I was thinking the other day about how I needed more things to write about in my journal, that not enough was happening to write about, and life was dull and boring a lot lately. I’d find myself wanting to write when there was simply nothing to write about. Well, rest assured – I have plenty to write about now. And as is usually the case when I have a lot to write, it’s not good news. Not at all. Let’s just say that the freeloaders are still living a few feet away from us. They may as well be. They’re very much a part of my life like they were in Phoenix. I’m never going to be free of these sick fucks – never! If I had a gun I’d be off to shoot every one of them dead because I know that I’m always going to be a victim of these shitfucks no matter where we go or what we do. Always with me, always with them. That’s how I said it was in Phoenix, and believe me, it’s still that way in Maricopa. I just can’t hear their music or non-stop yelling anymore. They may not trash our yard anymore either, but these animals are always going to control and even own me, for that matter. When is it ever going to be over with these people? When are they ever going to be in my past and out of my life for good? Never? Probably. First they stole my peace and now they’re stealing my time, freedom and money! These people are always going to be a part of my life and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it! There’s no defending myself. They can have the city give them a free house to turn into a drug house and they can make my life a living hell at my own expense, yet there’s nothing I can do to them or to at least get them off my ass and out of my life! What the fuck is this world coming to when people can rule the lives of innocent people that never did a damn thing to them other than politely ask them to turn their music down, then yell at them about it and threaten to have them evicted cuz they just wouldn’t shut up and leave them alone? I never told them I was going to kill them or anything like that. The closest I ever came to threatening them was to say that I wished someone would kill them and do us and society a favor.

Let me start at the beginning, although none of us are certain at this point exactly what’s going on. I may not write the whole story in one sitting. This is not a pleasant experience/subject to write about and there’s a ton of shit to say, so I may do it in spurts.

The freeloaders are trying to frame me and to just “get me,” so to speak, and it all may have started with Tammy. There’s a good chance that if it wasn’t for my dear old sister, I never would’ve gone through what I went through and am still going through. Here’s what happened from beginning to end, although the end has yet to come and I doubt it will any time soon.

Tom was watching TV and I was at the computer when there was a knock on the front door. As I went to the door, I could see a cruiser out front, so I doubled back towards the den and told Tom, I didn’t do anything, don’t tell them I’m here. Sure enough, though, I could hear the cop ask for me when Tom opened the door. Tom asked what was up, but the cop wouldn’t say anything. He just insisted he talk to me and that’s when Tom came and got me and said I had to come out. So I did, cuz I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to stay in the house and appear uncooperative. A uniformed Mexican cop was with a white plainclothes detective. One cop car this time. Not half a dozen.

The first thing he asks me, besides to see my ID, was if I knew Tammy and had written to her. I was stunned to hear Tammy’s name. When I first saw the cruiser, my first thought was that it had to do with Larry, Ronnie, Bill, Jenny, or the freeloaders were saying I did something I didn’t do. The cop said Tammy was complaining about my writing threatening letters and the reason I was shocked was that I never wrote one threatening word to her. To Bill and the others I did, but I didn’t think she’d complain on behalf of them. Why would she care what happened to these people? The only reason I can think of as to why she’s doing this is that it’s out of spite because I wouldn’t resume a relationship with her or give her our number or address, although I’m still sure that somehow, somewhere, she knows it. I’m sure everyone I ever knew in Massachusetts, Connecticut and Florida knows all about the ordeal I went through and am going to be going through for God knows how many years. Anyway, I was very shocked to hear him mention Tammy, cuz even if I did write Tammy a threatening letter which I never had any desire or reason to do so, she’s not the type to call the cops on me. I’ve done worse things than ignore her in the past yet she never called the cops on me before. She never called them when we’d get into our screaming matches over the phone like we would when I was in my 20s.

Once again, when it comes to letters, it’s my constitutional right to write whatever the hell I damn so please, be it threatening, racist, or whatever. It’s called freedom of speech, and until and if I acted on a threat, no one can prove me guilty of anything and I don’t care what our fucked up laws say. I did not do anything wrong as far as I’m concerned. Not to the people back east, not to the blacks, not to the Mexicans. A woman, whom I’ll get into in a little bit, told me a guy had been terrorizing this neighborhood for 20 years. Then one day the bully told this guy he was gonna do his wife and daughter and the guy shot him for it. Although he had to go through the legal bullshit, he was acquitted cuz it was judged that any normal person would react the way he did if they were in his situation. So, to say someone’s an asshole, or to say racial slurs, is freedom of speech. And to say I’d like to slit the throat of my niece’s abuser, is a perfectly natural statement for any aunt to make, although I don’t believe those were my exact words. Mostly what I said was that if I had been there when he was beating the shit out of Lisa, I’d have kicked the shit out of him for it. Who wouldn’t say something like that? So, all in all, perhaps it was a stupid waste of time to throw the bottle into the carport when the blacks lived there, and yell at the Mexicans when they got noisy, and send pictures, tapes and letters to people who don’t give a damn and who will always be the way they are, but I did nothing wrong.

Anyway, I told the cop I wrote her a letter congratulating her on her marriage after not speaking to her for a while cuz we were so different. I didn’t get into how I told Tammy that although I felt we were just too different to resume regular contact by phone and mail, I still wished her the best in life. Trust me, though, anything with the last name O or G will never hear from me again by phone or mail. These people have never been anything but a source of negativity and problems for me anyway, and I’ve already forgotten about looking Lisa up when she’s on her own. Even if she did want to talk to me, I think it would be a very bad idea. It’ll just lead to problems for me and maybe problems for her as well, and we don’t need it. I only wanted to send the pictures to show off and I could kick myself for it. What a stupid waste of time! Like they give a shit? Like that changes anything that’s happened? Like that’ll change anything in the future? No, it won’t change the past or the future, cuz I knew the day I dumped these people that I’d never resume my old relationships with them after 32 years of lies, abuse and control, so I should never have bothered lowering myself to sending pictures to people who just don’t care and who have hurt me time and time again, year after year. Think about it, I said to myself, would you care if they sent you pictures of their houses and pets? No, I wouldn’t give a damn. Tom had said that it was nice of me to send Andy mail to let him know I was still alive but was it? No, it was a complete waste of time. He couldn't care less if I were alive. He’s not hurt that I dumped him, he’s pissed, and therefore, he couldn't care less about anything that’s going on in my life, and once again, I don’t hate Andy, but I don’t give a shit what’s going on his life or else I’d have kept in contact with him. And I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t care anymore what happens to Lisa. She, just like her parents, uncle and grandparents, is a closed chapter in my life.

How the fuck did Tammy get the cops out to talk to me about a letter, anyway? I couldn’t get the cop I called to talk to Larry about his harassment. The cop I spoke to didn’t want to help me cuz of how far away I was, and only after I pleaded with him did he say he’d call him, but I know he never did. I just can’t get away with shit, and even when I’m 100% innocent I still get in trouble. Before I know it, I’ll be arrested for some stranger’s murder in Alaska!

Back to what happened – the cop came, mentioned Tammy, asked for ID, then said they were waiting on confirming a warrant that was issued on June 27th. The warrant, though, has nothing to do with Tammy. Tammy’s call just prompted the cops to notice I had a warrant on me, but I’m not sure what the warrant’s for or what the charges are all about. I just don’t get it. Meanwhile, like Tom said, most people with warrants on them never get picked up and eventually the statute of limitations runs out on them. It figures I’d just have to get picked up on mine. Totally figures. I’m as cursed with the law as I am with sex and other things. Why the warrant went out in June, though, has me confused. No one’s leveling with us and telling us the whole story of what’s going on till we go to court, and even then I may not fully know. All I can guess is that the freeloaders accused me of being a gang member or a gang associate, but why this is coming out now, I’m still not sure. And all this over loud music? Fuck! These people are some seriously sick twists and I hope to hell that someone else kills them. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. I’d get accused and go down for whoever killed them.

I know mail crimes are felonies, and later learned that threatening by itself is a misdemeanor while threatening by being associated with gangs or through the mail is a felony, which makes no sense to me, but when does are screwy system ever make sense? So, because the warrant was for a felony, I wasn’t just in and out of jail after talking about the case. I don’t know why we had to wait for the warrant to be confirmed, but anyway, while we were waiting, the detective was asking Tom about the well, the land, etc. When the warrant was confirmed, Officer R, the uniformed cop, said I was under arrest, and the normal way to do that is to handcuff people in back, but he was going to let me ride uncuffed. 

At that point I was like, I don’t believe this fucking shit! I never wrote threats to Tammy! When the guy told Tom the bond was set at just over 2 G’s, I nearly freaked. I’m not a lawyer, so I didn’t know that bond, which is the same thing as bail, is not quite what it seems. Yes, his mom could’ve paid the full 2 G’s to spring me out, and yes, we would’ve gotten that money back after court, but Tom said he’d rather pay the non-refundable fee of $266 to a bond company in order to get me out sooner. I didn’t know all you needed to pay was 10% of your bond. Why I had to go through all this when they could’ve just given me a court date makes no sense to me. I guess someone just had to make a buck off of me, and God and the state, county, whoever…felt they had to punish me by inconveniencing me and making me quite uncomfortable. Also, I guess that’s just what they do in felony cases, but with misdemeanors, they just give subpoenas.

So I got in the back of the cruiser and Tom was being very supportive, telling me not to worry and that he was gonna jump on the phone to make phone calls. See, I was under the impression that I was going to Florence, then to Phoenix in the morning, cuz the warrant was out of Phoenix, which told me it was freeloader-related and not about letters to anyone back east. A million things were going through my mind. Did the snobby Mr. Biased lie to me when he said it was over that day in January? Was there some kind of computer error? Did someone forget to put it into notation that it was resolved that day? Was I being mistaken for someone else? I later learned that Mr. Biased probably left the black/Mexican case as an open investigation and that Tammy and Bill’s complaints probably caused the case to be reactivated, because it had only been 6 months since Mr. Biased hauled me in, and the statute of limitations on it hadn’t run out yet. So in other words, just when I thought I was finally free of these blacks and Mexicans, I’m being dragged through the mud on account of these fucked up blacks and Mexicans after they harassed me, all because I spoke my mind about my niece to her abuser and sent my sister pictures. What a wonderful world we live in.

It was one thing when they hauled me in about the prank phone calls. It was clean-cut and simple; I knew what I was there for, I did it, I knew what was going on, etc. But when you haven’t got a clue as to what the fuck they mean when they say you’ve got two counts of intimidation and stalking, it’s really mind-boggling. Who the fuck am I supposed to have intimidated? And who the fuck could this homebody out in the middle of a 10-acre ranch in the middle of nowhere be stalking? I couldn’t stalk someone if I wanted to. How the fuck would I get around to doing it when I don’t drive? And like I’m really associated with gangs? Yeah, right! I’m associated with the president and with all the celebrities in Hollywood, too. The only thing I can think of as to what the hell these charges could mean is, well, they say two counts of each. Must be one for the blacks and one for the Mexicans. How they come up with stalking, I can only begin to guess. When I think of “stalking,” I think of following someone, but they may see the journal notes where I’d spy on them and log their activities as stalking. Who knows? I just want these fucking sick assholes out of my life for good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So we take off and then Officer R, who’s driving, drops the detective off about half a mile away (we left the house by heading towards Meadow Green, opposite next door). Then we continued on to Maricopa’s substation across from Circle K. On the way in, we exchanged a little Spanish and talked a little about Tammy and the neighbors, but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give me much detail. All he said was my problems with the old neighbors weren’t resolved. I knew I should’ve gotten it in writing that it was resolved! And who knows if it’s written anywhere that it was resolved? If Mr. Biased hates whites, who knows? I shouldn’t have trusted him when he said it was resolved that day. There was something funny about him, and I’ve learned that cops can’t be trusted. Here I was, amazed that God let me get out of having to go to court for the blacks or the Mexicans when he never lets me get away with anything, yet what happens? Almost a year after we move, I’ve got to go to court cuz of these sick fucks. These sick fucks who instigated shit with me and who harassed and victimized me. They do what they did to me and yet I’m the one who has to go to jail and court! I just hope to hell that all’s fair in the afterlife if there is such a thing and that God will set them straight and give them what they deserve when their time comes, cuz it sure as shit ain’t happening in this life.

We were the only ones at the substation. I was taken into a room where he did some paperwork and had me fill out a questionnaire form saying where I’d go if I were released, where I worked, where my closest relatives are, what illness or health problems might I have, etc. He looked at my license and said I came out good. That was before I quit smoking and got fat, I told him, and he said it was good I at least quit smoking. At one point I asked if he could put in a good word for me, although I didn’t know if it’d do me any good, and he teased me about telling them I kicked and bit him. God, I hope he was just joking! You just never know what cops are gonna do or say.

I was amazed at how trusting he was. He let me go to the bathroom myself, although I was too tensed up to go, and left me alone in the room I was in a few times. Then, after we left there, he gassed up at Circle K, and left me alone to get us snacks! I wasn’t cuffed and these doors had inside handles in back, too. He said he was going to get chips and asked if I minded. I said no, then he asked if I had any money. Again I said no, and he asked if I wanted anything. I said I’d appreciate a Snickers and he got me one.

“I don’t usually get snacks for my prisoners,” he said.

I saw Jennifer, the one with the great body and ugly face, in the store while I was waiting. She does still work there, after all. Either that or she quit or was fired for a while. Or maybe I just kept missing her.

So once we got our snacks, he played the radio a bit and we headed for Florence, a very small, scummy town where all the prisons are. They have several complexes; for those who’ve been convicted, those on DUI charges or convictions, and the county jail, where I was taken to. He didn’t take me all the way, though. A white skinhead took me part of the way, and he too, was nice. In fact, I was amazed at how nice everyone was. I thought I was gonna be abused, or at least encounter some serious rudeness, from both staff and prisoners where I was going, but I didn’t. The only one who was rude and snobby, but that’s the way they’re supposed to be, was the judge. He was cold and abrupt and anxious to be done talking to me as quickly as possible.

Later...

I’m tight, congested, and my allergies are acting up a little. Ironically, my lungs and nose were fine in jail. I still think a big source of my problems is the animals. That and things outdoors.

What a fucking back-stabbing, two-faced liar my sister has become! I mean, I always knew she was a liar, but she’s never been this vindictive. I know it’s all because I don’t have regular contact with her. I know our relationship was important to her. All I did was send her pictures, call a few times with the hopes of reaching Lisa, and defend her and her kids to her ex, telling him what any normal person would, yet now she fucking loves him, is sticking up for him, and saying I threatened her and her kids. I never threatened her and I certainly didn’t threaten the kids, and I never had any reason to, but let’s get back to where I left off about last night’s ordeal before I get into the Tammy and Bill details.

The bald cop put cuffs on in front so I’d be entering the jail cuffed and he wouldn’t get in trouble. I entered a large room with a few metal benches, a TV, and a long counter with the staff behind it. There weren’t many white staff members. Mostly blacks and Mexicans. Mostly women, too. They wore black pants with stripes along the side, similar to a cop’s uniform, and gray T-shirts. Some said “Sheriff” on back and some said “Detention.”

Surprisingly, all the women in the holding cell were white except for one. And they were so normal, too. Just your average, everyday people like me, although for the most part, it’s fair to say I’m not your average everyday person. How many people sing, draw, sign, teach themselves foreign languages, have sexually defunct partners, sterility, and an ear like mine? I could go on and on with the things I have or don’t have that aren’t the norm, but I won’t.

I arrived at the jail at 10:30 PM and shortly after I asked to go to the bathroom. They let me walk a few yards down by myself to go to a semi-private toilet. No one could’ve seen me if they walked by the doorway to this room, but if they had stepped into the room and around the wall I was behind, they could’ve seen me. It was an effort to pee, that’s how tense I was. It wouldn’t just effortlessly trickle out like it usually does when it starts. I had to squeeze it out by tightening my muscles and pushing like you do when you’re having a hard time shitting. I was really nervous for other reasons when I first entered this room. I saw that they had an exam table which was obviously used to make sure no one was hiding anything up their crotches. I thought, oh no! Just what I need, tense or not, in jail or not, but luckily, no one ever made me have an exam.

I waited on a bench for almost an hour. There were a few Mexican males on the benches, too. One chatted with me and told me he beat up his brother-in-law. He was friendly and polite, despite his scummy looks and the fact that I would never want to be friends with him. It was freezing in there and he gave me his blanket to wrap around me. He was already in uniform and with the things they give you.

At the counter, they asked me if I had ever tried to commit suicide and if I was thinking about it and I lied and said no. They asked me about illnesses and I told them I had asthma. I tried to find out more about who filed charges against me but they just stated the charges. I made a comment like, “Yeah right, like I really look intimidating? And a big black officer that sort of reminded me of Fat Albert said I did look intimidating and the other officers that were in earshot giggled. I said, “That’s a first,” but I knew he was joking.

So I sat on the bench and waited. During this time, a staff lady, who was actually kind of nice, I must admit, changed the TV channel by remote from behind the counter and upped the already very loud volume. At about 11:30, she took me to the room where the toilet was and further back into the room where there was a long built-in bench and a shower stall. She had me get into an orange prison uniform and told me I couldn’t keep my underwear if they weren’t plain white. My bra was plain white, but I figured I’d be more comfortable without it, so I gave her my bra and leopard print panties, even though I had my period and she didn’t offer me a tampon. Why do I always have to have my period when I get arrested, I thought! Fine, I also thought, don’t give me a tampon. I’ll just bleed all over your uniform, but I didn’t. I wiped when I got the chance to and was lying down most of the time. So she put me in uniform and took my dress, bra, panties, license, and hair elastic, but surprisingly, she let me keep my inhaler. Along with the uniform, I was given a box containing a towel, a blanket, and plastic sandals. They didn’t give me any food cuz I came in so late, but I wasn’t the least bit hungry. Being thrown in jail on account of the people that badgered and abused you kind of sucks up your appetite. In fact, because of the assholes back east and the assholes I used to live next to, I’m two pounds away from my dream premonition, which means I weigh 117 pounds.