Coloring with the Catholics: My Story of Criminal Mental Health Care and Higher Ed Gaslighting in Larry Nassar’s Michigan (Part 10), Losing the Lakehouse: It Only Gets Worse

by Gina Fournier

UNDER CONSTRUCTION: THANK YOU! Story requires elaborate time structure. And documentation when falsely accused of hallucinations and psychosis. Look for my new website with navigational sections and chapters.

I would greatly appreciate public support and acknowledgement for my claims. Murdered by the Catholics of my youth and monster sexist William MacQueen, of Oakland and Macomb Community Colleges, with help from bully teachers still working as public servants.

Here, I’m adding documentation, and shaping and editing this portion of my narration. I’m still uncovering the big picture connections and language to describe my story across this telling, across all sections. Prayer. Peace and mercy. To all. I want and need resolution (even if I am in a bad mood and cursing). With no realistic hope at all, I crawl forward.

Part Ten Section Titles:

• It Only Gets Worse
• Rape and Murder Threats Ignored by Michigan State Police
• PR Bonds Are Not Free
• Rocky Ballerina Springs Little Witchie From Jail
• Losing the Lakehouse
• CUT NEW SECTION HERE “Someone is After You”: No Good Ending?
• Dog Whipped on Probation: Return to Class at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College Cut Short by Land of Motown Community College, the Osceola County Prosecutor, the MDOC and Judge Booher
• “Someone is After You”
• No Good Ending?

Chapter: It Only Gets Worse

I was released from jail on a PR bond, on September 28, 2017, without any idea what might happen next or when.

~ * ~

The District Health Department #10 could arrest me for using the gravity flush and remaining in the condemned lakehouse, after my denied appeal August 11, 2017.

Without a doubt, the actions of the District Health Department #10 were intent on harassment, not public health, because being technically condemned did not stop the sale of the house less than a year later.

~ * ~

The restrictions of my bond were not clear.

Standing inside my home, I could be within 500 feet of the Land of Motown Lying Cop #2.

~ * ~

I was trapped in a #metoo era hell like no other I have ever encountered in the media.

I still am.

~ * ~

There are more outlandish details to report about Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2, and his behavior.

But you won’t believe me. 

~ * ~

A couple of creepy observations.

I knew the Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 had arrived up north when at home on my property or inside my house not able to see any activity.

I knew he’d arrived because he announced his arrival with a chain saw, regularly.

~ * ~

After I got my eyes on Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2’s face for the first time in court during the PPO hearing, on May 8, 2017, when he whipped me with his big cop stick, I finally starting seeing the guy, ironically and uncomfortably.

Though I did not seek contact, I started seeing him around Lake Miramichi when I walked the dog, and he drove his ATV.

Same thing for lying wife.

Funny, Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 didn’t drive by me on his ATV as I walked the dog before the PPO hearing, not that I can recall.

But he and his wife did circle and pass me on Miramichi drive and Modoc Trail both before and after jail August 25, 2017-September 28, 2017.

~ * ~

Time moves back and forth, like the action of my saw, which was very comforting in itself, for me, like stirring a cauldron of soup.

Time moves back and forth.

It’s not just this story and my telling.

Day Light Savings Time.

Fall back.

Spring forward.

In garish display.

~ * ~

My “I was not seen by Dr. Andrew Muzychka 2.22.2013” sign was stolen, after the PPO hearing and before my bogus arrest, during the summer of 2017.

The Lying Cops were present for at least one weekend during which signs were stolen, as I recall.

One night, I watched a posse stop in front of my signs from inside the lakehouse cabin, through the bedroom window, facing the road.

There were no lights on at my house as I called out.

It was after 11 pm.

I called out to the marauders, which did not immediately alert a male drunken belligerent group.

I called out again.

The guy who going to take one of my signs said nonchalantly, laughingly, intoxicated, to his crew, who were riding around the lake in in a small car and large ATV, something about hearing a noise.

I had to stand my ground, no gun, using my voice, before the aggressive males left and continued circling the lake.

~ * ~

I have more police reports regarding stolen signs.

But I think I will reserve them, not post them, due to length concerns.

However, if I meet Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop again, say in civil court, and he produces additional witnesses not seen during the PPO hearing, these interludes and my signs will be brought up.

Of course, I assume lying cops have friends who are willing to lie, too.

Cops support Trump, and he’s the biggest liar around.

~ * ~

Another time.

Either it was summertime of 2017, between the PPO and my arrest, or it was in the fall of 2017, after jail, on bond, or it was after June 1, 2018, on probation, during my last summer at the lake.

The Land of Motown Lying Cop #2 drove aggressively an ATV pointed directly at me.

I was standing in my driveway, well inside my property, into which the road Modoc Trail directly emptied.

He was driving on Modoc Trail and smiling like a maniac chain saw murderer.

He aimed and drove hard, coming straight at me, while he stayed on the road, and I stood my ground, on my property.

We were too close for my comfort.

I may have given him a power fist.

His face looked like the faces of psycho killers in blood and gore movies, movies I don’t watch.

Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 harassed me.

And his expression said knew he was lying to the authorities and happy to get away with a crime.

~ * ~

My mind was under siege when I was released from jail in the fall of 2017.

And it remains under siege now in the fall of 2019.

Why won’t anyone help me end this hell is my main mystery

But there are others.

~ * ~

Who installed the plastic iguana under my bedroom window?

The markings under properties on my computer say I took this picture on February 16, 2017.

Right before the fourth anniversary of my illegal looney bin lock up.

When very few people were milling around Lake Miramichi.

Who will beleive me?

I found this plastic iguana, as is, in the dirt on the tree-shaded south side of the lakehouse cabin.

Someone can attest.

I first spied this plastic iguana, seemingly crawling out of the dirt, by the low light of growing evening shadows.

And I must admit, stupidly, at first, I actually thought it might be real.

At first, I thought it might be one of the salamanders that the neighbor, Jim, who was a middle school science teacher, said lived in Michigan and could be found in spring.

~ * ~

My assistant, Google, tells me that salamanders are amphibians, like iguanas, not reptiles, and that the Eastern Tiger Salamander is the largest in Michigan.

According to the website, http://www.herprman.com/, run by herpetologist David A. Mifsud, the Eastern Tiger Salamander can grow to 13 inches long.

But the species is not doing well in Michigan.

Mifsud explains, the Easter Tiger Salamander “can occur in large populations where suitable breeding habitat is available,” but it “may be uncommon to rare elsewhere, especially to the north.”

Furthermore, the creature’s MDNR Wildlife Action Plan Status is “species of greatest conservation need.”

I know the feeling.

Me too.

~ * ~

I discovered just now that Michigan is home to a couple of lizards, too, which are reptiles like the iguana.

Behold the five-lined skink.

Which is not large.

I’ve seen five-lined skinks scurry away for cover up north.

~ * ~

Okay.

A human being installed this plastic iguana.

Who?

Why?

Who was messing with my already messed with mind?

~ * ~

This time period, the last days of the lakehouse, is coming back to me.

~ * ~

Out of chronological order is order in one’s memory.

~ * ~

I took a video of the plastic iguana after someone else, another hand, not mine, moved it before I could.

That’s the truth.

I don’t expect anyone will believe.

~ * ~

I decided to visibly respond to the prankster.

So, I nailed the plastic iguana to my civil rights protest display, closest to the names of my chief attackers.

Nailed through the heart.

And balls.

~ * ~

People have been messing with my mind for a long time.

~ * ~

Funny.

Any readers may wonder regarding the next tidbit: is the crazy lady sure if it was late winter 2016 or late winter 2017?

That fact that Trump for president signs are part of this little story inside the story does not decide the issue.

~ * ~

Later people, if people survive on earth, will have special ways to name and describe the last days of the United States and global democracy, when Donald Trump supporters lead the world down the toilet with ignorance, sexism, intolerance and greed. And shortsightedness. Helped by Cambridge Analytica and Russia.

~ * ~

Timeline.

Trump was sworn in on January 20, 2017.

I was harassed on a hostile unneeded welfare that day, for which the Osceola County Sheriff’s and Meceola 911 Dispatch reports do not match, suspiciously. Why exactly was I hassled that day? Who really instigated?

Bad King Trump became the Republican nominee in July 2016, and before that he declared his candidacy in June 2015.

Reviewing forward and backward, because I am trying to be facutal accurate, Trump signs were still posted after the November 2016 election.

Still posted in February or March 2017, after the January 2017 swearing in.

I’m sure lots of us were cursing the new president.

After review, I do think it was definitely 2017, around the same time of year and in the same year as the mysterious installation of the plastic iguana.

~ * ~

In late winter, when all beings hunger for spring, and the sun climbs higher in the sky above the horizon, a white human couple, male and female, drove around Lake Miramichi Drive.

On the Day of the Fake Plastic Iguana?

I don’t know.

~ * ~

I was outside every day for many hours, and I saw a lot.

This interlude was not the only suspicious drive-by I witnessed, but one that has stayed with me most strongly, though the details I retain are not conclusive.

I wrote about the encounter on Twitter or Facebook, or both.

~ * ~

I think the couple was faking it.

They stopped me as I was walking Hunter home.

The woman in the passenger seat, a fake blond, asked me about houses for sale, with fake extra-friendliness.

Up ahead, Jim’s house had been for sale for years, ever since it was built.

However, I never trusted the woman’s question about available real estate.

The couple was driving a dark blue sedan, a nice car, new-ish looking, ruined in appearance with a bumper sticker that pretty said, “I’m with the pussy grabber in chief. Smirk!”

People who drive nice cars know about the internet and how real estate for sale can be shopped online without driving around.

People out joy riding did not happen upon Lake Miramichi.

Delivery and work crews had trouble finding the place.

Theory. I think the man and the woman were not shopping for real estate, but perhaps spying, doing dirty work, for whom?

If I recall correctly, we were stopped next to Jeanette’s roadside Trump sign, still erect.

And the guy had a Trump sticker on his rear bumper.

~ * ~

Call me sexist.

The guy, who wore a baseball cap, was much more culturally attractive than the woman.

Her naturally brunette hair was not dyed blond well, her nose was too large for modeling or Hollywood, her face shape did not follow a fahionable form.

Sorry.

They were not a couple, but they were pretending to be a couple.

She was not a good actor.

Neither was he.

Theory. These two were faking being a couple, randomly, without preparation, only pretending to be shopping for real estate, around Lake Miramichi, in winter, in remote mid Michigan, on a weekday, maybe looking for me.

Why?

~ * ~

I quipped a bit snottily about politics, purposely, to test the fake couple.

They quipped back, maintaining a fake veneer of civility, like professional Republicans, which equaled way too much effort.

~ * ~

We soon ended our in-the-road conversation.

They weren’t shopping for real estate.

So what were they doing?

I wished I had taken a picture of their license plate.

Immediately, I thought of the crook state attorney general, Bill Schuette, who had denied equal protection in writing on October 7, 2015, who sought to cover up what really happened to me February 22-28, 2013.

He sent Michigan State Police to harass me on November 19, 2015.

Why not send staffers or associates in 2017 to snoop? to mind fuck with a plastic iguana? NO ONE WILL BELIEVE HER.

Bill Schuette was preparing to run for governor in 2018.

At this time, with me still talking about my Land of Motown Community College story online, Bill Schuette was perhaps likely less than thrilled that I had not taken his hints to shut up about my Larry Nassar at Land of Motown Community College in rich Republican Oakland County, land of top donors.

Immediately, when this interlude started, I wondered if Bill Schuette was sending his people to spy on me.

It was not the first time.

He sent Todd Parsons and Norma Naylor of the Michigan State Police with his calling card.

Why not repeat his play?

~ * ~

Another unsolved mystery.

Who sent the note-card with a twenty dollar bill and a Baby Jesus prayer card?

Right before the Land of Motown Community College Lying Cops geared up.

~ * ~

Actual suicides have occurred as I have been suicide swatted.

No one can imagine my particular pain, which adds more pain.

~ * ~

Anthony Bourdain, Jeffrey Epstein, Margot Kidder, Robin Williams.

Suicide rates are up, talk of suicide prevention is all over the media, but I can’t get anyone to pay attention to my story of suicide swatting and suicide Gaslighting.

You can’t imagine how incredulous I feel.

How the hell did this all happen? Why did it happen to me? Why won’t anyone listen to my story and help make it better? Why are the press ignoring me? Fox News is propaganda, “niche media,” I just heard a familiar NPR voice say.

~ * ~

Isolation and loneliness are not the same thing. Combined they destroy like developing cancer or getting hit by a train.

~ * ~

When will the world be safe for female artists?

A long time ago, before my molars were pulled and my teeth were stained, before I started limping, when I could afford to have my hair dyed brown, I was still a community college English teacher. I wrote a sample book review for my writing students with that title, When will the world be safe for female artists? About a biography of French sculptor Camille Claudel. She was locked up in a looney bin for thirty years by her Catholic hostile mother and brother essentially to silence her in an even more sexist world, Paris, late 1800s. She had an affair with Rodin, an abortion, free will, talent, so she was doomed.

My too-similar story minus the talent and deserved fame blows my mind.

~ * ~

All lives are comprised and contain tragedy.

The particular tragedy of my life, called crazy dangerous bitch maliciously to lock me up twice, first in a looney bin then secondly jail, denigrated, cast out, impoverished, mentally abused, isolated, made lonely, terrorized, all these facts of my story make me reasonably terrified about my future as things get worse, not better.

~ * ~

The attack was launched so long ago.

Seven years in a Twitter/nano second age is like seventy years, or something.

~ * ~

These are short term short sighted times, while my story is so long.

~ * ~

Just the opposite of suicidal, for over seven years I have crawled forward.

~ * ~

As Judge Tyler Thomspon denied my request for an extension on my back taxes, and I was forced to recognize that my court appointed lawyer sucked, I turned to new imaginary friends, which I drew for myself.

I invented adult cartoon characters during the overlapping double hells of my personal life, in place within the larger big picture of the failing United States of America, our democratic experiment dumped by Trump.

From left to right back row: Super Mary, the first religious super hero, Tutu Jesus (hey Zeus!), the first trans Christ, stuck forever on a cross, Little Ira, talking chicken radio, and my alter ego, witchunt witch, provided me a place to put my rage for revenge.

Don’t talk to me about self empowerment.

I can’t fix this problem alone.

~ * ~

Everyday people can’t stay with me as I fight for justice and public acknowledgement of what really happened, what really was done to me.

~ * ~

One neighbor at Lake Miramichi was kind to me, gave me food, talked to me, invited me into her home, but her affections wore thin over time.

That’s the pattern I’ve come to know.

~ * ~

Most people do not want to hear my story, for whatever reasons people might hold individually.

Unrecognized sexism, a recognition that they could be next, vindictive Christianity, unquestioned acceptance of psycho babble.

So this woman was nice to me, but as long as I listened to her, and not the other way around.

~ * ~

This woman was a very nice person who was very nice and generous with me, at first.

But she was gullible in ways she did not seem to recognize.

You may be seeing this Lake Miramichi neighbor accurately as a white rural senior citizen Trump voter from mid Michigan, one of the people from three targeted Midwestern states who sent Trump to the White House.

A retiree, this woman went to see Trump in Cadillac, Michigan.

Afterwards, she said Trump was going to dump Obama care and simply replace it with something better, just like that.

She made this declaration in a voice that was not her usual voice.

Maybe it was a voice one uses to convince themselves that unicorns exist.

~ * ~

Research shows Trump did not even talk about health care at the March 4, 2016 event, nor did he talk about the environment or locking up Hillary.

Because the event happened before the primary, when Trump was beating up other Republican primary contenders.

~ * ~

A woman in her 70s, who did not like her husband, she reported that Trump was a handsome man.

I said nothing about my anti-Trump views.

I was sitting in her kitchen not telling her anything from my story or life, because out conversation was one-sided.

Meanwhile, her husband was silent sitting in front the television watching portly men like himself ride small antique tractors in circles.

Swear to dog.

I said nothing about my anti-Trump views, and she did not ask me my opinion.

I said nothing and just observed because she was feeding me.

~ * ~

It is impossible to talk about the pain of suicide swatting and the danger of my suicide swatting story without talking about suicide.

But no one wants to here about Jesus rape and suicide.

Only Trump can use “witchhunt” and be heard and believed by his short-sighted base.

It is so difficult to grow old and unattractive, as I am crushed and discarded, on display, while people know but don’t, can’t or won’t help end my hell.

~ * ~ 

After the 2016 election, when Mexico certainly did not pay to build any wall, tragedies in this woman’s life mounted.

One son was diagnosed with cancer, then the other son died of a heart attack.

Then a grandson killed himself.

The neighbor pulled away.

She was in a great deal of pain.

She had to wonder why I couldn’t just die instead of her loved ones.

She definitely stayed away after I was released from jail.

~ * ~

Because I am forced to discuss suicide and fight to SAVE MY LIFE from suicide swatting, I must bring up the following information.

To me, within my story, the most ironic still tragic suicide is that of Sean Brosnan, husband to Maureen Miller Brosnan.

We three attended St. Mikes school together.

Tomorrow, November 5, 2019, Maureen Miller Brosnan hopes to become the first female mayor of my shitty sexist hometown, Livonia, Michigan.

Today, November 6, 2019, she is the winner and in January 2020 will be sworn in.

Currently, she is the chairperson on the board of directors for St. Mary Merciless criminal human trafficking mental ward.

Both the city of Livonia and St. Mary Merciless have received or will soon receive formal civil right complaints about their 2019 bad behavior, which concurred, not coincidentally, with the writing of this document in the sections about February 22-28, 2013, involving Livonia cops and Catholics.

Livonia cops and Catholics would prefer to not have the false record about me corrected because it would involve admitting wrong doing.

~ * ~

I am being thoughtful, careful as I can, on a difficult to move Monday.

Livonia Catholics could not identify Sean Brosnan as suicidal.

Apparently his wife could not either.

Catholicism did not save Sean Brosnan.

No one knows who is suicidal.

~ * ~

I have endured mental torture and retaliation, but I have not acted violently toward others or myself.

In my full frontal attack, needing to tell my story and control my story, I have reached to Maureen Brosnan Miller.

I have shown my indignation and wounds.

I have shared the gruesome details of my sexist murder.

She has ignored me.

~ * ~

Sean Brosnan killed himself.

I am still not dead.

Is this that thing karma at work?

Only a strange coincidence?

~ * ~

No one has the right to use suicide as a weapon against another, not even God.

I ask Maureen Brosnan Miller to imagine herself or her daughters in my position and to take a public stand on behalf of fair resolution.

But we don’t live in that kind of a world.

~ * ~

Feel free to prove me wrong.

~ * ~

After I got out of jail, I needed to find a way to fix my plumbing and stockpile wood for winter.

Someone gave me money, but not enough to fix my plumbing.

Still, Someone was very generous.

~ * ~

I started calling plumbers in the phone book.

I did not tell people who answered the phone that I did not have any money.

~ * ~

Problem other than poverty: very few plumbers worked in the area, and they all were swamped.

~ * ~

One guy came out and in seconds got my well working.

Got my own well working!!!!!!!!!

In seconds!

I don’t know what he did.

He turned or pushed some little button.

He had the magic touch.

But he was too busy to work on my plumbing any time soon.

He charged me nothing.

Thank you, eternally.

~ * ~

Trust me.

I had tried to pump water out of that well.

I don’t understand why the well did not work for me.

For sure the pipes under the house and the water heater burst when Chris last shut down the house for winter badly, alone, before he died, in 2012.

I guess I kind of thought that the well shaft or something was broken underground, near ground level, due to winter freezing.

Or I guessed that the well pump under the house was broken, though it was new.

The well wasn’t a winterized well, meaning I still needed to use Jeanette’s well in winter in order to fill buckets of water for the gravity flush.

Or I would have felt extremely stupid.

~ * ~

I still have reason to feel quite stupid.

I hauled water daily a considerable distance for two warm seasons that did need to be hauled.

Well, the well chapter ended well.

Except maybe for the delayed wear and tear on my body

~ * ~

Kristi Barron of the DHHS office in Big Rapids kept harassing me and wasting my time, solely about my plumbing, at least ostensibly.

Kristi Barron was the DHHS agent who first appeared with my case worker and Mecosta County Cops on August 25, 2017, the day I was later arrested by the second posse that descended on that date, from the Michigan State Police, including Norma Naylor’s third appearance in this story.

August 25, 2017 was the first time I think the local authorities tried to maybe take me away to jail or a looney bin for being hopefully belligerent in response to their unneeded presence.

The second time I think authorities tried to harass me into a frenzy and take me away was in the winter of 2018, during my post jail bond period, on the fifth anniversary of my illegal looney bin lock up, February 22, 2018, while I was on bond, not making headway with my case in 49th District Court against Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 and his lying wife.

On February 22, 2018, the same players descended, sent by the Mecosta County prosecutor, Brian Thiede, who refuses to explain his behavior.

~ * ~

Kristi Barron showed up at my house all of a sudden and over time explained that she needed to see me monthly in order to fix my plumbing, which she never paid to fix.

Why the special harassment, really?

I made clear she was treating me like a zoo animal, which I did not appreciate.

I made clear repeatedly that I needed the state to prosecute Dr. Andrew Muzychka and St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward, but Kristi Barron ignored my needs and continued to treat me like a caged animal and ward of the state.

~ * ~

Similar strange behavior continued when I FOIAed the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services recently in 2019, from Bay City.

I wanted the name of the person who sent DHHS to harass me up north, beginning in the spring of 2016, with Marty Froman.

I wanted to know why Kristi Barron harassed me August 25, 2017 and February 22, 2018.

The FOIA response consisted of a supervisor’s phone number, a private number, which is not a public document, as the law dictates.

When I reached Maria Spedoske, she was on vacation.

Over the phone, she managed to harass me and suggest I had serious critical mental problems.

I had to back her way off, so I told her slowly and loudly that Jesus took out his big cock and raped the fuck out of me at St. Mary Merciless.

That shut her up, so I could hang up in greater peace.

As a result, a civil rights complaint is being levied against DHHS currently, too.

~ * ~

Back in the fall of 2017, at Lake Miramichi, Kristi Barron of DHHS said I sent her too high an estimate to fix my plumbing.

She sent a plumber.

His estimate was lower but still too high.

Meanwhile, Kristi Barron withheld the budget number she had to offer, which was a grand, it turned out, after I finally got her to tell me.

With the help of another neighbor, I got a couple of guys willing to do the work for a grand, but Kristi Barron would not pay up front for them to purchase supplies.

~ * ~

Finally, I got St. Tim the plumber and his right hand man Gabriel to do the necessary plumbing work, using a reconditioned toilet and water heater.

I traded both scooters for plumbing work, even though neither were running.

St. Tim and his right hand man got the plumbing working, cold water and flushing toilet, inside the house, at the beginning of November 2017, just in time for winter weather.

Phew!

I could warm water on the stove.

In April, on April 1, 2018, St. time and his right hand man Gabriel installed a used water heater.

I could take a hot bath for the last few months I was lucky to live at the lakehouse cabin.

The Lake Miramichi retreat had been past to me through my dead husband, and his deceased parents, who I never met.

Thank you, eternally.

~ * ~

Most of my civil rights protest signs were stolen while I was in jail.

My civil rights protest sign display was dismantled with force.

A hostile driver must have purposely taken out my mailbox.

After the destruction, while I was still gone, someone rigged my mailbox together with cinder blocks and nautical rope, which is how I found things when Someone drove me home.

~ * ~

A nice woman neighbor with boys who used the row boat to fish, the one who connected me to St. Tim the plumber, gave me wood to boost my supply.

Thank you, eternally.

That fall, I spent my time working the plumbing problem and working my wood pile during the day.

I painted with watercolor on paper at night inspired the scenes outdoors around me.

Chapter: Rape and Murder Threats Ignored by Michigan State Police

Getting the plumbing fixed was great news.

Indoor plumbing!!!

But otherwise mostly things did become worse overall.

I discovered on my cellphone while riding the MOTA bus home from the library in Big Rapids that an e-mail troll, “Jeff Morgan,” threatened to kill my dog, Hunter, by name.

That fall, I received rape and murder threats through e-mail.

Michigan State Police were informed but preferred to totally ignore the harassment aimed at me. 

~ * ~

Michigan State Police were too busy falsely prosecuting me for stalking Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2.

~ * ~

Yeah, for real.

Yes, I have proof.

~ * ~

Proof has been been shared on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, all along.

~ * ~

“Jeff Morgan” is the name that appears on the e-mail harassment and threats I received.

Messages were sent to me, messages intended to make me afraid, in violation of the same state law used against me, I believe, erroneously, in retaliation, for not shutting up.

I became the actual victim of harassment on Halloween, October 31, 2017, after I was released from jail on bogus harassment charges.

Halloween was Harry Wyscocki’s birthday.

On Halloween, after jail, as if to spook me, I became an actual victim of online harassment.

I became an actual victim of online harassment in contrast to the claims of Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 and his wife, who claimed disingenuously, I argue, that I was a perpetrator of harassment, including online harassment.

I never sent them any messages.

~ * ~

I received five scary e-mails from “Jeff Morgan” between October 31, 2017 and November 10, 2017.

~ * ~

Remember the name “Jeff Morgan.”

The name “Jeff Morgan” will come up later, during probation, after losing the lakehouse cabin and moving to Bay City, Michigan.

“Jeff Morgan” will reappear when I try to make my return to community college teaching at Inside the thumb Mid Michigan Community College, but I am stopped again by hostile outside forces.

Those forces include a Facebook troll named “Christine Heikkenen,” who will name “Jeff Morgan” in a Messenger message to me via a cellphone screenshot.

~ * ~

The local authorities who wanted to lock me somehow got their hands on these Facebook Messenger messages, but covered up how they did so.

~ * ~

PREVIEW: Somehow the Osceola County prosecutor and the my probation officer with the Michigan Department of Corrections will obtain hostile messages sent to me by “Christine Heikkenen,” not read them well, not question the source, and name “Jeff Morgan” in a probation report asking for me to be sent back to jail for probation violations that did not occur.

The authorities in mid Michigan representing the state and Osceola County will accuse me of probation violations, but they really just wanted to silence me, especially once they figured out they were spanked by an internet hack.

Judge Kimberly Booher holds no probation hearings in the fall of 2018, in contrast to purposely misleading paperwork pushed by authorities.

The judge thus covers up “Jeff Morgan” and “Christine Heikkenen” and does not let me speak on record before early sentencing.

She slaps me with a stalking misdemeanor that prevents me from passing background checks and obtaining needed employment.

At the time, “Christine Heikkenen” on her Facebook page liked both Oakland County Sheriffs and politician Adolf Hitler.

I wrote Judge Kimberly Booher myself with these screen shots to try and stop her stupidity.

My efforts did not work.

She preferred to save face instead of admit the authorities made missteps.

Yes, for real.

Proof, of course!

But does that count in this disinformation age?

~ * ~

Similar.

A Catch 22 double play.

Being the actual victim of harassment while falsely accused of harassment.

Like Trump voters manipulated by known forces about which they refuse to read, hear, see or think.

~ * ~

Especially disturbing is the idea that Michigan was targeted for extra special Russian interference during the 2016 election, because racists, sexists and intolerant are gullible, but also unlikely to read, listen, see or hear the facts.

The same Trump supporting gullible racists, sexists and intolerant/ignorant types, targeted by foreign actors with misinformation, inhabit heavily Republican Osceola County it is fair to assume.

~ * ~

Painfully, this interlude is coming back to me now.

I received the murder threat from “Jeff Morgan” on a Friday night, November 10, 2017.

First, I contacted 911 that night, after dark.

I was not happy with the way I was treated.

I ended the call.

I called back during the day on the following Monday.

That second call, on Monday November 13, 2017, I recorded.

At times during this call, I am waiting, on hold, talking to myself.

Otherwise, it’s fairly clear when the 911 Meceola Dispatch it’s talking.

At the end of the seven minute call, 911 Meceola Dispatch gives me the number for the Michigan State Police Cyber crimes unit, which I called next.

~ * ~

As instructed by 911 Mecoeal Dispatch, on Monday, November 13, 2017, next I contacted the Michigan State Police cyber crimes, first by phone, about the e-mail harassment from “Jeff Morgan.”

I used the phone number given to me by 911 Meceola Dispatch.

I taped the phone call, because the Michigan State Police had proven themselves untrustworthy beginning November 19, 2015, when Bill Schuette sent Todd Parsons and Norma Naylor from the Michigan State Police to rough me up, just after I escaped Garden City and took refuge at Lake Miramichi.

~ * ~

Now, admittedly, this video of me calling the Michigan State Police is very rough.

Apart from the context and long history of my story, maybe no matter what, I sound stressed or plain nutz.

Though I say instead I was driven mad, especially at the beginning of this video, when I am talking to myself.

It is more difficult to hear what I hear in this video, compared to the previous call to 911 Meceola Dispatch.

~ * ~

At this point in my endless ordeal, I was pretty pissed off a few thousand times over, about the Marx Brothers’ meets Keystone Cops nature of my life.

~ * ~

I was working two phones, one to call, the other to film, while standing practically in the road, Miramichi Drive, because of persistent crappy reception.

My phone rarely worked inside the lakehouse cabin.

I was constantly running back and forth from the road to the house for, say, a pen to properly play secretary in the street.

Even in the street, the phone connection constantly broke up and cut out, and made me start all over again, adding to my considerable frustration.

But if you hang on, or fast forward, this video shows, though uncomfortably, that I did stay on the line long enough to connect to some guy from the Michigan State Police supposedly cyber crimes unit.

The name I caught was David Plouchard.

~ * ~

Do I wish this video was in better shape and more professional sounding?

Sure.

Do I need to speak more softly in sound bite-size sentences, not booming pissed off and traumatized paragraphs?

Sure.

Do I need this unbelievable hell to end?

YES!

~ * ~

At the start of this recording, I think I was maybe put on hold, when I talked to myself in panic out loud.

At the start, I think I respond to what I hear on hold from the Michigan State Police.

I think I was transferred, put on hold, then fed some nonsense in my ear about how great and helpful police are, which upset me and restarted my panic attack.

I had the sense, correctly, that I was going to be ignored, not out of paranoia but reason, because the state of Michigan attorney general was not on my side.

And I was right.

The Michigan State Police were still not interested in my civil rights or equally protecting me.

~ * ~

In the sixth minute of this video, David Plouchard mainsplains and tries to give me peace of mind by saying most people who make threats don’t take action.

Which is a sentiment that does not support Land of Motown Community College’s Lying Cop #2’s claim that he was afraid of me, based on me saying I was afraid of a cop from the school living nearby online.

~ * ~

I had to correct David Plouchard.

I told him the police upset me more than the death threats: “I am not afraid of the e-mails. I am afraid of the police and the courts and Bill Schuette,” I told him, not softly.

~ * ~

In the seventh minute of the call, David Plouchard reprimands me for yelling and not answering questions.

Then things get super strange.

Instead of asking me the name that appeared on the e-mail threats, David Plouchard asks me the name of the Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2, which is really odd.

Then a neighbor walks by, a guy who made his living as a magician in Las Vegas. The former magician and I share a quick chit chat, including an apology from me for conducting personal business in the street, which was an interruption I needed to explain to David Plouchard.

At that point, three voices appear on the recording.

And then conversation further derails, mostly because David Plouchard only wanted to talk about Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2, not the threatening e-mails I received.

~ * ~

The call lasted fourteen minutes, but nervously I stopped recording at around 11 minutes because I thought I was running low on power.

In general, I was afraid to let my phone go dead in case I needed it to document more in-person police harassment.

~ * ~

David Plouchard of the Michigan State Police never asked me about the threatening e-mails.

I just sent the Michigan State Police a FOIA request to see if David Plouchard wrote a police report, which I doubt.

Ten days later, I just sent a follow. No response yet.

~ * ~

In 2017, I called the Michigan State Police cyber unit phone number back a couple of times.

No one ever answered.

I left messages, but I never heard back from David Plouchard

~ * ~

I followed up my phone call to the Michigan State Police cyber crimes unit with an e-mail, containing the threatening e-mails I received from “Jeff Morgan,” although I was not asked for a copy of the e-mails by the Michigan State Police and sending e-mails on my phone from the lake was a task difficult to complete.

~ * ~

I didn’t leave things there.

I contacted my court appointed lawyer on November 20, 2017, through e-mail and phone calls, which were routinely held up by his secretary gatekeeper.

I was ignored.

~ * ~

I continued to push in order to advocate myself and to redress the Michigan State Police for equal protection.

On January 3, 2018, I resent the information to both the Michigan State Police and my court appointed attorney in the same e-mail transmission.

I was completely ignored by both the Michigan State Police and my court appointed attorney, the guy who was supposed to defend me.

~ * ~

Instead of equal protection for receiving death threats, which I had supposedly made to the Land of Motown Community College Lying Cops, in probably December or January 2018, I received a notice through the mail, without any warning from my court appointed attorney, that I was to report to the state of Michigan’s maxim security nut house downstate in Ann Arbor on January 22, 2018, my dead husband’s birthday, for another mind fucking, which I did not attend.

Oh, yes, for real.

Real retaliation.

~ * ~

Chapter: PR Bonds Are Not Not Free

The back woods legal system out of the 49th District Court held me under the restraints of bond for eight months between about October 2017 and June 1, 2018.

Among restrictions, I was to stay in the state, but not get too close the complainant.

Don’t drink; turn in your weapons.

My only weapons were paintbrushes and metaphoric pens, keys on computer keyboards.

~ * ~

I am still trying to decide as fairly as possible if I committed a crime.

Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 and his lying wife took an oath to not lie and then both lied during the bogus PPO hearing they requested, May 8, 2017.

They lied about many things, I know, but specifically, documented, about calling the police for an unneeded retaliatory welfare check on September 4, 2016. The phone number listed on the 911 Meceola Dispatch report matches the phone number for the lying wife as confirmed by a Google search, and as well as confirmed by my Michigan State Police arrest report, August 25, 2017. The same phone number and the lying wife are connected. The lying wife’s phone called the police that day, and both husband and wife lied knowingly and purposely about it in court in order to obtain a bogus PPO hearing.

Is it possible to commit a crime against a lying complainant and a lying witness, confirmed liars, documented?

I was arrested August 25, 2017, based on a few Twitter comments, which I thought were allowable, and based on their subsequent lies, about August 12, 2017, when I was not standing in their driveway, as they told the Michigan State Police. On that date, the Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 and his lying wife harassed me, from their driveway, as I painted civil rights protest signs in front of my own home. The lying couple harassed me, showing they were not afraid of me. They harassed me with nonsense. Lying husband shouted that I poisoned my husband five years earlier. Without a doubt, but minus witnesses, they harassed me, and they set me up, again. On purpose, the pictures lying wife took were used to say I was getting close to them, that I was standing in their driveway and yelling at them, which is not the truth. The picture included in the Michigan State Police report, though suspiciously grainy, shows I was standing next to my mailbox, my signs, my dog, my house.

Bond. “Item 12. Not harass, intimidate, beat, molest, would, stalk, threaten, or engage in other conduct that would place any of the following persons or a child of any of the following persons in reasonable fear of bodily injury: spouse, former spouse, individual with whom the defendant has a child in common, resident, or former resident of defendant’s household.”

These people were never afraid of me.

They wanted me, my signs and my dog gone, so they lied.

~ * ~

PREVIEW: After bond, beginning June 1, 2018, probation was originally slated to last one year, twelve months.

But that’s not what happened.

Ultimately, Judge Kimberly Booher cancelled my plea deal, not based on a bond or later a probation violation, but based on the misbehavior of authorities who wanted to silence me.

I was designated to carry the burden for their misdeeds. 

Of course, I did not trust a plea deal with ambiguous edges connected to a bogus charge and a lying cop from my criminally abusive former employer. 

~ * ~

Mailing date: 10/02/17

Notice to Appear: October 20, 2017 for a pre-trial hearing.

Which never happened.

My lawyers statements to me swung like a swing and were difficult to absorb because they would not stand still.

First, he said he would get me released from jail and have the charges dismissed.

Then he said he would have the charges reduced.

Mail date: 10/23/17

Notice to Appear: December 1, 2017, for a settlement conference.

Which never happened.

I still had not met the judge, again, regarding the charge against me.

Was that the point?

Mail date: 10/23/2017

Notice to Appear: January 9 and 10, 2018

My lawyer said . . . he was so wishy washy I don’t recall what he said, but he had changed his tune dramatically, and was no longer promising to have the charges dropped or reduced, so I said let’s go to trial, and he said okay.

But these dates did not see a trial.

Mail Date: 1/30/18

Notice to Appear: February 9, 2018

Settlement conference/status conference re defendant’s failure to appear for forensic evaluation.

Despite what I was told by my court appointed attorney and his gatekeeper, my court appointed did not officially cancel the court order to appear in Ann Arbor at the state looney bin on January 22, 2018.

January 22 was Chris’ birthday.

There was no way with one false looney bin lock up that I could go visit on a day pass to the state nut house.

How could I trust a lawyer who did not understand this fact?

Chris helped me stand strong.

~ * ~

I was required to go to court on February 9, 2018, in a very nervous state, worried about being jailed for not visiting the state nut house for mind fucking.

My court appointed lawyer talked to the judge that day.

I did not.

I did not even make it into the court room.

I dealt only with my court appointed lawyer in a conference room. He said he smoothed things over regarding my non appearance at the state nut house.

Was Booher hiding?

Mailing date: 2/09/18

Notice to Appear: Two-day Jury Trial April 3 and 4, 2018.

I took the notice seriously.

But I noted my court appointed lawyer did not seem to be preparing to go to trial, not at all.

Should we meet to discuss and plan? What about witnesses? What about my civil rights signs? What about August 12, 2017, when the complainant and his wife harassed me? There’s a police report. I got the 911 Dispatch recording. I was prepared to prepare to go to trial.

My court appointed lawyer?

Nothing.

I got little but the run around from his gatekeeper.

~ * ~

Full time line.

February 22, 2018 fits in here.

I think the local authorities were conspiring to try and stir me into a frenzy and hope to arrest me or take me away to the looney bin, falsely, again, like February 22, 2013.

They Mecosta County police and DHHS knew about the actions in Osceola County, I’m sure.

Kristi Barron had visited me in jail back in September 2017 in order to harass me.

~ * ~

I was dissuaded from going to trial by more than my own court appointed lawyer.

~ * ~

There was no reason for DHHS and the Mecosta County Sheriffs to harass me at home, February 22, 2013, but they did.

There was no reason for the Mecosta County prosecutor to send DHHS and the Mecosta County Sheriffs to harass me at home, but he did.

There was no reason for the Mecosta County Sheriffs to come to my house with DHHS Big Rapids Kristi Barron and to harass me, and to not write a police report to cover up their steps, but they did come to my house with DHHS and harass me, and they did fail to write a police report, to better cover up their steps.

There was no reason for the Mecosta County prosecutor to order a hit in February 22, 2018, and then fail to explain his actions, but he did order the hit, according to the 911 Meceola dispatch, and then he did fail to explain his actions.

The Mecosta County prosecutor is Brian Theide.

Did the Osceola County prosecutor talk to the Mecosta County prosecutor?

Someone talked to the Mecosta County prosecutor and encouraged him to order a hit on me.

Who?

~ * ~

Mecosta County Prosecutor Brian Theide explained to the newspaper in Big Rapids, Michigan, that the 49th District Court, shared with Osceola County, did not have the resources to let all felony cases go to trail.

The same is true no doubt for Osceola County.

~ * ~

February 22, 2018 was the fifth year anniversary of my illegal looney bin lock up.

Land of Motown Community College intended to silence and crush me on February 22, 2013 by suicide swatting me, knowing calamity would likely ensue.

I could have been shot dead.

Instead, I was abducted from my home by sexist Livonia cops who royally botched an unnecessary retaliatory welfare.

I was taken to the Livonia Catholics of my youth, who I would not trust with a dead hamster.

I was locked up for a week without evaluation or need to human traffic me for medical billing purposes.

I have been in some way harassed or jangled every year during the anniversary of the week I was abducted, taken, held, gone, dead, murdered, in Catholic Siberia, St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward, February 22-28, 2013, due to the Land of Motown community college sexist suicide Gaslight witchhunt. 

Facebook Memories helped me see this fact that I documented on Facebook.  

As if to purposely mark every year February 22-28 rolls around, since Bill Schuette targeted me in 2015, either I have been graced by unnecessary welfare checks, like the one in 2018, forced to defend myself in probate court against home seizure due to owed back taxes and hassled by the District Health Department #10 as in 2017, and/or kicked off social media by trolls, as happened often. 

Every year up north at Lake Miramichi the occasion was marked with outside harassment.

My attackers don’t want peace like I do.

~ * ~

Mail date: 3/15/18

Notice to Appear: March 23, 2018

Rearrainment / entry of plea

My lawyer did not spend much time talking me out of a trial.

Because he avoided me.

When I finally got him on the phone, he told me I had to take a plea deal.

He said the prosecutor would not budge.

Budge from what?

~ * ~

Oh gawd.

I just found a news report stating that the year I was arrested was the prosecutor’s first year on the job.

Fu-u-u-uh-uhhck. (edit later)

A new prosecutor, in a poor white conservative middle of nowhere county.

A new prosecutor, with something to prove.

~ * ~

The Press: “Badovinac said emphasis for 2018 will include the curtailing of property crimes, and putting a check on the use of illegal drugs. He encourages neighbors to look out for each other and points out nearly 70 percent of all successful  prosecutions come from citizens reporting of unusual activities.”

Whether citizens are telling the truth or lying when they report ‘unusual activities’ or acting in retaliation, the new prosecutor did not show concern, not in my case.

~ * ~

Well, this news does give my court appointed attorney a better excuse for not knowing which political party to which the prosecutor belonged.

~ * ~

Feeling self-righteous.

My white male court appointed attorney had a facial tick.

The white male prosecuting attorney sounded like he gargled razor blades and acid while inhaling helium.

But I’m the one with the brown fizzy hair they keep locking up!

~ * ~

Details and meaningful communication were scarce between me and my court appointed lawyer.

Mostly I dealt with his gatekeeper.

She became the guard, the moat and the flame thrower as I tried to enter the castle.

~ * ~

Eventually, my court appointed attorney changed his appraisal of my case again.

And he began speaking to me again, briefly.

~ * ~

My court appointed attorney began talking up how great a plea deal would be, before we ever discussed how a trial might proceed, which never happened.

By the end of a probationary year, which sounded like a long time to me, my court appointed attorney promised the judge might erase everything, or reduce my charge to disturbing the peace.

Yeah, right.

His spiel was not believable, but I had no leverage or recourse.

~ * ~

I had one meeting with my lawyer prior to Friday March 23, 2017, my next required court appearance.

Sitting in his office for the only time, I took notes.

~ * ~

My court appointed attorney’s body language was abhorrent.

My court appointed attorney’s bedside manor was abhorrent.

Meanwhile, the gatekeeper was smiling and nice.

Academy award level performance?

~ * ~

I came with a list of questions.

My court appointed attorney processed me rather than meaningfully address my concerns.

~ * ~

My court appointed attorney was cold, brisk, and pretty much abrasive as I tried to get my concerns addressed and questions answered.

He was evasive and instead aimed to sell the plea deal while trying not to appear evasive, cold, brisk and abrasive.

~ * ~

I had my back up against the wall.

I noticed my court appointed attorney’s behavior, took paper and mental notes, was impressed by his poor demeanor, but I had to file my worry behind my hope.

He never answered my question about what words I could and could not use online about my story going forward under probation, if I took the plea deal.

I tried. I tried. I tried.

I tried to establish the clearest understanding going forward, about words that were okay with the court and where the line was that they wanted to draw, about what I could say and what I could not say, as I talked about my larger story.

But my court appointed lawyer continued to ignore my story.

He continued to ignore the full female client before him.

I told him I would need to keep talking, keep telling my story, keep redressing the government, keep using my right to free speech, to save my life from the Land of Motown Community College sexist mind rape witchhunt, so I needed answers and clear shared guidelines.

The only term he suggested, at another point, I think, was “minion,” as in the ‘many minions’ of my Larry Nassar, William MacQueen.

If I have used that word, “minion,” it was because of my court appointed attorney’s suggestion.

~ * ~

According to the local press in Cadillac, no big surprise the cliche about court appointed attorneys being under-paid and overworked is accurate.

In this January 2018 article published two weeks before my early sentencing court date, the Osceola County prosecutor who “would not budge” in negotiations with my court appointed attorney, admitted the negative affect of a court-appointed attorney on an indigent person’s defense.

Based on the Osceola County prosecutor’s calculations admitted in the article, that anyone who does not admit fault in the system is lying, the Wexford County prosecutor lied to the press when he said, “I honestly believe public defenders do the best they can based on their resources.”

What nonsense, like seeing unicorns.

Was someone running for office?

The Wexford County prosecutor claimed, “It is the client who elects to plead guilty or go to trial. Public defenders serve their clients well regardless of profit. Public defenders are public servants because they, like prosecutors, believe in the mission.”

Welcome to Donald Trump’s Huge Age of Lying.

~ * ~

I don’t think my body was required on March 23, 2018.

I am trying to recall my body inside the court room.

I don’t think it happened.

~ * ~

I mentioned that when I was arrested, Michigan State Police Norma Naylor found a pot pipe in my pocket, as I was being booked.

Ironically, at that point I was smoking shake of shake of shake, of some homegrown pot, that was grown a couple years before, downstate, with almost no THC.

I asked my lawyer to consider the fact that I was found with a pipe, not pot.

But my lawyer sucked.

And the prosecutor was trying to prove he had steel balls. (edit later)

The Osceola County prosecutor is smiling in The Press newspaper picture, but I never saw him smile in my presence.

~ * ~

As part of the plea deal that forced on me, the new prosecutor erased my misdemeanor pot charge, about a year before pot became legal, when actually, I was not found with pot.

My pipe was empty.

~ * ~

As a former English and writer, I give these people, in the court and related offices, very low grades for the documents they create.

Of course, it does not say anywhere officially that I was not actually found with pot.

It does not say anywhere that I was only found with an empty pipe.

The pipe was not scientifically tested.

Nor was it returned to me!

(That’s a joke, by the way.)

~ * ~

Ironically, on probation, I was allowed to obtain and renew my expired medical marijuana card and smoke pot, which took some doing, but I persevered.

~ * ~

Here’s what happened, I think, instead of a court room meeting between me and Booher on March 23, 2018.

On March 29, 2018, in exchange for me ‘accepting’ a forced plea deal and a downgraded stalking charge, felony turned to misdemeanor, the Osceola County prosecutor signed a motion of nolle prosequi, meaning, Google tells me, “refuse to pursue.”

How cloying.

~ * ~

Painfully, as part of the plea deal I was forced into, I was required to report to the Osceola County corrections department and fill out a very long questionnaire.

The Michigan Department of Corrections took my responses and spat out a biased summary.

Writing Grade: NGY.

No Grade Yet.

Revise or fail the course!

~ * ~

The guy who had wanted to tether me when I was released from jail worked in the building where I sat and filled out the tedious questionnaire.

~ * ~

The questionnaire contained stupid questions like ‘if someone angers you, do you feel you have the right to physically hurt them in response?’

~ * ~

Through the duration of my servitude to this stupid questionnaire, the grumpy tether guy got up from his desk, went outside and had a cigarette very frequently, many times per hour.

~ * ~

I was very uncomfortable and soon very pissed off sitting in a folding chair getting re-traumatized by stupid invasive questions about my family, my work history, stupid invasive questions about my personality, and extensive coverage of my entire stupid life.

Pages and pages and pages I was asked to address in pencil.

Many more pages than the many pages of re-ordered summary prepared by the Michigan Corrections Department.

~ * ~

This is all still so very painful.

~ * ~

I am reminded by reviewing this Michigan Department of Corrections summary that my court appointed lawyer down played the amount of potential jail time attached to the charge I had agreed to plea to, agreed to through an uneasy game of telephone, not any court appearances: I had agreed against my will to a possible two and half years in jail, which was a surprise to me.

~ * ~

Immediately, I asked my lawyer to get a copy of my actual responses to the stupid invasive Michigan Department of Corrections questionnaire, which never transpired.

The Michigan Department of Corrections said “No!”

The summary they created greatly downplayed my story about the Land of Motown Community College sexist mind rape witch hunt.

~ * ~

Who the fuck, based on what, decided I had a history of substance abuse? (edit)

Paula Garver, supervisor, who I have never met, decided I had a history of substance abuse, according to this fourteen page document.

The Michigan Department of Corrections report suggested I was restricted from ‘contacting’ Land of Motown Lying Cop #2 and his lying wife.

I never ‘contacted’ those assholes!!!!!!!!!! (edit later)

Later, on probation in Bay City, I will lose my job at Delta College over this issue of what constitutes “contact.”

I will lose my voice on social media, which helped me deal with all the many strong negative emotions, over this issue of what constitutes “contact.”

I will be threatened with jail and forced to consider all my options about how to proceed, over this issue of what constitutes “contact.” .

~ * ~

The following brain fucking from the Michigan Department of Corrections, in 2017, on top of brain fucking at St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward February 22-28, 2013, on top of brain fucking by Land of Motown Community College hack shrinks in 2012, is not okay.

(Today is the first day of public impeachment hearings regarding the deplorable actions of Bad King Ttrump. Republican Devin Nunes is making me sick with his misleading rhetoric designed for Fox News sound bites. I am having a very tough time. I am breaking down. edit later)

The Michigan Department of Corrections used a point system.

I never used a point system in the classroom.

I used concept based letter grades instead.

And all written work could be revised an unlimited amount of times for a higher grade.

The Michigan Department of Corrections wanted to put me on probation for a year or put me in jail for more time, to total three months, if I read this report correctly.

~ * ~

Mail date: 3/23/18

Notice to Appear: May 18, 2018

For sentencing.

Since my lawyer was useless and I was poor without a car, I had no choice but to take a vague plea deal.

But this date didn’t happen either.

Court delay.

~ * ~

On May 14, 2018, I mailed an extensive cover letter and pounds of documentation to numerous state officials, desperate for my real story to get out.

I mailed packets to government officials in the state governor’s and attorney general’s offices.

I mailed a packet to the Speaker of the Michigan House, who was supposedly interested in improving mental health care.

I mailed packets to the Michigan State Police and DHHS.

And I mailed packets to the press, in state and nationally.

~ * ~

Until now, my story telling in search of justice has been piecemeal, both advocacy and diary, angry and calm, and perhaps hard to grasp.

And I have been ignored, like the trumpeting elephant in the room.

~ * ~

The packets I mailed to press and government contained documents including police reports posted in this narration, which I accessed through the Freedom of information Act.

~ * ~

Use of the Freedom of Information Act helped me find definitive proof that Land of Motown Lying Cop and his wife lied under oath.

~ * ~

FOIA and the Open Meetings Act are extremely important. 

Michigan FOIA laws are among the weakest in the nation.   

As well, Michigan scores poorly regarding the ethics of elected officials, who have blocked new legislation to include all lawmakers within FOIA laws.

The Center for Public Integrity recently featured Judge Kimberly Booher and her former state senator father as the cover photo for an article on conflicts of interest and lack of integrity.

Father lawmaker voted to give daughter judge a raise, after saying he would recuse himself.

He lied.

~ * ~

Mail Date: 5/18/18

Notice to Appear: June 1, 2018

Sentencing, rescheduled.

As I recall, the last time I had seen Judge Booher was a over a year before at the the bogus PPO hearing on May 8, 2017.

~ * ~

I showed up at the 49th District Court on June 1, 2018.

To my surprise, I saw lots of children in the courtroom and Judge Tyler Thompson presiding.

~ * ~

Previously, Judge Tyler Thompson had denied a request to give me more time to pay back taxes and later refused to let me speak in probate court when the deal to sell the Lake Miramichi lakehouse cabin was made official.

~ * ~

Judge Tyler Thompson and the children were discussing the behavior of Goldilocks during a mock trial.

Elementary students had bumped 49th District Court action to the Osceola County Building probate court a few building down the same street as courthouse and jail.

There’s definitely a rejoinder or a metaphor here.

Were any females invited to play judge or lawyer, one wonders looking at these pictures?

~ * ~

I came to court prepared to read a statement, a very long statement, the back up of nearly a year not be allowed to speak.

I have heard that most defendants are not encouraged to speak in their own defense.

This was not a trial.

There was reason to hold in one’s heart contempt and distrust for the proceedings.

I read most of my very long statement, until Judge Booher interrupted me.

She reprimanded me.

She said something about not letting people take a plea deal who believe they are not guilty.

Which sounds like total bullshit. (may edit later)

The 49th District Court does not have time to hear all cases and must push people into plea deals, and I was pushed into a plea deal.

~ * ~

Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2 and his lying wife were present in court on June 1, 2018, but lying husband got up and walked out leaving lying wife alone in the court room while I read my very long statement.

Lying wife sat there alone looking exposed.

And guilty.

I turned and look at her eye to eye to apologize for saying Jesus should rape her too online, if that truly hurt or scared her (which I honestly doubt), but I added she should not have lied about what happened.

She turned her head away.

~ * ~

Two documents labeled “Order Delaying Sentence” were mailed to me.

This second follow-up “Order Delaying Sentence” allows medical marijuana.

add Chapter: Rocky Ballerina Springs Little Witchie From Jail

Up north, I created the adult imaginary friends Super Mary, Tutu Jesus, Little Ira and Wicked Witchie to help me handle my adult thoughts.

At the same time, because my witchunt story took me back to my childhood, which was overrun with forced Catholicism.

In part, my story has infantilized me, so during this lakehouse cabin period also I created a child character.

Rocky Ballerina.

Go ahead and make connections.

~ * ~

As an adult, heading quickly for my doddering old age, I was inspired in part by my neighbor Jim and a swing he hung for his children.

I watched his kids play and wanted all kids to have green lawn, trees, a swing looking over a lake, space to play in the sand and water, and the free time to find frogs.

Rocky was born in the spring of 2016, during my first year up north, during my first spring, before the Democratic presidential primary, when Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders were duking it out.

Miraculously, Hunter, Louie and I had lived through our first winter.

Swans ushered in the season.

Super Mary visited Rocky Ballerina when she was young, when she was suppose to be in bed asleep, but instead Rocky was dreaming.

Super Mary took Rocky Ballerina flying around the universe with Jesus and a funky priest to go see God while a space ship watched.

I was trying to strike peace in my own way.

The pope’s people did not think I was funny.

Catholics love a crucifixion.

They don’t want peace with me.

But Rocky was not deterred.

~ * ~

After jail, I needed Rocky’s goodness and unadulterated power.

How could I use Rocky to help me with my plight?

I wrote and illustrated a children’s book retelling my story through metaphor, on a child’s level, minus anger, with a message or two.

I had come to understand the denigrated fairy tale witch too well.

I saw how sexism created the crone.

And I wanted to free the trope of the ugly inside and out old lonely woman.

Rocky Ballerina Springs Little Witchie From Jail was created.

Chapter: Losing the Lakehouse

I tried to keep the lakehouse cabin, for which their was no mortgage, but failed.

Without a car or income, I was doomed.

At the last possible minute, a Good Samaritan from the Evart business community paid my back taxes.

When Fuzzy, the local real estate agent sold the house, the Good Samaritan would be repaid.

Everyone wanted me gone.

~ * ~

I had to clean the place and allow to have it showed.

I had to obtain a driver’s licence again.

My previous license had expired.

I had to buy a car, which is difficult to do without a car.

I ended up buying a 2002 Ford Explorer, which was built before 9/11.

~ * ~

I had to find a place to live.

I had to get a job to get probation off my back, or try, and I had to get a job because everyone who is not independently wealthy needs a job.

I had to figure out where to go, in which direction to move, and what to do next.

I felt like I was being tarred and feathered, run out of town, again.

I had to accept state sanctioned dog whipping, negotiate and scramble all summer long, like I had been doing one way or another ever since the onset of William MacQueen, April 13, 2012.

~ * ~

Fuzzy, the real estate agent, found a buyer willing to pay asking price, which seems lucky, but also made me suspicious.

How often does someone make a full asking price offer?

I discovered the buyer was from Oakland County, which did not sit well with me.

~ * ~

Because I was still trying to get a job and have a definitive direction in which to move, I needed to not move out when the buyer wanted me out.

As a result, because my name was not on any mortgage, I was evicted.

But I moved out before the court date.

I moved out and left the Lake Miramichi lakehouse cabin before my birthday, at the end of August.

~ * ~

I had no choice but to say goodbye to the lakehouse cabin passed to me through my dead husband from his parents, who I never met.

More loss.

Another house worth less than 100K taken due to outside attack.

Leaving the house was hard.

Leaving the land was harder.

~ * ~

Things only get worse after Jesus rape in still sexist corrupt Michigan, America.

~ * ~

That summer, I had resurrected my civil rights protest signs, what was left of my signs, those that weren’t stolen while I was in jail.

Despite the sale of the lakehouse cabin, I resurrected my civil rights protest signs for the same reasons that I painted and erected them in the first place.

To maintain my constant fight for justice and to create a barrier between me and cold cruel world.

~ * ~

To mark the end, I burned the remaining the signs.

And of course I took pictures.

Part one.

Burning down the house.

Part Two.

Burning down the house.

My favorite civil rights protest signs had been stolen, so I don’t have a shot of a hand painted Statute of Liberty or Felician nun on fire.

The signs stolen include my main signs naming witchchunt players, the school, my two-time suicide swatter, Terry McCauley, my Larry Nassar, William MacQueen, the human resources attorney who planned and executed my murder in order to silence me.

Also signs were stolen that named the attorney general Bill Schuette and Governor Rick Snyder.

Bill Schuette protected my criminal attackers instead of me, officially, documented, for political gain.

Rick Snyder knew but kept quiet.

Land of Motown Lying Cop #2 had named William MacQueen and Terry McCauley under oath during the PPO court hearing as he and his wife lied.

I would not be surprised if that proud crooked cop was connected to the theft of my signs.

Neighbors at Lake Miramichi never asked me about what they might demand government investigation.

“Thank you” plus Michigan geographical symbol the mitten became “help” after a neighbor sobered up and reneged on a check she gave me to buy the two scooters.

Part three.

What one does without a television.

Burning down the house.

The finale.

~ * ~

Goodbye. Goodbye. Thank you so much. Goodbye.

~ * ~

I cleaned and emptied the place in good faith.

Though I stayed a little longer than the new owner wanted, I left for him my favorite saw and gardening tools like shovels in the shed.

I wrote a letter giving a brief only good stuff history of the house and its owners.

House empty, car packed with Hunter and Louie, the dog and bird, I printed the letter and tacked it to the wall, threw the printer in the car and took off without looking back.

~ * ~

I passed the lakehouse cabin to the next family as best I could.

I was sad, but resigned, in the end without malice for strangers who paid the asking price, a grandfather, a widower, with grown offspring and grand children.

Goodbye and good luck, Triple-tree!

Grow tall, big and strong. I so wanted to watch and help you grow. I hope the new owner hasn’t cut you down.

Thank you, eternally, for your sentry.

~ * ~

Like they use to say in yoga, and Deepak still says during free meditation sessions, namaste.

Grace has not always stayed with me, but I am not a bad person.

Chapter: Dog Whipped on Probation: Return to Class at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College Cut Short by Land of Motown Community College, the Osceola County Prosecutor, the MDOC and Judge Booher

When it served power to say I was crazy, without cause, they locked me up in a looney bin, “looney bin” named after the wardens. 

When it served power to say I was a criminal, they chained me and whipped me best as they could, in and out of jail. 

~ * ~

Frankly, objectively, I would say the jail warden did a better, more stand up job than the looney bin wardens.

~ * ~ 

The legal system dog whipped me on both bond and probation. 

Probation delayed began June 1, 2018.

~ * ~

I really don’t think I could have made it through probation without additional problems with the court.

For whatever reasons, by whichever hands, I don’t think I was treated fairly.

~ * ~

Things began as best they could between me and my parole agent.

In her office, when I was required to make an appearance, I did so and she was sympathetic and supportive, but things broke down after I moved out of the county and physical meetings ceased.

~ * ~

On June 15, 2018, my probation was amended to allow some use of the internet in order to conduct necessary activities.

My probation officer in effect acted as lawyer to arbitrate with the judge on my behalf.

~ * ~

The original sweeping denial of all internet access did not bother to consider the over-reach of denying all access to the internet.

Possession of a device that connects to the internet, such as a phone, is necessary to conduct personal business.

My free Obama phone (sorry Mr. President, but his term allows me to use your name) could connect to the internet.

To apply for jobs, one must use the internet.

To do just about anything, one needs the internet.

The local authorities delayed my bond then rushed and skimped on the terms of my plea deal.

~ * ~

They were trying to silence and crush me.

It’s still hurts so fucking much. (edit later)

~ * ~

I was required to see my probation officer every two weeks, while all the lying, harassing and misused cops in my story, from Livonia, Garden City, Michigan State Police, Mecosta and Osceola counties, were supported and protected in their lies and harassment.

I was required while all my attackers connected to February 22-28, 2013, from the school, Livonia Police and the Catholic hospital, were free of restrictions on their liberty.

I could feel them all gloating.

I still do.

~ * ~

During these very upsetting visits with my probation officer, waiting in the waiting room, I saw some of the other jailbirds waiting, too, with whom I did time.

We didn’t talk.

~ * ~

So far, I’ve done a lousy job saving my own life. 

Telling my story over and over without justice kills me as much as living my story, but it’s necessary.

Just like my dead husband feared, due to William MacQueen’s attack on my life, I lost both his houses, first the house in Garden City, secondly the lakehouse cabin in Evart, Michigan. 

I did hold out and walk away with a little start up cash, but things just keep getting stranger and worse.

I barely have resources for food and shelter to last another two months at this point, November 2019.

My criminal record and story are preventing me from getting even minimum wage jobs, despite my masters degree.

~ * ~ 

Somehow, in a new town, in yet another Michigan town, in August 2018, putting away my Jeremiah Johnson/Little House on the Prairie garb, at least part time, for about two and half months, I was hired to teach community college composition courses again, after a six-year hiatus. 

That’s unbelievable, considering my protest voice and social media accounts blaring the truth of illegal looney bin lock and my reasonable rage regarding metaphoric Jesus rape. 

~ * ~

My placement did not feel safe, but I showed up to teach every day I was required at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten State Community College, four days a week, teaching fourteen credits, I think.

~ * ~

I did not feel secure. 

Each day required waking through water, occasionally on water. 

But I did it. 

It was working. 

Rough around the edges, but students were learning. 

~ * ~

Still, I figured students could see through my flimsy act. 

I was not alright. 

I was shaky. 

Not like I was accused of being shaky, like unstable, instead I felt out of shape and insecure, beaten shaky. 

~ * ~

I was older and dumpier.  I had been way out of the picture.  I didn’t have work clothes.

~ * ~

Like a spy, I was living a double life.  I knew I would be found out.

~ * ~

The back channel network that had been following me since 2012, followed me to Bay City.

Of course.

~ * ~

On September 11, 2018, my probation officer announced that Judge Booher had lifted all internet restrictions.

No motion had been filed to request this action, so why did a busy judge make this sweeping move?

Am I right about the ongoing active back channel network working me?

Who did petition Booher?

Someone other than my probation officer?

~ * ~

This move to free my sharp tongue sometimes wild voice sounded like a set up.

I am pretty sure the paper trial and this plot point say “set up.”

~ * ~

It didn’t take long for a campus cop to sniff me out.

Two days later.

Two days after Booher signed the motion to open up my internet access.

September 13, 2018.

Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College cop Michael Jarabek harassed me in the school parking lot, after I taught my last class for the week.

~ * ~ 

I know, this story is tiresome.  I’m exhausted. 

I doubt anyone even reads this far. 

I am not crazy out of my mind unable to reason.

~ * ~

I know through FOIA that the cop, who happens to look like a little like Joe Biden, did not record our interaction on his police log. 

Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College cop Michael Jarabek’s log from September 13, 2018 records no interaction with me around 5 pm.

But at 5:20 pm he did record interaction with other people nearby in the parking lot.

The Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College dispatch log shows that the president of the college asked Micheal Jarabek to check out other “suspicious” individuals standing in the B parking lot at 5:20 pm.

Reflection, analysis, editorial summary.

Mafia-style, with a smile, Michael Jarabek gave me a message without using direct words: we know about you, you won’t be here long, so don’t get comfortable.

~ * ~

That was September 13, early in the fall semester. 

~ * ~

Like the “suspicious” characters reported by the college president, I was parked in same area, where B parking lot met C parking lot, part of the contiguous parking area that circled the campus.

Let me state now that although I was treated badly, I thought the school was a good place for students, from what I saw in my brief time.

~ * ~

On September 13, 2018, right after I was harassed with a smile by Michael Jarabek, for no good reason, I texted my probation officer because I was required to report all police contact. 

Yes, I have screen shots.

~ * ~

Things only get worse.

This is the exact point at which relations between me and my probation officer broke down.

There’s no way the timing is simply a coincidence.

~ * ~

I’m feeling more calm and fair minded today, so I will add that if the Michigan Department of Corrections twisted justice out of shape, I would assume the directive did not come from the bottom of the chain of command.

~ * ~

Close up. Magnifying glass.

Strangely, according to my dated records, I did not discover Judge Booher’s September 11, 2018 motion to open up my internet access in my e-mail from my probation officer Michelle Gebben until after Inside the Thumb Mid Michigan Community College cop Michael Jarabek harassed me with a smile two days later on September 13, 2018.

I did not discover Judge Booher’s September 11, 2018 order until way after the fact.

It wasn’t until October 1, 2018, that I received an e-mail from my probation officer Michelle Gebben notifying me of the September 11, 2018 change, over two weeks later.

Why such timing?

Because of my difficulty accessing the internet?

For a while I had to use the public library.

No. I double checked. E-mail notification was not sitting and waiting for me.

Notification didn’t arrive in my e-mail until October 1.

~ * ~

Did my text message to my probation officer move the back channel network working against me, which I surmise existed in some form, to set me up with free internet access, as a precursor to a bogus accusation of probation violation?

~ * ~

Now the court wants to suddenly completely un-silence me?

That’s what I thought when I saw the September 11, 2018 motion.

I’m like the mouse drawn to cheese in a mouse trap, I thought immediately.

Immediately, I smelled a rat, as I told my probation officer through e-mail.

Unlike Donald Trump, who is supported by followers for witness tampering, I was cautioned against vague “threatening” and “intimidating behavior.”

E-mail chains are difficult and annoying to follow.

But I want to make clear the strange delay and timing here, the sudden release of my internet restriction minus a motion from my legal defense, mixed in with Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College odd harassment from cop Michael Jarabek.

My longer reply to Michelle Gebben regarding the suspicious un-silencing shows how shaky I felt in the world.

The world which does not listen to me about what was done to my body February 22-28, 2013.

I made absolutely clear my consistent refrain: the complainant from Land of Motown Community College and his wife lied in 2017, as part of bad faith action connected through however many links back to my illegal looney bin lock up in 2013.

~ * ~

No surprise at all.

My unrestricted internet access did not last for long.

I knew it wouldn’t.

~ * ~

For this period, I need to create a timeline of dates, though I did not always receive information on the day it was generated.

Officials seem to delay release of information as part of bad faith tactics.

~ * ~

Timeline of Events: Losing Internet Access Again, Being Pulled from the Classroom Again and Early Sentencing thanks to a Hitler-Loving Internet Troll

On or about October 13, 2018, my probation officer says I violated my probation by posting “about” the complainant, which I discovered through a October 17, 2018 motions and summons regarding probation violation.

I reviewed my Twitter posts and could find nothing objectionable.

(add examples)

On October 17, 2018, my probation officer went before Judge Booher who signed a motions and summon regarding an alleged probation violation.

On October 17, 2018, my probation officer accused me of violating probation online in an undated Michigan Department of Corrections report, which was faxed to my Bay City criminal defense attorney on December 10, 2018. No evidence was ever presented to support the October 17, 2018 claim that I violated probation because no probation violation hearing was ever held.

On October 20, 2018, in the mail I received the October 17, 2018 summons to appear in the 49th District Court on November 2, 2018, about an alleged probation violation in a social media post that was never presented, a ghost post. My probation officer refused to indicate the post in question, and my Bay city criminal defense attorney never got a chance to ask her.

On October 29, 2018, according to the same undated Michigan Department of Corrections report, which was faxed to my Bay City criminal defense attorney on December 10, 2018, a police officer from Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Mid Michigan Community College contacted the Michigan Department of Corrections. However, in contrast to hearsay in the report, it is very unlikely students, unless they were police student bad actors, which is possible, contacted the campus police about my never-discussed-in-class social media accounts. Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Mid Michigan Community College refuses to answer questions about its behavior.

On November 2, 2018, no probation hearing was held, but I lost internet access.

On November 6, 2018 Bill Schuette, who had previously gone out of his way to deny me equal protection and retaliate with Michigan State Police, lost the election for governor of Michigan to Democrat Gretchen Whitmer.

On November 7, 2018, the next day, I was removed from the classroom at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College without cause, in retaliation, I believe it is fair and reasonable to say.

On November 11, 2018, my probation officer said in her undated report faxed to my Bay City criminal defense attorney on December 10, 2018, she “was able to obtain the defendant’s Facebook Messenger where it shows the defendant communicating with another subject on Facebook Messenger. This screen shot also shows the defendant engaged in five other conversations between November 12-17. These conversations would be violations of the defendants probation and the reason for the request for the immediate sentencing.” How did she acquire access to my Facebook Messenger? The only possibilities are hack or troll, right? A real person did not contact me on Facebook Messenger and then contact the authorities, as screen shots I took show. Furthermore, Michelle Gebben’s timeline as presented is nonsensical. Does she have some sort of internet crystal ball that can see hack or troll future Facebook Messenger messages?

On November 21, 2018, I was terminated from Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College, without cause, in retaliation.

Also on November 21, 2018, the day I was terminated, suspiciously, the Osceola County prosecutor went before Judge Booher to ask for immediate sentencing in my case, to terminate, also, my probation and punish me.

On November 27, 2018, in the mail, I received another notice to appear in the 49th District Court, on December 14, 2018, for immediate sentencing on delay of sentence–a punishment, not a gift.

On December 12, 2018, a stipulation and order to adjourn sentencing was signed by the judge, the prosecutor and my Bay City criminal defense attorney because my lawyer and his wife were having a baby.

Also, on December 12, 2018, the 49th District Court generated and mailed to me a notice to appear on January 25, 2019 for sentencing, rescheduled from December 14, 2018.

Also, on December 12, 2018, my probation officer finally faxed the undated Michigan Department of Corrections report to my Bay City criminal defense attorney, which discussed my entire probation period.

Spoiler: On January 25, 2019, Judge Booher arranged what would happen in advance with all parties but me. I was not allowed to speak. I was given a stalking misdemeanor, no jail time. My lawyer told me they wanted to jail me badly, which I sensed.

Spoiled: The stalking misdemeanor is preventing me for obtaining needed work with an income.

~ * ~

Does this timeline suggest back channel bad faith connection targeting me in action?

I think it does.

~ * ~

Breakdown of the Timeline of Events: Losing Internet Access Again, Being Pulled from the Classroom Again and Early Sentencing thanks to a Hitler-Loving Internet Troll.

Bogus probation violation accusation, dated October 17, 2018.

Count 1-Violation of Condition 29, Special Condition 4.5: You must not have verbal, written, electronic, or physical contact with the complainant and his wife either directly or through another person and you must not be within 500 feet of their residence, school, or place of employment unless on own property. On or about 10/13/18 you posted on social media about Mr. Complainant.

I was not prohibited from posting “about” anything.

~ * ~

I can’t say enough as I piece together what happened primarily for me: Disturbingly, though officials were happy to suggest otherwise in deceit, no hearing regarding an alleged probation violation with oaths and evidence was held on November 2, 2018.

No “post” was presented as evidence that I crossed some imaginary ill-defined line.

~ * ~

Getting ahead of myself.

But first, I was forced to scramble and worry from October 20 when I received the court hearing notice until the November 2 court date.

~ * ~

I was accused of violating probation but my probation officer would not tell me which post was a problem, which is ridiculous.

Are these people aware or concerned about due process?

~ * ~

Thus began a period of panicked demanding e-mails from me to my probation officer, which all went unanswered.

I won’t share them all, but I need to read them in order to recreate what happened, again, primarily for myself, so I can best advocate for myself.

~ * ~

~ * ~

Wow was I rightfully terrified of more jail time.

I still do not feel safe from additional bogus lock up, not one bit.

~ * ~

I was rightfully terrified of more jail time even before they released me from jail, well before it was clear that Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College had joined the Land of Motown Community College sexist suicide Gaslight witchhunt.

What I witnessed from inside the Osceola Jail, I suspected, was playing out in my life, which is what I anticipated all along.

Once the system had you, it liked to bring you back on probation violations.

Or, if you were targeted, like I think the evidence suggests I was, they could easily bring you back to jail on a probation violation, regardless of the facts.

The Michigan Department of Corrections has more protection from FOIA laws than other government and public agencies in the state, so transparency about what went on behind the scenes is blocked.

~ * ~

Through phone calls to the courthouse and court clerk, I learned that I was not covered by my previous court appointed attorney until after I was perhaps found guilty of a probation violation.

Waiting until I was perhaps found guilty of a probation violation would mean ideally a hearing, but also being jailed, potentially, arraigned, then being appointed a court appointed attorney, either the same one who did not defend me or another one, when it was already too late.

A a non-lawyer, that was one angle to the system I did not anticipate: lack of any kind of legal protection during probation.

~ * ~

I realized I needed to spend money on a local Bay City criminal defense attorney.

~ * ~

I did not have much time.

One does not retain a lawyer easily or quickly just because one needs a lawyer.

~ * ~

I went to one firm I saw advertised on the freeway on which I drove to and from the Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College satellite campus in the Saginaw area.

~ * ~

Inside joke: the original imaginative Saginaw vagina.

~ * ~

No one at that firm could make the court date, so a male lawyer sent me to a second guy, with a little joke to pass along.

I wasn’t to let the second guy charge me more than about three times what he did in fact charge me.

That’s funny.

~ * ~

The second guy had the November 2, 2018 court date available.

The second guy asked me for about three times the amount what the first lawyer said, with a clear smirk, he should charge.

I did not want to spend the money, because I’m cheap and knew my cash resources would run out too soon.

But more so knew I had to have a defense lawyer, so I paid, using proceeds from the sale of the lakehouse cabin.

~ * ~

As I recall, by the time I paid him, there was no time for my new Bay City criminal defense attorney to try and obtain, before the November 2, 2018 court date, the supposed social media post in which I allegedly violated probation.

The 49th District Court refused to share the information, and my new Bay city criminal defense attorney did not seem concerned.

He had my full payment up front.

~ * ~

My Bay City criminal defense attorney was significantly late arriving to court in Reed City, about 90 miles away from Bay City, on November 2, 2018.

~ * ~

I waited inside the 49th District Court room.

I sat in the back row nearest to the door.

I watched the clock strike 9:45 am.

No lawyer.

~ * ~

It was a slow day in court.

The courtroom and waiting room were pretty much empty.

I listened as Booher joked with a guy on probation who had stolen thirty grand and failed to make any payments toward restitution, a he was required.

He did not receive any jail time.

After that guy left, I was the only person in the courtroom except for the court cops.

(add art work of this scene)

~ * ~

My lawyer was almost an hour late.

Apparently, he called the court to inform them he was on his way but he was running late.

When he arrived, my Bay City criminal defense attorney was ushered past me into the judge’s chambers.

~ * ~

I was left alone sitting in the courtroom, watching and listening to the probation officers and cops standing around talking.

Yes, I recall the topic of conversation led by a non-hirsute (bald) white male probation officer who had attended a training session on drunk and drugged driving and really liked the food served, as well as the presentation. He was gung ho about returning the next time the updated science-based training was offered.

I looked at the dead white male judges pictured on the wall.

I could hear the judge, my lawyer, my probation officer and the prosecutor talking and at times laughing inside the judge’s chamber behind a closed door.

Later, when I asked him, my Bay City criminal defense attorney said they were joking about a Michigan State rivalry, or something, which may or may not be the case, I want to add. It’s not an unlikelihood.

In any case, the only thing I could do was wait.

~ * ~

No probation hearing was held.

~ * ~

My Bay City criminal defense attorney emerged from the judge’s chambers.

My Bay City criminal defense attorney and I then went into the jury room, located opposite the judge’s chamber’s, on the other side of the judge’s desk.

We shut the door.

I’m not sure my Bay city criminal defense lawyer sat down.

Maybe he stood at first but I sat down, so he sat down. Maybe.

We weren’t in the jury room for long.

My Bay City criminal defense said I need to sign a piece a paper he held out to me.

The document was presented to me as an agreement, as in I would agree to have my probation terms around social media and internet access curtailed, largely cut off except for work.

Did they know I would soon be fired? I wouldn’t be surprised.

I said again to my Bay City criminal defense attorney that I didn’t violate probation, but my Bay City criminal defense attorney smiled and shook his head, in his way, kind of like a fair skinned curious George, which is not an insult from me.

He said it was sign or go to jail.

He said I was lucky they were willing to negotiate anything less than jail time.

Here is what I signed and agreed to without much choice:

Add: 1 09.04 “The defendant is allowed to use the internet and e-mail for work related activities, such as locating classroom materials (i.e. literature for the lessons, Youtube for the lessons), correspondence with co-workers, students, and any other internet based work programs (employment related such as pay, on-line relate materials or work related requests). Defendant is not allowed to post, comment or create anything on social media forums (Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, etc.).”

Was this Petition and Order for Amendment of Order of Probation document with the added restriction written, created, printed on November 2, 2018, while we waited for my attorney to arrive, or in advance?

I presume my lawyer did not watch it being typed.

~ * ~

Driving home from Osceola County to Bay County, not in jail, I did not feel safe.

I felt fucked over. (may edit later)

I reviewed what had happened.

My lawyer did not push effectively enough on my behalf, even after I paid him.

I knew I did not have enough money to pay for more time on legal tasks, to pay for better defense, like I needed.

~ * ~

It felt good and I felt revealed not being in jail, of course, but I knew I was not anywhere near in the clear.

~ * ~

I knew that even as nice a guy as my Bay City Criminal defense lawyer is, that likely he did not realize his own limitations, his own sexism.

I tried to prepare him to defend me, but I don’t think he believed me at first when I told him that someone is after me and that mine was not a routine case.

He may not agree.

Because he later agreed that someone is after me.

Someone is after you, he explained eventually.

Which is what they call mansplaining, technically.

I knew someone was after me, which is what I told him when we first spoke.

Land of Motown Community College had been after me since 2012, collecting more complicit bad actors along the way, like the movie It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad World.

~ * ~

It was crazy.

I was told I was violating probation, but not told how or shown in which post.

~ * ~

After court, I realized it was a mistake for my Bay City criminal defense attorney to not obtain the supposed social media post in question.

~ * ~

At some point prior to the November 2, 2018 court appearance, my old e-mails remind me, my probation officer told me that someone had phone called the prosecutor’s office about my social media posts.

I guess my probation officer told me on the phone that someone called the prosecutor about my social media posts because she did not answer my e-mails.

No, she told me in person, after court, when I completed my monthly check in.

~ * ~

Did an internet troll call the prosecutor?

Was it the lying complainant or his lying wife?

That’s my top bet.

But I will never find out.

~ * ~

November 2018.

I was really shaky at this point.

Both my own story and the larger story of life in the United States were building to a new level of overwhelming.

I was very disturbed by the U.S. Supreme Court hearings regarding the nomination of Brett Kavanuagh, as well as the killing of Saudi Arabia journalist Jamal Khashoggi.

Not another conservative Catholic U.S. Supreme Court justice credibly accused of sexual misconduct and a lack of respect for women.

The global murder of journalists is also an extremely disturbing trend.

I do not say lightly that I am being silenced like a journalist in a third world county.

My Michigan, America is a third world country.

~ * ~

I find it so unsettling in my isolation to watch the world big picture via Google News and NPR to see corruption and demagoguery eroding democracy in the United States, and closed-minded, short-sighted populism destabilizing places like the Philippines and Great Britain.

To face jail time during this period of world happenings in order to silence me was and remains deeply terrifying.

How to be crushed on display in American by Americans gracefully?

~ * ~

I surmise Land of Motown Community College contacted Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten State Community College.

~ * ~ 

Coincidence?

Less than a week after my November 2, 2018 court appearance in which no probation hearing was held, so I never got to see what post was supposedly objectionable, after I was silenced online, I was pulled from the building, removed from the classroom, before a nine am class at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten State Community College, well, actually the satellite campus in Saginaw, where students were perhaps much less likely to ask question and complain.

Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College didn’t let me finish teaching the semester.

The school felt I was such a threat it would better to disrupt the coursework of four sections worth of students rather than to keep dangerous me around.

~ * ~

It still blows my mind and hurts so much.

There are too many coincidences in my story.

On the same day the state attorney general Bill Schuette was not dead (because of course I had no intention of killing him, as I was questioned in 2015), and on the same day he did not wake up to a win the election to become governor of Michigan–six years to the calendar date that I was pulled from the classroom at Land of Motown Community College, November 7, 2012, the exact calendar date, six years later, November 7, 2018–I was pulled from the classroom at Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten State Community College.

~ * ~

That’s not rain. That’s my brain splattered everywhere.

~ * ~

I was pulled from the classroom again. 

Again, nothing had happened. 

And again Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten State Community College did not feel the need to supply any real reason, just general mumbo-jumbo of the human resource trade.

Written by a lawyer out to do no good with verbal trickery, paid for by tax payer and student funds.

~ * ~

I was required to inform my probation officer of all such changes in my life, so I e-mailed her.

~ * ~ 

Vague unnamed concerns.

William MacQueen’s playbook.

~ * ~

The amount of character assassination I have endured is overwhelming, over and over, overwhelming.

I mean, I feel like I’m second in line after major female politicians for hate directed at me by name, but I enjoy none of the benefits of women like Hillary Clinton and Nancy Pelosi.

I am dirt under the doormat.

It’s very difficult to imagine anything but falling down the cracks for me.

~ * ~

It’s also very difficult to imagine that students told their parents about the name of their English teacher, then looked on Twitter together to see if perhaps my Twitter account was objectionable.

I definitely did not talk to students about my story or my Twitter account.

It was not the business of Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College to police my probation.

This termination letter is a mess of lies and crossing lines.

Writing grade: F

Failure for lack of integrity.

In turn, I suspend the school.

~ * ~

At this point, I’ve been murdered and ripped apart and left alone in my zombie existence so many times, I really should have either:

1) become suicidal,

2) dropped dead of a fatal heart attack or aneurism or

3) been shot dead on one of too many bogus police welfare checks. 

All because of mental health care, bogus, criminal mental health care.

~ * ~  

I saw on Facebook a Japanese manga image of a character knocked down on the ground, in grim black and grey, crawling forward to sew himself back together. 

The image imprinted itself on my mind like a tattoo.

I know the feeling.

~ * ~

You really can’t imagine my pain, like I can’t imagine yours, though we can try. 

At the same time, I forget my own strength. 

You too? 

~ * ~

I wrote that line about strength six months ago, when homelessness and joblessness were less pressing concerns. I feel very weak this week, listening to the impeachment hearings. The rhetoric of Devin Nunes is making me sick due to its trickery designed for sound bites on Fox News.

~ * ~

When my probation officer released her report on December 10, 2018, I found out that the latest hit against me was worse than just being removed again from the classroom like a plague or victim of leprosy.

A lawyer for Inside of the Thumb Mitten State Community College contacted the Michigan Department of Corrections. 

The school tried to have me jailed on bogus accusations of probation violations.

So I would not smear the college’s name.

Then they removed me from the classroom.

Then they fired me.

And they were not open to reconsidering their mistakes, in contrast to the termination letter clearly written by a lawyer.

Me, now a two time de-classroomed writing teacher. 

Two all girl Catholic high schools and now-two time de-classsroomed renegade English teacher. Looney bin and county jail lock up.

What the hell is next? (maybe edit later)

~ * ~

Here’s Michelle Gebben’s report faxed to my Bay City criminal defense attorney on December 12, 2018.

~ * ~

Wow, people really don’t like me anymore, and it hurts.

~ * ~

On November 11, 2018, my probation officer said in her undated report faxed to my Bay City criminal defense attorney on December 10, 2018, she “was able to obtain the defendant’s Facebook Messenger where it shows the defendant communicating with another subject on Facebook Messenger. This screen shot also shows the defendant engaged in five other conversations between November 12-17. These conversations would be violations of the defendants probation and the reason for the request for the immediate sentencing.” How did she acquire access to my Facebook Messenger? The only possibilities are hack or troll, right? A real person did not contact me on Facebook Messenger and then contact the authorities, as screen shots I took show. Furthermore, Michelle Gebben’s timeline as presented is nonsensical. Does she have some sort of internet crystal ball that can see hack or troll future Facebook Messenger messages? move up troll screenshots here?

Texting is something I was always allowed to do.  In fact, I exchanged texts with my probation officer, who texted me first. 

One troll “liked” both Oakland County cops and politician Adolf Hitler. 

Yes!  This crazy story returns to Hitler Hitler’s Bookie, Anne Frank, Casablanca.

Thank goodness for screen shots, although evidence hasn’t helped me so far in the civic arena. 

The other troll the year prior threatened to kill my dog, rape and murder me through e-mail, which the Michigan State Police preferred to totally ignore.  They were too busy falsely prosecuting me for stalking Land of Motown Community College Lying Cop #2.

add screen shots here?

~ * ~

This nightmare caused by criminal and retaliatory mental health care refuses to end.

~ * ~

The Michigan Department of Corrections report asked for immediate sentencing, five months earlier than probation was scheduled to end, which was not a present, because the report instead suggests an additional 55 days in jail due to the activity of hacking or trolling my Facebook Messenger account. 

My probation officer concluded: “It is the recommendation of the probation department that the defendant lost the benefit of the delay of sentence.” 

In other words, erase my vague plea deal, erase my good behavior on probation, and find me guilty regardless of the full facts or evidence. 

~ * ~

The MDOC suggested ending probation, but also asked for 55 additional days in the Osceola County jail. 

For clearly purely fabricated and under-handed reasons. 

~ * ~

I actually respected by probation officer. 

Was she forced to join the effort to silence me?

“Since the defendant’s termination from her employment,” she commented, “this agent has received seven additional emails from the defendant discussing Land of Motown Community College and how she is being tortured by the state of Michigan.”

YES!

~ * ~

Bill Schuette’s 2015 retaliation by 2017 had spun way out of control, with the help of a dirty-acting or maybe inexperienced prosecutor and untrustworthy not honorable, if you ask me, judge, and a Hitler “liking” internet troll who brought up another troll who had made death threats against me.

It was suggested by authorities representing the people of Michigan that I may be crazy enough to deserve additional jail time, which is nonsensical on top of actual Hitler by name goofiness. 

~ * ~

I was further damaged, for real, terrorized with thoughts of incarceration.

I was stopped from redressing the government.

I was stopped from redressing the government on social media and stopped from documenting my story, when I was also silenced in the classroom, which meant I was jailed in effective silence, which is dangerous and maddening in my story.

I felt very afraid not being able to post on social media updates.

I lost my job based in part on probation violations that didn’t happen, which were instigated by an obvious troll.

My employment prospects took a major hit.

I took a major hit in the same body that has already been through so much, including being handcuffed and being abducted from my own home, being shackled hand and foot, then knocked out with drugs, being human trafficked for medical purposes, and that’s just 2013, not counting jail or anywhere near my jail and probation years, skipping a feew major sections of this too-long tale.

~ * ~

My probation officer named Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College in her final report asking for jail time. 

She also conflated the college’s concern for its own image with my mental health. 

She wrote: “The agent’s supervisor was . . . contacted by the attorney for Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College to express their concerns for the threats to smear their image and place things on social media as well as the potential self-harm.”    

~ * ~

The Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College Cop who harassed me turned out to be an out of the closet Fox News style conservative with flagrant admissions of sexism, racism and intolerance in his Facebook postings.  He did not hesitate to name himself a police officer for Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College as he denigrated women on social media, I found out very quickly on Facebook. To my horror, not surprise.

add examples

~ * ~

There is actually a law MCL 389.128 that says the campus cop needs to stay on campus, not make rat calls across the state, without evidence, open to great bias, misconduct and a lack of transparency.

Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College joined the Land of Motown Community College witchhunt to silence me.

~ * ~

The facts were overwhelming in my isolation seeing them alone without public support.

I never violated probation and was never found guilty after a hearing for any violations of probation. 

I was accused of probation violations by confirmed bad actors and threatened with additional jail time. 

The accusations against me made no sense and in their lunacy were terrifying. 

Lunatic power on the loose after me. 

Lunatic power on the loose pissed off because I’m still on the loose.

~ * ~

return and parallel the timeline

add documents

The judge granted the request for a sudden immediate hearing to sentence me and end open delayed sentencing skipping probation hearings all together. 

A court date was scheduled to take place after Martin Luther King Jr. Day, 2019. 

~ * ~

The 49^th District Court threatened me with jail from the beginning of November 2018, when I was pulled from the classroom again, through the end of January 2019. 

~ * ~

It was a long winter season from Thanksgiving until my next and final scheduled court appearance, when I could be taken to jail. 

~ * ~

My criminal lawyer was having a baby. 

Even though it delayed my waiting in hell, it also gave me time to review what the hell had been going on, so my immediate sense was thank goodness.

Phew! Some good luck.

Again, I had to hold the system in check myself.  

~ * ~

Sleuthing the trolls mentioned in the MDOC report and finding sheer nonsense, I wrote the judge directly, twice, as court documentation unfolded and was presented to me, through November and December.

I wrote to the judge about the gaping problems in the MDOC and prosecutor’s behavior.

Of course she did not respond or any time comment or respond, or allow me opportunity to ask her about my mailing on record.  

My lawyer won’t agree with me, I surmise, but I think I may have had as much to do about keeping me out of jail as he did.

Booher could use judge tricks to silence me, but jailing me would be too obvious retaliation.

She attacked through her available tools which would likely go un-watched, but she under-estimated me.

add judge letters here

~ * ~    

When I finally got to court, on January 25, 2019, for about my thirteenth or fourteenth required visit in full, though I only was forced to stand inside the courtroom about roughly five times, due to delays and cancellations, spanning nearly two years, again, the judge did not hold a hearing. 

Again, she concluded manners privately in her chambers, without me. 

With brief ceremony, in court, she gave me a misdemeanor attempted stalking charge. 

She covered up the cop and Hitler loving highly suspicious troll action. 

I was not allowed to speak.

A felony stalking charge was reduced to a misdemeanor stalking charge.

My court appointed lawyer originally had suggested the whole thing might completely disappear, wiped off the books, or be reduced to a misdemeanor disturbing the peace kind of thing.

But he was very slippery and represented me poorly, in a rustic remote local kind of way, hidden in the old northwest territories with usually no one telling him otherwise so publicly.

add final sentencing paperwork

~ * ~

Chapter: “Someone is After You”

I’m coming to terms with the recent present as I review the distant past and beginning of this story. 

What should I do next?  

I need to apply for work with a resume and career only filled with community college teaching positions. 

I need to respond “yes” to I having a criminal record.

Update: Lowes, Kroger and Aldi all have said or suggested I failed the background check.

~ * ~

My family? 

Is Catholic.  God, my mother and the state stand against me, on my every and last nerve. 

I have no family. 

~ * ~

I know no one.   Just my dog and bird.

~ * ~

I talk to myself. 

I am not schizophrenic. 

I was over evaluated by the hack shrinks, never evaluated by the people who locked me up, and I was never labeled schizophrenic.  No one has ever asked me if I talk to myself, aloud or in my head.  I do both.  I started talking to myself while growing up in a disturbed home, mother delusional Catholic, dad gone. 

There was no else intelligent to talk to, so I began talking to myself alone in my room, even before I attended without choice poor quality Catholic schools. 

I am not crazy.  My mind is rich, but I am not by my nature broken.  This is my way. 

Look around the grocery store. 

A lot of people talk to themselves. 

~ * ~

I am not a super human, but I was not broken. 

I did not need the treatment that was forced upon me. 

I was not seriously mental ill, unable to take care of myself, or confused about reality.

~ * ~

Bogus mental health care can torture a person into sounding like an automaton or a crazy woman in order to try in vain to defend themselves.

~ * ~

I can report much more about my current psychological condition, but it is dangerous for me to do so. 

I could talk about my home alone anti-Catholic cursing. 

I verbally regurgitate repetitions of the many rote repetitions of the Catholic mass I was forced to experience. 

I could analyze the way a priest cuts open the church by walking down the aisle with a metal crucifix and how that action imprinted upon my mind. 

There are definitely things to consider regarding the constant central display of a bleeding mostly naked white man, on a cross, at the front of every room, within Catholic land. 

The same honor to death hangs around the necks of every nun and priest. 

~ * ~

Eating god, drinking god blood. 

I just watched and did what I told, as a child, dazed and confused, then slowly as I became a teenager starting sensing my revulsion. 

Worst religion ever. 

For me.

~ * ~   

It is simply unacceptable for my own state government to help the church I left ruin my life and commit criminal mental abuse and get away with it in the United States of America. 

A religion that believes in virgin birth, resurrection, ascension and an infallible pope is not allowed to call me crazy dangerous. 

The sexist Catholic Church is not allowed to lock me away in Catholic Siberia. 

The Felician Nuns brides of Christ are not allowed to recapture me and hold me down as their bridegroom Jesus rapes me. 

~ * ~

I treat social media posting about my story as an uneasy combination of documentation like a journalist and intimate diary admissions.

I say things people don’t like, and I pay dearly for it.

I don’t know what else to do.

I’m still trying to save my life. 

~ * ~ 

I have documented my panic attacks, depression and anger on social media.  

I have shared my hurt inner child and my venom. 

I have prayed. 

I’m better at meditation.

I’m not that good at meditation, but even bad mediation helps.

~ * ~

In the last year, seven years after the onset of William MacQueen, I was removed from the classroom again.  Threatened with jail again.  Officials acting even crazier.  No allies.  No reason to hope except for blind faith, but certainly not faith in religion or government, so faith in what?

~ * ~

I am doing the best I can under the circumstances, which means my panic attacks this past winter were massive. 

~ * ~

Winter is here again.

Winter 2019.

That means the seven year anniversary of my illegal looney bin lock up, 2013-2020 is approaching.

I still have not saved my life, while my murder slips further into the past.

I have less than $3,500.00.

No one has offered me a job and hired me.

My safety nets are gone.

What’s going to happen to me?

~ * ~ 

I faced the sixth-year anniversary of my looney bin lock up at the end of February, thankfully not in jail, but with my mind spinning.  Yes, the police stopped by to make sure I was suffering.  If the neighbors are calling, of course they deserve peace and security. 

But what about me?  Where am I suppose to go? 

Hurt me and I feel pain. 

~ * ~

I believe I have endured some level, hopefully low and recoverable, of brain damage from crying panic attacks.  I have endured periods of dizziness and headache.  I think I must be a candidate for brain aneurism, or stroke.  Maybe not.  I hope not. 

I guess.  What else can I do? My Magic Eight Ball is broken.

I am terrified of homelessness as a next logical plot marker in my story.

While editing, I received a notice to quit my apartment.

I used gardening and gift flowers, in part, to get out of the bind, at least so far.

Chapter: No Good Ending?

Some days this past winter, I could hardly move, but I did, though slowly, with great effort, and not well. 

~ * ~

Spring weather helps.

Just keep going, I tell myself.  Out loud.

Fight against criminal mental health care and its potentially life-ending effects.  Take action.  Find a next step.  Just keep going.

~ * ~

I contacted Dr. John and pleaded, demanded, wrote nicely: I need a follow up visit and a letter of recommendation for a therapist in my area.  I can’t walk in blind with my story. 

He declined.  I got the impression he wanted to protect his past missteps. 

It is extra painful for your own therapist to turn on you, twice. 

~ * ~ 

Isn’t there a limit to the amount of pain a person can feel?  I’d assumed incorrectly there was a rock bottom like people talk about.

~ * ~

I am exploring what I called art therapy.  I painted a great deal this past winter, quickly, on cheap paper, creating an art diary, which has helped tremendously. 

~ * ~

Good health remains a constant battle, like mediating daily is a challenge, even though it is also very helpful.

~ * ~ 

I have recast my story in cartoon form to help me cope.  I’ve imagined a collection of characters, all shades of me, who rally around a Wicked Witch.  I’ve tried to recast the Wicked Witch into a much nicer Dashboard Dolly, a cigar smoking Hawaiian hula girl in her later years.

~ * ~

When the pain of mental abuse rages, I suffer so greatly I can understand violence and suicide, but I am not violent or suicidal, which means I’m caged. 

I am trapped in criminal mental abuse.  

And I need out. 

~ * ~

I have petitioned the new state governor and attorney general for redress. 

I have not received reply, which means I have not been dismissed or acknowledged, but the cops showed up twice in the past two months.  Because I cry loudly.   I assume a neighbor has called.   I hope neighbors have called.  My landlady is nice but concerned, which is reasonable.  I continue to fight to save my life, working on many fronts: FOIA, sleuth, look for work.  Appeal to my landlady?  

~ * ~

I have fought to SAVE MY LIFE, but things only get worse.  This last year has been the worst. 

~ * ~

But I am trying.  I have been trying this whole time.

~ * ~

I need justice, but nothing I’ve tried so far works.

add the steps I’ve taken

Michigan Civil rights Commission

Judicial Tenure Commission

~ * ~

I am not delusional.  I am suffering from extreme long-term mind rape.  The pain is incredible. 

Do I want to go to the hospital?  No!  The only cure is justice and there is no justice for me and my story, not in time, maybe not ever.

I don’t need to be locked up again because I was locked up in a mental ward due to criminal action, without need, with utmost cruelty.

~ * ~

~ * ~

I have aged tremendously. 

Stress causes me to clench my jaw so badly I cracked a molar from the root, inside my skull, on the left.  Took me something like almost two years to end the tooth ache and find the right solution.

~ * ~

On my right, earache is developing, same cause, I sense. 

Bogus mental health care is causing me to detonate from within.

I’m 55 but feel 75, with arthritis, injury, conditions, all systems severely worn and torn. 

~ * ~

My own image scares me.  The bloom has faded, dropped and rotted.  This is not an easy transition, from middle age to old age early, especially this way. 

~ * ~

One of the first things I bought with money from the sale of the lakehouse, besides an 18-year-old vehicle, made before 9-11, were new shoes. 

Improving my mobility is a primary concern.  I do not enjoy admitting it, but I now wobble and hobble.

Since first writing that sentence in a very early and very short telling of my story, my mobility has not improved and some days it has worsened.

I’m terrified by literally not being able to move, not being able to get a job, having no income and no support, nowhere to go.

~ * ~

Things need to improve.  Soon.  If I can’t get a job and can’t keep an apartment, will the state simply let me live under an over path or in woods? 

I fear another final third lock up. 

I fear they’ll throw away the key. 

I fear they’ll point to the wrong paper trail, that of my attackers, instead of my own.

~ * ~ 

I understand the fairy tale witch. 

I am keenly aware that the people least believed are those deemed crazy.  Especially fairy tale witches of a certain age with grey hair and missing teeth, and a limp, and old clothes, like me. 

The madwoman in the attic is a story that has taken hold and been retold too many times without asking the woman. 

Which is a shame, because I use to be so charming within my small circles.

~ *

I like to hope that there is an effort behind the scenes among maybe press and newly elected state officials to help me finally win justice against my attackers, essentially, Land of Motown Community College and St. Mary Merciless.  

Hope is delusional for victims of criminal mental abuse, and ironic.

Ironically painful. 

~ * ~

I know perfectly well what day and time it is, thank you. 

Your methods and conclusions are flawed. 

~ * ~

Why don’t they understand they are breaking me, stop and help?

Because we don’t live in that kind of world.

Which is a line of Louise’s to Thelma from Callie Khouri’s tremendously great screenplay for Thelma & Louise.

~ * ~

If I had known the Felician Nuns were running a mental ward, I never would have moved back to Michigan. 

That’s a wry joke. 

I feel like I need to explain myself at every turn and demonstrate how sane and connected to real world I am, with a cogent wide perspective. 

~ * ~

The trick to life that I have learned it is to just keep going, like Thelma & Louise, but not drive off the cliff.

~ * ~

I should have gone to school to be a painter. 

Instead, I have been unfortunate enough to color with the Catholics twice in my life. 

The first time as a child. 

There was no art teacher at my Catholic grade school run by the nuns who also built the looney bin and Ladywood High School. 

The Felician nuns walked us uniformed students in ordered rows down to the basement multi-purpose room. 

In the multi-purpose room, I recall learning how to draw a cube off black and white tv. 

Finally, information I wanted. 

~ * ~

The second time I colored with the Catholics, at St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward, because of the Land of Motown Community Colleges sexist Gaslight witchhunt, was much like the first.

I was held captive under the numbing glow of a television set, hanging on the wall.

I recall evening hours minus supervision, held needlessly, waiting to be released.

No one was running the show.

Ever, really. 

That’s what they call it a looney bin.