Coloring with the Catholics: My Story of Criminal Mental Health Care and Higher Ed Gaslighting in Larry Nassar’s Michigan, (New Part Eight): The State of Michigan Attorney General Followed Me Up North

by Gina Fournier

UNDER CONSTRUCTION. THANK YOU!  

I’m still editing after initial construction in spring 2019. In order to polish a piece, I need to edit a lot and still need an outside editor. I publish while still under construction because I need accumulating actual mental torture to stop.

This defense attempts to correct the record. It requires an elaborate time structure (which requires an extra amount of very painful editing). 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.

Since the spring and summer 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), as well as surviving. 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.

New Part Eight Chapter Titles:

• Bill Schuette Followed Me Up North and Sent the Michigan State Police to Label Me Mentally Ill
• Motherf*cked (“Psychiatric Victim”) Because I’m Not a Mother
• Lying Cops Turn Suicide Gaslighting into Criminal Gaslighting

Chapter: Bill Schuette Followed Me Up North and Sent the Michigan State Police to Label Me Mentally Ill

What was that you were saying about JAIL?

As I feared, because of the powerful forces lining up against me, police eventually came for me, again. 

First to harass me, then to take me away.

To jail.

But get this:

I’m pretty sure I was set up a second time, led by the state attorney general.

I know.

That’s crazy talk!

~ * ~

Recap. For those who skipped earlier chapters.

Think big picture.

My best guess reasons for why I seem to exist in a black hole.

Established in this telling at the start. To prepare readers for a fabulous tale.

State of Michigan attorney general Bill Schuette came a knockin’ via the Michigan State Police soon after I arrived up north after foreclosure downstate.

~ * ~

No one will believe me. 

That’s the curse of bogus mental health care. 

Thank god for cellphone cameras.

Thank god for cellphone cameras and the strangers who give them.

~ * ~

About a month after I escaped to the cabin after foreclosure down state, the state of Michigan attorney general, and there is only one, not only declined in writing to provide me with equal protection and declined to investigate my claims or review the license of the doctor or the hospital.

Even though the hospital admitted in writing to breaking the law on behalf of all patients.

The state attorney general–and there is only one per state–began targeting me and retaliating against me.

~ * ~ 

I have evidence, video evidence and through FOIA, the police report, or else I, in my position, would never tell such a tale.

~ * ~

Anyone can easily find the November 2015 video I shot nervously and posted to Youtube years ago.  

I suggest watching the video instead of taking my word.

Two Michigan State police officers came to my cabin door after dark. 

They clearly named the attorney general and asked if I plan to kill him. 

~ * ~

Apparently, on October 1, 2015, before I was run out of Garden City, I wrote on Facebook: “Looking for a contract killer.”

Sarcasm.

My natural predilection.

And then I moved on.

~ * ~

I FOIAed the Michigan State Police to get their records.

FOIA.

Freedom of Information Act.

Important stuff, but always keep your camera phone charged.

~ * ~

Watch the video.

I summarized and analyzed its content earlier.

I name the doctor who did not evaluate me at St. Mary Merciless, Andrew Muzychka, but I did not spell his name.

Cops were not taking notes as they harassed me.

Yet, the name of the male doctor who signed bogus clinical certificate #1, which was sent to Wayne County Probate court by the Livonia Catholics, appears spelled correctly at the top of this cover letter.

The cover letter included the police report I requested through the Freedom of Information Access (FOIA).

It’s almost impossible to spell the guy’s name correctly when you see it spelled (when you feel so ready to explode you’re sure a perpetual penis torturing machine should be constructed in his honor, especially).

Spelling his name correctly without knowing the situation beyond what transpired?

They knew.

I had informed Bill Schuette’s office.

Rich Cuningham, still in place, responded in writing.

They knew.

And they wanted to cover up my story and silence me.

~ * ~

Who sent the cops?

Bill Schuette? Rich Cunningham?

I am using FOIA to try and get answers. I can only get answers through FOIA if documents exist.

Documents likely do no not exist.

Which suggests a cover up.

Who originated the order?

How?

By phone?

Someone did.

The order to harass me did not originate in Mt. Pleasant with D/F/Lt. Anderson.

~ * ~

How did they you know I had moved from Garden City to Lake Miramichi?

My name was not on the tax bills, or any bills for the address.

~ * ~

Michigan Department of State Police Original Incident Report. Thu, Nov 19, 2015. Written by D/Sergeant Todd Parsons.

“D/F/Lt. Anderson requested I conduct an investigation into possible threats made by Gina Fournier. D/F/Lt. Anderson forwarded me several Facebook posts from her. Of concern was a post that stated, “Looking for a contract killer.” Due to the fact that Gina frequently posts rants about Attorney General Bill Schuette there was concern she may be planning to harm him.”

What the Michigan State Police dismiss as “rants,” I call redressing the government for lack of equal protection.

I call my social media accounts diary and documentation of criminal mental abuse.

“Rants” reveals sexist bias.

It shows an assumption based on my appearance as a female that any claims I may have are automatically unreasonable.

~ * ~

“At 1750 pm 11-19-15 Sgt. Naylor and I made contact with Gina at the above listed address, (it should be noted this is a cottage on Lake Miramichi).”

Why should it be noted I like in a “cottage on Lake Miramichi”?

Plan on returning?

~ * ~

If the un-stated message was for me to shut up, I was deaf.

~ * ~

“Upon making contact with Gina she immediately became agitated.”

Who wouldn’t be agitated?

“She would not speak with us until she retrieved her cell phone to record our conversation. Sgt. Naylor asked her about the post while showing her a printed copy.”

NO. PURPOSEFUL MISLEADING INACCURACY. I WAS SHOWN NOTHING. WATCH THE VIDEO.

~ * ~

“She stated she did not intend to harm anyone that we were taking it out of context. She stated the comment was sarcasm. I asked her specifically if she intended to hired a contract killer and she stated she did not.”

Which would be clear to any observer, and was clear, on October 1, 2015, when I said jokingly, “looking for a contract killer” on Facebook, during my last days living in Garden City.

Six weeks later, November 19, 2015, the Michigan State Police showed me nothing, no Facebook post.

I had no idea what they were talking about.

I’d forgotten my throw-away joke.

~ * ~

I know. 

This is too much. 

I know!

~ * ~
It is NOT okay for the Michigan State Police to gaslight me with intent to silence me, or set me up for bogus criminal prosecution.

~ * ~

Why did the attorney general of the state of Michigan begin targeting me soon after I tried to hide? 

My theory: because I kept asking for justice for the crimes of suicide swatting, unnecessary police abduction, perjury in official court documents, and violations of the state law regarding involuntary detainment.

Because I would not shut up.

~ * ~

And because, well, I forgot!

So much has happened, been said, been written.

~ * ~

The Garden City Police gave me an idea in their report written with no small amount of sexism after Land of Motown Community suicide swatted me the second time, June 9, 2014.

Garden City police accused me of taunting and freed all others of guilt, 100%, conveniently.

Cops have worn me down with their sexism.

In my desperation, two years after illegal looney lock up I decided to taunt, as I was accused.

Taunt with purpose.

To redress Bill Schuette on Facebook for not prosecuting my criminal attackers, for ignoring the crimes committed against me.

I taunted with a purpose to redress the attorney general of Michigan, who declined to extend to me equal protection for the crimes committed against me by Land of Motown Community College, Livonia Police and St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward.

After Land of Motown Community College suicide swatted me a second time.

This story is too long, too true, too heavy on top of me.

~ * ~

Facebook Memories helped me remember.

~ * ~

Me. Facebook. July 15, 2015.

Facing the loss of the Garden City house, terrified, alone (as I am now, two homes later, still precariously perched):

“Come and get me, assholes. I have little left to loose. It may be my only chance, dim as it is, for a lawyer, press and justice. May god shoot Bill Schuette AG of Michigan in the fucking balls and brain. Catholic God of Livonia, hear my fucking prayer, Oakland Community College witch hunt. Making a point about the First Amendment, the Catholic Church and unchecked white collar criminals. Testing.”

~ * ~

I’m not proud of this behavior, but I asked for justice and the attorney general said no.

I am proud I have never lost the distinction between words and actions.

I have not used words lightly.

I have not resorted to violence or law breaking (in my own estimation).

~ * ~

Me. Facebook. July 15, 2015.

“Not that its any of your business, but I am trying to save my life, so I will say I am bleeding again, one month before homelessness and my 52 birthday.”

~ * ~

For years, I talked about my menstrual period and the difficulty of purchasing supplies when poor, part of my totally honesty plan.

Be honest. Earn justice.

How naive.

~ * ~

My name was not on the mortgage in Garden City.

I was going to put the house in my name when I was suicide swatted the first time, back in 2013, and thrown off my course.

Illegal unnecessary looney bin lock up on top of the recent death of my husband greatly overwhelmed me, the plan of the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight witch hunt.

~ * ~

I was too busy with important paperwork of too many kinds.

I still am.

~ * ~

Honestly, I was trying to see if they would arrest me and maybe open a pathway to a pro bono lawyer from ACLU.

Swear to god.

That’s how much this particular onslaught of criminal mental abuse and torture hurts, how much I want it to stop.

Me. Facebook. July 15, 2015.

“I was never evaluated, motherfucker Bill Schuette, may Catholic god of the Livonia Felician Nuns rape you raw, too.”

According to Gina’s Law, my speech is protected by the First Amendment.

I am trying to make several points at once here, about the necessity of the separation of church and state, for example, and lack of equal protection, while I redress.

This is my idea of a civil protest under the circumstances, meaning non violent protest.

I do not condone violence as a means to an end.

I never have.

I have been pushed to extremes, however.

~ * ~

I’m not boastful.

I’m in pain.

Mental abuse hurts.

It causes widespread damage.

~ * ~

I deserve equal protection for the crimes committed against me: suicide swatting, police abduction and perjury, many violations of the law of illegal detainment in a mental ward.

~ * ~

Well, being fair, I will say this: I guess Bill Schuette did have the balls to police harass me.

However, these posts were NOT included with Michigan State Police FOIA response regarding November 19, 2015, when I was asked about
Killing Bill! and falsely labeled mentally ill in the 911 system.

That omission speaks volumes.

~ * ~

Me. Facebook. July 15, 2015.

Worries about the future, not important to anyone but me:

“How will it go August 11, when I am made homeless finally by the Land of Motown Community College witch hunt? Will the police come looking for me? Will the police take Hunter the dog and Louie the bird to the humane center? Where will they take me, if anywhere? There are no homeless shelters in the area.”

~ * ~

Me. Facebook. July 15, 2015.

I think this is my crescendo of redress.

“Bill Schuette, I am going to eviscerate your manhood. Do you understand? In words, I am putting your tiny deformed pig tail of a cock through the meat grinder of public scrutiny in my Facebook diary, leaving you with a bloody fucking stump . . .”

~ * ~

I was taught as a child to scream on the top of your lungs to fix problems by my disturbed Catholic mother.

I spent my adulthood trying to undue the damage of my twisted Catholic upbringing, including my mother’s crying.

I had made great strides, then my nemesis struck and all hell broke loose.

In my case, suicide gaslighting has infantilized because of the Catholic connection to my youth and my mother.

~ * ~

Why so angry? Read my entire story. Or take my word for it. My anger is reasonable.

Still needs to be transmuted, but it’s earned.

I do think some idiot could read anything and start shooting, which is not my intention as a writer or personal advocate.

I don’t own a gun.

~ * ~

Disclaimer: All violence metaphoric and emotional, psychological and result of mental abuse and torture. This writer does not condone violence. This writer needs justice and mercy.

~ * ~

Picking a fight with the attorney general to see if maybe I could get arrested by federal agent just so I could maybe get a lawyer from the ACLU to finally stand on my side.

A long shot.

A little haphazard.

Yes, that’s how much criminal mental health care hurts.

“Jesus raped me” did not work.

My problems and protest remain.

Still.

~ * ~

I was willing to take on the state attorney general head on in the courage-less ring of social media.

Yes, that’s how much mind rape by employer, co-worker, hometown, police, religion, state hurts.

That’s how desperate I was to end the pain and stop the destruction.

Problem for me? 

The state attorney general’s lifelong wish was to become governor. 

Remember what I said about Land of Motown Community College’s location among the richest of the rich?

~ * ~ 

C’mon. No one will side with you. 

Your story is too long, too crazy, and you have “fuzzy” un-kept hair (a description used against me more than once). 

You swear at cops.

Now for sure the reader must wonder whether you are “grandiose” and dangerous crazy. 

You go too far.

You aren’t important enough.

You aren’t worthy enough.

You aren’t good enough.

You’re probably a fucking nutzo bitch!

~ * ~

Dear former writing and research students, I was wrong and be careful. 

Evidence does not help.

Documentation ignored can hurt your body, break your heart, empty your wallet and drive you mad. 

And you can’t control the message anyway, true or fake news, but you already knew that.

Maybe that’s why some of you didn’t bother.

~ * ~

The one and only state attorney general’s November 19, 2015 visit, no thanks to his state police messengers, opened the doors to many more interludes with officials. 

Eventually, this unwanted attention was initiated by unnamed mysterious action. 

And that’s a big problem, in many ways. 

For example, this paper trail could swallow me up for a long time locked away somewhere, just like Camille Claudel.

I’ve got no defense or protection.

~ * ~

Big picture.

I think there is enough evidence to suggest a larger set up at work.

Tactically, just like I have been arguing for years: I need justice for the mental health crimes committed against me in order to protect my liberty, my civil status, my guardianship, my life.

I need justice in order to survive.

Chapter: Motherfucked (“Psychiatric Victim”) Because I’m Not a Mother

My patron saint comedian Richard Pryor encourages my use of the term “motherfucked” to describe my condition.

A more professional term in use among liberal minded like me is “psychiatric victim” or “psychiatric survivor.”

There is an entire subset of the mental health care world, not too small, I hope, that rejects the status quo and sees harm not help, sees another extremely corrupt industry among its own.

My other patron saint, comedian George Carlin, would deliver a cutting monologue about this irony, like his famous Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television, which are shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfuckers and pedagogy, according to Wikipedia.

Were you paying attention as you read?

Pedagogy. The smelly foot odor of teachers who take themselves too seriously.

Not one of George Carlin’s seven no-no words.

Tits is the seventh word.

~ * ~

I don’t have any children. 

Or, “Shit piss fuck, my cunt, cocksuckers, has never given birth, and my tits have not nursed, motherfuckers, no thanks to the god damn Catholics who raised and later raped my life raw!”

~ * ~

I don’t have children.

Or else I’d probably swear less.

~ * ~

I was targeted by my nemesis at land of Motown Community College for many reasons, to close my big mouth, and because my husband was sick, and because I don’t have any children. 

No children to stand by me.

~ * ~

I don’t have any children by choice because of my sexist conservative Catholic upbringing and the damage it has done to the female family line that created me.

~ * ~

I told myself I would have children if I established a professional income earning career in the arts first.  

Which never happened. 

~ * ~

My sick husband freaked out and died years ago, in 2012, in the first year of the attack.

We did not have children.

We met the spring or summer I turned 39, I think.

He did not want children because, in my words, he was sexually abused as a child by his brother, who was abused by a scout master, and he did not trust people.

Plus, he thought he was going to die, which he did.

~ * ~

After Ladywood, I escaped the Catholics, who I feel helped make it very difficult for me to become a professional artist before my child rearing possibilities ended.

The same Catholics recaptured me and reinforced my status as a crone alone in a sexist world. 

Can you imagine my horror?

~ * ~

I don’t have any adult children to defend me against the crimes committed against me at St. Mary Merciless.

I was not suicidal.

I was not allowed to contact the outside world for two and a half days.

I was not evaluated by Dr. Andrew Muzychka.

Friends did not call the police (as a key medical records mistakenly claims).

My hostile employer called the police. I was set up. I am the victim of a snowball of crime.

But I don’t have any kids to stand by and tell the story with me.

Which is not an accident, I believe.

That is, I believe I was chosen, targeted.

This attack was designed for me by my nemesis, the old man brought of retirement introduced at the start, my Larry Nassar, which I do not say lightly.

~ * ~

About the movie Thelma & Louise. 

In my book on the move, I said the film’s reception was nutz, not the film. 

Same goes double for me. 

I’m not crazy! 

I’m caught in a crazy story. 

~ * ~

There’s so much to keep track of in my poor beleaguered mind.

I’m trapped by attack in relieve-able pain.

I’m trapped in a downward cycle of criminal community mental health care.

But on good days, in good moments, I’m still trying to escape, still pulling up toward the light.

No one can knock me off me.

No matter how hard they try.

~ * ~

After every shove and fall back into the darkness of despair, which have happened regularly, I re-aim. 

Lose, rebuild, over and over.

Escape up north, attorney general sends state cops, fall apart, rebuild.

~ * ~  

Sun rises, night rises.

~ * ~ 

Many people don’t realize: there is no bi-polar like there is cancer.

No resurrection, no bi -polar.

There is bias. Doctors playing god. Drugs companies making money.

Not all doctors believe in Big Drugs and the labels of mental health care, but all the doctors at St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward certainly did.

Modern psychiatry is big business.

~ * ~

People hurt other people, who hurt other people, who hurt other people.

 ~ * ~

When angry, because I have seen so much indolence and indifference, I would hurt other women to take away my hurt.

I wish any woman–all women–in America instead of me suffer as I have. 

Lock up all the bitches, not just me!

~ * ~

Uneven playing field on top of uneven playing field.

~ * ~

This story contains too many layers of mind scrape and soul sap for one person.

~ * ~

Am I the only Ladywood graduate to be locked up inside Catholic Siberia?

I could be the only Ladywood graduate to be locked up inside St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin. The school has closed. The door to this contest has closed.

Without justice, I can’t live with the distinction of being the only graduated raised and raped by the nuns and their Jesus.

Not me.

Any of the others, but not me!

No!

~ * ~

The nuns know.

I contacted them.

A Sr. Nancy called me back.

We spoke a few times, but she said her superiors denied me mercy.

She did not recognize any crime or any damage done to me.

You make a 100 grand a year for teaching English?!

She exclaimed in disbelief.

She was getting food at a drive through driving a car using a cell phone at the time.

You took a vow of poverty?

I lost my religion.

She said she’d pray for me.

She said she hoped I’d get over my anger.

I call Sr. Nancy’s behavior fake compassion, hiding behind nonsense Jesus.

~ * ~

In real talk, nun talk translated, there was no way the nuns would admit they’d accidentally and cruelly locked up their own.

~ * ~

I give in to hate, it feels like, ideally just a little, or maybe a little too much, at times, perhaps increasingly, in order to survive, to build a strong protective seed coat or armor. 

When burning on fire and being cut to shreds, figuratively, it feels everyone in American is taunting me: ‘Better you than us.’ 

And people who know are saying in effect just that.

It’s true.

~ * ~

People know. 

People do not care to help. 

~ * ~

I have informed government, press, church, family and the world formally and on social media nonstop from the start. 

Formally, informally, metaphorically, with pen, with paintbrush, with tears.

~ * ~

People are watching. 

Social media trolls taunt. 

You would not believe how much.

It’s all too much. 

It’s been too much for a long time. 

It’s okay to say, but saying does not help.

~ * ~

Catholics are fucking nutz, not me.

Virgin birth.

Jesus raped me.

It’s way too much to contain in one skull.

~ * ~

There are too many layers of emotional and psychological hell to this story.

~ * ~

I often feel panic at the sheer enormous and still growing size of the story rolling over me. 

Buried by sexism.

It’s too late! 

I’ll never win! 

Then time passes, the story is even bigger, but still moving over me. 

Is any good ending possible?

~ * ~

When I get to this part of the story, the set up for my trip to jail, I really want to give up, which is of course what my attackers would like.

~ * ~

My latest prayer, battling against hate for hate, begins to accept my fate, but still begrudgingly.

I was put here in this hell story for some reason.

~ * ~

There is little to no legal framework or culture established, apparently, for clearing one’s name from bogus criminal mental health care indictments. 

The stigma of lock her up! does not wash off. 

~ * ~

Maybe I can help make the world a better place in this regard.

Like others who suffer and heal through helping, sign me up!

But do it quickly!

Please.

Chapter: Lying Cops Turn Suicide Gaslighting into Criminal Gaslighting

I’ve heard NPR and read newspaper reports saying the mentally ill are more likely to become the victims of crime. 

But what about the victim of criminal mental abuse, mislabeled crazy, in an uncaring disjointed System? 

Same thing, apparently.

~ * ~

Jail!!! 

I hate to admit it. 

I’m innocent. 

No, I swear I am.

No one stalks a cop.

I’m not crazy, dangerous or suicidal. 

I was set up repeatedly!

I am the victim of crime, not the perpetrator.

~ * ~

And here comes Gina again, to prove that the Lying Cops, a husband and wife team, connected to Land of Motown community College, were after me, not the other way around.

Just like I was bullied at Land of Motown Community College by long time established bullies in the union, protected by the union, not the other way around.

~ * ~ 

In Osceola County, near the Mecosta county line, eight miles from Evart, eighteen miles from Reed city, twenty five miles from Big Rapids, Michigan.

They nabbed me for a bogus personal protection order, then a bogus felony charge of stalking. 

At no time were my civil rights protest signs mentioned by Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2, the Michigan State Police, or the Osceola County prosecuting attorney.

I believe this omission speaks volumes.

I put up a lot of signs.

~ * ~

Stalking a cop.

Who stalks a cop?

No one stalks a cop.

~ * ~

Of all the people I may have targeted to stalk, why this guy? 

A cop who worked for (who may still work for) Land of Motown Community College. 

Meaning a cop who worked for my two-time suicide swatter, who is a crooked cop.

Maybe crooked cops hire crooked cops to help them cover their crimes.

~ * ~

Would someone please pay attention to the network of criminals surrounding me?

~ * ~

They nabbed me for stalking a cop who I never met before meeting him (if that’s what you call it) in court.

~ * ~

I’m not out of mind.

If I were reading, I would maybe feel a responsibility to doubt the narrator, if I have not already begun to feel distrust, maybe even disgust.

~ * ~ 

I never met the guy, the cop, who I supposedly criminally annoyed, harassed and stalked, just like I never met the guy who locked me up at St. Mary Merciless. 

No, I am not crazy or lying. 

I’ve got proof I was set up coming from the cop’s own mouth, under oath. 

I hope someone believes me. 

I hope someone in authority looks at all this proof, mixed with my narration.

~ * ~ 

No one stalks a cop. 

I did not stalk a cop, or anyone.

Of all the characters in my story, why in the world would I care about this pompous asshole, Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2, who injected himself into my story?

~ * ~

The label “proud crooked cop” refers to too many too uniformly white male cops I’ve been forced to encounter.

My painting was inspired by a sign on the neighbor’s house.

That sign was taken down after I was sent letters from the Lake Miramchi home owners association about my civil protest signs, which I ignored.

I felt my need to redress the government trumped any sign restrictions.

~ * ~

At the same time, I received anonymous harassing notes from a neighbor about Hunter my dog being off leash.

Coincidence.

I think it was the Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2’s wife, who lied in court under oath.

Both husband and wife tripped over their fabricated story.

While the wife was up north the first week of April 2017, noticeable when otherwise no one is around, I received two letters, one an anonymous harassing card about Hunter and the other from the neighborhood association about my signs.

I think the wife of Land of Motown Community College Lying co #2 sent them both.

I think the Lying Cops were after me, not the other way around.

I know it wasn’t the other way around.

The list of paired terms in the letter I was sent, short of clear concepts, oozes disturbed guilty wife of disturbed guilty cop.

If you ask me.

Or something mentally socially ill.

Yes, you can trust me.

All of this really happened.

To me.

One set of protest signs urged onlookers to ask questions about the Land of Motown Community College sexist Gaslight witch hunt.

The idea was to encourage questions about why I was saying things like “jail” my attackers and “Jesus raped me.”

The idea was to encourage complete sentences and complete thoughts.

Not anonymous harassment through the U.S. postal service.

~ * ~

I had only recently heard of the existence of Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 from another neighbor.

My long time up north neighbor wasn’t sure if they guy worked at a community college or Land of Motown University.

Both exist, which is confusing to anyone not living in Oakland County.

~ * ~

If I were crazy criminal and going to stalk someone, why wouldn’t I pick one of my attackers?

Apologies. Links to next chapter under construction. Don’t use labeled link below. To continue reading, please go back to the list of sections and choose the next chapter. Thank you!

Read Part Six