’ve had time to reflect. 

Initially, because the hospital was so poorly run, with so little care for human rights or good health, I was locked-up without evaluation and minus any contact with the outside world–for two and half days.

In full, I was locked up for week that ended my life. I was detained feet away from my crappy all girl Catholic high school, newly defunct Ladywood High School, but I was lost to the world.

I’m still lost to the world.

~ * ~

~ * ~

This story refuses to be bound. 

I have been bound, multiple times. 

~ * ~

This story would make me make more jokes and laugh at the jokes of others, if I weren’t suffering such acute now chronic mental abuse for so long, turned torture years ago. I live in constant real danger: imposed poverty, homelessness, further lock up.

Once I was locked up, ever since it seems I will never be allowed to recover my autonomy in society. Strangers dismiss my story as delusional. Tell me to take my meds. Psychiatry does not allow criticism of its self.

I can’t tell people my real story, not safely.

That’s mental torture.

People will watch psychological horror on a streaming service, but not tolerate or allow my true story of psychological horror and psychiatric mental health crime.

That’s mental torture.

Essentially, I was murdered by involuntary mental health care plus retaliation for speaking out over my mistreatment because I disagreed with my community college English teacher co-workers over the benefits of requiring writing students to traditional, old school, Roman numeral outlines. 

Disagreements over pedagogy and work place turf wars is one starting point of this story, the worst movie I have never seen.  I want Laura Dern to play me in my Lifetime channel movie bio triptych. Believe me, this is a compliment and maybe a curse.

But I’ll tell try to this version of my story in mostly chronological order.

~ * ~

Chapter One: The Set Up by My Nemesis, My Larry Nassar, William MacQueen

Larry Nassar is the Michigan State University doctor who molested hundreds of girls, females, whose stories were ignored by police and school officials for a very long time.

He was able to become a sexist monster due to a sexist and corrupt climate.

As Larry Nassar molested females, mostly male, white, Republican state legislators could not say or hear the word “vagina,” while they were intent on restricting vaginas.

~ * ~

The same sexist and corrupt climate that produced Larry Nassar, also produced:

1) sexist legislators in Michigan,

2) police and school authorities who don’t respect females as much as they assume they do,

3) the Land of Motown Community College sexist gaslight witchhunt.

~ * ~

I have my very own Larry Nassar, which I do not say lightly.

My old man Larry Nassar violated my life by boring a hole in my mind, then my wallet, then my entire being.

~ * ~

Spring 2012. 

A special meeting had been set up by decree.  At District Headquarters for Land of Motown Community College.  In upper Oakland County.  Home of the richest of the state’s rich. 

~ * ~

I was targeted. 

~ * ~

Verbally, to my face, I was falsely accused of being the worst kind of person: a potential school shooter, suddenly crazy and very dangerous, based on nothing: no gun, no threat, no incident.

By a man who had never before met me and had zero actual cause, William MacQueen.

I was maligned by a new interim human resources labor attorney, an established teacher-crusher, documented in federal court. 

~ * ~

A diminutive old man, he was brought out of retirement from a next-door community college.

Previously, at Ronald Reagan Democrat Community College (a pseudonym), he chased another teacher, a male English teacher, through years of federal court action trying to end the guy’s career. The old man did this, it seems, to simply say that it is possible to take out a union teacher, and the union can’t and won’t try to stop it.

My nemesis tried to fire my predecessor based on the complaints of one student, like the David Mamet play, Oleana. Eventually, my teacher predecessor won his job back, but not damages. My higher ed mind rape Larry Nassar set federal court precedent restricting what college teachers can say in the classroom.

Accusations of sexual harassment for males, accusations of crazy dangerous for women.

Guess which one is more difficult to combat? 

~ * ~

Who is saying I’m suddenly crazy dangerous without ever meeting me?

I was forced to ask.

~ * ~

I discovered information on Google immediately after I opened the April 13, 2012 letter that launched the paper trail which has buried me. 

Back then, in 2012, I found more amateur-looking evidence of my Larry Nassar’s teacher-crusher reputation, which has since been updated and professionalized.

~ * ~

In July 2013, over a year after the molestation of my mind was launched and after I was successfully crushed and forced to quit (not fired), a press release announced the arrival of my nemesis at Land of Motown Community College. His position had been made permanent.

Keeper of the crypt.

My attacker was celebrated publicly, after he grossly violated me behind closed doors.

After I had been locked up in psychiatric ward, Putin-style, the Chancellor of Land of Motown Community College exclaimed that my attacker has “brought a wealth of experience and expertise to his duties.”

(Comeuppance: this Chancellor was also removed, in coming years, for reasons the teachers union did not disclose.)

~ * ~

April 13, 2012.

The Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail begins here.

Well, sort of.

Officially, it begins here.

At home, I got the mail, opened an envelope from Land of Motown Community College and discovered my death certificate.

As a feminist, I knew enough of world history to immediately ascertain that this one letter could precipitate the end of my life.

My “mental state” did not ‘pose’ a “threat” to “my colleagues or others.”

~ * ~

Previously, I had been labeled verbally objectionable.

My immediate peers, a very small group of very fortunate full-time community college English teachers, who were paid very well and enjoyed great latitude in the way they carried out their jobs, did not like my views on remedial instruction, education reform or the reading crisis, among major differences, the biggest being the creation of annual teaching schedule.

~ * ~

Please be aware.

Chronological order moves around a lot in this story.

~ * ~

Chapter: Mr. Online Shakespeare

The Land of Motown paper trail actually starts earlier.

~ * ~

I was the target of lead bully peer, Mr. Online Shakespeare, Ray Mort, since Day One on the job, the first day of the school year, in 2005, when I met this union scoundrel.

At the free lunch for well paid full-time union teachers (that crowd of cows did not attend unless there was free food), I accidentally stepped on his bleeding nerve by saying my partner and I did not have and did not want children.

Sadly, a child of Mr. Online Shakespeare’s had recently died, along with his wife, due to a genetically shared disease, the gossip grapevine told me, to explain Mr. Online Shakespeare’s sudden dark clouds and exit from the lunch table.

The same meek, rather spineless peer in the English department, told me a few years later, that Mr. Online Shakespeare bullied English department peers into initialing blank school letterhead stationery, at the top, BEFORE Mr. Online Shakespeare wrote the most outlandish and academically abhorrent letter about his dislike for my pedagogical views.

The campus president and dean completely ignored the bullying directed at me by Mr. Online Shakespeare, despite eye to eye conversations and formal grievances filed.

I was never safe at Land of Motown Community College.

I was always doomed, from Day One.

~ * ~

Tenure comes early at Land of Motown. Winter 2006. Mr. Online Shakespeare made me cry in my office before he evaluated my teaching. I don’t even remember what the guy said exactly. Something like, I both had potential, and I was awful, minus support.

By November 2008, three years after I was hired, teacher bully, Mr. Online Shakespeare, had built up a lot of steam about my person. He retaliated against me, big time, in writing, using invention, plagiarism and eschewing academic integrity.

Mr. Online Shakespeare intimidated the entire small department to rally against me.

Mr. Online Shakespeare laid the ground work for the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight witchhunt by conflating my pedagogical views with my so-called behavior, a tactic also used later by my nemesis in human resources.

~ * ~

What had I done to elicit his rage?

I revealed his questionable behavior.

Publicly, I mentioned his self-serving insistence on offering way too many online sections of Bard studies.

I named Mr. Online Shakespeare only through his pseudonym, in an essay that appeared online, as part of submitted collection of work by teachers, published by the National Education Association, one of two main national teachers unions.

I can no longer find the essay online.

I also shared the essay on my Land of Motown Community College teacher’s website, long defunct.

Now, it can be found on my website.

“One Size Never Fits All.”

My essay is about the reading crisis, about students, citizens, people not reading (and therefore not doing the kind of thinking that only reading encourages). The way I see it, the reading crisis flared up with detrimental, disastrous repercussions during the 2016 presidential election.

~ * ~

Please realize, and you may agree, which I hope you do, it was my duty to speak out against greedy, teacher-first old school practices, though I’ve paid dearly.

~ * ~

Not only did I mock my peer’s teaching behavior, but I also threatened his teaching turf.

~ * ~

I wanted to teach easier to teach literature courses, too, like Mr. Online Shakespeare, and other department full-time union teachers who were hired after me, in the old school union shop.

The local in-house union at Land of Motown Community College is a branch of the Michigan Education Association, which is affiliated with the National Education Association.

Not a trust worthy group, in my experience.

~ * ~

Instead of sharing as one might expect in a community that calls itself a community, through private vote, at the urging of department bullies, my Land of Motown Community College English department peers locked me into teaching composition courses, the most demanding work load among department offerings.

Time after time, my schedule alone was voted up or down.

~ * ~

Isolation is the opposite of community.

~ * ~

I kept insisting, however, and after a few semesters, a few years, I made space for myself, but it cost me my livelihood and my life.

~ * ~

I was actually murdered on November 10, 2008.

This is when the real papertrail begins, before the school’s bogus papertrail by a number of years.

~*~

Truth is nastier than fiction.

A small group of English teachers at Land of Motown Community College were bullied by Mr. Online Shakespeare into initialing blank school letterhead before Mr. Online Shakespeare wrote the letter below.

~*~

I’ve been dead for a really, really long time.

I guess that’s why it hurts so much.

~*~

I could not articulate or foresee the unbelievable hell that would follow this letter, but I did realize, somewhere below the level of complete sentences and fleshed out thought, that if my co-workers weren’t punished, I would be.

The letter below is a strange display of academic hostility and total lack of ethics. It shows a killer instinct.

This fall, in 2021, The Chair debuted on Netflix.

Can you imagine any largely unsupervised work group, given permanent employment for life, allowed to create their own schedules and command their own worlds, that wouldn’t take advantage and become, well, Shakespearean?

Not the Supreme Court, not any work group.

~ * ~

My peers, college English teachers, an entire English department, individuals, adults, who were paid to teach students academic honesty, committed plagiarism, in order to appease a union-protected teacher bully.

In order to protect themselves in a cutthroat reality.

And then they kept quiet. They’ve kept quiet ever since.

~ * ~

It takes a department to murder a co-worker.

In private conversation only, Nicole Pitts supported me by acknowledging bully teacher peers, but not in front of other people, not in public, not officially on the job at Land of Motown Community College.

I knew there was something strange about Mr. Online Shakespeare’s letter, which opens like he’s writing the Gettysburg Address, by referring to a timeline.

Mr. Online Shakespeare: “For the past four years, the English department at Royal Oak and Southfield has been distracted from our solid work for students and goals for the department by the continuing, critical, and disrespectful communication from one member: Gina Fournier.”

Uh, if you’re “distracted” by the existence of another, focus more.

~ * ~

So much wrong-headed teacher bullying here, it’s dizzying.

Mr. Online Shakespeare was really upset by my radical views on relaxed outlining.

You may read his detailed concerns, if you like. They’re total nonsense. But gimme a second to set the context for page one, first.

~ * ~

An entire Higher Learning Commission accredited community college campus ignored this letter and instead of doing the right thing allowed bullying for years.

Probably because this bullying was ignored by my coworkers and superiors, I tried to ignore it, too.

It was years before I ever used the term “bully” to describe this action.

I used the word “asshole” instead of “bully,” for a long time, because I grew up before the word “bully” became popular.

~ * ~

I talked to the campus president.

I filed back-to-back grievances.

Both were dismissed.

Actually, the first was dismissed, the second was totally ignored.

I informed English teachers at the other campuses. Nothing.

~ * ~

Mr. Online Shakespeare’s letter never left my mind.

Wait a minute. “Four score and seven years ago . . .”

The math didn’t work.

People who were hired after me said I was a pain in the ass for longer than any of us had worked at Land of Motown Community College.

Then, one co-worker, Nicole Pitts, cleared up the mystery and told me that Mr. Online Shakespeare coerced my peers into initialing the letter at the top before it was written.

This unusual instance of mass plagiarism should have meant the immediate forced resignation of all who committed plagiarism and thus broke the faculty contract.

But it didn’t.

~ * ~

My peers did this outrageous thing in order to protect their own interests during the creation of the all important annual teaching schedule.

Teachers competed and played politics in order to arrange schedules that best fit their personal lives and preferences.

~ * ~

The teacher who supported me in private, one year, if I recall correctly, arranged to teach three eight-week semesters, so she worked only half the weeks of a calendar year, to stay at home with her young children. That’s great for her, but what about students? Very scant few, next to none, are served by condensed eight-week courses.

~ * ~

I can’t forget: one teacher, Lori Linden, being Midwestern nice, told me to teach in the remedial program because it was less work than teaching composition.

This insider’s tip was true based on a number of factors, including credit hour to student ratios, which were wildly out of balance.

This woman later denied her own words, then regularly voted with teacher bullies against my requested teaching schedule.

To underscore her strategic behavior, please note this woman shows a clear pattern of moving toward easier workloads. That’s the main reason high school teachers seek to jump to community college, as she did: fewer students, fewer teaching hours.

More time to raise a family.

~ * ~

I was isolated and targeted. Teachers with good reputations silently helped. They helped themselves to more servings out of greed. They played sheep in a herd out of a sense of survival. They put their own well being over mine. They helped murder me.

~ * ~

My head hurts terribly right now.

I’m stifling screams to try and avoid eviction.

My world is crashing in on me.

I’m afraid to look at my bank account.

~ * ~

~ * ~

When I was preparing for my successful job interview, way back in the summer of 2005, an old fashioned education industry print magazine was sent to my house informing me that Land of Motown Community College sat at the top of the pay scale nationally for full-time tenured teachers, who can max out of 100K-150K a year, if they teach overtime and take on extra duties.

The pay scale from this faculty contract (below) doesn’t reflect salaries padded with overtime. Instead, the center column shows the pay per credit hour of over-time, which means teachers at the top of the pay scale earn between about $4,200 to $5,600 per extra course taught.

As you may have surmised, Mr. Online Shakespeare taught a lot of over-time sections per contract year.

Teachers who hit the top of the pay scale at fifteen years (which included some of my peers), those who teach extra sections and maybe take on additional job titles like department chair or campus senate president, earn at a rate that outpaces state of Michigan elected officials, I’m pretty sure.

~ * ~

Silence and integrity can be bought, even by otherwise good people.

~ * ~

Mr. Online Shakespeare’s absurd bullying smear became legal evidence and was admitted into an Oakland County administrative courtroom, later, after I was forced to quit, when I fought for unemployment insurance from Land of Motown Community College, in 2014.

(Fought and lost.)

~*~

The second of many pages of Mr. Online Shakespeare letter is revealing: “Ms. Fournier has avoided process to obtain approvals and support for requesting designated full sections . . .”

“Designated fulls” were a coveted prize, which allowed a section to run and a teacher to be paid as if the classroom were full of students, even if the classroom was more empty than full, so “designated fulls” were a really important commodity to Mr. Online Shakespeare.

Mr. Online Shakespeare needed help filling the excessive number of sections he offered. He needed to retain control over “designated fulls,” in order to maintain his lifestyle.

Actually, it seems Mr. Online Shakespeare would be helped by some form of outlining to organize and support his claims with enough support. Or, maybe he should have pursued a legal career, in which he could practice purposely misleading argumentation. Amid his overall bogus and ironic concern for “collegiality,” Mr. Online Shakespeare asserted that I insisted my teaching was the only way to teach, in the same disjointed paragraph as his complaints about being asked to share his domain of “designated fulls.” Only a prosecutor would claim one person could ‘draw’ others into “conflict and argument.”

~*~

Related. At some point in contract negotiations, both faculty and administration at Land of Motown Community College decided to put more students in the classroom than other area community colleges, to pad and prioritize teacher pay over student learning experience.

I know from teaching at three other area community colleges prior to teaching at Land of Motown Community College: Closest to The University of Michigan Community College, Assembly Line Community College, and Lily-White Livonia Community College.

~ * ~

The Land of Motown Community College administration and faculty union completely ignored Mr. Online Shakespeare’s grotesque lapse of academic integrity, and the support of most peers.

But I could not.

The lines were set: me against them.

~ * ~

No one was ever fired, my local union rep told me.

I distinctly recall my worry that I would be the first.

~ * ~

People ask, what about the union?

I look at them and think, you don’t read newspapers, do you?

You don’t read Detroit area newspapers, for sure.

Have you ever seen the movie On the Waterfront, with Marlon Brando? With the line about ‘could have been a contender?’

About a union brother who is willing to use and murder his own brother for the benefit of the union mob boss?

~ * ~

In Mr. Online Shakespeare’s smear, my voiced and written views, protected by academic freedom, were conflated with my so-called undescribed “challenging behavior.”

This purposeful confusion of ideas and actions was an approach adopted by my nemesis years later, when he officially launched the school’s attack.

Coincidence?

Or patriarchy?

~*~

Mr. Online Shakespeare’s letter plus addendum went on for pages.

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community college full-time union protected English teachers read nothing, initialed blank letterhead and then lied. In thier silence, they have been lying ever since.

The end of Mr. Online Shakespeare’s smear quoted me quoting Pink Floyd, not during official school business, though that should have been ok, too.

How ironic.

Why did tenured union peers think they could get away with such nonsense?

~ * ~

Mr. Online Shakespeare acted like Donald Trump trying to silence and disparage Hillary Clinton.

And he got away with it.

~ * ~

I should have known that the ridiculously bad behavior of my peers would mean the end of me.

Not too deep down, I did know.

I worked too hard to look for another job, which would have meant moving, most likely, I told myself.

I guess I should have done it anyway, or tried.

I hoped that after I won my fight to teach literature, I could lay low and be left alone, to teach, garden, paint and publish.

Wrong.

Chapter: The Bizarre Tale of Bully Teacher Eric Abbey

And her comes Gina, me, who will prove that I was bullied, not the bully, as my nemesis claimed.

My opening statement, Gina’s Law: “It was teacher bullying in the past that led to the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight mind rape witch hunt.”

This chain events stretching back to 2008, and earlier, is the reason and the only reason I ended up sent to hack shrinks, removed from the classroom, suicide swatted, police abducted and illegally locked up in a Catholic looney bin, in 2013.

This chain of events involving bully teachers still employed at Land of Motown Community College is the cause for a snowball from hell with my name on it, meaning a lot of bad stuff that happened after illegal looney bin lock up, only because of retaliatory illegal looney bin lock up, including a month in jail in Osceola County, which I will show is clearly connected.

~ * ~

Mr. Online Shakespeare recruited, influenced and mentored other department bullies.

~ * ~

I wasn’t sure if I would name or include my peers, but now feel I must.

~ * ~

Coincidences gird this crazy story, dare I say like the hands of many angels in heaven, or devils in hell, guiding me in a very long journey, to hopefully a better time and place, when I finally can return home to me, minus criminal oppression and mental torture.

~ * ~

McFarland & Co. Publishers is small niche publisher that published books by me and bully teacher Eric Abbey, a bull teacher protégé of Mr. Online Shakespeare.

~ * ~

I felt badly when Land of Motown Community College librarians who I thought respected me well enough displayed his book but not mine.

Or was it that his book earned a top shelf placement and mine was nearly obscured on the bottom shelf?

Authors care very much about these exact details, of course.

~ * ~

~ * ~

My intention is to not to harm but to save my life.

Fairly, peacefully, legally.

I can’t express but want to try to express how terribly painful working on this project is, knowing it will likely not help, and that internet trolls may likely destroy me and my efforts, and I will never win back my life.

~ * ~

I know I can’t afford to hope at this point that anyone on planet earth will ever help me.

But just in case, I have repeatedly requested that my attackers do the unthinkable: turn themselves in.

I know.

I must be nuts.

~ * ~

Eric Abbey was hired after me to teach in an old school union shop without any rankings among department members, except for union seniority.

The only rank that was supposed to count, say, in the case of staff reduction, was union seniority, which I had over Eric Abbey.

Teaching literature should have been shared among union teachers with no quibbling.

~ * ~

Eric Abbey was ‘allowed’ by Mr. Online Shakespeare and the others who hired him to teach literature courses from the start.

And, like Mr. Online Shakespeare, Eric Abbey did not want to share.

~ * ~

Our small English department seemed to enjoy the fact that I was the only member who taught only composition courses, the heaviest lifting, compared to literature courses and teaching in the remedial program.

~ * ~

I asked to teach literature courses, too.

I was met with aggressive opposition from Eric Abbey and Mr. Online Shakespeare, who did not want to share turf they considered their own, as if marked by stronger male urine, with me.

~ * ~

Using faculty vote, often held blindly through e-mail, to help teacher sheep be teacher sheep without any checks or balances, I was locked out of teaching literature courses.

~ * ~

Meanwhile, I did not condone the one size fits all nature of the remedial program, which I felt was poorly designed, so I stuck with teaching Composition I and II.

~ * ~

So I taught composition courses, until, after a couple of years of constant requests, I was allowed through department vote to also finally teach literature courses.

I finally broke through the ranks of political wrangling.

Under a generic make it yourself class title, I created a lit course, which I called The Michigan Reader.

Putting the word “reader” in the title was like puffing the smell of horse shit out a restaurant window.

Smile, even if I can’t.

~ * ~

My fight to teach lit was costly.

Desperate and greedy to keep literature assignments, Eric Abbey even tried to rewrite union seniority in order to stop me from teaching literature, but was not successful. He didn’t need to rewrite seniority to defend his bullying, which was allowed by the dean, Lloyd Crews, but I guess Eric Abbey knew he was in the wrong.

My teaching literature, too, meant less opportunity for Mr. Online Shakespeare and Eric Abbey to teach literature, meaning they were forced to teach more staples: Composition I and II.

~ * ~

Most community college students do not seek out literature courses.

All are required to take composition courses.

Remedial courses do not earn college credit, and the chances of a student’s success are not good, which I think they should be told forthrightly.

~ * ~

As if there was a competition, in the war-like world of our campus department, with its clear division of sides, Land of Motown Community College choose Eric Abbey over me.

He was crowned diversity “king” ( I’m actually quoting a joke-phrase used in community), while he failed to practice diversity in the English department among teachers.

Irony. Opposite. Contrary. Obvious to all but the perpetrators. And teachers in the other departments.

A dean suggested jokingly with handshakes and smiles at one campus senate meeting that all should kiss the ring of Eric Abbey, king of diversity!

I sat there feeling all sorts of emotions, more than I can name or arrange.

The dean celebrated my bully peer in the most ironic and sexist manner, and it hurt.

But I was too busy to dwell.

~ * ~

I can’t believe how naive I was, how a person can be both aware, and clueless, both see and not see.

How did I not see this tidal wave coming?

Why didn’t I get out of the way?

~ * ~

I watched the campus fawn over Eric Abbey and wondered, why this guy?

I still see now what I saw then: a very aggressive putz, who wrote badly for a writing teacher, with a too-wordy style, overusing the passive verb, who liked to reign over me, ironically, given his in-house accolades about supposedly treasuring difference.

Even the sound of his voice put me off.

He sings in bands, but the one time I listened to a recording, I turned it off after seconds, because I heard a too-nasally sound.

Of course, I have reason to hate the guy.

~ * ~

After my grievances were filed, even before they were denied, the retaliation began.

By name, Eric Abbey was elevated while I was denigrated, by name. Eric Abbey served as campus senate chair in this period, at some point, to set the scene.

~ * ~

At Land of Motown Community College, Dean’s moved around like they were hiding out in the FBI witness protection program.

Dean Lloyd Crews was my most memorable supervisor and held the position longest, during my time and tenure.

On March 3, 2009, Dean Lloyd Crews asked me to remove a cartoon from my school webpage.

It’s difficult to read a reproduced e-mail chain, but here it is.

Proof that school administrators played favorites.

This is a good time to point out that our campus of Land of Motown Community College was located very near the Detroit Zoo.

Why were my peers were allowed to walk around while the wise gorilla and winged birds were caged?

~ * ~

No other teacher in our department was scrutinized like me.

I wish I would have listened to myself and been more proactive before I was murdered.

“Is this a witch hunt now?” I asked, three years before the Land of Motown Community College witch hunt was officially launched.

~ * ~

Readers of my sailor’s cursing occasionally (more frequently) seen on social media might be surprised to see how restrained I was writing work e-mails in response to the unrestrained humans allowed to run amok around the many campuses of Land of Motown Community College.

My restraint: “As of today March 10, 2009, I have taken down the cartoon and link as directed. It saddens me that all the actions the administration could have taken in the past months in response to RO/SF English department behavior, concerns raised regarding pedagogy and student learning outcomes, and the ongoing serious problems regarding the creation of the annual schedule, the administration has chosen to act only to censor expression.”

As always, the root problem was the creation of the schedule, but the school had begun demonizing me and Lloyd Crews was clearly helping.

I continued: “Will you please explain what ‘precedent’ has been set by the RO/SF English department regarding annual scheduling? I recognize no clear and consistent precedent. My requests for literature were dubbed extra and required a vote. All others were not considered extra a required no vote. As a result, the procedure violated’ the faculty contract.”

No answer was supplied.

~ * ~

Though I was also told to remove the link to my book on the McFarland school web page, Eric Abbey was not required to remove the link of his book from his school webpage. Months later, he still had not been held to the same requirements as me. The Dean Crews and the administration were interested in pursuing unfairness toward me.

I concluded, “I would feel less like the subject of bad press, harassment, a witch hunt, etc., within the ENG department if there was less evidence.”

“Witch hunt.”

~ * ~

While Dean Lloyd Crews was hassling me over a cartoon joke supplied by a Land of Motown Community College student, the faculty union and the administration were smothering my grievance filed in response to Mr. Online Shakespeare’s letter and mass plagiarism committed by my peers.

My local union rep, who I spoke with throughout this ordeal, was not trustworthy.

If he had been trustworthy, he would have told me to hire a lawyer to write grievances, since grievances depend on contract language and legally based interpretations of legalese.

The union denied my grievance because it was not written by a lawyer. Instead the union recommended mediation.

Mediation was not going to fix what was wrong.

Mediation never transpired.

The faculty union took my dues but treated me very badly.

I should have been told to hire a lawyer, but I wasn’t because the union lawyers wanted me to file an easily dismiss-able grievance.

I was in over my head, alone, not actually union-protected.

“It was never likely the union would find that a group of union members violated the contract with the help of the administration,” I pointed out.

~ * ~

The administration responded formally, but in a super-cheesy fashion did not do so on printed school letterhead. Still, the marks of authenticity are clear in the language, which was not likely written by the campus president, thought he signed the letter. The letter was written by a lawyer, purposefully avoiding the school’s brand.

~ * ~

This political maneuvering through workplace written communication is very difficult for me to read, likely impossible for anyone else to read, but it’s part of the Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail that landed me in St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward and precipitated all the other overwhelming horror that has followed.

People don’t wake up locked up in a mental ward one day magically, poof!

~ * ~

My campus president dressed like a low level Mafia Don on the stand for another Land of Motown Community College dispute in the Business department between an aggressive male teacher and a female teacher who says she was physically struck by her peer in an argument, yes, of course, over the creation of the annual teaching schedule.

In this video, which I happened to find on Youtube, a classic pre-metoo# era sexist white male Oakland County judge, appearing only in a distinctive central casting voice, assumes in a he said, she said, that she lied and just wanted to ruin his career.

My campus president sided with “he.”

~ * ~

Regarding my grievances, the campus president talked to my bully peers, specifically Mr. Online Shakespeare and Eric Abbey, and extended to them protection for their bad behavior.

The campus president blew off my points about assessment.

The campus president said that ethics were suggested in the faculty contract but not required.

The campus president said that academic integrity was only required in the classroom, not in faculty interaction outside of the classroom, which is absurd. He condoned teacher-first creation of the annual schedule of course offerings and any foul play.

~ * ~

Wow. It’s difficult to learn the hard way that I should have hired a lawyer much sooner.

(Not that hiring a lawyer helped.)

~*~

Following Mr. Online Shakespeare’s attack, in late 2008, Eric Abbey read a prepared statement at a rare department meeting (two or three were held per calendar year).

In the statement, he urged other teachers to vote against me teaching literature, which they then did.

For years, while I fought and eventually won the right to teach literature too, I asked Eric Abbey for a copy of that document he read which was all about me and way I was not as good as he was to teach literature at a community college.

Emboldened by the administration, Eric Abbey laughed in my face, and never bothered.

I threatened another grievance over this issue. Documentation is the cornerstone of academic argument.

I thought, stupidly but earnestly, with a more specific charge, I could gain some traction.

I was dead wrong.

“Witch hunt.”

I was right on.

~ * ~

Please understand what it means, in terms of my personal, emotional and psychological devastation, when I explain that these chapters about bully teachers were created after the next sections leading up to and about the looney bin.

Creating the looney bin section in the next chapter made me want to be actively dead nearly every moment, with every document and memory.

At first, I thought I should get to the telling of looney bin earlier. English teachers are boring, in and out of class. People want the good srtuff, sex if you got it, right up front. (There is no sex in this story.)

I can’t think of the looney bin without thinking of my bully peers. Re-remembering the contribution of my bully and sheep teacher peers in addition to recalling the looney bin is too much, but I have no choice. I must try to save my life, tell my story, try to win.

I had an all day panic attack during the creation of this section about complicit teacher peers, which is very debilitating and dangerous. Other bad news piled in; I got poison oak or ivy, or something, and its all too much.

It’s been all too much for too long, but I carry forward, weakened and pissed off.

Because I have no other choice.

Other than (intellectually speaking) “suicide,” which I never considered as a word or an idea in any form much at all, prior to this nightmare, only when famous others had done it and I wondered why.

Why can’t I make people understand that suicide swatting is one of the worst crimes of all?

~ * ~

So many emotions.

~ * ~

So many threads and documents.

I had forgotten about this next document, and others I still need to add since I am only going to do this once.

Defend myself.

On March 23, 2012, less than a month before the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight witch hunt was official launched, I made clear my intention to file another grievance against Eric Abbey by name, regarding his refusal to document his December 2008 take down of me by name, which he read from a prepared draft.

I had the sense I needed my own paper trail.

Despite the criminal notion that ethics could be contained in certain rooms at certain times, “It is not reasonable to trust or respect a college ENG teacher who is paid to teach documentation but who is unwilling to practice it,” I told Eric Abbey and Dean Lloyd Crews in an e-mail.

They ignored me.

Or so I thought.

~ * ~

Ironically, after I was thrown off the bus, the changes I had pressed for, on behalf of students at Land of Motown Community College, transpired.

Mr. Online Shakespeare was restrained in terms of scheduling, and the remedial program was broken up.

But advocating on behalf of what I thought was best as a teacher and advocating for my own rights as a teacher cost me my livelihood, and my life.

And bully teachers and their sheep abettors have gotten away with murder.

(Note to author: I still need to add Eric Abbey’s subpoena and testimony in Oakland County administrative court in 2014, when he lied about Mr Online Shakespeare’s letter.)

I still have not weaved in the worst bully of them all, teacher Suzanne Labadie. Suzanne Labadie appears after the looney bin, during my lost battle for unemployment insurance, when she creates an entirely bogus document to use against me and protect herself, and submits the document to an Oakland County administrative court, in 2014: perjury.

Suzanne Labadie signed Ray Mort’s letter, hogged literature classes along with Ray Mort and Eric Abbey, voted against me teaching literature courses Suzanna Labadie was hired after I was, and began serving as department chair in her early thirties, because no one else wanted to do so, including me. Suzanne Labadie and Eric Abbey, as well as my nemesis, William MacQueen, along with my top school cop suicide swatter (between suicide swat #1 and #2), Terry McCauley, were all subpoenaed by me to unemployment court, which was rigged and sexist and fated against me.

Trust that documentation will provided with court transcripts available.

~ * ~

Chapter: Witchhunt, Officially

Why was I locked up in a Catholic nut house without need? Perhaps readers have followed my corrective papertrail to this point. I was set up and along the way worn down. But not to the point of being suicidal. Just the opposite: “save my life.”

~*~

Hang on, the papertrail timelines snakes around quite a bit here.

April 13, 2012. The official start of the school’s bogus papertrail.

In a few paragraphs, my right to academic freedom was subjugated into a thoroughly fabricated concern for public safety, although nothing had happened to cause concern.

Nemesis, attacker, teacher crusher, my Larry Nassar, the devil, an evil one.

There are not enough terms to condemn or control William MacQueen.

~ * ~

Prayers will not help fight the diabolical combination of criminal Catholics and psychiatry pushed by the more powerful upon me.

~*~

I knew war had been declared, on me, alone, by name, dated April 13, 2012, when I read, at home in my Garden City, Michigan garden, the following circuitous communication.

Note the strange timeline established when my executioner officially launched the Land of Motown Community College bogus papertrail, in William MacQueen’s first words to me: “In April, 2010,” two years before, vaguely, to avoid calendar date comparisons, “your supervisor (whose roomy apartment oddly for an academic did not boast a bookshelf, as I noted, when attending a small department holiday party), “directed you in a written reprimand to keep your e-mail messages brief and to the point and be mindful of the tone of your verbal and written communications.  He specifically directed you to ‘refrain from inflammatory language that could be deemed discourteous or uncivil.’ ”

The school sought to officially forget Mr. Online Shakespeare’s letter about me, with the its inflammatory language, the English department’s gross lack of academic integrity since 2008.

Officially, aggressively, I alone was the villain. I alone was the hunted witch.

War on.

War on me.

But what about two years earlier?

~ * ~

Ok. I’ve worked through many metaphors trying to tell this whopping story. I stopped using Russian nesting doll metaphors years ago, but need to bring it back now.

Prepare to necessarily zig-zag in time.

~*~

I finally found the April 2010 document referenced in the letter the started the school’s bogus papertrail, dated April 13, 2012.

When this ordeal started (when did this ordeal start again? 2005? when I was hired, or 1963, when I born to a sexist Catholic mother?), ok, when I received my death notice, dated April 13, 2012, and for the longest time afterwards, I couldn’t find the April 2010 reference, and it was not supplied by the school, just like evidence for the school’s claims that I was crazy and dangerous were never provided.

I found the referenced “April 2010” document in about 2020, ten years later. It’s labeled “memo” and dated April 13, 2010.

The April 13, 2012 letter references a memo dated April 13, 2010, but buries the calendar date: “In April 2010 . . . .”

I had no idea I would be keeping paper and internet records for so long, so I didn’t establish a filing system or set and follow naming conventions.

I’m a bad secretary, good pack animal.

~*~

Back to spring 2010. I remember a meeting, as William MacQueen indicated, but only dimly.

Two deans, including Lloyd Crews. One of the deans was not my dean. Dean Mathews was not my supervisor. The campus president was not present. The campus president was my supervisor. Why wasn’t he there?

I was ambushed.

Two black deans, at the campus closest to Detroit with the greatest percentage of black students, tag teamed me.

That sounds racist.

Hear me out.

~*~

I gotta say: I got the feeling by spring 2012, when I received the April 13, 2012 death sentence letter, that upper administration, which leaned white, perniciously used black deans to do their dirty work on the ground. That’s a claim based on feeling and racist culture. And my experience with Lloyd Crews, David Mathews, Beverly Stanbrough and upper administration. The deans at the Southfield campus were all black, which is not true of any of the other four campuses, further away from Detroit. The campus president, Steve Reif, white.

Context. Land of Motown Community College has five campuses in Oakland County, five presidents and a chancellor, who sits at District Office, which is remote from all campuses, and located in the very richest (and whitest) area of the state’s richest county.

Even now, in 2021, of eleven current college officers at Land of Motown Community College, sitting above the deans and five campus presidents, and below the Chancellor, one is black, the Vice Chancellor for Human Resources and Diversity, Equity and Inclusion.

~*~

Step out of time, again, needed. Must be included. (One long shot to clear my name.)

To back my claim of possible under-the-radar-racism by Land of Motown Community College. Even hazier memory than 2010.

The only incident that transpired on campus at the same time as the April 13, 2012 death sentence letter.

Another ambush. In person. Involving a dean. In March or April 2012, around the time I found William MacQueen’s letter declaring war in my mailbox.

Mostly teachers spent time with students not deans and other teachers, but one day without notice I was ambushed, this time with urgency, emergency style, as I walked down a hall doing my business. Was it union rep Michael Vollbach who ushered and herded me? Or a secretary?

I was ushered into an office, like a cow being herded, this time on the Royal Oak Campus. Our campus was split between two locations, in Southfield and Royal Oak.

Dean Beverly Stanbrough physically grabbed me with urgency to tell me something, but I don’t know what, because she did not use adult college-level words. We were both seated at a round table, she sat to my left, and she grabbed me with her hand around the left wrist, pretty strongly.

That’s my main memory, Beverly Stanbrough aggressively grabbing me, with a look on her face that said Something Wicked This Way Comes.

I couldn’t make sense of this ambush, either, like the earlier ambush in 2010. I don’t remember what was said during either one.

The heat was on, at that point.

Dean Beverly Stanbrough, not my dean, grabbed me very unprofessionally, like I was a child she was warning or reprimanding.

(Her actual child taught on campus as an adjunct for a period of time and may still.)

I was shocked.

What is going on?

I didn’t file a grievance. I didn’t have time. My problems on campus were too abundant.

~*~

Thinking of both ambushes by deans, in 2010 and 2012.

Dean Matthews and Dean Stanboroguh were not deans of English. They weren’t my supervisors.

Why not bring in the white male campus president Steve Reif instead to command these ambushes? He was my supervisor above Dean Lloyd Crews.

Who else was there, at both meetings, supposedly? Union player Michael Vollbach.

In 2012, why was Michael Volbach present without any meeting scheduled? Who planned the ambush involving both union and the administration?

The 2012 interlude was a physical and verbal assault but a physical assault first, so I do not recall what was said, which does not mean I deserved to have my head examined for defects.

~*~

Oh god. This is not safe or fun.

~*~

For me, Lloyd Crews, David Matthews and Beverly Stanbrough were the administration’s thugs on the ground, on campus. After my demise, they each were promoted. They may have been promoted regardless, and may have each deserved promotion, but people who know Oakland County, home of Land of Motown Community College, know it has long been accused of using the city of Detroit and its majority black residents, of using black people, for their skin color. Hopefully things are changing for the better, but what better way to show your loyalty than to help murder and keep quiet?

(Note to readers: I may need more time to smooth out this idea, which is not new.)

~*~

Ok. I had to fit in not-my-dean, Beverly Stanbrough, unprofessionally and in violation of all standards grabbing me, at the same time I was accused of potentially dangerous behavior without cause.

~ *~

March 18, 2010 ambush.

The April 13, 2010 memo, regarding a “written reprimand,” referenced in the April `13, 2012 death sentence letter, from William MacQueen, documented that attack.

I see the earlier ambush by deans was labeled a “due process” meeting though zero evidence of claims was supplied.

Southfield campus. Dean Lloyd Crews and Dean David Mathews (who was later briefly promoted to one of five campus president positions) said something to me about how wrong I was over nothing substantive, nothing I could hold onto. The two deans made little sense, with double the middle man power. As I recall, they really made no sense other than to spread the administration’s position that I alone was a problem, which I knew was wrong. It was two years before I was told by my lawyer, in 2012, that the school was gaslighting me, giving my experience a term. I was shaken but could take away nothing except obvious hostility coming my way.

The administration in charge above the deans knew I had not hired a lawyer to write grievances, meaning I was easy prey, especially two deans to one bullied tenured teacher.

In effect, considering the backstabbing thugs in the teachers union, led by Michael Volbach, I had no representation of any kind, not really. I don’t even remember Michael Volbach speaking, not at either ambush.

Well. It was at this point, in 2010, the school began to destroy my career. Maybe the ambush was designed to urge me to quit.

~*~

I don’t remember anyone telling me my job was on the line because my co-workers were assholes toward me.

I just didn’t comprehend what was happening, that Land Motown Community College could escalate even more and that the school seemed to want to end my career, to end me, in 2010.

No one in union or administration was nice enough to clearly and outtrightly warn me.

I was teaching literature classes by this time. That fight had ended.

I thought I had tenured protection that would close the iron door on all this undue hostility toward me.

I was wrong, but that does not mean I deserved to be locked up a looney bin because I was un-liked.

~*~

What crazy time lines. Hopefully readers can see how this story refuses to behave, and that I’m trying to pin it down.

The April 10, 2010 memo, referenced in the April 13, 2012 letter (two year gap), referenced a presentation I made at the December 2009 campus senate meeting (four month gap), about scheduling procedures on campus (a year after Mr. Online Shakespeare wrote his grandiose letter.)

In December 2009, I made a presentation at a campus senate meeting, with a power point and handouts, asking peers to consider if campus-wide schedules were created with teacher or students first in mind. It was not a popular presentation among union teachers present. Most teachers blew off these monthly meetings and service to the college outside of teaching.

I have the document I shared with the English department, if I ever need it. Somewhere, I think I may have the powerpoint I shared with the campus senate .

When I created presentations, I never stopped at simple bullet points. I always included visuals and sounds.

~*~

For no reason, according to Dean Lloyd Crews, who I’m sure did not write the April 13, 2010 memo, I was to:

1. “Keep email messages brief and to the point” [with no evidence I did otherwise or for any contractual reason]
2. “Be mindful of the tone of your verbal and written communication and refrain from language that could be deemed discourteous or uncivil” [like Ray Mort’s detailed objections to me]
3. “Maintain confidentiality between colleagues regarding department matters and refrain from printing, copying or distributing communications tom parties not directly involved” [because we worked for a spy agency?]

Well, at least I wasn’t accused of murder. Or accused of being murderer material. Not yet, anyway.

Previously, the administration didn’t stop my peers from failing to respect my views, but by 2010 they wanted to reprimand me for having my own distinct views. I alone was was deemed disrespectful and unacceptable.

No supporting documentation for claims that I harassed my peers or any of the claims made was provided, like the letter that followed this memo two years to the calendar date lacked evidence, like Eric Abbey’s take down lacked evidence, and like the evidence in Ray Mort’s character smear was nonsense, rock n roll lyrics.

However, by 2012, Land of Motown Community College decided it needed bring in bigger guns and outside ammunition in order to attack me and take me out: William MacQueen, my higher ed mind rape Larry Nassar.

~ * ~

Now the rest of William MacQueen’s April 13, 2012 letter.

The official start of the Land of Motown Community College witch hunt, with preliminary action dating back through 2010, 2009, 2008 to 2005 when I was hired.

My Larry Nassar dropped a bomb on me.

The April 13, 2012 horror continued, after returning from April `13, 2010, back to the present, to April 13, 2012.

William MacQueen: “Notwithstanding these directives [from April 2010 to shut up], faculty members, administrators and students have complained that they currently feel bullied and harassed and/or fear for their personal safety because of your inflammatory statements (in person and via email) and erratic behavior and demeanor in recent months.”

I had been on the job for seven years.

I was tenured.

I had not exhibited any “erratic behavior.”

I wasn’t approached by any student or any immediate supervisor about any student complaints whatsoever. My record with students was very good, year after year. I didn’t have any issues with students.

What “statements”? None were provided.

Thankfully, I rarely encountered my co-workers!

There was no evidence that established teacher bully peers had complained
(about what??????????), and what if they had? The administration had totally botched the situation for years.

~ * ~

Nothing had transpired over the past months except the back channel set up to silence me.

~ * ~

To this day, no proof of my supposed “erratic behavior” has ever been produced. Bully teacher Suzanne Labadie will create a questionable document, not on school letterhead, date it, change the year of the date, and submit it to unemployment court, in 2014.

Eye rolling should not be cause for hack shrinks and psychiatric detention, or the end of my teaching career.

You can’t imagine my pain.

~ * ~

Finally, I knew I needed a lawyer, but you can’t get a lawyer overnight, or get the right lawyer in two weeks.

I informed the school through e-mail that I would not attend a bogus due process meeting without documentation provided in advance, without due process.

Meanwhile, I sought legal aid.

~ * ~

Nonetheless, my higher education attacker sprung before I could locate and secure a lawyer.

Because the plan was to take me down, regardless of the facts.

Another letter from William MacQueen quickly followed the first. There will be many more letters sent by my teacher crusher to me, hounding me, leading up to looney bin lock up.

(Note to author: add count. Still need to add February 21, 2021 letter, dated the day before I was suicide swatted.)

Less than a week after his first letter, six calendar dates later, my nemesis stuck again, with a second letter railroading his deviously constructed narrative that I was suddenly acting erratically on the job.

I had told him my lawyer would be in contact.

And then we could meet.

But my nemesis did not wait.

~*~

William MacQueen, letter number two.

April 19, 2012.

William MacQueen carried forth his plan to take out, successfully eradicate, a tenured union teacher, if not a male English teacher at Ronald Reagan Democrat Community College (John Bonnell) then a female English teacher at Land of Motown Community College.

William MacQueen: “These allegations [vague and totally unsubstantiated]. . . give rise to concern whether your mental state poses a threat to your colleagues or others.  To assist in making an informed about your behavior and determining an appropriate response to it, you are directed to undergo a mental status examination by a psychiatrist selected by the college.”

You are directed to undergo a mental status examination by a psychiatrist selected by the college.

There was no behavior to analyze, just the torches to light.

April 19, 2012 letter my Larry Nassar put his fingers up my vagina in front of all the other teachers, the union and the administration who just watched and let him.

William MacQueen: “Because you have not responded to my request, it is necessary that I specify the date and time of your mental examination without your input. You are directed to undergo a mental examination by Linda Forsberg, PhD, beginning at 9 a.m. and ending at 5:00 p.m. on April 30, 2012 and beginning at 11:00 am and ending at 2:00 pm, on May 2, 2012.”

A two day event. Ordering a two day mental health exam can only be seen as combat.

This extraordinary lengthy exam is generally reserved for people, in society, in police custody, AFTER they’ve committed mass murder.

~ * ~

Right now, June 2019, adding this document, I am liquid human mush smothering my own screams so the neighbors don’t complain about my crying.

Same thing in October 2021, editing.

Withstanding imposed mental torture makes me jump around as I edit because there has been so much blunt force psychological trauma inflicted on me it’s like I need to keep moving around, to move away from the mallet of pain.

~ * ~

When lying, go big.

William MacQueen: “Ms. Fournier, your colleagues and administrators are very worried about your emotional and mental health no only because of the effects of your behavior on them as colleagues but also out of deep concern for you and your own well-being.”

This sarcasm suggesting my bully peers cared about me is a dagger that should be met with state sanctioned penis torture.

Via dagger.

My own sarcasm right back at you.

~ * ~

William MacQueen: “Your failure to comply with this directive will leave the administration without medical opinion regarding your alleged behavior with your colleagues and, most critically, whether you pose a threat of injury to them or others.”

Despite the obvious inversion of who was harassing whom on campus at Land of Motown Community College, there is no way to determine who is going to pull the next mass murder in America.

More plainly, I’d done nothing! I’d touched no one! I’d not made any threats! I’d no police record or history of crime or violence!

I was set up!

~ * ~

My nemesis made his plan known and clear: my full-scale termination as a human being.

William MacQueen: “Because this opinion is needed to determine an appropriate response, if any, to the questions raised by your behavior, the administration will be left with no choice but to move for the termination of your employment under Section 6.3 of the OCC-OCCFA Master Agreement.”

Submit your mind and body, or be fired.

William MacQueen: “Termination.”

The first utterance. April 19, 2012. About ten months before suicide swatting and looney bin lock up.

~*~

William MacQueen was the one who “raised” the fake news about my highly objectionable but unnoted “behavior.”

Just like Mr. Online Shakespeare Ray Mort before him, and it can’t be an accident.

~ * ~

This must be what that the accused in Salem felt.   

~ * ~

Called to the witness stand, Lloyd Crews, addressed as Dean in the letter that launched the Land of Motown Community College witchhunt.

Dean, please tell me, how would you explain your role in my murder today?

He has remained silent and safe.

Please look at this email dated 5/3/2009, from me to you, Dean Crews.

ME: “Please be aware that I feel very uncomfortable around another member of the RO/SF ENG department. I just took the PDTC course “Renewing . . . .” and believe that [Mr. Online Shakespeare] Ray Mort’s behavior toward me is clearly ‘hostile’ and has been for years, with cumulative negative effects.”

Jury! When I told him in writing that Mr. Online Shakespeare made me feel physically uncomfortable in May 3, 2009, you guessed it, my dean, Lloyd Crews, ignored me.

Dean Crews, why did you ignore my concerns about safety dating back to 2009?

Dean Crews, did you feel coerced by the administration?

~ * ~

Since my death, Lloyd Crews has worked a world he told me was “fucking weird” at the one Christmas party held, maybe in 2005, early in the school portion of my nightmare.

~ * ~

I gotta give the guy credit. Lloyd Crews did tell me to not become comfortable.

Outright with a smile and no malice, it seemed.

Genuinely, to me in his office when I began working at Land of Motown Community College, Dean Lloyd Crews said maybe a few of us, who really wanted to put students first, could make the place better.

Or start our own school.

~ * ~

Seven years later, Dean Lloyd Crews walked me to the door with police escort.

I swear on my life Dean Lloyd Crews told me, again I thought honestly, that I would be able to “sue the crap” out of the place. I get the feeling he would deny so now.

My comments in response were more vulgar, though not shouted, purposely not shouted.

~ * ~

Since I last saw him, in November 2012, Lloyd Crews has done well for himself.

Lloyd Crws won election to the city of Southfield city council and befriended Brenda Lawrence, former mayor, now Democratic U.S. Congresswoman.

Did Lloyd Crews walk over my dead body on his rise to the top?

Did keeping quiet about my murder help elevate Lloyd Crews, in any measure?

Democrats are just as capable of corruption as Republicans, a fact that adds hurt to this liberal female.

~ * ~

I’ve watched the edges of this story grow larger and larger, in horror, all alone.

~ * ~

Chapter: The Political Context, Democrats and Republicans

There is a larger political context for this story, which should be established, before gaslight by my hostile employer, before my abduction by hometown police and before my week long disappearance in Catholic Siberia, and all the horribleness that has followed.

Both Democrats and Republicans have turned their back on me, but worse, Republicans retaliated outright.

Democrats, no surprise, have simply acted lame, true to usual form.

~ * ~

Overtime, I have become less proud and more desperate.

I feel like public enemy number one.

~ * ~

In 2014, my own Democratic U. S. Senator Debbie Stabenow got passed federal legislation intended to improve mental health care, but has refused to acknowledge formal letters and crying phone calls from me about my story.

Now, in 2019, my own U. S. Senator would like her legislation re-authorized.

~ * ~

Debbie Stabenow has continued to ignore me all these years.

It’s possible Land of Motown Community College may have directly misled her.

~ * ~

Maybe most recent e-mail to Senator Stabenow will help:

“Can you imagine being under the forced care of a white, male, sexist doctor, let’s say an imagined Dr. Mitch McConnell or Dr. Brett Kavanaugh?

I asked her, “Can you imagine being labeled without evaluation, shackled, drugged, admitted unconscious and held illegally for a week in a criminal, human trafficking, Catholic asylum (built by the nuns who raised you, whom you rejected), in order to silence your critical and progressive voice?  Sound like a mental health care version of the Handmade’s Tale?  Well, that’s my story in a proverbial nutshell.”  

~ * ~

I’m not hopeful.

Here’s Senator Stabenow talking in May 2019, at a forum on mental health care and her legislation, hosted by The Washington Post:

“If you are bipolar, it is a chemical imbalance in the brain.”

OH MY GOD!

Not the chemical imbalance theory!

Does Debbie Stabenow believe the world is flat too?

Dead wrong!

It was wrong in 2012, in 2013, and it’s wrong now, in 2019. And in 2021.

There is no scientific basis for the label “bi polar,” or the Big Pharma meds used to treat it.

The chemical imbalance theory has been debunked.

~ * ~

How come Debbie Stabenow is so clueless?

Bias over science.

~ * ~

Senator Stabenow continued: “Now, I’m very familiar with this. My dad was bipolar at a time in the ’60s when we didn’t know what it was. And there wasn’t the right treatment, there wasn’t the right diagnosis. And I saw what it was like to be misdiagnosed and then to get the right diagnosis, get the medication, and for him to go back to his life.”

Unbelievable.

Believable.

~ * ~

Placebos work like faith. There is no scientific support for the existence of “bi polar” or for the efficacy of the medications used to treat it. Peek around the internet. Look up “chemical imbalance theory.”

If I get a contract to publish a version of my story, I will integrate critical psychiatry.

Unfortunately, tragically, even major trusted media, like the Washington Post, are not telling the full truth about psychiatry.

~ * ~

Have her staff tried to school her?

Does anybody read anymore?

Senator Stabenow continued:

“So, part of this normalization is that this is manageable that when people step up they’re able to get the support that they need. They’re able to manage a chronic disease, cancer, diabetes, being bipolar, schizophrenia, be able to do what they need to do and go on with their life. So, it’s a very hopeful time, I think.”

In contrast, Senator Stabenow, with so much disinformation about psychiatry being spread and supported by powerful forces, I think it’s a very terrifying time.

~ * ~

My former supervisor, former Dean Lloyd Crews, also a Democrat, like Debbie Stabenow, could have championed my cause, but instead he gave himself a pay raise and isolated himself from Land of Motown Community College administrators by hiding in the classroom, where there is usually zero oversight.

Simultaneously, Lloyd Crews became chummy with major Oakland County political players, including L. Brooks Patterson, top Republican in the county, as longtime Oakland County Executive.

Democrats and Republicans working together and both parties standing against me?

Is that what happened?

That’s what it looks like to me.

~ * ~

L. Brooks Patterson, known for insensitive remarks, was profiled in a 2014 The New Yorker piece, “Drop Dead, Detroit!” subtitled, “The suburban kingpin who is thriving off the city’s decline.”

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/01/27/drop-dead-detroit

~ * ~

I hate to do this now, but don’t think I can wait until after looney bin lock up and unemployment insurance court.

Jumping ahead to 2015. To share the big picture of why I am still fighting for justice in 2021.

The political scene widens.

Bill Schuette, the former state of Michigan Republican attorney general, when in office, declined to investigate or prosecute my criminal attackers: Land of Motown Community College, my hometown police and St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward.

In 2015, former state of Michigan Republican attorney general Bill Schuette declined in writing to me, a citizen, an unusual move.

Former state of Michigan Republican attorney general Bill Schuette could have simply ignored me.

I did not have legal representation at the time.

The former state of Michigan attorney general Bill Schuette went out of his way to deny my story was true to me, a lowly citizen.

Why?

Instead of ignoring me, on October 7, 2015, through a subordinate to former state of Michigan Republican attorney general, Bill Schuette declined in writing equal protection directly to me, lowly citizen.

The subordinate’s name is Rich Cunningham. Rich Cunningham is still in place, even now, in 2019, even under new female Democratic leadership.

WAIT! I just checked the link below, November 2021. The organizational chart has been updated, rearranged, and I no longer see Rich Cunningham. Rich Cunningham was an old guy, so he could have retired.

Not incidentally, it sure would be great if the current state of Michigan attorney general Dana Nessel would pull through for me in 2021, or 2022.

See the end of this tale for my 2019 Michigan Civil Rights Department claims against the school, my hometown Livonia, Michigan police, St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward and the state of Michigan attorney general’s office for lack of equal protection, accepted but still under investigation, delayed due to COVID.

~ * ~

Documented. In writing. October 7, 2015.

Documented. On video. November 19, 2015.

Affirmed through the Freedom of Information Act: The state attorney general Bill Schuette joined the effort to silence and crush me.

~*~

First, Bill Schuette’s office dismissed me as nutz, October 7, 2015.

Then second, on November 19, 2015, after refusing to provide me with equal protection for the crimes committed against me, state of Michigan attorney general Bill Schuette sent Michigan State Police to my home to harass me.

Students, I mean readers, please reread the above sentence. There will not be a test.

Attorney generals usually ignore people they aren’t going help.

~ * ~

It is worth noting that the new attorney general of Michigan won against the old attorney general of Michigan arguing the U.S. Supreme Court cases that allowed the constitutionality of gay marriage in the United States.

~ * ~

It probably means something in lawyer-land.

And I think it means something outside of lawyer-land, too.

But whatever this juxtaposition means, it probably won’t help me.

~*~

~*~

The chief of the state of Michigan office of the attorney general’s criminal division, Rich Cunningham, in writing to me, on October 7, 2015, penned a very peculiar letter he did not need to write.

Overall, when he refused to provide me with equal protection as a Michigan citizen, Rich Cunningham only named the college, not the city of Livonia or the Catholic hospital, in his voluntary and voluntarily abusive written response to my request for equal protection.

I think the October 7, 2015 letter to me from the state of Michigan was all about getting support for Bill Schuette’s planned run for governor in 2018.

But I’m not a lawyer.

~ * ~

Writing instruction.

Avoid pointing at the reader with your finger, “you, you, you,” unless “you” are a prosecuting attorney set upon lynching.

Was I on the witness stand? Sure sounds like it.

As defendant or accused?

~ * ~

The prosecution opened:

State of Michigan: “You assert that Land of Motown Community College engaged in a witch hunt in an attempt to silence, mislabel and ruin you.”

ME: Yes, that’s right.

State of Michigan: “And you claim that you were forced to quit your tenured teaching position, and then denied unemployment benefits because school officials lied about the reason you left.”

ME: No. Wrong order of events. The state of Michigan is ignoring connections and causes. The state of Michigan is protecting criminal actions. Teacher bully Suzanne Labadie did lie under oath in employment court about what did and did not happen in 2012. And the school did mislead the court, too.

(Unemployment court is covered after looney bin lock up: two Oakland County administrative court judges, old white guys, cohorts of William MacQueen, denied unemployment benefits, in 2013 and 2014.)

~ * ~

In his clobbering attack of a letter, Rich Cunningham, the head of the criminal division of the state of Michigan attorney general’s office, knew enough of my actual story to not name the hospital or city of Livonia, as if to elevate the college among the allegedly innocent, the most innocent of the innocent.

While Land of Motown Community College is the guiltiest of the guilty.

The state of Michigan re-arranged the elements of actors and actions in my story, in order to avoid and thereby cover-up a criminal timeline with criminal actors.

The crimes committed that the state of Michigan overlooked included suicide swatting (making false police reports) and committing perjury.

The Land of Motown Community College top school cop committed perjury, making false police reports. Perjury was also committed by Livonia police, who said I repeatedly asked them to kill me, which I did not do, according to their own evidence. Perjury was also committed by St. Mary Merciless human trafficking doctors, who did not evaluate me on the day I was locked up.

The required legal forms for involuntary detention in psychiatric ward make clear the penalty of perjury, which was committed by one Livonia police officer and two St. Mary Merciless doctors.

As well, numerous violations of the mental health code were committed.

But the state of Michigan protected my attackers, not me.

~ * ~

In contrast to the mish-mash mis-outlined by the head of the criminal division of the state of Michigan’s attorney general’s office, I was suicide swatted as an employee of Land of Motown Community College, not after I was forced to quit due to nonpayment, lack of due process, breaking the contract and criminal suicide swatting. Please don’t be confused by confusion.

I was suicide swatted before I was forced to quit and apply for unemployment insurance.

The state of Michigan cut around the crime of suicide swatting (purposeful false police reports) committed by Land of Motown Community College.

~ * ~

The state AG’s office stated what happened backwards, to confuse and bury, so don’t blame me for using an intricate time pattern to indicate chronological order.

It’s a popular approach.

State of Michigan: “You allege that when you tried to address this abuse [in this deliberatively confusing presentation, this abuse refers to Land of Motown Community College fighting me over unemployment insurance], predominantly white male poorly trained municipal police officers acted with bias and excessive aggression toward you.”

ME: No!!!! The prosecutor needs his head or his ethics examined! That’s not the simple chain of events at all. That’s purposefully backward!!!

The state of Michigan tried to gaslight me, too.

Of course the city of Livonia police had no connection to me not getting unemployment insurance.

Both the actual timeline and guilt of my attackers were obliterated in an unnecessary letter written by the state’s top law enforcement officials.

This means something.

Land of Motown Community College’s attack was condoned by Bill Schuette, and he helped smother me.

~ * ~

Here, at the end, is where this purposefully tricky paragraph should have started.

State of Michigan: “You further complain that you were mistreated by medical personnel at the mental ward of the hospital where the police officers took you against your will.”

ME: No.

No, not a “further” complaint at all. Not “further” as in confusing chronological order on purpose.

First, I was criminally suicide swatted by Land of Motown Community College. That’s when the snowball of crimes began. One crime led to the next.

First, I was criminally suicide swatted with false police reports, made by Land of Motown Community College to the Livonia police, then the Livonia police unnecessarily abducted me from home on a civil not criminal detention, then I was taken by the Livonia Police to the St. Mary Merciless emergency room where I was not evaluated, then I was locked up while unconscious illegally in the St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward without need or evaluation.

After I got out of St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental, I was forced to quit.

How could I work with people who had me locked up in a looney, who weren’t paying me and weren’t firing me?

Then I was denied unemployment insurance, which was not a criminal complaint (more a kind of a civil rights violation, for which there probably is no protection).

And I was criminally mistreated by the Catholic hospital’s medical personnel on many counts. Many stipulations in the law for involuntary detainment were broken. I was not evaluated, I was not allowed to make phone calls, I was not evaluated within two hours, I was not presented evidence of an evaluation that did not actually transpire within the legal time requirement. I was not evaluated for about four days!

Most importantly, I did not meet the definition for someone who should be abducted from home and locked up.

The state of Michigan completely ignored my claims about violations of the mental health code.

~ * ~

Incredibly, in 2014, soon after I got out, St. Mary Merciless admitted in writing to breaking the law, in a manner that affected all patients, not just me, but I still have not been able to secure justice.

~ * ~

The state attorney general’s office was sent a copy of St. Mary Merciless’s written admission of guilt.

To date, I have posted and mailed this letter to the state of Michigan, various offices, and anyone else in government I thought might help, numerous times since 2013, when the letter was written.

State law requires involuntary patients to be seen by a doctor daily, this letter indicates, which did not happen, for me, and other patients.

On April 3, 2013, St. Mary Merciless, in writing to me, and also shared with the state attorney general: “Your allegation that your right to services suited to condition to see a physician every 24 hours that was in keeping with the law was violated is substantiated.”

~ * ~

The letter from the Catholics admits my assigned psychiatrist did not see me every day. The psychiatrists at St. Mary Merciless played hooky, probably working day jobs elsewhere, which is a pattern of medical crime that affected all patients.

This abuse was blatantly obvious, not hidden to patients, for sure.

There was more guilt to admit, which the Catholic hospital purposely refrained from doing.

St. Mary Merciless doctors act brazenly in violation of the law due to a known lack of checks and balances in the state of Michigan.

This lack of checks and balances, corruption, was paraded in front of my eyes by the state of Michigan.

I was never interviewed by the state of Michigan, who asked me no questions to clarify my claims.

~ * ~

Key to this story: effectively, there is no medical malpractice protection for the citizens of Michigan due to legal disincentives. As things stand now, there’s not enough money to be made by lawyers.

In Michigan, Big Hospital and criminal doctors are protected, not citizen patients.

~*~

~ * ~

The state of Michigan disingenuously closed that it did not see “any legitimate basis for the involvement of this office.”

~ * ~

The state of Michigan went out of its way to deny me my constitutional right to equal protection.

~ * ~

The very real (not psychotic) problem for me is that state of Michigan Republican attorney general Bill Schuette went further.

He retaliated against me for speaking out and demanding justice because, I theorize, because he saw me as a threat to his desire to become governor of Michigan.

Which sounds grandiose.

I know.

~ * ~

Chapter: Kill Bill!

Yes, I said: “State of Michigan Republican attorney general Bill Schuette retaliated against me for speaking out and demanding justice.”

~ * ~

A declassroomed English teacher in my position, mislabeled crazy dangerous, would never make such a claim without proof.

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community College sits north of Motown, in the state’s richest and second most populated county, Oakland County.

Oakland County floats above the most populated county, Wayne County and Detroit, Michigan, in the fleshy base of the thumb, on the right hand of The Mitten.

Wealth (and therefore power) is critical to my story and to the cover up to my story.

Think “votes” and political donations.

~ * ~

Bill Schuette needed Oakland County Republican power players, such as L. Brooks Patterson, Lloyd Crew’s friend, on his side to support his run for governor.

Becoming governor was said to be a lifelong dream.

~ * ~

I am such a loud mouth threat, in 2015, two calendar years after looney bin lock up, according to Michigan State Police, Bill Schuette sent the state cops to harass me.

I had just escaped foreclosure downstate, had just moved to remote Mid-Michigan, to a cabin without full amenities.

After dark, the Michigan State Police harassed me on the trumped-up goofy claim that I threatened to . . . Kill Bill!

And the Michigan State Police said outright that Bill sent them!

~ * ~

Wow.

~ * ~

This kick off to police retaliation, which did not abate until 2019, when I filed claims with the Michigan Civil Rights Commission, began about six weeks after I lost my home downstate in Garden City due to foreclosure, in early fall 2015.

~ * ~

I lost my home in Garden City, in 2015, solely due to illegal looney bin lock up inspired poverty.

~ * ~

I don’t know on what date exactly I was forced to drive away and abandon my home of ten years in Garden City, but it was right around the date on the state of Michigan’s letter refusing to equally protect me, October 7, 2015.

~ * ~

The Pope, the head fallible white male of the Catholic Church, was in town, meaning the country, speaking to the U.S. Congress.

A painful coincidence.

~ * ~

I had escaped to the safety of the countryside, or so I thought.

~ * ~

The bogus claim that I may be in the act of hiring a contract killer to actually murder the state of Michigan attorney general was rooted in a clearly sarcastic and minimalist Facebook post, dated October 1, 2015, which did not name anyone.

The post received two likes, a huge response for me.

~ * ~

In the video I took, my Michigan State Police harassers name “Bill Schuette” outright.

This video has been posted for years.

This video has been ignored for years.

~ * ~

Has this happened to you?

You make a crack on Facebook, and six weeks later the state cops show up, sent by the state attorney general, which they admit while you are videotaping on your cellphone?

“Well, I’d like to talk to you about your Facebook post says you’re looking for a contract killer.”

~ * ~

The Sarcasm Patrol found me.

~ * ~

I’ll explain that I’m sarcastic not dangerous or suicidal a few times in defense.

However, across this ordeal, this truth about me being sarcastic hasn’t been an accepted defense.

My personality has been disallowed.

~ * ~

Example sarcasm.

To my new peers at Land of Motown Community College, filter off:

“Who designed the remedial English program?

The Mafia?”

~ * ~

Maybe my delivery needs work.

~ * ~

~ * ~

Summary of My Best Evidence No One Will Admit Exists.

Bill Schuette retaliates with Michigan State Police.

During the abrasive police interlude, I said I was “really afraid” three times to little Norma Naylor (sound it out).

New character. Norma Naylor is a diminutive female Michigan State Police Officer.

I’ve got her badge number recorded in a few places, including this video.

After this initial interlude November 19, 2015, she was sent to rough me up two additional times, in 2017, so I’ve gotten to know her name and face.

~ * ~

My Lifetime bio pic will probably use the footage I took on November 19, 2015, when the Michigan State Police Sarcasm Patrol came to visit and I first met Little Norma Naylor.

Norma Naylor arrested me on her third visit, so we’re close.

Jailing me or sending me back to a looney bin was Bill Schuette’s plan.

~*~

An entire pantry of spinach will be needed by any daring reader.

~*~

In the video’s second half, a second officer, a white male, present with Norma Naylor, standing behind her, unseen at first, appeared.

I asked who sent the two of them.

Michigan State Police officer Todd Parsons named a superior, Mike Anderson.

And he admitted the order to harass me came from above Mike Anderson to include possibly Bill Schuette or Rick Snyder, the governor.

~ * ~

Quote. Actual words. Bill Schuette. Sent the Michigan State Police. Watch the video, or take my word for it.

~ * ~

The complete four minute action-packed script is shot after dark, lit by cop flashlight.

I didn’t know which switch was the porch light.

I was too new to full-time cabin living.

I was totally unaccustomed to police visitors pounding on the door, in the black of night, in the remote countryside.

~ * ~

All sources are biased.

Rather than read a culled script, summarized and quoted, which always reveals writer bias, it’s really best to watch the video, “Bill Schuette sends state police to harass Land of Motown Community College witch.”

I’m a better painter than filmmaker. (I’m not a great painter either.)

This is my best video, among numerous amateur videos uploaded on my YouTube channel, trying to tell and end my story.

Especially when the greater context is properly set and understood.

None of my amateur videos made under pressure alone have accomplished the feat of ending this ordeal, but “Bill Schuette sends state police” stands as best in show, both in terms of infotainment quality and proof of my claims that I was set up.

Others are quite rough. I never knew when I needed to start filming.

~ * ~

Michigan State Police Sarcasm Patrol.

I like to think of the scene as being undercut with a lot of unintentional Marx Brothers and Keystone Cop movie schtick.

Unfortunately, when the fun in the film ends, my real life is much worse, and not so funny at all.

~ * ~

In the video, you can hear me spiel, my summary story.

It’s a story which I’ve been forced to pull out numerous times since this episode, on the spot, for police, a spiel ignored and discounted over and over:

“I speak sarcastically. I’m a college English teacher and I’m a published writer. I’m the victim of the Land of Motown Community College witchhunt, which is a legally documented, ongoing, EEOC filed complaint, going back to 2012.”

Not bad on my part, under pressure, I have to say.

~ * ~

Michigan State Police paper documentation, obtained through the Freedom of Information Act, shows that the state’s bogus claim falsely asserting I made threatening remarks against Bill Schuette’s life was quietly dismissed after the November 19, 2015 interlude.

Instead, this episode of police harassment, initiated from the top, was used to mislabel me mentally ill and dangerous in the local 911 system, which appears to have been the point and remains a dangerous and life threatening condition for me.

~ * ~

Police nationally have a poor reputation for welfare check practices, which makes them dangerous for the citizen.

~ * ~

PLEASE NOTE.

The white male doctor who did not evaluate me in emergency room at St. Mary Merciless on February 22, 2013 is named, spelled correctly, at the top of this FOIA response cover letter, but no investigation of my claims ever occurred.

“Subject: CR-20010879; Muzychka, Andrew”

While I was being further set up within the 911 system, which greatly overlaps and intersects with the legal system, the Michigan State Police named and spelled correctly the ethnic last name of the doctor who locked me up without ever meeting me at St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin.

I named Dr. Andrew Muzychka to the Michigan State Police, it shows in my video. And I named Andrew Muzychka’s name in my letter to Bill Schuette, asking for investigation and equal protection, to which underlying Rich Cunningham responded so aggressively, like a pit bull in attack, avoiding Andrew Muzychka’s name. The name of the doctor who locked me up without evaluation doesn’t appear in Rich Cunningham’s letter, but it appears in the Michigan State Police report for the November 19, 2015 police harassment.

Why?

Andrew Muzychka’s name showed up in the response I received through the Freedom of Information Act way regarding the November 19, 2015 Michigan State Police harassment.

In other words, they know.

The state of Michigan’s AG office and state police know the name of the white male doctor who didn’t evaluate me at St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward.

St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward and the State of Michigan have protected Dr. Andrew Muzychka’s heinous crime.

Did the State of Michigan check phone records at the time, in 2015, to see where Andrew Muzychka was when he was not evaluating me but swore upon the penalty of perjury that he was evaluating me?

The state of Michigan did not investigate or prosecute, and Andrew Muzychka is still employed in the emergency room at St. Mary Merciless.

And me, the victim of criminal doctor Andrew Muzychka?

I’ve been targeted like I’m the criminal.

~ * ~

Republicans. White male monster sexist Republicans. Playing everywhere.

~*~

Democrats, useless to me.

~*~

Press shy.

~*~

I can hardly breath.

How am I supposed to survive?

~ * ~

I’ve tried to laugh.

But I cry more.

~ * ~

You can’t imagine my pain or terror.

And I am not hallucinating, which is of course exactly what most people would automatically assume.

Assume that I’m crazy.

But I’m not.

~ * ~

I don’t want your pity or your tears. I need your help winning my life back. If I don’t win my life back, they will lock me up forever, when I finally become homeless due solely to this attack.

I don’t need to be locked up because I was locked up illegally, with utmost disregard for my humanity.

I am in danger. This story is real. My version of this story is the right one, not my attackers’ bogus paper trail.

I am making every effort to support my claims. For the unlikely chance that one person with means finally steps forward to help me end this hell.

~ * ~

Greater political context set.

Yes, it is taking a long time getting to the day I was suicide swatted, police abducted and illegally and inhumanely locked up at St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward. But I need to explain in detail these competing papertrails. So readers understand how this story has been allowed to snowball and understand how my body found itself at the hospital. I am still learning and trying to understand every step.

This narration returns to mostly chronological order, as promised.

Life is messy.

~ * ~

Chapter: Gaslighting.

After William MacQueen’s two letters in April 2012, dated April 13 and 19, 2012.

May 2012.

Upper Oakland County.

I meet William MacQueen and he meets me, with my lawyer, Nick Roumel, by my side.

The day a man I had never before met, who had never met me, without honest cause, went beyond his two April 2012 letters to accuse me of being crazy dangerous like a school shooter, like a mass murderer, to my face.

For me, he wore a bowtie. 

My executioner looked like the guy from movie The Paper Chase, Charles W. Kingsfield Jr. (John Houseman).  

William MacQueen’s appointment had only been recently announced through school wide e-mail by the chancellor. 

William MacQueen’s arrival was announced on April `13, 2012, the same date as William MacQueen’s first letter. How could that be?

According to chancellor, William MacQueen had started at the college two days before, on April 11, 2012. How could that be? In its July 2013 press release announcing his permanent placement, the school said William MacQueen started in March 2012.

If I was really such a threat to the community all of a sudden, why did they wait for some new guy to handle me and then not get straight when he was actually hired?

~*~

A skilled integrator, William MacQueen maliciously but vaguely accused me, though we had never before met.  He did not feel the need to support his claims with documentation, unlike the requirement for college writing students.  A woman in Alabama had murder co-worker, which meant the school had to take action to stop me.

On what basis did he suggest I might be crazy dangerous and a sudden serious threat to the well-being of the college community?

There was nothing. 

To prevent me from doing the same, murdering, William MacQueen said he needed to invoke a barely used clause in the 100-page teacher contract (which barely mentioned students).  Alone among 300 supposedly union protected teachers, who were constantly bickering over something, I would need to have my head examined.  I was such a sudden danger, I would need to pack a lunch and have my head examined over a two-day, 11-hour period, like an accused mass murder, in police custody.   In order to keep my job.  

Others just needed to teach. 

~ * ~

This one fateful meeting changed the course of my life.  No criminal record, no violent history, no police interaction, no gun, no interest in guns, no interest in weapons other than words, pen, paint brush, a cellphone camera no threats, no evidence, no reason.  Behind closed doors, off the record, in modern America. 

Suddenly I became a public enemy.

~ * ~

Seven long years later (2019).  Nine long years later (2021). On the news today, every day.  Another mass shooting.  For real, of course.  There have been so many.   New Zealand, my husband lived there.  In the states, at Walmart’s, Krogers, malls, schools and movie theaters. 

It wasn’t me.  I didn’t kill any one.  I’m not violent.  I’m still defending myself.  I should not need to do so.   

~ * ~

Nick Roumel, my lawyer I hired on the fly, sat next to me, but he didn’t prevent my death. 

My expenditure for a lawyer, my life savings of $6,000, about matches the $6,700 Susan Sarandon loses to Brad Pitt in a motel, in movieland. 

Have you seen the film, Thelma & Louise?

Like fictional Louise, money did not stop or solve my problem. 

In my case, my problem remains the sudden onset of sexist, bogus mental health care.

A real witch hunt, Mr. President, former president, by my state and federally supported higher education employer, in modern America, in plain sight. 

With about 300 actually protected tenured union teachers watching, silently.

~ * ~

Naive people ask, “What about the teachers union?”

Don’t get me started.

Teachers are not necessarily nice people, any kid will tell you.

Furthermore, there is a great deal of corruption within unions.

~ * ~

I felt like I was being beheaded, in plain sight, because I spoke honestly about students learning how not to read in high school: students get away with faking reading at Land of Motown Community College, and beyond. 

~ * ~

Forgive the mixed metaphors.  I was beheaded, in plain sight. 

In Composition I, I told students to avoid the roller coaster cliché when writing personal narrations.  Most used the metaphor anyway.  I understand. 

I’ve been running around with my head cut off for seven years, nine years, ON A ROLLER COASTER RIDE THROUGH HELL! 

~ * ~

The above editorial exclamation is dedicated to the students who stayed in my classes and honestly worked very hard to earn their grades.

Even when they lied and cheated, my community college students made for much better company than my peers.

~ * ~

Equal protection is delusional, not me. 

~ * ~

Government was my favorite class in my crappy all girl Catholic high school, Ladywood High School, on grounds with St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin.

Ladywood closed in 2017 due to low enrollment.

Good.

~ * ~

Mr. Schmidt gave us each our own copy of the U.S. Constitution. 

I still have mine. 

I was naïve. I thought it meant protection against what I am living.

~ * ~

Right to redress the government, no law establishing a religion, freedom of speech, right not to be seized, due process, equal protection. 

My heart is broken. 

~ * ~

What did my My Ann Arbor lawyer, Nick Roumel, do for me, if not save my life and stop William MacQueen?

He filed a federal claim with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (later in November 2012).  He told me filing with the EEOC was a waste of time, but a necessary step for any further legal action. It was determined I did not have the money for any further legal action immediately.

First, dated April 27, 2012, Nick Roumel wrote the school a letter invoking the 1944 film Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman, Charles Boyer and, knight in shining armor, Joseph Cotton.   

~ * ~

My lawyer was “extremely troubled” that Land of Motown Community College “was ordering” me “to attend a fitness for duty exam, citing vague concerns with worries about the state of her ‘mental and emotional health.'”

Please realize, there is zero agreement about any terms such as these.

Mental, emotional and psychological so-called health care terms, alive in the world, are messier than the first drafts of student papers written on cellphones.

~ * ~

That’s all it took to end my life. 

A question about my “mental health” without any substantiation. No proof necessary.

~ * ~

Nothing has stopped this train from running over my head.

Certainly not my lawyer’s written response to the stay overnight mental health exam:

“ . . . in contrast to legal standards, you have articulated only a general concern about Ms. Fournier’s ‘well being.’ There is no evidence that her duties suffered, or that the problems were severe enough for you to prevent her from performing her duties.  Instead, from all indications, you are primarily displeased that she exercises her First Amendment rights, including that of academic freedom, to question authority, the status quo, and sometimes to criticize her colleagues.  Indeed, I am especially struck that her colleagues’ main complaints, stemming from November, 2008, and continuing to the present, involve things that Ms. Fournier has merely said or written. I also find it telling that your request for a mental health exam came on the heels of two grievances filed by Ms. Fournier in late March of this year, directed at the criticism of her colleagues, which is certainly an effective way to silence grievances (sic).”

~ * ~

My lawyer got the gist right, but he screwed up my defense.

He was on the right track, but he failed to emphasize and slam home the total lack of evidence that I had acted ‘erratically,’ as falsely charged.

He failed to stop them from murdering me.

~ * ~

I never should have gone to any hack shrinks.

The hack shrinks that carried the killer paper trail forward.

~ * ~

Disastrously bad call. Sending me to hack shrinks was Mick Roumel’s mistake.

~ * ~

I should have walked away from my savings of 6 grand, my un-refundable payment, and ignored his advice.

I did not listen to my gut.

My sick husband needed my health insurance.

~ * ~

Well. Hindsight.

~ * ~

Here’s the best line from my lawyer’s softly defensive letter that did not seem to help and cost 6 grand, my life savings: “I can only conclude that you are ‘gaslighting’ Ms. Fournier, trying to convince her she must have a psychological defect, in order to redirect the sting of her comments.”

At the time, I was overly impressed with the Hollywood touch.

~ * ~

Unfortunately, I think the usual suspects came between me and my first lawyer (there has been no second lawyer civil rights): money and misogyny, which strikes even liberals and women. 

Nine month later, he gave up.  He simply gave up, because I did not have enough money to launch a federal case.  He counselled me to quit my tenured teaching position, sign away my rights to sue and take a one-time buy out of less than half a year’s salary. 

I declined. 

Soon after, less than a month later, I was suicide swatted by Land of Motown Community College.

~ * ~

Because my head hurts from the negative effects of long-term criminal mental abuse, I need to stop telling this version of the story right now and take a break. 

~ * ~

After the thaw, spring dog poo scooping helps shake the claws of my too-many attackers out of my mind.

No picture included.

Chapter: Hack Shrink #1 The Wolf.

May 10, 2012.  Land of Motown Community College hack shrink #1 of 2. 

My soft touch lawyer got my brain-picking session reduced.  A shorter visit to the psychiatric henchman was arranged.  Wolf.  That was his last name. 

One thing I knew for sure sitting there: I should not have been sitting there. 

I tried to bring a patient advocate. 

No, The Wolf replied. 

I, for sure, wanted to record the session. 

No, The Wolf was opposed and The Wolf had all the power. 

My lawyer was incorrectly unconcerned with these details.

~ * ~

Ironically, my single-serving, mental health care mercenary psychiatrist, The Wolf, was agitated and hostile.

The Wolf was also white, male, a senior citizen, and a complete stranger, like the man who hired him, misusing tax payer and tuition dollars.

~ * ~

The Wolf asked me superficial questions about my life of 48 years.  He asked me questions about my relationship to co-workers. 

The Wolf told me women were naturally crazy, whether they were bleeding on their periods or not. 

A University of Michigan diploma hung on the diploma on the wall.  

There was no witness.

Near the end of less than two hours, The Wolf asked me about my menstrual period. 

Afterward, to complete his contract to behead me, The Wolf wrote a single-spaced report of four pages with a lot of words about me.  The most grating?  “Grandiose.” 

You know, like current, former, U.S. president Donald Trump. 

~ * ~

I have not reread the two hack shrink reports forced on me by Land of Motown Community College in many years.  I try to fight forward as I uncover the past, which is a taffy pull.  It’s too painful and dangerous to spend time with these details, like playing with a live bomb. 

But I’ve got to do it. I need to try. To try and plaster over the school’s false paper trail with corrections, evidence and the truth.

There is still such a thing as the truth.

~ * ~

I just reread hack shrink report #1. 

Doing so was too painful, a bomb.

I never should have subjected myself to the following psychiatric mistreatment:

The Wolf: “Gina Fournier presented as an alert, full oriented, marginally cooperative, middle-aged Caucasian woman.  She was properly dressed, and her grooming and hygiene were excellent. I would estimate her intellectual ability to be in the highest average range, at least.  There was no evidence of cognitive impairment of an organic type.  She was mildly anxious, often argumentative, and highly suspicious.  Although there no clear evidence of a thought disorder of a psychotic type. There were clear suggestions of paranoia and grandiosity which at least bordered on being delusional.  There was no history or evidence of hallucinations. There was no apparent suicidal, aggressive or homicidal ideation, intent or plan.  Ms. Fournier thought it ludicrous that she could be regarded as posing a threat of physical violence to anyone in the workplace.”

~ * ~

Without actual cause, after one visit of less than two hours, The Wolf concluded that I had a “Personality Disorder with mixed features.” Furthermore,  he assaulted, “it is certainly possible that she also has an Axis I disorder, either Bipolar Disorder or Delusional Order.” 

It’s possible this guy dropped dead of heart attack soon after. (I think he may have died soon after.)

Please realize that no such thing as “bi-polar” actually scientifically exists, unlike cancer, which actually exists. I’ve come to learn about the rise of psychiatry in the 1980s, the creation of the psychiatric bible, widespread labeling based on trends and bias, and the rise of misrepresented psychiatric drugs sold by Big Media for Big Medicine, with lots of corruption, greed and ego in the mix–like higher education, like religion, like life.

The Wolf had no basis for labeling me with psychiatry as damaged. He was paid brute who beat me up using unethical tricks of his trade.

~ * ~

Ironically, contradictorily, The Wolf criticized me for judging psychiatry based on my experience with one, once, twenty years early, but did not hesitate to box my body and mind and call me sick in the head after one visit with him.

~ * ~

Later, in February 2013, the Livonia, Michigan Police were not told by Land of Motown Community College about Land of Motown Community College’s behavior in the three-quarters of a year before I was suicide swatted by Land of Motown Community College.

St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward staff did not speak with me enough to even ask.

~ * ~

At first, I naively thought The Wolf sounded torn, when he said I was both “entirely oblivious to the possibility” that I might suffer from a psychiatric disorder and that I should be “regarded as fit for duty.”

But now I better realize that The Wolf was acting and playing a role, both good cop and bad cop rolled into one. The Wolf tried to dress up as dear sweet Gramma, but underneath was ferocious and lethal.

The Wolf was hired by William MacQueen to lay the groundwork for hack shrink #2 and to crack open the door to progressively condemning the mind and mental health of Gina Fournier in future paperwork, no matter actual Gina Fournier.

~ * ~

The Wolf assumed William MacQueen’s narrative falsehood was correct without question, a sure sign of a partisan hack. The Wolf described the vague, un-detailed, supposed serious matter on campus about me “personnel management rather than psychiatric disability.” Speciously, The Wolf prepared the next step, for hack shrink # 2, and continued the false narrative of my rapidly declining mental health.

I did not see the next chess moves comin, but neither did my lawyer, Nick Roumel.  

William MacQueen did. 

It was his plan, after all.

~ * ~

I responded to The Wolf’s written report with my own written report. 

“Based on our meeting and his report,” I countered, The Wolf “was determined to prove that I was being unreasonable and paranoid, whether I actually demonstrated those characteristics or not.”

I had to defend myself.  Of course, I did.  Wouldn’t you?

~ * ~

“To date, he has refused to supply evidence of any wrongdoings or any reason for his request that I endure psychological testing . . . .”

~ * ~

Once people heard what was happening to a tenured female community college teacher, I was sure that enough of the right people would flock to my story in order to stop the attack. 

Although it would be embarrassing, telling my story would save me. 

So, I figured that I needed to parallel the false paper trail with my own and show that I objected from the start.

~ * ~

In America, as designed, power is to be held in place with checks and balances, and is supposed to be transparent, in order to uphold democratic principles.

~ * ~

As writing teacher, I told students: Don’t over-quote. Write your own papers. Use quotes to support point, which is what I am trying to do, but quote sparingly. Reserve quoting for emphasis of main points.

~*~

The same date, September 11, 2012, that I emailed The Wolf my rebuttal, The Wolf contacted Gary Casey, long-time inner-circle Land of Motown Community College human resources lawyer, who can be seen, like below, as a name lurking on e-mail chains.

The Wolf to Gary Casey, who was working with William MacQueen (“please print for Bill,” Gary Casey emailed William MacQueen : “As indicated earlier today on the phone, I received an email from Gina Fournier, whom I saw at your request alst May for an independent psychiatric examination. I have attached a copy of her email for your review–it is replete with ideas and statements that are frankly delusional.”

Criticizing The Wolf meant I was nutz, “delusoional,” right out the patriarchy handbook from which Ray Mort, Eric Abbey and the school’s administration played before William MacQueen.

Lloyd Crews was merely a willing pawn who mouthed what he was told to mouth.

~ * ~

My refusal to accept His Word as the Last Word caused The Wolf to respond vindictively, or maybe not. Maybe he was supposed to change his mind from the start.

The Wolf e-mailed Land of Motown Community College a new appraisal: without seeing me again, he’d changed his mind. 

I might be delusional and psychotic after all. 

Here’s what kills me about being called delusional by all these strangers for hire: they don’t even bother to cite my supposed delusion. They can’t relay my story about little green men taking me away because none ever has ever been uttered.  

Psychiatry without personal consent or personal contact had begun.

Unfortunately, this was just the beginning. By now, on social media, trolls diagnosis me all the time.

~ * ~

I was not delusional or psychotic, but insubordinate to my overlord’s henchman.  

And I’ve paid dearly.    

~ * ~

Wow. I fell short in my teaching duties.  I should have told students that documentation, plagiarized documentation, can be used to dismantle a person, so be alert. 

~ * ~

Chapter: Compare and Contrast Evaluations, Land of Motown Community College Hack Shrinks vs St Mary Merciless Absent Doctor

Compare and contrast is a basic critical thinking skill and rhetorical device.

Assignment: Compare and contrast hack shrink reports #1 and #2 to the clinical certificates of the two St. Mary Merciless Looney Bin doctors, with the help of one disastrously positioned and unsupervised first-year student intern.

Land of Motown Community College hack shrink reports: wordy, guilty of pernicious fabulousity, multiple pages of skewered detail reminiscent of my actual life, though handily re-iterated to make me look like I was suddenly and precipitously losing my mind.

Bogus St. Mary Merciless clinical certificates and hospital records: very brief, indistinct, objective not subjective in its brevity about the patient, suspiciously lacking in detail for all points.

I was declared delusional because of my actual story about the school’s behavior.

~ * ~

On February 22, 2013, it would only require checked boxes and a few pat sentences and phrases, without any specific detail, in support of the false claims that I was psychotic, suicidal and likely to hurt others.

Just a few words locked up this former English teacher for an unneeded illegal week’s stay in a psychiatric ward. 

But my body did not arrive at that juncture suddenly or by my own doing.

Delusional, check, likely to hurt herself or others, check, suicidal, check. 

~ * ~

Delusional?

I’ve been maliciously mis-labeled delusional for seven years, nine years!

About what exactly was I ever delusional?

~ * ~

Favorite English teacher feedback: “Say More!”

Below is Dr. Andrew Muzychka’s clinical certificate, which St Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward submitted on his and my behalf to Wayne County Probate Court.

Be clear. Use detailed examples. Expand your sentences into paragraphs. Presently, you fail to support your claims.

NGY. No Grade Yet. This work fails to meet assignment minimums, but may be revised for a higher grade.

Top of the form. What no one, no doctor, no intern, no nurse, no one ever at St. Mary Merciless ever said to me: “I am authorized by law to examine you for the purpose of advising the court if you have a mental condition which needs treatment and whether such treatment should take place in a hospital or in some other place. I am also here to determine if you should be hospitalized or remain hospitalized before a court hearing is held. I may be required to tell the court what I observe and what you tell me.”

These are the handful of regurgitated sentences that condemned me:

Dr. Andrew Muzychka: “Pt threatened to kill herself. PT wrote threatening messages online. Pt presented with paranoid and delusional thought content. PT is verbally aggressive, guarded, uncooperative.”

Completely wrong.

Patient was unconscious because student intern Nicole Shattuck knocked her out with drugs at the time Dr. Andrew Muzychka claimed falsely to have evaluated the patient.

Suggested direction for revision: “Patient was sarcastic, not suicidal, when she said in effect ‘just shoot me,’ a common sarcastic refrain. Patient was opposite of suicidal. Patient was trying to ‘save her life’ from her employer’s psychological harassment, which began in April 2012. Patient says prior she was bullied for a number of years by co-worker teachers and that her employer was trying to end her career to silence administrative missteps. In turns out that the employer called the police while monitoring her Facebook page, not any friends, as mistakenly stated in hospital medical records by unauthorized staff. However, when the employer called police dispatch, the employer did not relay facts about the patient in good faith. Furthermore, poorly trained police escalated the patient’s suicide swatting trauma and did not listen to the patient’s side of the story. Police badgered patient with poor practices and the word “suicide.” Patient did not call and ask police to kill her. Patient was upset by the school’s attack, but not suicidal. In under six minutes, police surrounded her house, jumped and handcuffed patient and put her in a police squad car, wearing her pajamas and leaving her pet animals with no one to care for them, which reasonably worried the patient. Patient had long been psychologically abused by her suicide swatter employer, EEOC documented abusive, Land of Motown Community College, including the use of hostile mental health exams without a witness or recording, and more recently non payment and involuntary family medical leave after her husband’s unexpected death. In a few sentences, using all the time allowed, patient told emergency room staff her actual story of employer abuse, but patient was disbelieved by first-year intern Nicole Shattuck, who was not supervised by Dr. Andrew Muzychka. Patient was not allowed phone calls to attorney Nick Roumel who could have confirmed patient’s story about her employer. Student intern Nicole Shattuck believed incorrectly the patient’s friends called police, which was wrong. Student intern Nicole Shattuck also spelled “dellusional” incorrectly, so she clearly needed more training and experience. Student intern Nicole Shattuck was not lawfully authorized to examine patient and determine next steps, but she did anyway. Hence, patient was reasonably terrified and traumatized by what turned out be just what she feared: criminal psychiatric abuse.”

~ * ~

Page two of Dr. Andrew Muzychka’s bogus clinical certificate?

A near empty form, checked boxes, rote sentences, not clearly written by any particular person about any particular person.

Murdered by a form.

A bogus form.

The worst thing Dr. Andrew Muzychka said?

“Pt has poor judgement and no insights.”

My judgment and insights were just fine. What nerve to call yourself a doctor and scientist, Andrew Muzychka, who never evaluated me. Meanwhile, my dog was taken to the pound and my bird was left without fresh water and food. I wasn’t being helped and neither were my pets.

~ * ~

Best writing tip: Use active verbs.

Examples: set up, gaslight, throw under the bus, suicide swat, police-abduct, illegally lock up, retaliate, fail to equally protect, ignore, torture, murder.

~ * ~

I was locked up in a psychiatric ward by an emergency room doctor I have never met to this day. 

~ * ~

As St. Mary Merciless medical records clearly show that the guy didn’t even bother to check in with me in the psychiatric ward, where he’d stowed me so callously, for a week.

Andrew Muzychyka, no matter when the guy was informed and he signed the clinical certificate, he knew he had not evaluated me, he’s more than complicit, he’s guilty.

When he later signed hospital records, bogus hospital records, under the next day’s date, Andrew Muzychka likely realized that no one was let out of St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin in less than five days.

~ * ~

In effect, patients, or inmates, at St. Mary Merciless, were human trafficked.

My body was held illegally and unnecessarily used in order for the hospital to collect the automatic first five-day payment made by health insurance after hospitalization is okayed. 

~ * ~

A court-required clinical certificate (posted in full above) was checked and signed by a white male doctor I never met. 

Perjury.

Protected by the state of Michigan.

~ * ~

I found the face of the doctor who locked me up in a psychiatric ward without evaluating me, or meeting me, later on the St. Mary Merciless website. 

Andrew Robert Muzychka, MD.

~ * ~

That’s a lot of nerve.

~ * ~

Over time, in a carefully planned paper trail, the terms of mental health care, haphazardly strung together, were used to set me up and lock me up, regardless of the actual being me, who was not crazy, dangerous or suicidal.  

The irony cuts deeply.

I taught writing essays to community college students now at five of twenty-eight state community colleges in my home state, the Mitten.

In my 20s and 30s, I lived in California and Massachusetts, where I found the cultures to be more friendly to females and where I like to think this story would not have happened.  Maybe that’s naïve.

With trepidation, I had returned to Michigan in order to live cheaply and publish a first book, a rookie effort, on the impact and meaning of the film Thelma & Louise, the one that sucks a little less than Eric Abbey’s Garage Rock book, in my estimation.

~ * ~

I worked long hours. 

I was dedicated.    

My students needed to pump out at least a couple pages of actual original words and ideas, with creative and thoughtful detail, in order to honestly express themselves and earn a passing grade. 

Yet it only took a very small couple of handfuls of automated terms and clichés psychiatric words sentences to eradicate my civil liberties and basic human rights. 

~ * ~

Believe me. I know I can’t get away with my own defense in this case.  

The law is some tricky shit, says Geena Davis as Thelma.

~ * ~  

A good Catholic girl like me growing up, who did what I was told, did not realize the world was as corrupt or lunatic as it is.  As a child, I saw the Felician nuns as mean, nuts, ignorant and laughable.

I figured wrongly the rest of the world would act less like a Marx Brothers movie. 

~ * ~

My most inner child is positive and goofy, but she’s mostly a memory. 

~ * ~

Eat your spinach. You’ll need it.

This story is grueling.

Back to chronological order. The looney bin set up.

~ * ~

Chapter: Hack Shrink #2 The Terminator.

December 2012.  Land of Motown Community College hack shrink #2 of 2. 

Fineman?  Friedman?  I can never remember which.  He was ready to convict me before we even met.

The greater set up was building. 

I didn’t see it coming intellectually, but I felt the trap closing around me.

~ * ~

This time, I recorded the visit on my cellphone. 

In advance, I clearly informed the guy, again, a white, male, senior citizen, a complete stranger, mercenary hack shrink #2, that I would definitely tape the session.  I would not accept “no” for an answer.  

~ * ~

After forty-five minutes, when hack shrink # 2 realized I was directly documenting his grilling, he jumped up like a character actor in a comedy, with large mannerisms and a big, very upset voice. 

I later drew and painted him cartoon-style in this scene waving his arms above his head. 

~ * ~

In his single-spaced report with many words and pages, hack shrink #2 said I was totally unfit to teach, at any level, at any time, based on no actual anything: no words, no actions, no behavior. 

An old acquaintance, a Catholic school peer and court reporter, transcribed the recording.  The transcript is somewhere in my boxes of documentation, and, recorded with some very bad videotaping available on Youtube, buried deep on my channel.

Again, the report written by hack shrink #2 makes even less sense than hack shrink #1.  All claims are unsubstantiated. 

~ * ~

I disagreed with the in-house teachers union and my long time bully peers, therefore I was unfit. 

~ * ~

I did not know that someone could be locked up so easily in a mental ward.

I did not know that the Catholics of my youth ran a mental ward in the heart of their large tax-free complex.

I bet most Livonia, Michigan residents do not.

~ * ~

Four score and seven years ago (minus four score), l thought–hoped–the insanity would stop soon, but it has never stopped.

~ * ~

A pattern emerges regarding the so-called experts’ superficial concern with time orientation.

No one reads, open strong, encourage skimming, collect your paycheck.

Obfuscate.

Sound like you know what you are talking about.

Pretend pseudo-science is real.

Act as if you are God.

“Ms. Fournier was oriented as to time, place and person.  Her memory was intact for both recent and remote events.  I would estimate her to be of above-average intelligence.  Both her intellectual and personal judgments however were significantly impaired.  She lacked any reasonable insight and could not account for her unreasonable and irrational behavior in the workplace.  I chose not to detail each of the comments mentioned in the material I had which reflected what her coworkers and administrators, as well as her students felt to be her unreasonable and irrational behavior. I felt that doing so would only cause her to repeat over and again her ‘innocence,’ and lack of concern of validity for any of these issues. . . In summary, Ms. Fournier suffers from a sever impairment in her thought processes which are manifested by paranoid delusional thinking, impaired insight, and significantly impaired intellectual and personal judgement. She is unfit, in my professional opinion, to teach at any level of the education system.”

~ * ~

There was no basis in fact for any of these defamatory claims about my behavior made by hack shrink #1 or #2.

I had only said things teachers and administrators less progressive than me did not like, and I did so formally, professionally.  

~ * ~

(move up to me online Shakespeare? or integrate here?) Here’s one example I have kept to document professional disagreements at Land of Motown Community College among English teachers, which turned inside-out the notion of personal attack. A pattern of mis-quoting me, and taking my words out of context, goes way back. In October 2008, an e-mail from a dean (not Dean Crews), I believe, encouraged and induced Mr. Online Shakespeare’s attack. The dean misquoted my concerns about educational standards on behalf of students in an e-mail to the English department, which signaled the beginning of the end. I said: “The biggest complaint I hear over and over–from students who did not take me for Comp I–is that Comp I was a ‘breeze’ or easy’ or a ‘piece of cake’ and that Comp II is so much more difficult . . .” I was misquoted and berated by the dean of English, at the time (there were a few deans of English during my time) and reprimanded. My words were deemed objectionable. They “unfairly indicts your colleagues when it may be that students haven’t gotten adequate preparation from a different institution . . .” It did not take long for my bully peers to charge through this open door and conquer. First Mr. Online Shakespeare rallied the miscreants, and after that it only took about three years to finish me.

~ * ~

Acting like Trump before Trump, my peers attacked me saying I attacked them.

I suggest my peers simply refused to tolerate difference, despite a lot of superficial talk at Land of Motown Community College about embracing diversity.

Critical discussion about teaching and student experience?

Disallowed.

~ * ~

I did not physically threaten or scare either my bully or sheepish peers with any actual crazy lady behavior.

They just wanted to create a schedule that catered to their personal needs without loud mouth me objecting.

Men had boats to sale, and fish to fish!

Women had children and retirement plans to care for.

That’s it.

~ * ~

Top paragraph, hack shrink #2 report. Intent to create Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail about me. The paragraph contains a list of documents between named staff people supposedly about me and my objectionable behavior that I was not shown at the time.

Note the named: my bully peers, not the sheep.

What incident report by my bully co-worker, dated March 26, 2012?

Why was a dean from another area communicating with Eric Abbey, about me?

My lawyer had not been presented with any damning evidence against me at all about my behavior because nothing behaviorally had happened.

All references at the top are hearsay and, well, bullshit intended to pad the report.

A common trick.

~ * ~

One correction: Lue Jackson, online student, with the self-appointed nickname and screen icon, Grumpy, was not a legitimate complaint.

He was rude, did no coursework and dropped.

~ * ~

Most devastating, no legitimate student complaints had been shared with me. 

For seven years, my record with students in terms of student complaints had been great, a fact the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight paper trail seeks to obliterate. 

I took great care to create a classroom that students did not find objectionable.

~ * ~

Chapter: Something Wicked This Way Came

I hate what’s been done to my life.

What a show.  In advance, as planned, hack shrink #2 was part of the setup, or should I say take down, of me and my career, with edges that were widening like a puddle of water. 

Gaslighting was a conscious plan in action.  Land of Motown Community College proved it was willing to use cruelty, mental abuse in the guise of mental health and community safety, as a tool.

~ * ~

In advance of the hack shrink #2, the month before, in November 2012, I was pulled from the classroom by Lloyd Crews, the former Land of Motown Community College Dean named at the very start of the paper trail, with police escort.

I was removed from campus, a month before I was falsely declared unfit by hack srhink #2. 

At that point, my supervisor and a campus cop walking me to the front door was humiliating but not a surprise. 

~ * ~

The night I was pulled from the classroom like a criminal, I went to see Madonna at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Red Wings Hockeytown. 

Madge was ridiculously hours late. 

I sat waiting with my group within the larger group alone in a daze. 

My separation from the rest of humanity began in a large buzzing room with a few thousand annoyed concertgoers listening to taped dance music.

~ * ~

My nemesis sent more letters that year, after his initial assault letter, launching the attack against me, back in April 2012.

On November 7, 2012, another letter was sent, between hack shrinks #1 and #2.

I was removed from the classroom on this date, November 7, 2012.

By that point, I had been chased out of the house by my husband, and had moved from Garden City to a rented house in Livonia, my hometown.

~ * ~

Jump ahead to prepare for a considerable parallel.

Later, six years to the date, well after the looney bin, I was removed from the classroom as English teacher at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College, as part of the retaliation and fallout I’ve incurred.

Incredible.

Also on that date, November 7, 2018, Republican Bill Schuette was not the newly elected governor of Michigan, and had lost the race to newly elected Democratic Governor Gretchen Whitmer.

Coincidence?

~ * ~

At the time, back in 2012, people would ask me, what’s your status at Land of Motown Community College?

I recall being flabbergasted. So many documents, so many labels.

Who needs the language of human resources when true crime is more apt?

I just knew the big picture: I was being taken out.

That was clear from the start.

~ * ~

What term was being used by my employer?

On what date? I

It depends. On so much. Whether the talk was on or off the record. Which records? The school’s or the hack shrinks’?

What were the words used about me behind the scenes?

The school’s bogus papertrail was bi-bifurcated between calling me suddenly crazy dangerous and saying I was suddenly a bad teacher.

November 7, 2012.

“SUSPENSION PENDING FURTHER REVIEW (non-Disciplinary)”

Due to “personality disorder,” a condition that does not exist, which I therefore do not suffer from, I was suspended.

I was not delusional about anything.

What fucking nerve, making a living by mind raping people.

~ * ~

Decoded. My version of the paper trail. Gina was not suddenly a bad teacher.

The Strange Case of Lue Jackson: Online Trolls?

Online college writing courses are not a good idea, in most cases, but popular, I surmise, due to usually low standards, lower costs and usually no one looking over anyone shoulders, student or teacher.

That fated fall, in one large section of online composition, students assigned to my section were acting very strangely. In short, most students did no work, and according to the guidelines in my syllabus, and federal attendance guidelines, they were dropped.

Students can’t start a fifteen week writing course half way through the semester and expect to learn and grow.

But, they kept me running around the internet after them, asking ill-thought questions I needed to answer, making references that I need to check out, and keeping me busy while they did no course work.

It was like they were trying to do nothing but waste time.

More than other online groups in my experience.

Remarkably, like trolls.

Like, notably, student Lue Jackson, Grumpy, who did no work, who did not even appear to try to complete work, who became rude and dropped the course.

He spent more time complaining then he did working.

Why was this one student used to hang me after seven years service in good faith?

Set up.

~ * ~

The report suspending me continued based on very close inspection of one large online section, in the Fall of 2012.

Please understand, for the most part, the teaching work of full-time faculty was largely ignored.

Never had my teaching been so questioned in the previous seven years.

~ * ~

If there had been regular actual review of my syllabus and course materials, over the previous seven years, which I doubt, only the slightest outward motions, I had passed those reviews.

I did allow students to turn in late work, but with a limit.

The schedule was simply posted separate from the syllabus, not missing.

~ * ~

Intellectually, I didn’t realize how badly I was being abused at the time through the manipulation of certain words and phrases planted on purpose across the documents of the Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail.

But I felt it.

And I feel it even worse now.

~ * ~

I am convulsing in tears and excruciating pain today, May 30, 2019, over this document, as I do the work of trying to save my life.

“Since October 23 against the foregoing backdrop, the college has received allegations from numerous students of i) similar abusive behavior toward them involving your use of the WF mark, ii) your mismanagement and confusing direction of your classes, and iii) your outbursts of anger, scathing criticism, and emotional instability in dealing with them.”

What “outbursts of anger”?

What “scathing criticisms”?

What “emotional stability” manifested where, what, when, how?”

Fake news.

Totally fake manufactured news.

~ * ~

I have been maligned repeatedly and murdered by an extensive many year long paper trail created by a monster sexist, with direct extensive damage incurred.

Furthermore, I can prove my claims, but no will bother to read them.

The reality is overwhelming.

You can’t imagine my pain.

~ * ~

Most of the students who complained about being withdrawn with a WF final grade were online students who were dropped for doing nothing, and they were dropped because I was required to drop them.

I never met those students, including Grumpy.

I mean no ill will toward any real students named in my quest to save my life. I assume I stand on the side of right. I’ve been asking for Lue Jackson to come forward on social media all this time.

I’m betting that person may not exist, along with some other names registered in that section.

I could be wrong.

I could be right. I posted the courselist for that course with icons on a Facebook page years ago in this quest.

I am not trying to hide or hurt, but honestly earnestly clear my name and survive this attack.

Real students, actual people, step forward, but do so out of compassion, with documentation, please.

~ * ~

What “outbursts of anger”?

In cyber space?

Without witness?

~ * ~

As a teacher, I was not the person described.

Gaslighting causes negative emotions including anger.

However, I have worked very hard all these years to keep it together as I have been broken down by attack.

This point is spiritual for me, though I am human and imperfect.

And very angry.

And imperfect.

But never criminal.

~ * ~

I do a lot to work through my anger: I allow it some room, then cry, bathe, walk, talk to the animals, garden, paint, sometime meditate but that’s too refine for the beast I’ve become inside my cage, to be honest.

At this point, after seven years of mental torture, and years of bullying before that, I am really broken by mental health care used as a weapon against me.

But I want to heal.

~ * ~

“In addition, in recent months you have made numerous remarks in writing or to others about fellow teachers or representatives of the College that would lead a reasonable person to believe that your remarks are beyond the realm of professional discourse and suggest, without any apparent basis, that many of your fellow teachers or representatives of the college are endeavoring to undermine you.”

No proof of unprofessional discourse on the job provided.

An actual binder, a binder of comments by ghost students and three documented bully teachers, arrived in the mail. I’ve got a picture somewhere. I weighed the thing on a scale.

~ * ~

Rebuttal.

Representatives of the college were “endeavoring to undermine” me.

They had been doing so for years.

~ * ~

Note that my nemesis arranged for a temporary vice chancellor to sign this document.

That guy was marked with a past due date the day he arrived.

I have his face on school business somewhere.

~ * ~

And thus the Land of Motown Community College paper trail moved toward hack shrink #2, no evidence, no academic integrity, just accusation.

Something Wicked This Way Came, for sure.

Oh boy.

Ohh h girl! (The Twilights.)

As in, The Twilight Zone.

~ * ~

Two of about six students who actually did coursework both chose to read the 1962 Ray Bradbury novel, Something Wicked This Way Came, written before I was born, well before the students were supposedly born, which was certainly an unusual occurrence in my ten years of teaching and asking students to find a NON FICTION book to read and review.

In addition, the students claimed to not know one an other and never supplied good answers about how they found their oddly obscure selection.

Most students are non readers, and when forced to read a book, find something contemporary and popular, like Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie.

Plus, the assignment called for a nonfiction book.

Both students fought me over this title.

So, I had to read it.

I am not a fan of science fiction.

The book is sexist, and dated in that regard.

The novel features two main characters, two boys, friends Jim and Will. Their school teacher is well, kind of gaslit, in a way, by a haunted traveling carnival. Adult Miss Foley is reduced to the body of a child and is trapped in a special hell.

What a coincidence!

I remember the page number, page 162.

“Oh, Jim, I bet she’s pounded a dozen doors this morning, wanting help, scared people with her screaming and yelling, then run off, gave up, and hid under that tree. Police are probably looking for her now, but so what? it’s just a wild girl crying and they’ll lock her away and she’ll go crazy. That carnival, boy, do they know how to punish so you can’t hit back.”

~ * ~

After I was removed from the classroom, I sent Facebook message to my main bully peer, the daughter of a car dealership empire and the most ostensibly recklessly greedy to my eyes.

She forwarded my Facebook message to administrators.

She claimed my message, “frightened me a bit.”

It’s clear she was being coached as she worked with administration to end my career: “I thought you and others involved in this situation should be informed.”

“others”?

The “situation”?

The “situation” was a concerted effort to silence my voice and end my career.

I said nothing I regret now in my Facebook message to her.

I said nothing inappropriately ‘frightening’:

“OCC has completely screwed over my fall 2012 students. Who are they putting in the classroom? Have you made claims that you feel I am physical danger to you? It has been alluded to by the HR office that you have. You have already made clear your lack of integrity on Nov. 10, 20o8, when you signed blank OCC letterhead in an effort to smear me and hog literature classes. Have the tree sets of lips to put any claims in writing and be prepared to say them under oath. I can’t wait to sue you. You should have been forced to resign back in 2008. It will be my life’s goal to fix my name and give back to those have ruined my what they deserve: fair, legal, very public response.”

This person was not my supervisor.

She was a peer who was hired years after me, meaning she should have had less union seniority, not greater protection.

The chain of command on display here through cc-ing is vigilante.

The list includes a newly appointed dean, who I was told was a sexual predatory, a known sexual predator, a former dean, a major player and office holder and, of course, my nemesis.

~ * ~

“Three Sets of Lips” (one on the face, two in the vagina) was the name of my feminist blog at ginafournier.com.

My new writer’s website debuted in April 2012, just as my nemesis struck.

My website was ransacked by hostile outside force and taken out of commission at the same time I was attacked at Land of Motown Community College.

I don’t have pictures, but there’s a peek of my writer’s website in the Livonia Police audio recordings I recorded for Youtube.

It was beautiful, just the look I wanted, the home page featuring a Suzy Homemaker oven under a tag line something like, “life without ima-gina-tion is not worth living.”

~ * ~

Eric Abbey also shared my Facebook message to him with my nemesis.

Eric Abbey worked directly with my nemesis to end my career.

~ * ~

To all my former community colleges, large-scale, I must correct my mistaken instruction about research papers and argumentative essays: honest evidence does no good outside of empty college exercises because there is too much lying and subterfuge in the world, in and out of college.  I’m so sorry. I wish things were very different, and much nicer.

~ * ~

Take out the garbage. 

Breathe the fresh air. 

Robins are back, I think. 

Make that red-winged black birds. 

And robins.

~ * ~

When bogus mental health care as a weapon bombed my life, the shit hit the fan. 

Really, that is the best way to put it in order to be most clear to a general audience.  

A more artistic approach I’ve tried: The Devil Bowls with a Snowball. 

~ * ~

Nothing works to end my Mitten State nightmare is the very real problem I am still managing.

~ * ~

For those who prefer watching over reading:

~ * ~

I hope others may appreciate this cautionary tale. 

Avoid being me. 

Even in this long summary, I will not be able to fit in all the details, comedic but mostly tragic, that have made me the worn-out old woman I am today at age 55.

No matter what I say or do, since the onset of psychiatric mislabeling, my attackers will call me some form of crazy. 

~ * ~

Malicious mental health care murders, in more than one way. 

Fall 2012. Garden City, Wayne County, Michigan.

My sick husband freaked out about the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight witch hunt.  He feared rightly that we would lose our two modest homes, which eventually did happen. 

In Michigan, union ground zero, it is or was possible to have two homes, one downstate and one up north, worth about a 100K. 

I think there are protocols that weren’t followed in our marriage at the end, like both man and wife can’t actually go crazy or be falsely accused of going crazy at the same time.  While I was falsely accused of being nutz, my husband went temporarily nutz, hallucinations and all.  How ironic.  I have never hallucinated, though I’ve been accused. 

He told me he was hallucinating for the time in his life due to 1) lack of sleep and because 2) he really thought he was going to die.  He thought he was going to die, even though his primary care physician–who was featured on the commercials for the hospital which he runs–said my husband’s mysterious blood disorder was stable. 

Telling me he was having hallucinations for the first time in his life was my partner of ten years last private admission to me.  He had already told the most difficult thing, that his oldest brother sexually molested him, which in itself alone did not cause hallucinations. 

Due to the snowball effects of bogus mental health care, in October 2012, I had to leave our home suddenly in the middle of the night with Garden City police escort, my dog and lap top computer.  My acutely abusive husband called the police asking them to take me away, like they might automatically send in the men wearing white coats, pronto.  He was behaving uncharacteristically extremely mad.  He wanted me to leave, hounded me, so I left, mid semester.  I moved out.  At 3: 00 am.  I left my suddenly crazy dangerous husband with his dog, inside his childhood home.   

I can’t stop clawing at new ways to describe effectively how bogus mental health care is torture.  Gaslighting spreads like wildfire, it turns out, or it did in my life.  Ironically, my husband went crazy in part due to bogus mental health care applied to me.  You just won’t believe this but simultaneously my estranged brother tried to divorce his wife with gaslighting, I assume because Land of Motown Community College gave him the idea.  My now ex-sister in law, living in Alabama, was luckier than me.  Plus, she got rid of my brother.

My husband, who was always very intuitive, was vindicated.  Like he foretold, after five days of precipitously deteriorating health, he died.  He died two months after we split, at age 53, hours after Christmas Day. 

I was not there.  We were separated the last ten weeks of his life.

A mystery.  What happened?  He was cared for in the same local neighborhood hospital that removed his engorged kidney and saved his life a couple years earlier.  I paid for answers.  The third string covering the holiday week made many rookie mistakes, like giving him a test known to kill people with only one kidney.  He had only one kidney.  And then he had none. 

If I had been there, I may have interrogated the staff enough to stop them from killing my husband. 

I was outside, at night, in the backyard of the family house in Garden City burning debris in the firepit, when I got the word on the phone, a spiritually thoughtful courtesy call, directly from the crematorium.  My husband’s body was being sent back to ash.  It may sound gruesome.  As we spoke, Chris was making his last exit by way of fire.   Standing next to fire, I found the gesture of the phone call assuring. 

Of course, I wanted to mark the moment consciously and with reverence. 

Goodbye, sweet prince.  I wish things were very different. 

~ * ~

Beware of killer hospitals, whether they work on your body or mind.  That’s a theme in this story.  When it’s too late, there’s no legal recourse anyway. 

Not in Michigan.

A couple of months before the onset of the monster sexist who ruined more than just my life, my husband and I had been talking about getting re-married in a more formal ceremony.   The one I’d thrown together when my husband was first sick in the same hospital where he died did not leave a positive impression.

~ * ~

I’ll need to cut out a lot of interesting juicy detail to keep this train on the tracks.  Phew.  Breathe. 

Maybe some soup?  Making and eating soup.  One of my therapies. 

Spinach soup is one of my power foods.  Chocolate cake and ice cream one of my crutches.

~ * ~

If I were me reading, I would want to know what happened to me while I was locked up in a mental ward for a week.  Yes, of course. 

Anxiety.  Sweating palms.  Headache. 

I need to save room for the six years of state-sanctioned retaliation that followed my week being human trafficked in a Catholic asylum in order to bilk insurance.  That very rich portion of this too-long tale involved jail time.

Jail time!?

~ * ~

No, I am not a criminal. 

~ * ~

First talk about the looney bin, then talk about jail.  

Chronological order.  Tell readers about the looney bin.  You never met the guy who locked you up, so what did happen?

~ * ~

How did you get to the looney bin, if you did not take and deposit yourself?

Tell readers how your body got to the looney bin.  Step by step.

Chapter: Set Up for Suicide Swatting

My nemesis kept adding to his bogus paper trail to overwhelm and bury me.

He took action to call me crazy dangerous and a bad teacher, suddenly, after seven years on the job.

It was paperwork my nemesis did not want me to share with the world, apparently.

I posted the growing papertrail on my Facebook page, but somehow the paperwork disappeared.

I re-posted the paperwork, especially the November 7, 2012 letter, with student names blacked out, and that’s the day I was suicide swatted.

~ * ~

How exactly did my body find itself in the emergency room of St. Mary Merciless?

Land of Motown Community College suicide swatted me. 

This means Land of Motown Community College made false police reports saying I was suicidal when I was not. 

~ * ~

Later, the next year, in an Oakland County administrative court, the school’s top cop testified that my nemesis in human resources told him to do it.

I got the top school cop on record under oath to make a key connection in this criminal chain of events.

The top cop was likely working in Pontiac, while his kingpin sat in Bloomfield Hills.

Or were they in the same room plotting?

~ * ~

After hack shrink #2, the Terminator, my nemesis sent more paperwork, officially, on school letterhead, like subsequent rounds of mortar shell.

There was no limit to the depravity exhibited by Land of Motown Community College.

The school capitalized on my husband’s death. 

~ * ~

The school knew my lawyer was gone off the case, that my husband was dead.

I was not being allowed to teach.

They stopped paying me.

They were grossly delaying and withholding an empty meaningless “due process.” 

The union had never been on my side.

~ * ~

I was put on forced leave.

I don’t even know if it’s legal to force an employee to use the Family Medical Leave Act.

It can’t be legal to force someone to take a medical leave for a condition they don’t have, a condition that does not exist.

January 4, 2013.

Re: FMLA Leave Notification

“Serious Health Condition”

~ * ~

Sounds like what killed off women in classic Hollywood movies, “serious health condition,” a nonspecific tragedy.

~ * ~

My only “serious health condition” was lack of protection from sexist mind rape.

~ * ~

Summary: my nemesis was using hack shrink #2, The Terminator, to terminate me.

In baby steps.

His circular reasoning and sarcasm were never finer.

“By granting this leave of absence,”

HOW KIND!

“the College is not waiving its right to proceed with due process procedure”

THREE ITERATIONS OF THE WORD “PROCESS” TO HIDE THE ACTUAL LACK OF DUE PROCESS

“as it relates to your conduct during the period prior to your removal from duty.”

WHEN NOTHING ACTUALLY HAPPENED BUT GASLIGHTING

“In the near future, you will receive a notice of charges from me regarding that conduct.”

THERE’S MORE TO COME

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community College was clearly trying to get rid of me, to silence me, no question.

~ * ~

Facebook memories stirred yup another letter from my Larry Nassar, William MacQueen, dated January 10, 2013.

~ * ~

E-mail from my lawyer to me.

January 19, 2013.

I was offered a lousy buy out a month before I was suicide swatted by Land of Motown Community College, for much less than one year’s salary.

~ * ~

To take the money, I’d have to agree to shut up.

I’d have to admit I was crazy.

I wasn’t crazy.

There was no way I could shut up.

I said no.

Which meant the end of me and my lawyer, as clearly communicated between us.

He had done all he could, which wasn’t enough.

I was alone.

~ * ~

None of this was shared with the Livonia Police or St. Mary Merciless.

Both parties have refused to reconsider their actions in light of the full facts.

~ * ~

At one point, I opened the door of my rented Livonia home to find that an actual binder of documentation, the bogus Land of Motown Community College, had been delivered by the U.S. Post Office.

~ * ~

My nemesis struck quickly after my lawyer and me separated.

On February 4, 2013.

He sent a “Notice of Charges under Article 6.3 (Discharge).”

I still have not read all the words in this document.

It is too painful.

Listen to this monster sexist malign my mind as if I were a child who could not comprehend:

“Following receipt of the fitness for duty report on January 2, 2013, overtures were made by your attorney to explore a possible mutual resolution of the various issues at stake.”

LIE ABOUT WHO MADE THE BUY OUT OFFER MADE EASIER BY MY FORMER ATTORNEY’S KNOWN EXIT.

“Due to those discussions, the College agreed to withhold serving the formal charges regarding your conduct (which had already been prepared) pending the outcomes of those discussions. Those discussions ended on January 26, 2013.”

LYING SON OF A MOTHERFUCK. (I’ll edit later.)

I HAD ALREADY SAID NO THE WEEK BEFORE!!!!

~ * ~

New juxtaposition for me! June 14, 2019. And there’s more.

Documents set aside but not forgotten keep coming out of the proverbial woodwork of my mind and various storage places.

~ * ~

I will move this bit into chronological order. I guess. Maybe.

I reiterated my “no” to the buy out the school made to me through my lawyer, on Tuesday, January 22, 2013, my dead husband’s first birthday without him, not on January 26, 2013.

Why bother to stress the wrong date?

Coincidence. January 22, 2013, Chris’s birthday, a month before I was suicide swatted and illegally locked up with the Catholics, and Gaslight played on Turner Classic Movies.

On this print out from Gmail, a portion of a longer conversation which preceded, I refer to an ultimatum from the mouth of my lawyer: decide now.

Cut off. But clear enough. My words: ” . . . a bit more time to consider. Tomorrow would have been Chris’ 55th birthday.”

~ * ~

Parting words: “As a next step, you can expect new charges form OCC to be filed. Be sure to alert your union and remind them of the letter I sent, and demand that they advocate for you going forward.”

~ * ~

People, teachers, the union, administrators earned a paycheck and watched my slaughter.

My nemesis created a one woman gas chamber for my career, and the others said nothing.

I knew the union would remain useless.

~ * ~

Back to February 4, 2013. Land of Motown community College bogus paper trail.

“As you are aware, the administration has been reviewing its concern about your conduct the Fall Term 2012.”

SUDDENLY, YOU’RE A BAD TEACHER.

“Following receipt of the fitness for duty report on January 2, 2013, overtures were made by your attorney to explore a possible mutual resolution of the various issues at stake.”

PURPOSEFUL COVER OF THE OFFER OF A BUYOUT MADE BY LAND OF MOTOWN COMMUNITY COLLEGE TO MY FORMER LAWYER.

“While it appears that you are unfit for duty based on Dr. Friedman’s exam, we believe it to necessary and important to apprise you that the conduct relating to suspension still presents the college with concerns and the College’s view that they must, at some point, be addressed, I am not providing this notice of the charges against you pursuant to Article 6.3 (Discharge) . . .”

NONSENSE, USED TO END MY TENURE POSITION. TO END MY CAREER. TO END MY SENSE OF ACCOMPLISHMENT AND WORTH.

I was too old to start over.

~ * ~

The February 4, 2013 letter goes on for nine pages, and is filled with minor complaints by online students who did no work and were dropped according to federal guidelines and guidelines in my syllabus, plus the complaints of my three main bully peers, who did not like my peaceful promises to sue them via Facebook messages.

(not sure yet if or where I will include all pages with or without names)

My nemesis suggested holding a due process meeting at the end of the semester, in April 2013, after my un-requested medical leave granted without request for a serious medical condition that I did not have, and does not exist.

No doubt he was planning to suicide swat me in this period of time.

~ * ~

The day before my nemesis ordered he top school cop at Land of Motown Community College to suicide swat me, he updated his February 4, 2013, document, and had it delivered by special mail that day, to my house, the day before I died.

~ * ~

The February 21, 2013 amendment went on for eleven pages, to add the inflated complaints of one classroom student, Phyllis.

I should have seen Phyllis coming.

My age, in her late forties or maybe early fifties, a mother of four, with sight issues, she told me she was practically a professional complainer about education on behalf of her students.

She wrote about her experience complaining to school boards for her composition II coursework.

The inflated complaints of one real student ended my career after seven years service in good faith.

~ * ~

None of this should have been allowed to end my career.

Tenure and union contract should have meant something, but they did not.

~ * ~

Chapter: “Crazy Lady on the Loose, Get Her!”

My hometown Livonia, Michigan Police unnecessarily abducted me from my rented home in Livonia because basically they were told to do so, cop to cop. 

Crazy lady on the loose.  Go and get her.  Lock her up!  Before Trump started using that phrase about Hillary Clinton and other women.

~ * ~

There is a great deal of video and paper documentation to help regale this part of the story.

I’ve made extensive use of the critically important Freedom of Information Act.

Michigan’s Freedom of Information Act laws are regarded as the weakest in the country because they protect key office holders, like the attorney general’s office.

~ * ~

February 22, 2013.

The bad paper trail picks up here, with a fax from Land of Motown Community College’s top cop, my state-protected suicide swatter.

Note the fax’s cover letter indicates he was in Pontiac, at Public Safety headquarters. District Office is to the south of Pontiac, in one of the Bloomfield’s (Township, Hills, etc.)

Land of Motown Community College boasts five campuses and additional outposts.

Livonia, Michigan is in Wayne County, with Detroit at its hub, to to the south.

~ * ~

I hope readers agree there is a need to shape time in order to trace the tracks and tell the story of how two words “mental health” murdered me. For one thing, there’s the order in which things happened and then there is the order in which I obtained the documentation about what happened.

Among many complexities.

Top school cop for Land of Motown Community College worked paper and faxes and the phone lines, complicating matters.

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community College top cop, my suicide swatter, sent a fax to the Livonia Police a half an hour after he first phone called Livonia Police, just before ten o’clock on a Friday morning, after I posted SAVE MY LIFE.

The fax from Land of Motown Community College top cop, containing supposed Facebook support for suicide swatting me, is time stamped 10:24 am, well after I posted I was trying to SAVE MY LIFE, a Facebook post which was not shared with the Livonia Police.

Supposed Facebook support for suicide swatting me was time stamped 10:24 am,
AFTER I posted I was trying to SAVE MY LIFE, a post which was not shared with the Livonia Police.

The key word here is “misery.”

This is a word, my own, but misconstrued, which will influence the next bad actors in the chain of communication, at St. Mary Merciless.

~ * ~

This print out of my Facebook page from February 22, 2013, minus SAVE MY LIFE, did not affect the Livonia cops or the Catholic hospital until after they each manhandled me.

Then, after it was too late, after I was captured and held, they each used my words against me, with a lack of accuracy and integrity that can be fairly called plagiarism and perjury.

~ * ~

HOWEVER.

Earlier, at 9:49 am, the Land of Motown Community College top cop began suicide swatting me to the Livonia Police, by phone, through a series of three phone calls.

As a sole result of this action alone, the phone calls, not the fax, the Livonia Police dispatched to my rented Livonia home two cars, an ambulance and a chaplain, who remained silent.

~ * ~

The Livonia Police reacted before they received any proof at all that I was suicidal or dangerous to others.

The paper proof sent did not support the phone calls. But by then it was too late and didn’t matter.

The paperwork matters more now, because of the traditional preference for paper documentation.

~ * ~

The Land of Motown Community College paper trail is bogus. It omits and buries my main idea.

SAVE MY LIFE.

~ * ~

My pattern has been, when allowed to edit, to later edit heavily and clean up my social media posts, which is why my SAVE MY LIFE post is such a mess of spelling errors.

Plus, I’m a horrible typist.

SAVE MY LIFE was one of my last posts on February 22, 2013, which matters a great deal to me and my life, or it should. But I was not allowed to edit SAVE MY LIFE for proper spelling.

Instead, I was unnecessarily abducted from my home by Livonia, Michigan Police.

~ * ~

February 22, 2013. It was a Friday morning.  I was posting on Facebook. 

Posts from the witch hunt paper trail, from Land of Motown Community College, generated by my nemesis, that I had been posting to document my horror, were missing. 

Over the months of 2012, my nemesis kept adding to his bogus paper trail.

My life was a living nightmare.

First, he said I was suddenly crazy, then he started saying I was suddenly a bad teacher, too, after seven years on the job with hardly a student complaint.

His words were killing me.

I felt the dirt piling on my live grave.

~ * ~

I was upset, angered, moved to heightened sarcasm.  

Ultimately, even as someone who posts and edits posts (when given the chance), I clearly posted that morning that I was trying to “save my life” from the college’s attack, not that I was seriously suicidal. 

Literally.  Quote.  Actual English teacher actual quoting herself.  My main thought for the day.  The title and thesis of my essay.  Trying to SAVE MY LIFE.

Still am.

But I’m losing.

~ * ~

The Livonia Police in 2019 report they no longer have the phone calls, just the paperwork from Land of Motown Community College.

Good thing I got and kept the phone calls.

~ * ~

The Livonia Police dispatched a virtual swat team based solely on clearly disingenuous phone calls made male cop to male cop.

~ * ~

The Livonia cops knew nothing about SAVE MY LIFE, and they certainly weren’t prepared to listen to me.

They were expecting bloody carnage, or something, based on the three phone calls.

~ * ~

Meanwhile, the top cop from Land of Motown Community College was ordered by the evil labor attorney at the helm to make purposely false calls about me being suicidal to the Livonia Police. 

The time stamp for the first suicide swatting phone call is 9:49 am.

After SAVE MY LIFE.

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community College’s top cop did not tell the Livonia Police dispatch about Gaslighting.

Land of Motown Community College’s top cop purposely misled the Livonia police and did not share anything about the federally documented hostility between our parties.

~ * ~

A male cop in a position of authority purposely and knowingly lied. 

And the Livonia Police dispatch male cop automatically believed him, despite the oddities event in the false calls.

~ * ~

According to Livonia Police records, specifically suicide swatting call #1, accessed through the Freedom of Information Act, Land of Motown Community College top cop reported me to the Livonia Police for purportedly saying “nasty” things about the college, which, if true, is not an infraction of the law or indication of suicidal thoughts.

~ * ~

I object to the description of my hair (and later at St. Mary Merciless I object to the description about my “hygiene.”)

~ * ~

“Don’t have her call me,” top cop for Land of Motown Community College told the Livonia Police dispatch.

~ * ~

Don’t let him suicide swat me and get away with it!

~ * ~

Listen to this a man happy carefree whistle while he suicide swats me!

I was not suicidal.  I have never been suicidal.

Even now, I am mentally abused, not mentally unstable by nature.

There’s a difference.

~ * ~

There is no room for doubt that Land of Motown Community College did indeed intend to cause me harm and did indeed set me up for calamity.

In his second follow up suicide swatting phone call, time stamped 11:41 am, after I was already deposited like stolen goods at St. Mary Merciless, top cop at Land of Motown Community College falsely suggested to the Livonia Police that I posed a real possible danger to other Land of Motown Community College employees, for which he had zero cause, reason or proof.

Land of Motown Community College top cop called himself “chief” and described my Facebook post as “basically a suicide [stutter] threat and we have an ongoing concern about not only her welfare for herself but her welfare as it intersects with others namely [chuckle] our employees . . .”

~ * ~

Listen to the Livonia dispatcher, after I had been unreasonably seized from my home, in the second suicide swatting call stumble as he tells the Land of Motown Community College that special consideration can’t be shared just because he’s “chief,” because of what the agent for the Livonia Police “came up with . . . um . . . we’re not . . . we’re not uh . . .”

May I finish your sentence? The Livonia Police are not . . . competent or trustworthy.

~ * ~

Three suicide swatting calls were made, to make sure I was set up for calamity.  Two calls were released by the Livonia Police Department through the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA). 

What words were exchanged in the third call? 

Is that when the cover up began?

~ * ~

Chapter: Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad.

The Livonia Police report, dispatch phone calls and police dashboard DVD for February 22, 2013 were probably the first things I obtained through the Freedom of Information Act.

The Livonia Police were not nice to me while releasing records, in the spring of 2013, after the looney bin.

Livonia Police acted as if they would have preferred I either stayed locked up forever or successfully died, but no matter had disappeared and stayed gone, one way or another.

~ * ~

The Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail last seen in the form of my suicide swatters misleading fax to LPD, picks up with the Livonia Police report for February 22, 2013.

~ * ~

I can’t tell you how exactly, in my imagination, I want this Livonia Police report writer manhandled for manhandling me because he’s a cop who does not care about the First Amendment and he would have me arrested.

“As soon as Officer Langley explained why we were at her home,” the report writer expounds, “she became verbally abusive.”

How did I verbally abuse Livonia Police officers?

Which would not be an indication of intent to commit self harm, but also not fair or accurate.

I objected to Livonia Police presence as a result of suicide swatting.

“As Fournier continued yelling, it was very difficult to get any words in,” Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton complained, using the words “louder,” “screaming” or “yelling” twelve times.

I objected to being suicide swatted vehemently, perhaps.

~ * ~

The Livonia Police pushed me into my house much sooner than what their written report suggests. The Livonia Police did not discuss with one another whether or not they should abduct me to the looney bin, the full documentation they generated makes clear, then follow me into the house.

“Fournier was still outside of her home with at least one foot on the porch. She was standing in the exterior doorway of her home and still denied up permission to step inside,” misstates the Livonia Police report, to cover Livonia Police mistakes.

The scene was much more chaotic thanks to all participants, not just me, and the action moved quickly.

If I were an attorney grilling this guy under oath, I would ask him about how much attention he was actually paying to my feet.

And why.

~ * ~

Worst of all, in bad faith, Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton made up quotes to justify Livonia Police action.

“Fournier pled with us to kill her, begging us over and over again to, kill her and ‘take her out of her misery’ “.

Try to find support for this claim.

Listen to the Livonia Police recording.

Support doesn’t exist.

~ * ~

I most certainly did not ask the Livonia Police to repeatedly kill me and take me out of “my misery.”

~ * ~

The Livonia Police DVD taken from the dashboard of a police cruiser does not support the phony quotes attributed to me in the Livonia Police report, adulterated by Officer Owen Keaton, whom Rich Cunningham in the state’s AG office protected from charges of perjury.

~ * ~

In Michigan, the reputation of white male police officers is more important than lives of women.

The Michigan State police protected Larry Nassar before they protected female gymnasts, girls.

~ * ~

I have re-read the Livonia Police report numerous times.

Yellow journalism comes to mind.

The plagiarized Livonia Police report is an attack on my person and my life.

Livonia police officer Owen Keaton’s words try to NOT recreate a fair and accurate description of what transpired.

His report is a retelling designed in bad faith to cover Livonia police missteps. It completely ignores and eviscerates my humanity and my civil rights, without evidence of care or principle.

The Livonia police report does not job jibe at all with my actual person, my personality or my last Facebook post, and it contradicts the Livonia Police audio recording.

~ * ~

One thing the Livonia Police report does corroborate: the absence of a doctor on the scene at St. Mary Merciless.

And it says I was not violent or threatening with hospital staff.

~ * ~

The Livonia Police dvd recording is made not by camera and microphone attached to police body, but attached to the police cruiser’s dashboard, as it sat on the street. 

I haven’t re-watched it in years. 

It’s posted on Youtube, in three segments. 

Online trolls suggest that maybe the tape has been altered. 

I did not repeatedly ask the Livonia Police to kill me.

~ * ~

If I wanted the Livonia Police to kill me, I would have alerted them directly.

~ * ~

The Land of Motown Community College paper trail, which sometime snakes through the telephone, also courses through videotape.

~ * ~

PANIC ATTACK.

(redacted)

END PANIC ATTACK.

~ * ~

I just watched/listened to most of the first of three Livonia Police DVD videos shot from the dashboard.

Did Livonia Police also body cameras at the time, which I would have preferred?

I still say my version is more correct.

There is a blip in the visual footage. I did not hallucinate the presence of an ambulance. Was it removed through photo shop like techniques?

I don’t trust the Livonia Police.

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community College top cop suicide swatted me just before ten o’clock in the morning. The first Livonia Police DVD says the Livonia Cops arrived at 10:08 am, after I posted SAVE MY LIFE, but before Land of Motown Community College faxed Facebook postings, minus my Facebook post SAVE MY LIFE.

I was set up.

~ * ~

Actually, in contrast to the Livonia Police report, I said the cops were hurting me.

That I repeated.

Actually, I said I wanted my lawyer.

Repeatedly.

Actual quote example. Gina Fournier said to the Livonia cops, referring to Land of Motown Community College, “I want them to stop torturing me. That’s what I want!”

I may have already been pushed inside, jumped and handcuffed by that point.

~ * ~

The Livonia Police arrived, completed their harassment, jumped me, handcuffed me, unnecessarily abducted me from my home, and shoved me in the back of a police cruiser in less than ten minutes.

About half-way through that time I was jumped and handcuffed.

~ * ~

Please understand what it feels to me like the need to break from chronological order because of complications.

~ * ~

In his police report fiction, Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton stated he filed out a petition for hospitalization at St. Mary Merciless when he handed me in handcuffs to a social worker.

Evidently, St. Mary Merciless was responsible for mailing the Livonia Police petition for hospitalization to Wayne County Probate Court.

But first came the petition, then came the police report.

~ * ~

Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton’s handwritten petition of hospitalization paperwork submitted to Wayne County Probate Court is difficult to read.

Apparently, he clearly states in his later police report that “I, Owen Keaton,” whichever Livonia cop he was

Owen Keaton also wrote this shorter account addressed to Wayne County Probate court and he did so first, before he returned to police headquarters.

To recap, first he composed a shorter narration by hand and evidently later secondly composed a longer plagiarized sexist narration on computer.

In other words, once he established the essential lie of his false claim, he stuck to it and elaborated.

~ * ~

According to Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton, I was essentially a crazy lady on the loose in her own home just waiting for Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton to knock on the door.

What did he personally observe? asks the petition for hospitalization form.

“Subject had posted online stating she ‘didn’t wish to live anymore.’

Subject further posted she wanted to be ‘put out of her misery.'”

That claim likely cribbed without checking my Facebook page.

Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton did not execute the best of his abilities.

~ * ~

“Upon making contact with Fournier she became verbally abusive.”

How did I verbally abuse Owen Keaton that morning?

~ * ~

“Fournier stated that she, ‘doesn’t want to live anymore’ and wanted officers to kill her.”

No, I did not want officers to kill me, and no, I did not make those statements.

Check the audio.

Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton made up false quotes.

~ * ~

“I want to be taken out of my pain”

Did not say.

“I wouldn’t kill myself, I want someone else to kill me.”

Did not say.

“Please!”

Did not say!

Check the audio.

“I declare under penalties of perjury that this petition/application has been examined by me and it is true to the best of my information knowledge and belief.”

Initialed by Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton, badge #539, February 22, 2013.

~ * ~

Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton committed perjury.

He did not take the time to review the Livonia Police DVD, or my Facebook page.

He spent no more than six minutes in my presence before he condemned me to death.

Less than six minutes before he handcuffed me and carted me off to the looney bin.

~ * ~

I was not treated with care.

I was ambushed.

I was harassed.

was not listened to.

Less than six minutes is not enough time or effort to execute his “best” duties.

~ * ~

Livonia Police Officer Owen Keaton spent more time fabricating reports than he did in my presence.

I was not suicidal.

~ * ~

No one tells the English teacher that dishonest writing may kill her.

I would have been better off shot dead than be forced to read the plagiarized Livonia police report and Petition for Hospitalization, both written by Officer Owen Keaton, then to endure the nonstop hell of my life since February 22, 2013.

~ * ~

Feedback for Owen Keaton’s reports. Writer automatically fails. Recommendation: expel the student.

Even more, Lock him up!

~ * ~

Owen Keaton. Stupid Cop.

Or is Stupid Cop the Officer Langley who can be heard naming himself on the Livonia Police DVD?

Or is Stupid Cop Lieutenant Donnelly, named by Livonia Police dispatch when talking to my Land of Motown Community College suicide swatter?

I found Owen Keaton’s name neatly typed one of a ton of documents, the petition for hospitalization, I carry, in my mind and more physically on jump drives and computers of various sizes and ages.

According to the documentation, he’s the link between life and death for me.

I know his name.

I hate his name.

Stupid Cop.

~ * ~

Of course, immediately after my escape from Catholic hell, I informed the Livonia Police Department that they had screwed up mightily and they they owed me cash. I have formally approached them regarding restorative justice multiple times. Admit you screwed up and apologize.

Land of Motown Community College clearly irrefutably set me up and sucker punched the Livonia Police.

I have asked the Livonia Police numerous times: please help me get the criminals at the sick twisted heart of this crime. Please. Break the brothers in arms code and rat out my suicide swatter.

Like I said, I can still be naive, even after all I’ve been through.

~ * ~

Chapter Twelve: SAVE MY LIFE! My version of events.

February 22, 2013.

A little after 10 am. Rented home. Livonia, Michigan.

~ * ~

It all happened so very quickly.

I heard sirens.  I looked out the window.  My rented home was surrounded by cops.  There was an ambulance.  Two cop cars were parked on the street.  A cop stood on the porch.  Other cops stood on the lawn outside my windows.

Naturally, I was alarmed.

~ * ~

Stupidly, I learned later, I opened the door. 

Not knowing any better (not yet), I stepped out onto the porch.  I said in low but scared and nervous voice, What’s up? 

I did not repeatedly ask the police to kill me.  I was not suicidal.

~ * ~

As I recall, I didn’t ask the police to kill me at all, not really.  Just once, in what I thought or at least intended to be a clearly deadpan sarcastic joke.

I was set up! Over the course of almost a year, after many years of bullying by my colleagues. Of course I was afraid!

I was surrounded by sexist apes! Of course I was afraid!

~ * ~

Here’s what I remember.

Standing on my porch, with an intellectually vacant façade, the lead operator, the paperwork says his name is Owen Keaton, whom I have dubbed Stupid Cop, told me my employer called. 

Stupid Cop oozed emotion but lacked brains: he said earnestly that my employer cared about me. 

Immediately, it was certain that Stupid Cop had bought into the game of Telephone that linked this part of the paper trail.

~ * ~

Perhaps I remember incorrectly, but I recall smirking to some degree, even chortling a bit, through panicked anguish. 

No, I can assure you, I replied, my employer does not care about me.

If Stupid Cop had been well-trained and if he had been listening to me, he may have asked me, What do you mean, your employer does not care? 

But he did not ask me any meaningful questions.  And he was not prepared to listen or watch closely reality.

~ * ~

If the white male present, who was not in police uniform, who was wearing a knit blue cap, “chaplain,” had done his job, I may not have been necessarily police abducted from my home. 

I ask what kind of man of God he is when I was being shoved in the police cruiser.

But the chaplain remained silent.  

This point makes me so mad, I can’t spell the word chaplain.  Look at spell check options. 

Imagine my frustration. 

~ * ~

Why was the Silent Chaplain involved?

His name and presence were omitted from the police report. I was given his name by the Livonia Police over the phone. The name of the silent white male chaplain is stored somewhere on Facebook.

~ * ~

This group was not well trained, I’m guessing, and did not drill. 

No female officials were dispatched. 

I have dubbed the group the Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad, which is clearly inflammatory, but fair. 

~ * ~

So many human links had a direct hand in my mishandling.  Any one could have stopped it, or tried, or come clean afterward.   

~ * ~

None of the white males assembled were prepared to listen to me, to allow me to be me apart from their hallucination about me. That’s what I remember.

~ * ~

Behind my very brief conversation with Stupid Cop on the porch, I saw the ambulance pull away without me (the ambulance I don’t see in the police dvd I just watched). 

I was not spurting blood or bearing weapons.

I was not shouting loud enough to disturb neighbors. My voice is naturally bold.

More quickly than the Livonia police report describes, I was quickly shoved inside the house by sexist apes, who did not care for me either, just like Land of Motown Community College, who sent the Livonia cops to mess with me, not help me.

~ * ~

It happened quickly but I recall what transpired in slow motion.

After seeing droves of student faces, one look at Stupid Cop’s face of fear told me I was dealing with what I dismissively call an idiot, which made me even more afraid, so we were two orbiting objects coupled with fear, which is not a good thing. 

I looked at Stupid Cop’s face and thought: another stupid white male in position to negatively affect my life. 

Likely that statement is colored with my heinous experiences with too many corrupt and sexist white men since Stupid Cop was set upon me like a mindless hound dog.

Stupid Cop actually thought my employer cared and assumed, like he was told, that I was suicidal. 

So he hammered me into saying something about suicide.

~ * ~

Why would the top cop for my employer, a massive organization in Oakland County, be priviest to such personal information about me, home in Wayne County? 

We did not discuss any finer points.

Nothing I could have I said would have changed Stupid Cop’s mind. 

I tried to correct him.  As I recall, I tried to get kinda quickly relaxed (given the trauma of the circumstances) and a little chummy. 

I tried to tell him my story. 

Stupid Cop assumed incorrectly that he already knew my story without need from my input, which is a fine illustration of sexism. 

~ * ~

Stupid Cop beat me up with the notion that I was supposed to be suicidal.

Do you want to kill yourself?

No.  I want you to kill me.

~ * ~

Bad time for a joke, but I am sarcastic and, relatively speaking, considering the flames burning around my body, I delivered the line in my own authentic sarcastic voice.

~ * ~

Well, maybe I did not deliver my sarcasm with purposely relaxed body gestures and my almost smiling smirk, in a relative whisper, like I prefer to picture, but that does not mean I was unknowingly suicidal or deserved what happened to me. 

~ * ~

Okay. After finally re-listening to the video, for the first time since I lived downstate, I hear that I was upset and cry talking, but my emotional disturbance was due 100% to outside attack by Land of Motown Community College, of which the Livonia Police had become a part.

However, I did not shout and scream and plead like a crazy woman over and over in a variety of ways asking the Livonia cops to kill me. The Livonia Police DVD contradicts Owen Keaton’s paperwork.

I was not suicidal.  I was posting on Facebook in order to “save my life,” just like I said, just like I seriously said. 

~ * ~

I was suddenly very nervous and suddenly very afraid.

Who wouldn’t be, in my unique position?

~ * ~

The Livonia Police dvd says it was 10:08 am when the cops pulled up to my house.

I had just posted that I was trying to SAVE MY LIFE a few minutes before.

~ * ~

I should not need to make this defense.  Still.  I was not suicidal. 

My words should matter most.

Yes, it complicates matters that I became frustrated, nervous, afraid and sarcastic at the same time, but that does not mean the Livonia Police have the right to continue to mishandle, lie and cover the truth about what happened.

~ * ~

Black boys and black men need to be trained how not to set off murder by racist police.

I had not been trained.  I did not know how to handle a sexist fuck the bitch squad set off by a police suicide swatter (even before the term “swatter” existed on Wikipedia and in the culture).

The Livonia Police were intent on making me appear suicidal to fit their sexist imagination.

I remembered my version for years with less trauma inflicted at the time, so that I would feel less trauma in all the many moments since I became the walking dead.

Because really I’ve been trying to save my life this whole time.

~ * ~

Do you want to kill yourself?  Stupid Cop asked again a second time after I said no, which is badgering. 

Or, he was confused. 

What good is grilling going to do on a supposed welfare check?

Why did Avon choose to call me that day?  I was set up! 

What kind of question is that for police to knock on the door and ask me, like he did? 

There was no protocol to rule out error evident in Livonia Police procedure.

I remember me correctly. I was not suicidal.

~ * ~

No, I want this to stop.  That’s what I said.  Meaning, I want this harassment to stop. 

My memory is fair paraphrase. Actual quote: “I want them to stop torturing me. That’s what I want.”

But Stupid Cop assumed I meant I wanted my life to stop, so he pushed me inside my rented home. 

His brothers-in-arms-goon squad followed like white on rice. 

Underneath the picture of my newly dead husband, I was handcuffed while still wearing my pajamas and fluffy pink bathrobe. 

~ * ~

Very soon after I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, within what feels like two minutes, but in for sure no more than six minutes, I was dragged out of my house.

I was pushed into the back of a police cruiser wearing handcuffs. 

My old dog girl had not yet gotten out of bed, which she needed help to do. 

Again, my memory is reliable in terms of the too-brief amount of time the Livonia Police spent before they ended my liberty.

~ * ~

I thought I was being arrested, a point I forgot.

When I spotted a virtual swat team out my windows, I thought they were coming to take my computer and arrest me for writing “nasty” ideas about Land of Motown Community College.

~ * ~

I was afraid, and naturally I was pissed off. 

~ * ~

It was soon snowing.

~ * ~

This is definitely a story about the perils of forced mental health care, one that spirals the circle of time.  Malicious criminal mental health care murders continually, over and over, exponentially, like a never-ending double helix, and endlessly, like a galaxy in a universe without known limits. 

~ * ~

Stupid Cop pulled the police cruiser up to the back door of St. Mary Merciless Catholic Hospital emergency room. 

The horror. 

My heart dropped to hell. 

Hand cuffed in the back seat, wearing my pajamas and pink bathrobe, I had been lecturing (on the reading crisis), yelling (at the idiot cops), singing (God Bless America), and doing schtick (my tone) the entire like forty-minute ride through poorer to richer Livonia because my life had become completely ironically bonkers. 

I should have been a painter or even a comedian, instead of an academic.

Parked at the looney bin, Stupid Cop, who drove, turned to me in the back seat and said, “Hey, do you know a Barry Fournier?” 

My last name is Fournier.  The current president’s first name, his college nick name, was Barry.  That was one of my thoughts in response. 

Stupid Cop started chatting with me parked outside of St. Mary Merciless Looney Bin, like suddenly we’re one-night friends, sitting at a bar, after a few drinks.  

I exploded.  We are not friends. 

Stupid Cop’s partner shot him a dirty look, as if saying, ‘What are you doing?  Let’s dump this broad!’ 

~ * ~

When will I learn to allow white men to feel like gods?

Feeling humiliated, Stupid Cop pulled me out the back of the squad car and SHOVED me, while still handcuffed. 

I got the extra shove, I thought, based on television and the movies, reserved for perpetrators of crimes, not the supposedly seriously mentally ill.

~ * ~ 

I think this exchange was clipped off the end of the last segment of video.

Eventually, I will listen again to all three Livonia Police DVDs, but I can’t now.

Self protection.

~ * ~

I was terrified as we approached the rear sliding door to the emergency room of St. Mary Merciless, me in handcuffs, Stupid Cop guiding me forward. 

I knew it would be bad inside this particular Catholic looney bin. 

It was, very, very, very bad. 

Back in the squad car, when I asked the Livonia cops where they were taking me and they told me, St. Mary Merciless, I spurted out, “Those cunts don’t even have high school diplomas!” 

That set off my acting out in the back of the squad car, which ended once I was retrieved from the back of the squad car and faced my grim immediate future feet away.

~ * ~

Later, I went back and took a photo shoot of the hospital and specifically this same door.  Death awaited on the other side. 

I remember exactly.  I remember too much.  Remembering hurts but I need to set this stone marker of a narration, my story of criminal mental abuse protected in modern America, in place once and hopefully for good. 

~ * ~

It sounds stupid now, and hopefully not seriously mentally ill, but once the Livonia Catholics had me in their grasp that first day, I knew I needed to be pro-active. 

I was familiar with this crowd, its antiquated culture.   The place even had a bad rap among area Catholics.

I would not trust the Felician nuns I knew with a dead hamster.

Read Part Two