Friday, October 30, 2009

Insurance Matters #2

Shown here is a copy of a letter I received from my ex-husband after I'd started letting law enforcement know what I was finding out about our situation and had asked them for help. (Now go back and reread the 2 previous blogs plus "Joe and Connie" and "The Tale of the Two Doctors Cone", keeping in mind that after my first child was born, I became a stay-at-home mother.)

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Related to Insurance Matters #1

There are some other things you should know that I now believe are related to the incident detailed in the previous post, although I did not connect them until many years later. (I now realize I was very trusting and naïve.)
Early in 1987, my husband came home late one evening while I was putting our toddler to bed. As I walked past him in the hallway, I asked him about his day, and he suddenly turned without saying a word and hit me so hard in my lower back that I fell against the wall. He’d never done anything like this before, and I was in shock. He immediately ran out the front door, and I heard him drive off, but he returned a few hours later and claimed to have been stressed out from working so much (he was gone much of the time now). He promised he’d never do anything like that gain, and I made it very clear to him that if he did, I would immediately end our marriage.
After this incident, my husband did seem to be making an effort to work less, although many different people were always calling him to come in for various reasons that seemed legitimate. Our second child was born healthy a few weeks later, and my husband seemed happy and proud.
Six weeks later, all was suddenly chaos in our lives when I discovered my husband was having an affair with a co-worker, that it had been going on since we’d moved back, and that the woman had now left her husband for mine. I immediately asked my husband to move out, which he did. Two days later, he was back at the front door saying he’d ended the affair and wanted to save our marriage. I insisted we have serious marriage counseling first, and he suggested a pastor in a neighboring town he’d heard was good.
We did start receiving counseling, but almost immediately the pastor insisted I consult a lawyer friend of his “for protection”; I assumed this was for financial reasons, since my husband had always been very controlling with our finances. I’d kept a separate checking account for myself and the children from my working days that my husband put money into each month, but the lawyer advised me to insist on also being given signature privileges on my husband’s business account. When I informed my husband of this, he became very angry and refused my request, so I told him our marriage was over and I’d be having my attorney file for divorce. My husband stormed out of the house, but he returned about 30 minutes later with the signature card for the account. He told me to sign it, even though he was clearly furious about this, and as he left to take the card back to the bank [one his family owns and runs], he threatened to kill me if I ever wrote a check off this account. After hearing his threat and seeing how angry and controlling he’d suddenly become, I decided I needed to end our marriage anyway, and I quickly met with the counselor and the lawyer about this. When my husband realized I was serious, however, he apparently met with the counselor on his own and convinced him he really did want to save our marriage, so the counselor and I met to discuss this and I made it clear that if counseling was to continue, my husband would need to completely end the affair and find us a larger, better place to live, since he was now making good money, the kids and I were “coming out of the walls”, and I was still nervous about the safety of the furnace [see below]. When presented with this, my husband declared his girlfriend couldn’t be replaced at his office and that he needed to build a bigger office before building or buying a new house because he’d recently taken on a partner. On my fifth wedding anniversary, I met with the lawyer to discuss filing for divorce.
Almost immediately after this, my husband’s girlfriend was suddenly found another job in San Antonio and replaced. My husband told me the affair really was over and that he’d checked his finances and decided he could afford to build both a house and an office at the same time, since his partner would also be contributing to the office. And my husband really did seem more serious about his roles as husband and father, working much less and taking a much more active role at home. I remained wary of the situation for a long time, but the changes did seem real and lasting as the years went by and life seemed good.
Twelve years later, I finally learned the truth, when my husband suddenly walked in one night and announced he was leaving for good and people around town finally started confessing the truth to me. Apparently, after his earlier girlfriend left, my husband began an affair with her replacement almost immediately that continued without my knowledge all those years, until she finally divorced her husband and gave him an ultimatum. (He is now married to the second girlfriend.) I was also finally told by someone close to his family that 12 years earlier they’d overheard a heated argument between my husband and his father in his father’s law office during which my former father-in-law threatened to disinherit my husband if he left me and the kids.
There are a number of other serious incidents from over the years that I now have reason to believe were also related to all this, but I’ll save them and their documentation for later postings.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Insurance Matters #1

Sample year-end statements from policies that first turned up in my mail in Nov. 2001

My divorce from my ex-husband was finalized in February of 2001. In November of 2001, three letters regarding the accounts shown here suddenly arrived in my mail. Each of the three account letters contained an old mailing address for me: two had the address of a house my husband and I had owned and lived in in Houston when we were first married, and the third listed the address of a house we’d rented for awhile when we first moved back to the Texas Hill Country town where my husband was born and raised. The letters each said the same thing: that account information sent to the old addresses had been returned to the company; the company had received information that my current address might be the correct one; and if so, would I please fill out forms verifying my information and identity. I did fill out the forms and return them, and shortly afterwards, I received a small check from each account (~$30-$50 each). I had no idea what these accounts were, and I tried calling the company several times for information only to either be placed on “terminal hold” or disconnected each time. I then tried asking first my accountant and then a financial advisor to explain them to me, and both of them said they thought they were insurance policies of some sort. I then tried writing the company and asking them to send me more information on the accounts or to have someone call me about them, but no one ever responded. (I still receive a small check from each of them every year, and I still have almost no information about these accounts—can anyone help me with this?)
Much later, I happened to remember a line from my divorce decree stating that I was awarded all life insurance policies we’d owned that were on me and my ex-husband was awarded all policies that were on him. I began to wonder if these had been life insurance policies taken out on me without my knowledge. I also realized that if these were indeed policies on my life, they dated from around the time of something very suspicious and frightening that had happened.
In order to explain this, I need to go back to the time when my husband and I first moved back to the Hill Country, in June of 1986. We rented a small house at first to give us time to decide what we wanted to do and also to make certain my husband’s new business would support us in a small town. By this time, we had a toddler, and soon after we’d settled into the rent house, I discovered I was pregnant again.
During my first pregnancy, I’d had a lot of trouble with morning sickness, and this time around proved to be the same. I remember really looking forward to the fall, when I expected relief from both the summer heat and the nausea. Alas, this was not to be—as the weather got cooler, my sickness got worse instead of better. I started having other symptoms, too: terrible headaches during which I could hear my pulse beating in my ears (which I’d never experienced before), more severe vomiting, and shortness of breath. Because the symptoms were always worse in the morning, I assumed the morning sickness was more severe this time. My toddler seemed increasingly fussy and irritable as well.
Thanksgiving week of 1986 brought with it the first really cold weather of the season, which meant that the heater in our little rent house was now running during the daytime as well as at night. Both my toddler and I began to be quite ill, and I wondered if we had the flu, but we went to my in-laws’ for Thanksgiving dinner and felt better. I also remember being relieved that my husband wasn’t sick, since he was working so much both day and night (especially at night).
The next morning, my toddler and I woke up very ill, and because my husband had said he had to work again and was gone, it was very hard for me to manage. My husband came home around noon and said we were invited to friends’ for dinner; I told him I didn’t know if we could manage it, but I dragged my child and myself to the car and off we went. To my pleasant surprise, we began feeling a lot better after we’d been there a little while, and we had a good time.
As soon as we got home, my husband got a phone call and said he had to go back to work. My toddler and I were worn out, so we both went to bed early. Once the sun went down that night, so did the temperature, and I remember that it got very cold. I climbed into bed thankful to be cozy and warm and feeling better.
I woke up a few hours later extremely nauseated and with a severe headache that pounded in my ears. I also felt as if I couldn’t breathe, and even though I wanted nothing more than to sleep, I couldn’t because it felt as if I was suffocating. My husband was still gone, and I remember lying there for what seemed like hours trying to decide what I should do. Finally, in desperation, I went into the living room and tried to sleep sitting propped up on the sofa, since it seemed easier to breathe that way, but my head was hurting so much and my breathing was so labored that sleep was impossible.
I have no idea how long I lay there, but as the sun was coming up, my husband walked in the front door. He was startled to see me on the sofa and asked what was wrong, and I told him I was sick. He asked if I needed anything, and I told him no. After that, he went into the bedroom, and I heard him get into bed. I knew he was probably exhausted from having worked all night.
I was still too miserable to sleep, so in desperation, I got a medical book down from the shelf and forced my eyes to focus enough to start looking up my symptoms. I have no idea how long I looked at the book—15 minutes? 20? 30? All I can remember is suddenly realizing I had all the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning and almost at the same time remembering feeling better at my in-laws’ and our friends’ house and worse at home. I also suddenly realized that my toddler was screaming about their head hurting; I had no idea how long this had been going on because my mind was so “foggy”. I remember somehow stumbling into our bedroom, and I definitely remember seeing my husband stretched out on top of the bed, still in his work clothes, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. I remember blurting out to him that we were being poisoned and needed to get out of the house immediately, and I remember him telling me I was sick and needed to rest. I was certain I was right, though, and I remember insisting that we needed to leave (and I vaguely remember our toddler screaming in the background). My husband continued to insist that I rest, and I remember telling him that I was too ill to lift our child out of the crib and that if he didn’t do it, I was going to go outside in my nightgown and start screaming and yelling to the neighbors that we were being poisoned. As soon as I threatened to do this and headed for the door, my husband jumped up off the bed, got our child, helped us both to the car, and drove us over to his parents’ house.
I have no memory of arriving at my in-laws’ house, but somehow I wound up inside, sitting in their rocking chair, rocking my child, who was still screaming and crying about their head hurting. I think I must have been drifting in and out of consciousness, because I vaguely remember my in-laws and my husband arguing in the next room. I must have frightened my mother-in-law badly, because she was insisting on calling a doctor, which the med did not want to do. In the end, she did call one, and my husband also talked with him. Then my husband and his mother came in and told me the doctor wanted me to meet him at the E.R. and let him check me out because I was pregnant. I refused to leave my toddler, and my mother-in-law insisted on taking over the rocking duties.
I have no memory of going to the hospital; all I remember is suddenly realizing I was on an exam table in the E.R. The doctor came in, and I blurted out something about carbon monoxide poisoning in our house (that was probably only semi-coherent). The doctor said there was a blood test for it, and he drew some of my blood and took it off for testing. I remember that after he left, my husband turned to me and said, “What if you’re wrong?”; I remember telling him I was positive I was right. He then left the room, and I don’t remember him coming back (but I’m not sure about this).
I have no idea how long I lay there on the exam table; I think I must have finally fallen asleep. Eventually the doctor returned and said my blood test had come back as positive for carbon monoxide poisoning (~23%, from blood drawn about 2 hours after I left our house). He said he wanted me to spend a night in the hospital on oxygen as a precaution because of my unborn child, but he tole me we should both be fine. I asked about treating my toddler as well, but he said my child was doing fine and wouldn’t need treatment. After that, I was quickly wheeled up to a private room, provide with an oxygen mask, and given a shot of something my doctor insisted was safe for the baby to relieve the pain in my head and let me sleep.
I woke up again hours later to find our landlord standing by my bed looking very frightened, and I remember having to take off the oxygen mask to talk to him, which he was concerned about. I assured him I was feeling much better but did not want to return to the house unless I was sure whatever had caused our problems was found and completely fixed. He said he’d had someone from the gas company come out as soon as he heard what had happened, that they’d found the source of the leak, and that it was already fixed. Shortly after he left, the public relations lady from the hospital came in briefly and asked me if it was okay if my name was left off the list of hospital admissions that was published every week in the local newspaper at the time; I think I mumbled, “Fine,” and went back to sleep.
The next day, Sunday, I came home and rested most of the day and felt better than I had in months. The next morning (Monday), being curious, I called the gas company and asked to talk to the technician who’d handled the call to our house. I was surprised when this man insisted on coming to the house to talk to me instead of just speaking with me over the phone, and he soon showed up at my front door.
The tech. told me my mother-in-law was at the house when he arrived which, by the time he told me, was about 4 hours after we’d left. The tech. said the doors and most of the windows of our house were open, so he was surprised when his testing apparatus “turned completely black” as soon as he walked inside. He said he found the door to our gas furnace wide open and that when he checked our attic, he found someone had nailed a board over the furnace vent. He assured me he’d fixed both problems and checked out our heating system thoroughly. I asked him why someone would have boarded up the attic vent, and he suggested I talk to our landlord. I asked my husband to do this, and he later said the landlord felt it must have been done by the previous tenant who had probably seen what he thought was a hole in the attic and had boarded it by mistake. The gas company tech. told me my toddler and I had been extremely lucky to have escaped in time, and I agreed.
In an eerie coincidence, my ex-husband’s father apparently had his own close call with carbon monoxide poisoning many years ago. According to the story the family told me, he was invited to go hunting with five other prominent local men in West Texas but had to cancel at the last minute. Four of the five men were found dead in a trailer during the trip. The fifth, a local doctor, had supposedly warned them the heater they were using wasn’t safe and had spent the night in a tent instead. One of the victims was Dr. Spiva, a local dentist, who was the father of both a girl who died (supposedly during surgery) at age 4 and another daughter, Debbie, who became the infamous Dr. Debbie Spiva of Texas Monthly fame.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Domestic Abuse/Domestic Violence

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Recently, our local newspaper ran a full-page series of articles on the subject on the front of one of its inside sections that extolled the virtues of various local agencies and people dealing with the problem in our community.
Sadly, the reality of this is something quite different. Local "insiders" know this newspaper is published by close associates of my ex-husband and his family (so close that they regularly sneak out in the middle of church services to hold secret meetings together in the senior pastor's private office) and that these articles are actually an inside joke about the rampant, community-wide abuse and violence that are occurring.
Don't believe me? Consider the case of a woman who signed herself "Willa" in a letter she wrote to the Kerrville Daily News on 12/19/06. Her nightmare began when she learned her controlling, womanizing husband was looking for someone to kill her so he could avoid a divorce. She knew, as I now do, that if you know the right people around here, this is frighteningly easy to do, whether it's for reasons of domestic violence, to steal assets, revenge, jealousy, euthanasia, or whatever, and that corrupt law enforcement will not help you (they will, in fact, actively assist in the murder and cover-up if certain people are involved, so it is actually dangerous to go to them for help, even at the highest levels). "Willa" wrote that she immediately realized the danger she was in, threw some personal effects into her car, and fled her "well appointed home in a golfing community" immediately. She was also aware, as I am, that the local women's shelters are not safe (she said her husband actually volunteers with an associated agency, which probably means he's a doctor or lawyer), so she fled the area to seek help elsewhere. As of the time she wrote her letter, she had not yet found it, and although it was several months later, she was still living out of her car in 100+ degree heat and without needed medications. I don't know her true identity or whatever became of her, but I continue to pray for her, Tracy Shue (widow of Col. Phillip Shue), Angela Dilday (mother of another murder victim), and the many other local victims, both known and unknown.
Here's the bottom line: aside from (but definitely related to) the rampant organized crime that's going on openly here with the full knowledge of the U.S. Department of Justice, entire communities are not only conspiring to commit serious domestic abuse and domestic violence but actually find it amusing enough to brag about it and make jokes about it. Even more unbelievable is the fact that all this is taking place an hour or less away from the headquarters of the National Domestic Violence Hotline in Austin--and that they are aware of what's going on here and do NOTHING.
Recently (on 8/26/09, well before the domestic violence articles came out), there was a small glimmer of hope: a senior "insider" couple who are highly regarded within our community and have substantial outside contacts wrote a letter to the local paper in which they bravely spoke out against what's going on here (in veiled terms, of course). Unfortunately, they seemed more concerned with how this area would be perceived by others ("When history looks back at us, how will our positions be judged?") than by the fact that things being done and condoned here are morally, ethically, and criminally wrong, and they expressed no sympathy or empathy for victims. But the fact remains that this letter was the first sign of proper concern I've seen within this community in a very long time. Hopefully, it's a sign of increasing awareness within the region that the current state of affairs is absolutely unacceptable and that swift, positive action by local residents, communities, and state and federal government agencies is imperative.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Joe and Connie

Joe and Connie were law school classmates of my former brother-in-law’s in Houston. I remember first meeting them at one of my brother-in-law’s many parties back in the late ‘70s. Connie was like so many of my brother-in-law’s friends: loud, very talkative, and a little coarse for my taste. Joe, on the other hand, was small, pale, and very quiet and reserved. The two of them seemed to get on well together, though, and over the next few years I ran into them at several more parties and heard they’d gotten married.
My former brother-in-law celebrates his birthday every summer by hosting a big lake party at a house owned by his aunt and uncle on Lake Travis. I often wondered why my ex-husband and I were rarely invited to this [I now suspect my ex- did actually attend this each year without me and told me he was “working”], but one year we did actually go to it. Unfortunately, I had a great deal of statistical work I needed to get done for a big project that particular weekend, so I reluctantly packed up the necessary documents and charts and a calculator and took the work along. When everyone else went down to the boat for an after-lunch cruise and swim, I decided to stay behind and try to finish the work so I’d at least be able to enjoy the evening later, but I immediately began running into problems. Joe and Connie happened to be at the lake as well, and to my pleasant surprise, Joe expressed an interest in what I was trying to do. After I explained my project to him, he mentioned that he had a background in statistics, and he was able to show me where I’d gone wrong with some of my calculations. I was even more pleasantly surprised when he offered to stay behind and help me fix my mistakes so I could finish by dinnertime. I remember feeling very grateful to him, and I also remember suddenly realizing there was probably a lot more to him than I’d previously thought.
I never saw Joe again after that. Sometime after he and Connie finished law school, I heard they’d moved to Florida. Connie came back to Texas several times to visit my brother-in-law and his wife, but she always seemed to come alone. Several years passed, and I pretty much forgot about Connie and Joe.
One day out of the blue, however, my brother-in-law and his wife casually mentioned to me at a family gathering that Joe had died. I was shocked, and I asked them what had happened. They said Joe and Connie had been having marital problems and that Joe had killed himself with carbon monoxide while sitting in a car in his garage with the engine running. My brother-in-law also casually mentioned that Connie wanted to collect some life insurance money and move back to Texas but that the Florida police and the life insurance company were suspicious of her because Joe apparently had a large quantity of Benadryl (an antihistamine that can cause drowsiness) in his system, and they’d told Connie she couldn’t leave.
A couple of years later, I ran into Connie at my brother-in-law’s again. She said she’d finally moved back to Houston but that she often came up to Central Texas to visit. I later heard she was making regular trips up here, and I think I also remember hearing she’d remarried.
I think the last time I remember seeing Connie was a few months before my husband suddenly left me in 1999, but I can’t remember for sure. She had changed a lot, but I immediately recognized her voice. What I do remember for sure was that after my husband left and I was packing up his things to get them to him, I found large quantities of various drugs and syringes hidden in unusual places in his stuff. In the back of one cupboard in the dressing area of our bedroom, I found a number of small glass vials of Benadryl with rubber stoppers, and at least of couple of these appeared to have been used.
Years later, I had occasion to mention all this to an official with Florida state law enforcement whom I was dealing with in regard to Diop Kamau; the official said he’d check into it. A few days after this conversation, I received a letter in the mail from the official saying he’d opened an investigation into Kamau. The very next day, I received a second letter from this same official saying someone high up had cancelled the investigation completely, despite the fact that Kamau had used an investigative company in Florida that wasn’t licensed there (Police Complaint Center) and an operative with this company (Greg Slate) who wasn’t a licensed p.i.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Local Harassment

Dear Diary,
Awakened by various very loud construction noises of various kinds that seemed to come from around all sides of our house at various times. Many of these were so loud and so bizarre that kids and I don't think they're real--must be broadcast somehow. Had to listen to these off and on all day. Mid-morning, just as I'd gone into the bathroom, the dog started barking like crazy at someone out front, so I went to see who it was. Saw a blue pickup parked in the middle of the street in front of our house, but didn't see anyone inside it or near it. About 5 minutes later, dog still barking, so I looked out again; this time could see a tall, thin, Cauc. man with dark brown hair RUNNING up and down the hill above us while holding a piece of surveying equipment. As soon as he was sure I'd seen him, he quickly jumped into the truck and sped off. Then tonight as I was walking my dog, a young Cauc. couple in a smallish black car swerved at me as they passed, and I had to jump up onto the curb and into wet grass to get out of their way; they sped off laughing and making some sort of gestures I couldn't see well. A few minutes after that, I realized there was a man down the street behind me who was following me. As I turned into my driveway to go back home, this man passed me and started grinning and waving at me repeatedly in a goofy way so I'd be sure to notice him. I couldn't tell for certain (because he was on the hill above me), but I think he was a former county judge who's been in trouble with the law in the past. (His daughter is now head of the local hospital foundation.)
Just another day around here...

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Federal Harassment

My children and I have been stalked and harassed by persons with federal ties for many years. Most often, we see this in the form of vehicles with U.S. government license plates following us, suddenly speeding past us, or doing repeated slow drive-bys of our house or vehicle. We are frequently buzzed at all hours of the day and night by what look like military helicopters (and also medical helicopters and other misc. aircraft) that are flying illegally low. Once, when I tried to mail documents related to my first criminal complaint to the FBI in the summer of 2005, we were followed around for the rest of the day by men who were talking into their hands, which was very disconcerting to say the least. On at least 3 different occasions (each several years apart), we had the very frightening experience of having a drone aircraft suddenly fly directly in front of our windshield while we were driving between Fredericksburg and Kerrville on Hwy. 16 S. (We must not be the only local people to have had this happen, because a recent letter in the Kerrville newspaper also mentions this.)
Shown here are two pages from the logbook of the most serious incidents that I keep. These document two separate but related incidents that occurred in 2006 and involved a very large RV with FL plates and federal window stickers that was parked in the street directly across from our driveway by persons unknown to us. Both times, there was no even remotely reasonable reason why this vehicle should have been parked there other than pure harassment--there's nothing else but our house and driveway on that stretch of the road, there are plenty of better (off-road) places down the street to park a large vehicle like this, and both times it was clearly a dangerous traffic hazard while parked there (sticking out into the street just past a right-angle turn where it couldn't be seen well). It also partially blocked the entrance to our driveway, yet when we complained to the police, they refused to do anything. (The second time, a local policeman appeared to be guarding it from just down the street in a patrol car.)
If you go back to the beginning of this blog and compare the dates on these incidents to "My Story", you will notice that these incidents took place around the time I discovered the former DEA agent and the former FBI agent had conned me and I'd had to fire them. Previously, they'd both told me what I thought at the time were wild tales of certain persons connected with my case that they claimed were associates of a former "rogue FBI agent" from Florida known as "Murph the Surf" who'd had a woman murdered there. I've wondered since then if this was meant to scare me, "punish" me, or what.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009


In May of 2002, a Medtronic Defibrillator LP 500 (Serial #14285761) was stolen from the Buchanan Fire Building. An account of this theft in the 5/29/02 issue of the Llano newspaper warned, "Do not let someone who might show it to you talk you in to [sic] trying it out. It is extremely important that this piece of equipment be located and returned." [Something else above this article had been cut out of the issue of the newspaper I saw that was shared with me by a woman I was employing as a housekeeper at the time; I later had to fire this woman when I discovered she was stealing, setting up harassing incidents directed at us, and more. As it happens, my ex-husband has close relatives who live in the area, and he has been working in Llano one or two days a week for many years.]
In 2005, Fredericksburg and Gillespie County officials couldn't locate almost $20,000 worth of equipment purchased with federal homeland security funds during an audit conducted by the Texas Engineering Extension Service. During the auditors' visit, they also discovered a defibrillator sitting in the corner of the Fredericksburg police chief's office in plain sight--and he wasn't certified to use it. [This is the same police chief who is a lifelong close personal friend of my ex-husband's and who has slandered me on one of Diop Kamau's websites.]
There have been all kinds of rumors about what is being done with these defibrillators, but I'll leave that to your imagination.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


One of my children went all the way through school with a guy named Zobek Zepeda. I have fond memories of little Zobek with his great big smile running around and playing at some of the kindergarten and elementary school parties I used to help with years ago. Sadly, as happens way too often around here, Zobek fell in with a bad crowd later on, and although I saw him around every once and a while, our families drifted apart.
I was seriously shocked to suddenly see an obituary for him last winter saying he had died on February 25, 2009 at the age of only 21, and I immediately contacted my child that had been his classmate to see if they knew what happened. They were as shocked as I was, so they started asking around and checking various social networking sites from their high school; at the same time, my other kids also started asking around among their friends. Although we can usually get a pretty good idea of what happened by checking the local grapevine like this, in Zobek's case it became very apparent that NO ONE was talking about whatever had happened to him, which we thought was very strange. We all eventually decided Zobek must either have succumbed to an illness the family did not want to publicize or had died of a drug overdose or suicide. In any case, we were upset about the loss.

Then on August 26, 2009, Zobek's family published two ads in the local newspaper on the occasion of what would have been his birthday. One of these contained the statement, "We want to wish you a Happy 22nd Birthday even though you were robbed of it,..." The other ad said in part, "...your life was stolen from you. And I know you fought 'til your last breath," and, "The only thing that came out good of your short time was you baby boy, lil Z-man. We know he's out there suffering, but I know one day we will be reunited with him (lil Z-man)."

We asked around again after seeing this, but even our Hispanic friends claimed not to know anything, which we frankly didn't believe, and my child that had been Zobek's classmate was particularly upset that none of their class members would talk about his death. Since we had never seen anything in the newspapers or on television other than the obit. and ads, I emailed the local reporter for the San Antonio paper and asked him if he had any information about either Zobek's death or that of another young man from our community (age 13) that also wasn't being discussed much. The reporter emailed back that he'd try to find out, and he did email me back a small amount of information on the other death (that I didn't necessarily believe, although I don't blame the reporter for this--I think he might have been told things that may not have been true). However, I never got any response to my request for information on Zobek, so I guess we'll have to continue to wonder.

I will always remember Zobek as he was when I knew him well, when he was younger. I'd like his family to know that he managed to touch a lot of people during his life that they may not have realized and that I'd love to have a photograph from them of Zobek to post here in his memory (maybe one from kindergarten??).
Just today another of my kids came home from school at lunchtime and said the younger brother of one of their classmates had just been found in the parking lot at school lying on the ground having seizures from some sort of a head injury. We are trying to get more information about this and are concerned because we never heard the medical helicopter come in as normally happens for injuries like this. We also can't figure out why this boy wasn't in class at the time he was found.

These are not the only suspicious deaths among young people around here by any means, and there will be more if high-level law enforcement doesn't act soon.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Other Police Threats

The incident described in the previous post is not the first time I've been threatened by law enforcement. In the fall 0f 2007, after refusing to let local law enforcement officers illegally invade our home (see posted emails), I received this emailed photo of blue sky (heaven)from Investigator Rob Jones. I immediately forwarded it on to both Texas law enforcement and the Justice Department as I had with the threatened illegal invasions of our home by police--but received no responses from law enforcement in reply.
Soon after this, someone I'd considered a trusted friend and forwarded a copy of the blue sky email to for safekeeping sent it back to me with some added text they claimed to have found from Jones; someone also hacked into my email account and added this text to Jones' email (which makes the email appear non-threatening). However, this was added AFTER I'd already forwarded the email to high-level law enforcement (and to others for safety), and my children and I had already carefully examined the email for text, so we're positive the text was added later in an attempt to make the email look less incriminating.

This post of mine will no doubt unleash a new round of libelous comments about my purported mental state by my ex-husband (a close, lifelong friend of the local police chief). What my ex- will not explain is why he has instructed people to scream "Monkey Turd" at me and make ape-like noises at me for years as his way of dealing with the fact that I'm told he was known as "Horse Turd" in high school. I'm confident he will also never explain here that while in graduate school, he was asked to come in on a Saturday and take additional, more extensive psychological testing than what his program normally required. (One of his best friends was also asked to do this. I was never told anything about the reason for this or the results.)

Friday Night Football

Last night I went to watch the local high school football game--and wound up being threatened by a local police officer. This officer, whose step-daughter is a classmate of one of my children, often makes a point of sitting close to me at the games, and last night was no exception. As he and his family were leaving shortly before the end of the game, he walked directly behind me and suddenly grabbed my shoulder hard (much harder than anything considered socially acceptable). At the same time, he leaned over and softly said, "Take care," then left.
This officer's words were similar to ones spoken to me by a Boerne lawyer in 2005. After I wouldn't give him the originals of certain documents he wanted badly, he said four of his clients had been murdered and that I should "take care driving home".