Musical-Mother. Artist.
Freelance-Cartoonist.
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." (Edmund Burke)
In the USA, you can't just tell the truth, you must be able to document it.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Carolina Tragedies: brutal murders, death and suffering families
Being moved around by a corporation is never easy on a family. So when ours was transferred from Charlotte to Atlanta with Norfolk Southern Railroad, 1993 the family scampered to accommodate his employer.
It had been an emotionally brutal couple years for my eldest son. Amy Frink's death in 1992 was followed a year later by the death of another friend from Charlotte Latin School, Anna Kennedy. Her August, 1993 death occurred in a head-on collision while traveling to the North Carolina beach.
Both teenagers died in coastal region of North Carolina. A third, Crystal Todd, had died not long before in another horror story in South Carolina. In online Frink accounts, with no suspects and more than 160 questioned, (and an obviously brutal killer on the loose) noted Horry County, S.C. investigator Lt. Bill Knowles had advised there was no reason for travelers to be frightened while traveling through the area. Knowles had investigated both girl's murders.
A memorial garden is dedicated to Anna Kennedy at Charlotte Latin School. It's where my eldest son who had also known Amy Frink during summer vacations, graduated, 1993. He remained in Charlotte to attend college and the family moved on, our second son, Gerard J. Sniffen, III, remaining in Camden Military Academy, Camden SC. Gerard J. Sniffen, III. He would die shortly after I contacted Brunswick Authorities offering information to help solve Amy's murder, 1998. His bloody Alabama death had similar characteristics as Amy's, both last known calling from a phone booth, both crossing state lines, and without maternal body identification. Within months after my tips to the District Attorney, Rex Gore, Sheriff Ron Hewett's office, and the Brunswick Beacon Newspaper, Brunswick authorities found the killers, although not matching the information given.
Had I not become involved in Amy's case, and kept quiet, my own son may still be alive. It's shocking to realize silence is sometimes the best choice for witnesses to crimes. With all respect, I wish I could turn back time, and never involved myself or risked my family.
There is a connection between the murders because of the similarities of the deaths. Perhaps North Carolina was paying me back for being involved as a cartoonist. I had also been involved in the Union County community in North Carolina regarding crime, local and state political cartoons, P.T.A., and even chatted with the local sheriff about the possibility of putting drug dogs in the schools. The Democratic party was surely not happy with the newspaper editor or my cartoons when Republicans won the local elections.
in that era, and that former Governor Easley is rumored to have been involved with his brother in cocaine, things continue to piece together.
There are online accounts of Amy's death which recall many of the details I'd read in the Brunswick Beacon years before. Finding a similar story from Horry County sensationalized by True Crime TV, I found similarities in the Frink and Crystal Todd murders startling. I learned of Amy's tragic death in the Brunswick Beacon Newspaper, one I'd contributed a "jet ski" cartoon. We'd owned land there on a natural canal planning to build someday, and received the weekly publication by mail.
Wilmington, NC Morning Star News, Staff Writer Scott Gold wrote the account of the brutality Amy suffered, and how more than 160 interviews produced absolutely no information leading to a suspect. Acting Horry County, SC police Chief, Gerald Whitley was one of the investigators.
The suffering Amy's family experienced was and is surely beyond anything most parents could imagine.
Her investigation had involved a locally and nationally famous Horry County Police Chief, Lt. Bill Knowles, who was also active in the TruTV sensationalized
I had recalled that Amy had phoned her sister, and that she had died in S.C., questioning how a trial could have occurred in N.C. It was explained that her body had been moved after the murder, which explained the Brunswick trial, and South Carolina investigators.
In another online account Frank Maley, staff writer for the Wilmington Morning Star writes from Bolivia. Mentioning Lt. Bill Knowles, he explained invesitgators were tight-lipped and that some of the evidence was conflicting.
Amy had been chatting with her mother at nearly 3 a.m. before she left to go visit her sister in South Carolina and met the horrible fate.
When my son disappeared from Georgia, December 1998, he also made a call from a phone booth and spoke with his father. At that time his father was having an affair with a woman who had Raleigh, NC connections. Like Amy's murder, there were conflicting stories in Baldwin County, Alabama regarding my son's death. It's sad to see so many good families suffer.
Two years ago seven South Carolina college teens died in a
Although accounts since have blamed alcohol and partying for the teens tragic deaths, it's difficult to understand not one awakened to escape, and all were killed.
While in today's sensationalized, televised, computerized world it's a task for people to find the truth in any given situation, there isn't a Good Mom out there who wouldn't want this little card for a Mother's Day gift. The age-old words so many of us grew to know so well hold true 2000 years later, with so many things, including "unjust" judges, and even the credibility of lawyers and....
"The Truth Shall Set You Free."
The $Million questions are these: Will good Democrats and Republicans, regardless of wealth, political status, and/or fame, investigate & prosecute shady members of their own political parties?
Trainwrecked Americans: land contracts, mortgages, lawyers and IRAs
Now that former N.C. governor Mike Easley is in the hot seat, we learn of all the opportunities and assets made available to him as governor. He had trips abroad, free travel, land opportunities and the rich-and-famous at his service. Perhaps he’s about to experience the trauma of trainwrecked Americans––those who’ve had the doors of opportunity closed, because they’re targeted, despised or socially written off.
Let’s hope he nor his family ever experiences the despair and loneliness of social blacklisting. If he does, perhaps he will still have enough power to enact laws against those forms of hate crimes. When a person finds himself set up for derailment, nothing will happen as expected. There will be difficulty, errors and omissions in nearly every endeavor. Rumors will travel ahead carefully whispered by well-connected, secretive people.
Christianity carries the age-old stories of betrayal, deception, corruption, unjust lawyers, judges, politics and social detachment. In the Bible Jesus would arrive at a town knowing rumors, whether good or bad, had arrived before him. He was up against the elites of his day for threatening their power and control over the masses. He would quiz curious crowds learning of gossip and rumors preceding his arrival. Human nature changes little through the centuries, and the beauty of good religions lies within its wisdoms.
Easley was governor of North Carolina for eight years. Before that, he was Attorney General for eight years. While he was Attorney General Amy Frink was murdered, and a few years later I gave North Carolina authorities new information regarding her murder. Within six months my own son disappeared and was dead in Alabama with similar circumstances. Easley was still Attorney General.
With former governors, Alabama’s Siegelman and Carolina’s Easley both in the hot-seat, there are several things-in-common: NASCAR affiliations, Democrat party, Catholic religion, lottery proponents, maybe more. Several entities and industries connect the two states.
I’ve joked if they took three things out of the South, they’d take the D out of Dixie: country music, race cars, & fishin.’ All three are connected to this ongoing story, and sailboats, planes and yachts are others.
Land Contract: When I entered into the land contract in Kentucky the papers were drawn for the seller by Senator Dan Kelly. The terms were $25,000 cash down and within a year I would have to find financing. Having lived in the streets with a credit card awaiting the divorce settlement I had some debts which would prohibit an easy loan. But when the courts are sitting on money, it destroys credit, and that’s a part of the “game.” Having been married 23 years I had no credit of my own. Therefore I saw little other choice of having a home than a land contract.
Initially I contacted Conseco, a company that offered loans to higher risk customers for a price. What I found is the telephone quote was not the same when it arrived on paper. The papers requiring signature for the '30 year noose,' were two percentage points higher than the verbal quote.
For those unaware who are conditioned to trust this system, be sure to ALWAYS carefully read the fine print, every word, every number. NEVER, EVER trust a person's word-of-mouth before signing any document or agreement. If there is any question or confusion as to terms, do not be afraid to postpone the signature. Then find help before signing anything.
The Conseco loan officer was very nice, and I believe she discovered she’d been caught up in trouble, she left to work for Wells Fargo, but before leaving advised that the land contract and financing situation was “an extortion issue.” It did no good to seek any form of help from lawyers or otherwise, in my position in any endeavor. The upper eschelons were poised to look the other way. So, the seller went around telling people he’d scare me off the farm, keep the cash and get his farm back. In essence, $25,000 would disappear. It wasn’t long before I realized how serious this was for myself and the only friends I had left. My Georgia lawyer had already pulled what I considered some shifty moves, so couldn’t be trusted, still the courts had ordered him to fulfill the decree, which is called being stuck. He advised me of the divorce trial a day before, giving me less than 24 hours to be in Georgia. He avoided and would not return phone calls, and he, like George Childs, the previous lawyer, had taken a personal vacation when I was in trouble. Schatten played the waiting game with results. It was as though the lawyers were “in on” the destruction game. Schatten had even said he and the Judge were at a Cobb County Christmas cocktail party with the opposing lawyer, Michael Broadbear laughing about me and my case. It was a part of his strategy, and I so wondered who was on the other side of it all.
Only a man from so affluent a family could know the power of ridicule so well. It’s what the elites do best. Easley might be finding it out soon and I certainly hope not, because it’s very painful.
What these types of lawyers do is wear a client’s patience, make them so angry they’ll do something stupid. Then the lawyer flips the story against his client, playing the harassment or “crazy" card. George Childs used the harassment accusation, and Schatten kept the game going. Childs, at least, saw the case through my son’s disappearance and death before he dropped out of the game. Now apparently he’s in collections, and maybe should join the the Lexington attorney Sherman, or Sherman Aquisitions who seemed to be involved in all of this from the get-go.
The sad thing about attorneys is their system is set so a person can be stuck because the attorney has the last word, and bar associations are weak with reprimands. In finding an alternate lawyer the original lawyer is noted with the possibility of a contact. Somewhere along the way there's a possible meeting of the minds, and whatever transpires in those conversations can ruin a client for good in every area of his/her life following from state to state, town to town.
Somehow in contacting Willie Gary of Florida, Schatten later ended up with Gary’s Atlanta paternity suit, and I’ve wondered since whether now deceased,Tommy Schlette, in recommending Gary was somehow connected to Schatten. There’s no way to know, because although I suspect foul play in Tommy Schlette’s death, going to police with the Amy Frink murder was the beginning of my ten-year-ongoing-nightmare. There are some things I believe law enforcement and police never question and I've learned with the loss of my own son, and other witnesses to have died in all of this mess, it's best not to get involved.
Schlette had maintained my son was still alive, and I have contacted his family to notify them I strongly suspected foul play in their brother's death. Schatten had advised me he believed my husband had murdered our son, and that he and his P.I. could get information about his death––for a price. Contacting authorities was discouraged. Kentucky attorney O’Koon said no Georgia lawyers would handle my case. So, there is a blacklisting network among them.
Schatten is from a prominent family strongly supportive of the college two of my talented children attended. The “deceased” musically talented son had auditioned for a private, one-man musical presentation at Kennesaw State University, just before he disappeared.
The IRA issue works much the same way as attorneys, because if an entity controls an individual's IRA savings and the customer desires to move it, the company's rep will say they have to know where the assets are going. So that creates another chain-of-fools group privy to a person’s personal information and assets.
The people who make all of these laws, in Congress through lobbyists and lawyers are not the ones who will be abused by them. Like Mike Easley knows, for those on top, everything is delivered on a silver platter, well-secured and protected from hassle and delays.
For the rest of us, life and finance isn’t quite so well-lubricated. Next: Do ‘crazy’ people have civil rights, too?
Mr. Huey Mack, Sr., Baldwin County, Alabama coroner has passed away
Mobile, Alabama Press Register has announced the death of long time coroner Mr. Huey Mack, Sr., May 15, 2009. He had been Baldwin County's coroner for 28 years. He also operated the local funeral home.
Had it not been for Mr. Mack I would never have been able to get key details regarding the death and body shipment of a young man whose body was alleged to be that of my son.
Mr. Mack's information proved the Georgia funeral held for my son was held without the presence of a corpse. During the funeral, the body was still in an Alabama morgue.
When a child disappears from Georgia, dies in Alabama, is memorialized in Georgia, and buried in Virginia over the course of more than a month, it is very difficult to follow the paper trails, particularly when nearly every avenue for honest information is being stonewalled.
I have no doubts that Mr. Huey Mack believed the corpse examined was that of my son, and will always be grateful to him for being honest via telephone, in providing me with the information.
Deepest sympathy is extended to his family.
While his funeral was held Christmas Eve, December 24, 1998, at Mayes Ward Dobbins Funeral Home in Cobb County, Georgia; his body was not released by Alabama authorities until December 28, 1998. (see body release document below)
A soccer player most of his life, my son couldn't have had much success with 3-inch scars above each knee. There was no knee surgery, with the documented well-healed wounds, as the Alabama autopsy indicated on the male cadaver. In fact my son had no notable scars or wounds on his legs, at all. The thought of a pre-planned disappearance for my son is chilling, which could mean the dead body substituted or "mistaken," was quite possibly well planned, and possibly premeditated murder.
1998, Judge Lyn Stuart of Alabama released my son's body to his father. The problem is, the boy's father had a "bodyless" funeral in Georgia before he picked up the boy's dead body in Alabama. And he wasn't going to let me have the papers to prove anything, regarding body shipment or location. I had to get the information elsewhere.
A native Kentuckian, Mobile forensics examiner Julia Goodin, although she didn't actually perform the autopsy, signed forensics papers. She was relocated to the state of Iowa where she is recorded as having become the most powerful and highest paid forensics examiner in the state.
It's fascinating how Alabama's business coordinator, Mr. William Canary referred to "his girls" as capable of taking care of the Governor Don Siegelman problem. I felt as though I was watching the movie, "Witches of Eastwick" over again, in reading of Siegelman's political prosecution. I could almost hear Jack Nicholson's character, Daryl Van Horne bellowing, "Girls! Girls!"
So is this what real, deep-south, "Southern" women are made of? If so, they certainly aren't comparable to their cousins, "us Hillbillies."
Another fascinating story that interweaves with all of this is the Comair plane crash story, which links to Intergraph and some other companies, and affluent names. One of Intergraph's employees lived near a Kentucky lake rumored to have cocaine troubles and Triad connections in the past. With nearly fifty other victims, she perished in the crash. An interesting link is here:
And while memories of the little introductory warlock's letters fluttering off the once active Strategum web-site fade away, the double-murder-homicide is long forgotten by the press. Lights are on Alabama's Attorney General, Troy King, a former Strategum client, who now struggles to prove his place in the spotlight with Nashville's rich-and-famous is well-earned, er, –– well, ..... deserved.
Next: What were the planes landing by the Baldwin County Sheriff's hunting club?
How do banks handle crime? When do Americans notify police?
When banks began to keep original checks, and return copies I became very upset. My bank was only sending a copy of the front of each check. So, after having been robbed, I asked my bank to send copies of both, front and back. I wanted to see where the checks were cashed.
When I had been robbed, the bank required an affidavit, which I provided in detail, hoping to help remove criminal activity from the community. I was told initially the bank would handle the problem with law enforcement, and the money replaced to my account.
A while later I inquired to find the sheriff had never been notified of the robbery by the bank, and rather startled, I asked an accountant to explain why. He explained it was probably cheaper for the bank to replace the money than to initiate charges against the con man with law enforcement. The problem was, this man was impersonating a DEA agent and law enforcement should have been extremely upset about it.
A few years later one of those mentioned in the affidavit was dead, his obituary appeared in the Lexington newspaper on September 9, 2005. He was called "Daddy Jack," by country music folks and was said to have promoted more than one local musician - all the way to Nashville.
A personal check is a legal document. The endorsed check provides much information on both sides. Because I'd purchased the original checks, there was no reason the bank couldn't return my originals, signatures intact. Bank savings by shredding originals is probably minimal, and the practice should be illegal.
I wanted to know where the thief had cashed my forged checks.
So when do Americans notify law enforcement?
I'd asked my husband to notify Cobb County, Georgia police regarding our sons' victimization by a con man named Fred Grant. My husband refused, saying he "took care of Fred, himself." I'd given Brunswick, NC police information regarding Amy Frink's murderer. Within six months my own son was reported dead. My lawyer advised he believed my husband murdered our son, but advised not to involved police but to hire a private detective, instead.
What I found is while criminals walked free and continued their enterprises, I was the one who would be harassed, jailed, arrested, shackled, and ridiculed. It will never make any sense, but I won't stop blogging about it.
No other American Mother should ever have to suffer for trying to do the right thing. Raising children in this fickle society is challenge enough.
Alabama's Judge Lyn Stuart is now Justice Lyn Stuart...
A soccer player most of his life, my son couldn't have had much success with 3-inch scars above each knee. There was no knee surgery, with the documented well-healed wounds, as the Alabama autopsy indicated on the male cadaver. In fact my son had no notable scars or wounds on his legs, at all. The thought of a pre-planned disappearance for my son is chilling, which could mean the dead body substituted or "mistaken," was quite possibly well planned, and possibly premeditated murder.
1998, Judge Lyn Stuart of Alabama released my son's body to his father. The problem is, the boy's father had a "bodyless" funeral in Georgia before he picked up the boy's dead body in Alabama. And he wasn't going to let me have the papers to prove anything, regarding body shipment or location. I had to get the information elsewhere.
A native Kentuckian, Mobile forensics examiner Julia Goodin, although she didn't actually perform the autopsy, signed forensics papers. She was relocated to the state of Iowa where she is recorded as having become the most powerful and highest paid forensics examiner in the state.
It's fascinating how Alabama's business coordinator, Mr. William Canary referred to "his girls" as capable of taking care of the Governor Don Siegelman problem. I felt as though I was watching the movie, "Witches of Eastwick" over again, in reading of Siegelman's political prosecution. I could almost hear Jack Nicholson's character, Daryl Van Horne bellowing, "Girls! Girls!"
So is this what real, deep-south, "Southern" women are made of? If so, they certainly aren't comparable to their cousins, "us Hillbillies."
Another fascinating story that interweaves with all of this is the Comair plane crash story, which links to Intergraph and some other companies, and affluent names. One of Intergraph's employees lived near a Kentucky lake rumored to have cocaine troubles and Triad connections in the past. With nearly fifty other victims, she perished in the crash. An interesting link is here:
And while memories of the little introductory warlock's letters fluttering off the once active Strategum web-site fade away, the double-murder-homicide is long forgotten by the press. Lights are on Alabama's Attorney General, Troy King, a former Strategum client, who now struggles to prove his place in the spotlight with Nashville's rich-and-famous is well-earned, er, –– well, ..... deserved.
Next: What were the planes landing by the Baldwin County Sheriff's hunting club?
A visit to Florida's panhandle is a beautiful trip boasting powder white sands and an incredibly emerald sea. A friend recommends tasty treats at Another Broken Egg Cafe, based out of Mandeville––they're said to be the best. Next post will examine the do's and don'ts of short-term storage facilities, if temporary care is required for valuable personal belongings for a more permanent visit. There's a company in Kennesaw, Georgia who specializes in storage-facility design. When I first moved to Kentucky Stor-All Self Storage on Palumbo Drive was highly recommended.
And remembering Destin-bound Mr. Marcus Schrenker's airborne antics a few months back, and his choice storage facility where he stashed his escape motorcycle in the Talledega race track vicinity, we'll examine recent plane crashes, particularly in the South. Mr. Schrenker was one of the lucky ones who survived. It's important to remember those families who suffered such tragic losses with private and commercial crashes.
Businessman Ron Turner was lucky when he and his son walked away from a 2007 Tennessee crash. The plane was flying from Alabama to Kentucky and unfortunately ran out of gas in Tennessee. A few months later, 2008, six prominent Paulding County, Georgia Republicans lost their lives in a Mount Airy, North Carolina crash. Greater known Mike Connell's Ohio crash late last year was a shock, as he was a potential federal witness having kept records regarding missing emails, and Mr. Connell also serviced the Swiftboat Veterans websites.
A curious mind then can wander back in time to 1989 and the Vanpac bombings, which killed Judge Vance, and a Southern Company subsidiary, Gulf Power aircraft explosion which killed Senior Vice President, and federal witness, Jake Horton.
One more recent crash which seemed particularly tragic produced massive Kentucky losses with the victims of Comair 5191, Lexington, 2006. So many passengers were acquainted, or affiliated with common causes or interests, there seemed to almost be a pattern.
Next: "The Dixie Mafia" means.............. business.
"You don't have any law suits. There's too much money against you." - Attorney Gatewood Galbraith, Lexington, Ky @2001
I'd heard the story years before while a freelance cartooning, of the North Carolina assistant district attorney who'd refused to go along with the courthouse 'good 'ole boys.' They'd retaliated, and destroyed her career and her life. It wasn't the first story of "Southern Justice." More than one honest police officer's found himself on the outside-looking-in, blacklisted, and some Southerners have even been set up and silenced in prison so the big boys can stay in power and keep the scams alive. There was a player in the Bluegrass Conspiracy named Roger Barnard who died in Kentucky a few years back. Folks said he was a powerful connection, in fact one person close to him said, "Roger Barnard could get a person put in prison, and he could also get a person out."
It appears in the South, some Americans are literally exempt from the law and it's protections, and rights guaranteed. And others might be accused, convicted & setup for destruction, even if innocent. The players who use the law to destroy enemies know the game, and how to apply pressure to create bait-and-trap situations.
Shaking pockets in the Bluegrass with an Alabama Wiregrass twist–– Fictional stories like the Dukes of Hazzard regarding Southern Justice and Boss Hogg types guarding and padding their own pockets might not be so far from the truth. There was a Southern ballad once, The Night the Lights went out in Georgia, with memorable lyrics,
'...and a big-bellied Sheriff grabbed a gun and said why'd ya do it? The judge said guilty in a make-believe trial, slapped the sheriff on the back with a smile and said, "Supper's waitin' at home and I gotta get to it"'
It was a Birmingham based company I first tried to finance a home with, the year 2000. Alabama's Attorney General, Troy King was highly respected by New South, so much so he was given an award.
So when New South got all of my financial information for the purchase, then they did something we call "reneggin'-on-the-deal'" in the South. They decided to up the cash ante by $3,000 for the home purchase which would leave no cash in the bank, forcing other losses, including retrieval of my personal belongings in Georgia. I decided to walk away figuring this was another fixed game, rigged real 'high-up' at the top. I felt I should get my files since we weren't doing business, and went back to New South's office, where I was refused a full set––of copies. They said they opted to keep some of the files regarding my business, and I wasn't privy to them, even to observe. By the stack of papers they had regarding my personal business, I figured I walked away with copies of maybe 1/2-2/3 of the total stack. So what were they hiding regarding my personal business, and their banking practices that I was not permitted to see? Waddell and Reid was as much fun. The system was rigged so that every financial person was privy to it all, and capable of knowing everything anyone had. It was a tight network in Kentucky. Mr. Meyer had said with a Jersey mob accent, "Where ya gonna take ya money, honey? Bahmuda? Bahamas?" I had told him it was none of his business, but in fact, the little banking rules said it was. So this was the finance trap, a game crafted by money scammers who wrote the laws, and played by scamming specialists trained in the money-fraud game.
So, now we know. If you have assets, bank it where nobody can get the information–– if that's possible anywhere in the USA. Hello Switzerland! And if they can ever get you down, broke, desperate, hungry, angry, or emotionally spent–– then this guy comes along and makes an offer you almost can't refuse. That's when you find out who The Devil really is. No good can come from the offer, because he's part of the group who created the situation to begin with.
Turn the guy down! But keep an eye out for his wire, because he's probably wearing one and might just be sent to set you up. Sometimes, you never know down South who you're really dealing with.
Pretty desperate to find a home as the clock was ticking with an ultimatum to pick up all the furniture, the next to come was a land contract, which is another nightmare for those young, and inexperienced, documented elsewhere in this blog. If there will be scams, fraud, or organized criminal tricks, read within this blog and you'll find many of them, experienced first hand by the author. (And by the time you're finished you'll be so suspicious of professionals, business associations, courts, and elite networking you'll even avoid doctors and cops.) If anyone would like more specific details please feel free to email me, at theloonusa@yahoo.com.
(Being considered "crazy," according to one Kentucky observer, Roy Tanner, is what apparently saved my life, thus the title for this Blog. Another thing that saves a person's life-on-the-streets–– is money. It's another part of the pocket-shakin' game.)
According to Willie Nelson's good buddy, Gatewood Galbraith, some of us Americans are exempt from the money-controlled justice system, but at least by detailing and documenting Southern horror stories like these, more Americans will better understand how it is they're living in a fraud-ridden country, and how the system is set up for criminals to flourish, murder, lie, cheat, steal, prosper, and then run away with the cash. Finally, 2001 after scams ongoing 3 years, more than 500 pages were gathered and compiled at the suggestion of Danny Smith, assistant U.S. Attorney, Lexington. It contained documentation of false arrests and intimidation, financial scamming, fraud, false billing, stalking, theft, and illegal activity involving Americans, even Muslims––and was delivered to Louisville, Kentucky, November, 2001. At that point I felt patriotic, as though I was being of service to my country, particularly with the Muslim information.
It didn't work that way, at all.
Louisville FBI Agent Brian Blanchard's solution to the massive series of documented schemes and arrests, intimidations and con jobs was simple:
"This is a civil matter."
And then if you believe you can find justice in a court, be ready to spend plenty of time and money to discover otherwise. A lawyer, Todd Spalding, said it best in Kentucky.
"Your case is clearly won. I see no reason for you to lose, but the judge can rule however he wants."
After about four years and several postponements including the judge's, I lost. On one trip I found my truck had no brakes. And in the court, I was reprimanded by the judge for saying the word, marijuana. (The farm sets in an area notorious for growing the crop.)
It wasn't surprising in losing the land dispute case against a criminal who'd even shot a man in the back. Gatewood's words would always ring true. I'd never win, and the deck was stacked with winks and nods in Kentucky's underground before I'd been terrified away from Georgia by police and false arrests. Gatewood knew it. I should have left Kentucky when I had good health and money in the bank, and gone west––completely away from the South, where eventually the entire family will be wiped out.
Understanding the American Justice system–– criminal vs. civil law, and exactly how they differ is a challenge for anyone outside the legal professions. For those of us with simple "right/wrong" reasoning, fraud, theft, lying to police, and colluding someone's destruction are crimes. But with the justice system, apparently these are ongoing potentially expensive "civil cases," which could tie up courts for decades in never unraveling the entire network.
My question was whether Blanchard's direct boss was Steve Pence, then U.S. Attorney (appointed at the same time as Leura Canary of Alabama,) who would be the next Lt. Governor for the State of Kentucky. Had it all been planned, and were bosses covering the coverups? And what US Attorney would open a case if told by superior politicians to ignore it?
Eventually politicians were able to play the runaround game even more. Kentucky Attorney General Greg Stumbo was unwilling to help and so was Alabama's Troy King. Alabama District Attorney David Whetstone, Cobb County's District Attorney Pat Head––they all buried their heads beneath Southern Justice with so many others! So at least a break came late last year when journalist Jillian Kramer of the Mobile Press-Register agreed to write an article regarding my son's Baldwin County, Alabama "suicide." With everything else and all the scams, losses, and harassment, disbelief and 'psycho-shock,' one after another, it was difficult to shake the mental vision of my son's bloody, headless body.
A week after her and Huey Mack's inaccurate "swiggin whiskey" article about my child (below,) Mobile Press-Register journalist Kramer, with the headlines, "Gambling tops Attorney General Troy King's 2009 crime legislation package" honored
In all of the ways this country boasts its humanity, its position on the planet as the guardian of human rights and protector of human dignity, I can say for the course of the past ten years it would been more humane for them to have put a bullet through my head, and let the killer walk scot-free. No suffering is greater or comparable than ongoing and constant mental torture, the bloody murder of a mother's child, then ongoing degradation, stalking, harassment, intimidation, false arrests and financial destruction. Even a witch-burning would have been physically painful, yet over in a few minutes- far more humane than contemporary American methods of human destruction.
But as the torture continued, knowing I was hand-picked and targeted, I'd endure it for the female NC Assistant District Attorney Loflin had said was destroyed by the Good Ole Boys so many years ago. I'd been a cartoonist in her area sad to hear the story years after her demise, knowing now it had to have been true. Somebody had to take the stand against these Southern Devils, and it would have to be somebody's Mom in a land where opportunists like Gingrich and McCain and some others use and discard women like last year's suit. Crumbling churches wouldn't clean it up, and they'd proven it over time.
I'd asked the courtesy of proofing Jillian's story before publication but was not granted permission. It's a pretty traditional "Southern" activity in the Bible Belt to kill one's self with a blast to the face using a shotgun. Even California's journalist Gary Webb, like Carolina's Officer Davina Jones at Bald Head Island, had managed to put a bullet square in the backs of his own head, "suicide" style. They'd both been investigating drug activity, and "suicided" is a common coroner's ruling. These are choice blood & gore suicide methods, although some will say these types of suicides are extremely difficult for a single person to perform alone. Few would choose so bloody an ending particularly if illegal drugs were readily available, and could provide so less painful a final ending.
Clip (see the link for full story below)Tuesday, December 30, 2008
By JILLIAN KRAMER Staff Reporter Gerard Sniffen III broke into a Baldwin County trailer home on Scarborough Lane, discovered the bedroom and its cluttered closet, and discarded his Tommy Hilfiger clothes for women's sweatpants and a camouflage jacket. When he saw a whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter, the 18-year-old Georgia native took a few swigs, then moved over to the gun rack and selected a shotgun. Minutes later, seated on the backyard bench swing and wearing neither socks nor shoes, Sniffen shot himself through the mouth. He fell to the side of the wooden seat, where sheriff's deputies found him, still warm, but dead.
My son was 20-years old, and not 18. And if he were caught with his pants down, he wouldn't have put on a Crenshaw machine shop, t-shirt or women's clothing. I've found recently that another member of the rather expansive Crenshaw family was involved with
So where is CSI when we need expert witnessing? The world actually believes we're honest and forthright with tv shows like these.
(OOPS) Forensics report says no alcohol in the body and Baldwin's Sheriff Deputy says he'd been "swigging" whiskey before he blew his head off.
(OOPS) Gerard J. Sniffen, III never had knee surgery, in fact, never had knee scars or leg scars of any kind. Another fine detail overlooked by the Dad who picked up the body from Alabama, flew it to Georgia––several days after the boy's Cobb County, Georgia funeral.
There were illegal gambling machines in Brunswick, NC where Amy Frink died, and where Officer Davina Jones was executed. NC former Judge Bill Gore is said to have made his fortune from them. There were illegal gambling machines in Knoxville, and in Kentucky. Hundreds of dead racing greyhounds were discarded, killed cheap and buried in Baldwin County, Alabama, and even today Troy King is wrestling with a prized campaign contributor, Milton McGregor, to get more and legal gambling opportunities for Alabama.
Anything illegal always goes to the ever-flourishing underground black-market. But then if gambling's legal it's often rumored as owned and operated by organized crime, so the South might consider benefits overall with any attempts to make the Southland, in fact the entire USA,
Few Americans are aware of our military, and that gambling machines are readily available for those overseas paid small salaries to guard our country. That the military is shaking the pockets of young military troops, while risking addicting them to gambling, is pretty incredible, to say the least.
Being a little facetious, for these particular tight-times, gambling might improve education like the lottery has, so that kids can grow up educated to find jobs in overseas American corporate-owned sweat shops. Gambling revenue might educate more American financial geniuses to further complicate the tax, and finance systems. The question is can casinos make money from jobless, homeless Americans? Will America become vacation land for wealthy foreigners to enjoy touring the nationwide casino junkets? Maybe their winnings can purchase the abandoned, repossessed homes and vehicles of today.
"In Birmingham they love the governor Now we all did what we could do Now Watergate does not bother me Does your conscience bother you? Tell the truth." - Sweet Home Alabama, Lynyrd Skynyrd
One thing's for certain–– the same Bible Belt that tells a child a big, fat guy dressed in red squeezes through a square hole 1/4 his diameter each year, visits millions of houses in one night delivering billions of toys, and escapes thousands of lit fireplaces without being burned will believe a coroner's suicide ruling, a falsified police report, a dishonest executive, or a bent politician, without question–– every time.
More investigations lead to these people, places and things: Atlanta's Michael Broadbear is partnered with Herbert Leeming in varying ventures, who was at some time past associated with Mr. Fred Filsoof. Mr. Filsoof had an Iranian organization of sorts during the Reagan years, and was also involved with a Louisiana theatre and some racing type ventures. Filsoof's affiliations have been national, with strong interests in the Daytona area.
I'd been approached by a man in Marietta, GA on one of my horror trips to yet another court house nightmare there. English accent, said he had a caterpillar dealership, and a silver Porsche in his garage he raced all over the world. Having never been a car racing fan, it was the first I knew of global racing. He said he couldn't keep employees in Cobb County because the cops kept stalking them and giving them tickets. I told him the police probably preferred the other CAT dealership to his, and knew a guy who worked there. He said he'd been lead guitarist in the Searchers band, and for the next ten years musicians would continue to be a part of the picture. Tall, blonde, he'd said he'd get me out of the Cobb County jail if they put me in, and at that point I was happy to have a foreign friend since my husband and landlord had been able to turn even my immediate family against me with lies. Strange the musicians kept appearing, since my late son, in fact both sons, had developed their musical talent. I could remember back a day watching my aging grandfather's face as tears trickled down, saddened my elder brother had involved himself with music, at all. At the time I couldn't understand my grandfather's sorrow. Now, I understand quite well. My sons had been affiliated with Guitar Center in Cobb County, Georgia and having come from an extremely talented musical family, they were both exceptionally gifted, an inborn talent that can become a curse in the USA.
It was a strong trait carried in my father's family. Later I'd meet former musicians, Tommy Schlette, and Tommy Doyle of New Jersey, NY; Rick aka "Lurch" Lewis, bass player from Hyden, Kentucky; several musicians from Cheyenne Social Club, Nicholasville; Lanny Murphy's band at Jack Goble's Boardwalk in Lexington; and even the uncle of John Michael Montgomery.
Musicians were everywhere, particularly in Kentucky. There were plenty of "country music lookalikes" hanging out in Nicholasville. I'd never been a country music fan, so didn't know who the "lookalikes" were supposed to be until told, and was surprised whenever a rock song was played on the juke box. One barfly explained it this way, "You're in klan country, honey."
"Klan country?" Where I'd come from, the Klan had disappeared or at least crawled into a real deep, dark hole to hybernate. For a moment, my mind drifted back the the teen years and black & white television.
There was a Hank Williams, Jr. lookalike offering rides to DUI classes, and a Toby Keith lookalike offering to place cows on Kentucky farms. (One thing the ladies should know–– never, ever allow a friendly lookin' cowboy to put animals on your land. There's a good chance he won't maintain the fencing, and besides easy access and other things, that's a dangerous liability when the cows get out on the road. Just another "tip.") But even in Warner Robins, Georgia on Miller Drive, I'd been approached by a musician who came knocking on the door almost at random. He said he was named "Buchanan," looked about 38 years old, medium brown hair, nice looking guy, and had gold records and a little gold earring in his ear. He'd said he "worked with disabled children," and said I didn't really need the cops for all I was going through with my husband, I needed the mafia. I figured I already had that, and he probably knew it, too. It's probably who sent him on my doorstep.
But he knew the guy who lived across the street on Miller Drive, all tattooed and looked as though his face had fallen into a fishing tackle box along the way. There were earrings and bits of metal attached to places on his head that weren't even crevices. He had an interesting blond girlfriend, I'd swear I saw later in Kentucky. At least the hair was identical, shoulder length, and bleached almost white. It's funny the night my son supposedly died, a strange, long-haired hippie dude came knocking on the door asking for $1.75. Seemed he had a flat tire, and the money would help. I was generous, giving him $2, told him to keep the change. I've figured since he was probably connected to the ones involved in slashing the tires on my "dead, suicided" son's vehicle.
A white-haired, Las Vegas man had moved in to Warner Robins and taken over Smokes Bar. It was a karaoke hangout and a way to pass the time while awaiting the incredibly destructive and devastating Cobb County divorce process. Pretty soon I'd have to flee the state of Georgia altogether.
It's pretty amazing how they fixed everything up in Baldwin County, Alabama with the "suicide." There were all kinds of stories. But after investigations, and discovering Baldwin County, Alabama––like Brunswick, NC, has a history of drugs and corruption, it's not so difficult to understand how they could pull off something like that.
When I was arrested in Houston County, Georgia, there was a mysterious policeman at the jail house who couldn't give good directions. "I don't know, ma'am, he'd said. "I'm not from around here." I asked where he was from. "Alabama." Strange a cop doesn't know his way around such a small town as Warner Robins, and he's fresh from Alabama? How ironic. Maybe he was the eye-witness message man for the Dixie Mafia that made the plans for the railroad boys.
The railroad boss, Phil Ogden, wore cowboy hat and boots at the Christmas party, fully entertained guests including Cobb County politicians with the railroad's musical "Lawmen," and supplier Okonite's President, Al Coppola took the railroad execs for a nice trip to Opryland, to meet Louise Mandrell backstage and enjoy live entertainment from Jay Leno. Later I'd find both Ogden and Coppola had heavy interests in Kentucky, Coppola's company with a large Richmond plant, and Ogden with a seat on the board of RJ Corman, coincidentally, not a city block from where I rented my first Kentucky residence.
Bill Casey and Larry Hagerman showed up and said they were in the "James Gang," but neither could play an instrument, and not long some musicians who painted water towers floated into town from Ohio. They were, like Bill Casey, boasting "Irish."
Later I'd find that my husband's mistress and new wife, had brothers near Daytona in the surf board business who were affiliated with
At that point my remaining son, having buried his brother, said he'd decided to avoid music altogether, feeling the industry was run by an unseen underworld, even rumored to be run by the mafia.
In Kentucky, the late Mr. Richard Sexton trekked back and forth from Kentucky to Daytona, his second home, with an interest in Anderson County, SC enroute. Sexton bragged he'd "run a whorehouse in Anderson County," but one local says Kentucky girls were shipped down to Daytona instead. My initial acquaintance with Richard Sexton indicated he was doing a job, particularly when I left and came back to my house to find a dead dog, and Sexton's partner-in-crime, Elmer Begley with tears streaming down his face.
Begley'd been a musical-wannabe-turned-drug-mule, like so many talented folks do. Begley's problem is he never lost that piece of his heart called human compassion and even up the end he was sickened over people he'd known, rendered mentally deficient from "breathin' them fumes."
Begley was one who wanted to turn back time, and change what he'd become. He explained 'they' like to get musicians hooked on drugs because it's good for business. Why? I had to ask. "Because then all the kids so crazy about musicians get on drugs, too," he'd said. He was quick to name local attorneys involved in the cocaine trade, and even mentioned several local dealers and pointed out farms and homes in the area "built with cocaine money." Time and again, the question always remained, "Who's 'they'?"
I felt sorry for Begley. He'd gotten into something he'd never get out of alive, and he never did.
(Mama's don't let your babies grow up to be drug-mules.)
That wire fox terrier was "Charlie." He was the first to die in Kentucky, but not the first to be stolen. Nearly a dozen would die before it was over. Not so long I'd meet a guy named Wes McClure flashing a DEA badge and yet a second offering to buy my, by now notorious former marijuana farm for $25,000 less than the I'd originally paid. (The first offer had come from North Carolina.) He knew all about Beale St. in Memphis and I'd never heard of it. We took a ride there, and I liked the Blues and I came back to find I'd been robbed. Kentucky had quite a network of musical worker-bees, and obviously too much musical talent for available opportunities. James Lay had friends at "The Grapevine," a bar in Lexington, and more friends on Lake Herrington. His nephew was John Michael Montgomery. And Wes McClure had a Lexington liquor store cash his forgeries. He had stories of PCP laced marijuana and seemed to know a lot about the drug trades, being a DEA agent and all. They have quite an organization, and another little mind game of leaving pennies and coins here, there and everywhere. Seemed everywhere I'd go there would be money, even at a cabin the musical son had rented in Lexington. Coins would just fall into the parking lot, like from nowhere. This was the era of "New Money," a band down in Macon, Georgia, and the quarters with varying states folks were collecting. Music was everywhere - and so were pennies falling from heaven! And there was obviously a gang plan in Kentucky, along with some stalkers. I'd have to find out who they were, and what the game was, because they probably were connected to my son's murder in Alabama. It had to be the "Dixie Mob," because it spanned so many Southern states.
When the Dixie Mob goes to work on your family, count on being strung across the South, and it might be very, very bloody. If you can endure the horrors these good ole boys arrange, there's hope for survival. Southern gangs have a way of committing bloody murders, destroying lives and families, and there's a pretty strong ingredient for cruelty and hate. Country music would have the world believe the South offers wholesome, clean shiny farms, smiling faces, and brand, new tractors. I wish it were true, because eradicating more of the poverty and illiteracy might remove some of the cruelty and hate.
Gordon Bennett was proud of his home state and said it best, "We've got the meanest people in the world in Kentucky. I've got nephews that'll kill a man for a pack of cigarettes. We got wells full of human bones in Eastern Kentucky. And we're poor, but we've got great, big families and lots and lots of babies."
In Atlanta, the Alpharetta area, strange there were some Iranians selling tile and marble, and affiliated with hardwood floors on the front end of these troubles in 1998. Today, there doesn't seem to be a trace of them, even though I was in the show room and met them in person. But it all seemed to tie together through these musical sons. And somehow I was going to find out exactly who and how it all happened, because, like with so many other American families, their father never really cared–– at all.
But how does Brunswick, North Carolina and Baldwin County, Alabama connect? Both counties are involved with similar murders of kids who left an adjacent state, crossed state lines, suffered bloody, heinous deaths, and neither mother identified the bodies. The two counties have those things in common, but more they're connected with a threat from a prison worker (below.) It's like the same fingerprints are on both murders. And as a shady county like Brunswick, North Carolina, where Officer Davina Jones was obviously executed, the "suicide tag" was conveniently used in that Southern area, even supported by state officials.
Brunswick's former Sheriff Hewett just went to prison last year after more than a decade in power. And the county was involved in drugs in the early 1980's, as was Baldwin Alabama in the latter 1970's.
All classes of criminals keep facts covered as long as they can, but the truth finally comes crawls out some day. Players grow older, look at the grandkids, think of their children, their families, and the real penalties for organized criminal activity and participation. Folks get closer to the grave, and try to move a little closer to Heaven before that Gate's shut for good.
Why did this prison employee make contact via internet advising me to stop what I was doing, to stop uncovering things regarding my son's Baldwin county "suicide" and give the advice to get on with my life? Why did he say "they" would kill me? How did he know Huey Mack? He'd said they met at a yearly convention of some sort, and I've wished I could remember the name of the meeting. Why did Tommy Schlette tell me I should stop trying to uncover the truth? Why did James Robinette say I should stop writing my story via internet? Could theft of my story, or the "money" in any way equal the death and loss of my child?
The only way to get the mob off your back is to get to a safe place, go public, and brace for what "accident" they might plan next. Cops on-the-take, or "in the dark," often look the other way. And sadly, the good, honest cops will often, under these circumstances, be "thrown to the wolves."
Next we'll look at former Baldwin sheriff, Jimmy Johnson's Oglesby Fork Hunting Club, present sheriff Huey Mack's family ventures including the local funeral home, local restaurant, Florida McMelons and McTrucks.
"If your Congressman isn't influenced by Vegas, you might not be an American." - Anonymous
"....Then, at the outset of World War II, U.S. Naval Intelligence and the nation's new espionage agency, the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), enlisted Lansky and the syndicate in a historic collaboration, the top-secret Operation Underworld, in which government agents employed mobsters and their labor goons in a campaign of coercion and bribery ostensibly to prevent sabotage and quell controlled leftist unions on New York docks. The "dirty little secret of Operation Underworld," as former White House official put it, "was that the United States Government needed Meyer Lansky and organized crime to force an industrial peace and a policing of sabotage on the wharves and in the warehouses. The government turned to him because hiring thugs was what government and business had been doing for a long time to control workers, and because it could conceive little other choice in the system at hand." - p.26, The Money and the Power, by Sally Denton and Roger Morris
p. 246 ........"The Kennedys hotly pursued the Castro murder contract with the Syndicate, sometimes through Rosselli, sometimes through their own team of gangsters, through government agents at lower levels worried that their organized crime cohorts were not taking the effort seriously enough."
My Father Lt. Commander, Pilot 8-16-1923 - 10-28-1962 Active duty, Cuban Missile Crisis
My Son Gerard J. Sniffen, III 4-21-78 - 12-8-98 musician, student, ROTC
If they think they can get away with it, they'll kill off your entire family. But they'll be sure to shake the pockets and accounts real good first. At one time this was a great country, but drugs, greed, and organized crime moved our status toward 'Third World,' a long, long time ago.
Gordon said his divorce attorney in Lexington was named Mr. Sherman. He had assured me that, in Kentucky I would not be falsely arrested or harassed by police, and there would be people there to help for all I'd suffered in Georgia. Kentucky was a "commonwealth" and those things don't happen there, he'd said. We went to Mr. Sherman's office and there I met an elderly man.
After looking at my records, Mr. Sherman became extremely rude and ordered me to "pick up that box and get it out of my office!"
So when Sherman Acquisitions began to chase me around for charges I'd made while living in the streets awaiting divorce, I had to wonder if this whole con game was an all-in-the-family affair.
Kentucky became one horror after another.
In attempting to get help initially from Detective Jude at the Richmond State Police Criminal Justice headquarters, my picture was taken by a man in the back room. Yet in attempting contact with Detective Jude later, I learned he'd retired.
Even after speaking with Steve O'Daniel after that, detective and head of Kentucky's Justice Cabinet investigations, O'Daniel said it sounded to him "one of those gangs" had lured me to the state to "take everything you have." He knew about the gangs. But this gang had to be tied in with the Georgia people who staged all of the arrests to frighten a target away from Georgia. I was naive enough to believe corruption in one state would not cross state lines.
So was the Kentucky mafia connected to Georgia's larger Dixie boys? And were those doing a job for the railroad's accident lawyer, Mike Broadbear and my ex? It wasn't long until––
Jessamine County, particularly Nicholasville, was one place I would never return and appeared to be the center of many of my problems. It appeared Mr. O'Daniel was suffering political harassment, as well.
Seemed my railroad executive ex-husband and his Georgia lawyer, Mike Broadbear, had some fine connections, possibly with organized crime, or high-end political strings, since both were staunch Republicans. Was this Bluegrass Conspiracy Gordon spoke about connected to the Georgia boys? All of the mafias apparently connect in doing favors for each other. But these were able to pull strings in courts and police departments, which made it political.
Horse racing fit in, with the Red Mile employee walking right up to us and telling my daughter which horse she should bet. It was like he knew her. He had a Jersey accent––or was it New York? Horse racing would show up on and off, even years later with a Bostonian screen-named Saratogafilly and a curious stalker in Virginia who once had a "winning horse."
And where did the musical connections fit? Was this a mafia too? I figured it was. The ex's brothers-in-law linked to Daytona music, and so did some local Kentuckians, like Richard Sexton. Tommy Schlette, Tommy Doyle: both from New Jersey––like Okonite, one of my husband's favorite vendors at the railroad. Okonite like other companies, wined and dined railroad purchasing agents and executives, took them to casinos and even to the Grand Ole Opry. And the musicians were happy for the corporate gigs! Kentucky had country-music lookalikes, and plenty of talent. The kickbacks at the railroad were extravagant for executives, with trips to golf tourneys, abroad and elsewhere.
A trip on Sun Cruz casino boat out of Largo, Florida preceded it all. What little I'd won, my husband thought it hilarious, took it to the blackjack tables and lost with a big smile on his face. Later back at the hotel, he told the bartender he owned the hotel, and I thought he was losing his mind. Appears he'd made some deals I didn't know about. I was a little shocked to find a Sun Cruz office so near Shallotte, NC where Amy Frink died so many years before. The captain of the Little River casino boat floats around from the South Carolina coast to Cape Canaveral area of Florida. One acquaintance says there isn't a floating Florida casino that isn't mafia owned and operated.
And the media would have us believe the mafia is just about gone? I don't think so.
What happens next? One of my "followers" shows up to make my acquaintance. "How would you like to take a ride in my private plane to Lake Cumberland?" He went on, "I'm Harold Fletcher's campaign manager, and I'm building the new Mariott at the Horse Park." I thought for a minute and said, "Why don't you email me sometime?" Later, I thought about it and figured I'd end up dead on the ground, and someone would say, "Why that crazy lady jumped right out of the plane!" Question is, what was the proposition? I didn't want to find out. The one thing I did verify: It really was Harold Fletcher's campaign manager, according to Republican party headquarters. Harold was running for the Kentucky state senate, and his brother was Ernie Fletcher, the Governor.
They were all somehow connected to the coverup, or the people who had reportedly killed my son in Alabama and labeled it suicide, to the folks in Georgia affiliated with my ex-husband, to Nell Stumpff, the Warner Robins, Georgia landlord, and that's what I intended to find out. But it seemed any attempts to ask law enforcement for help failed.
That's politics.
Gordon had said he was Pentecostal Holiness and his "preacher knew what he did." He'd said he was in the US Army Viet Nam, and he had "enough C-4 to blow up the Warner Robins Air Force Base." Police didn't seem concerned with anything I could prove. Even the Louisville FBI seemed unconcerned, whom in 2001, I'd turned in more than 500 pages of documentation proving I was telling the truth. Sabotage continued to my home, and the animals continued to die. Later I'd find Louisville's US Attorney was appointed at the same time as Bush appointed Alabama's US Attorney Leura Canary. HIs position as US Attorney was a step to the Governor's mansion: Steve Pence. Soon he became Lt. Governor, under Fletcher.
Does anybody smell Karl Rove or Jack Abramoff? Maybe Senator McConnell, or Hal Rogers–– $49,000.00 worth. (That's politics.)
Gordon said he'd been brainwashed, and had taken a shotgun over to a man's house and shot him dead as he answered the door. Why? He said 'they' had shown him a video-tape of the man raping a boy. 'They' stood over Gordon with bags over their heads and 'they' told him what to do.
"You don't know who 'they' are, because their faces are covered," he said. Images of the KKK went through my mind. But by then Gordon's acquaintance was as frightening a trap as my marriage had been. He knew who killed my son. It's why he and some others in Kentucky were so preoccupied with speaking of shotgun blasts to the head. It was a part of their "crazy game" that was later explained as method of the stalker's strategies. They were doing a job for the Georgia boys.
The fact that Julia Goodin, the Alabama forensics officer was from Columbia, Kentucky; and landed the biggest forensics job in Iowa shortly after my son died in Mobile, Alabama is curious enough. Strange how his Alabama forensics description doesn't completely match his body.
Gordon had said he'd been set up by the Fayette County Sheriff, during the Bluegrass Conspiracy ten years before, and spent 3 years in prison. He said he'd been to St. Joseph's hospital for his throat cancer, and that his brother died mysteriously there. "You go to the hospital to die," he said.
"They tried to get me to run cocaine on my cement trucks," he said, "and I refused." Continuing, "When I refused, they planted cocaine on my truck and had me busted."
He continued saying proudly, but with much rage intact from the ordeal, "The sheriff went to jail one week, and I went to prison three years. But I brought him down––I even went on TV."
He'd mentioned Attorney Gatewood Galbraith, and I later asked Gatewood about Gordon's story. Gatewood explained, regarding the cocaine incident, "That's not exactly how it happened."
Gordon had shown me where to store my things on Palumbo Drive, until I could find a more permanent place to live. He'd mentioned I should read the "Bluegrass Conspiracy" which I was able to purchase later. There I'd find that even Kentucky's present head of Criminal Justice was implicated in covering up more than one crime, and that knocking on doors and shooting people in their homes seem to be a Kentucky trademark, as it was with Bonnie Kelly in the book.
Is "shotgun blast to the face" a traditional Southern killing and suicide method for certain states like Kentucky and Alabama? Is it a Southern thing?
An elderly woman running the local Kentucky store asked, "Aren't you afraid to go outside your house at nights?" I wanted to ask if she was afraid of Al-Quaeda, because surely "Homeland Security" was protecting her neighborhood. But her neighborhood, like so many others, had been overtaken by drugs and drug gangs for several decades.
Until Georgia decided to settle my divorce and sign the papers, I had to stay in motels and board my animals as best I knew, awaiting Georgia's divorce decisions which took more than a year. All the while my husband had moved to the home of his Georgia mistress and they'd set up a business; my daughter was in our home alone, afraid and finishing high school unattended. They tore up the family, left one child dead, and left wounds in the others which will never, ever heal.
One dead child, two left with scars forever, and a frightened mother running scared, robbed, stalked and tracked, to be destroyed in another state. If you plan to get a divorce in Georgia, you might consider a trip to Reno instead, and feel lucky to get out with your children safe, your sanity and health intact––and your life. Or if papers are served, or you're put on the streets, get to a safe, protected spot with family, and be ready to spend LOTS of money for trips back and forth, and expect at least a year of Georgia attorney games. Watch your back, because they might have you watched, followed, stalked, and your vehicle can be sabotaged––and even worse.
The Bluegrass Conspiracy lives––and Georgia has one all its own.
Investigating your attorney. Is it a good idea? You can bet your cheesecake it is!
Attorneys can scheme tactics against opponents, and hire detectives to win a case. Should the public investigate them and their activities before engaging services?
An attorney is operating a business. With divorces and civil suits, lawyers have the capacity, tools and connections to destroy or improve lives while profiting and sometimes stringing parties out over months and years. They have proven schemes at their fingertips, to utilize the courts and police to further a case. They can even be connected to the underworld through their businesses and associations.
There is no real police system, because the Bar Association seldom seriously prosecutes its own. And lawyers rarely sue lawyers for the benefit of the public-at-large, so they're well-protected among comrades. In Virginia, 1960's lawyers tied up a widow's estate for nine years. By the time lawyers delivered what was left, her children were grown. In Maryland recently a distraught divorcee fled the state of Georgia in fear for her life, sanity and safety after dirty legal tricks were played against her utilizing Georgia's twisted divorce laws. Still she's stalked and fearful of living a life near anything comparable to normal, because of tailing stasi-style-detectives and ongoing, costly, geographically complicated Georgia "legal" divorce loose-ends. After an encounter with Georgia justice–– expect life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to come to a screeching halt. It's a big-business game down there.
Lawyers use children in Georgia courts to send their own parents to hell. More than one mother has fled the state looking back at Georgia and the family left behind like it's communist North Korea. They sever relationships and destroy families. The more successful lawyers love the inheritance money they "earn" (that would otherwise go to the children) with their scheming advice to totally destroy a spouse and parent.
In investigating curiosities regarding lawyers, information is relatively easy to gather. There might be associations, religious affiliations for moral character, or one might find whether they're involved in politics with possible powerful connections spanning states. Have they cared for politics enough to donate to candidates? Are they sports oriented? Do they have hobbies? Have they represented criminals or criminal organizations? Which civic organizations are they connected with and how have they contributed to their communities? Country clubs? Golf networking? Are they involved in improving communities? Family oriented? Or are they involved mostly in personal endeavors and success? Criminal or disciplinary records?
Most people aren't aware the information that's free and available regarding the general population, including attorneys, business owners, managers, directors, and professionals. What's usually hidden is a networking machine lubricated with human connections. For instance, you might hire an attorney to find out he's also employed by a friend of your opponent - an obvious conflict of interest. Or you might find a networking group of attorneys and businesses connected to the highest offices of government. At the very worst there could be a networking system tied to organized crime.
Here are some examples, including a gossipy but relevant story regarding Georgia's House Speaker, Glenn Richardson, who proves lawyers and legislators often play by a different set of rules. Caught with a mistress, Richardson was able to quietly divorce his wife in a about month's time and carefully seal the records. For a person without a lawyer's license in Georgia this would be nearly impossible. But looking further at Mr. Richardson's law practice you will find that his firm handles the legals for the county of Paulding, and among his comrades are those invested in banking, at Westside Bank, including Congressman Phil Gingrey.
Note Richardson didn't concoct stories about his wife, have her thrown on the streets, have her arrested to coerce her to sign papers, or spar over the children or child support. He didn't plot to get an "incurable insanity" verdict and have her locked away in a filthy state institution for life. The last article I read indicated Richardson's income was under $20,000 per year: poverty! He didn't drag the case out over months or years, or drag her long distances to comply with court orders and postponed-at-the-last-minute trials. He didn't force her to live in motels or in the streets while lawyers dickered over the money. He had the tools in his offices, and connections in the courts to handle his situation so it would do the least social, financial, emotional, and physical damage to himself, his wife, his mistress, and his children. Quite respectful for him, but tragic for other Georgians who don't have Richardson's position and authority.
Georgia attorney, Michael Broadbear's family is socially and politically active in the Atlanta social scene and Republican party. He's a former captain in the U.S. military. He's aligned with powerful people, like former Secret Service officer, Homeland Security expert Robert Fisak. Mr. Broadbear assisted Mr. Fisak in setting up his security business. Broadbear's past and present business connections range from a pipe and tube company in Tampa, to truckers, to contacts in Germany. He's well connected in business and legal circles with years of experience. One of his companies is
More than one successful, Georgia businessman profited from 911 and homeland security, including Mr. Jerry Vereen who was able to form a security uniform business, coincidentally, on that very day. Lawyers represent businesses everywhere, and there are incredible and powerful social, political, and business networks that revolve around them.
Another Georgia attorney, Theodore Erck, has an interesting list of past customers, with tentacles reaching to Alabama, Knoxville, Florida and Georgia and branching to Texas. The Erck family name and Mr. Broadbear share a "Heidelberg" restaurant connection from the past, and both are in some way connected to Germany, past or present. Besides his membership in Swift Boats Veterans, Mr. Erck appears to be a stauncher-than-staunch Republican, his donations available at the NEWSMEAT site. One of his affiliations is connected to short term storage facility design, his clients having a wide array of interests, and curiously, he also has an association with the
and paint horses, which will lead us to yet another company and cheesecake affiliated attorney, Mr. Allan Lamport.
It appears Mr. Lamport was one of the transplanted financial wizards steering the engineering/architecdtural design ship called "Facility Group" in Cobb County, Georgia. This appears to be a politically oriented, Republican-run business tied in to Georgia state and local government contracts, with executive criminal records and a yellow-brick-road leading back-in-time to Carlson, Charlotte, NC; to Massachusetts, and over into Texas - over decades. "Taxachusetts" is where Mr. Lamport appears to have originated, unless a former Canadian mayor of the same name is a relative. Mr. Lamport has kept a quiet posture but it appears he jumped ship just before The Facility Group sailed into "shark-laden" legal waters where top executives were prosecuted, and Lamport enjoys comfortable havens in Florida and Massachusetts. There, he was invested with cheesecakes before his rendezvous with the engineering industries. Yes, Massachusetts cheesecakes.
I've wondered since whether, while we lived in Charlotte and my husband managed the construction and track maintenance machinery for the railroad whether he might have known some of Facility Group's "Carlson" Charlotte employees. There it was known as Carlson, but not located so far from his office. Having a common interest in engineering, surely the connection was possible and the Massachusetts/Long Island origination of my husband's family made the possibility even stronger.
Curiously another Georgian in refrigeration named, Mr. Childers, was invested in Facility Group in Massachusetts and Georgia as well. Imagination suggests Mr. Childers was introduced to the group because of his cheesecake worthy refrigeration machines. But we could be wrong! He's apparently not a lawyer but he was somehow heeled-in.
Since my late son, Gerard J. Sniffen, III, disappeared down south of Atlanta before allegedly terminating his own life in the midst of a dirty Georgia divorce latent with questionable lawyers, it's good to know what kind of people are doing business down there. If those Georgia lawyers would scheme for their client to put a grieving mother in jail while her son's being buried–– nothing is beneath them. Facility Group seemed to have influence, not only in building court house facilities, but in school systems, as well. The day my daughter came home saying she'd been called to the front of class at Harrison High School and asked if I "beat" her, was shocking enough. Her honest answer kept me out of more hot water. "Those are birth marks," she said. She'd had them from the day she was born. Maybe the school was interested in my divorce, as well.
Speaking of engineering, the engineering department of Norfolk Southern railroad just loved to entertain Cobb County commissioners. I'd recalled seeing some of those at a Christmas Party hosted by VP Engineering, Phil Ogden and his department in Atlanta not long before my son disappeared and died. The Railroad's "Lawmen" are a pretty good group who moonlights as musicians when they're not being police. These Christmas parties in Cobb County can be pretty damaging for some of us uninvited, as one attorney mentioned, "I was at a Christmas Party last night with Judge Grubbs and Michael Broadbear and we were laughing about you and your case." It wouldn't have hurt so bad if he hadn't been on my payroll. So much for attorney-client privilege!
Atlanta's cheesecake company is associated with Theodore Erck, but besides cheesecakes there are common interests: the Republican party, Georgia, and the bar association. Erck's cheesecake associate's company site proudly boasts of an Alabama Panarama Ranch, which google erroneously(?) shows in Texas, er, California, or, Canada.
Another attorney was associated with a Georgia guy named Bruce Rains. Why did CPA Rains pick up and move elsewhere to practice? Because somehow he and his accomplices owed more than $6 million in some form of criminal plot. He seemed to find immediate clients in another state! So good networking can be profitable, while darker networking can move on to landlords, real estate, banks, credit authorities, and cross state lines to politicians, "brotherhood" lawyers, and retired military networkers. A naive, unsuspecting defendant might soon find himself living beside a US Air Force base, at the mercy of a drug involved-landlord who spent years at Dachau, Germany; and flee the area only to be tortured and stalked by organized criminals, and losing everything–– children included - across state lines!
Crime pays! And the American justice system quite often fails or even assists the crafty criminals and legally astute schemers.
There's another lawyer in Georgia named George Childs. He had a client who had a medical collections business in Florida, that she later moved to Georgia after her husband mysteriously and suddenly died. The lawyer she had in Florida, Mr. Gruver, was unfortunate and died in a car crash. So now, it appears Mr. Childs is handling collections his Georgia client can't. Mr. Gruver was collecting for other Florida medical collectors, as well, and one had connections to Monroe, NC.
So when a medical bill collector contacts you, it pays to be a little suspicious.
Child's partner, Jim Knight, left the partnership several years back and appears to have connections outside Georgia somewhere around Fernandina Beach, the border beach of Florida/Georgia.
Then there's Identity Ventures, and Mr. Mark Bailey, whose name is actually Keith Markland Bailey. He boasts at his site his wife works at Jones Day, a huge international law firm. His connections with his company,
span from Texas to Israel and involve retired military intelligence officers, and multi-millionaire real estate guru, General A. Bowen Ballard. These are powerful people to place on a web site! The Destin office is shown here, with visiting vehicles bearing Texas tags.
But so what? Jack Abramoff worked for a huge, global law firm–– Greenberg Traurig. Abramoff is in prison and will probably be out before his trail of comrades and associates are sent to join him, if they're ever weeded from society at all.
Moving on to Kentucky an exiting attorney cautioned this author to be very careful because Kentucky has attorneys who can get people killed. So if attorneys can get people killed it's all the more reason to investigate–– if you dare.
What percentage of your state legislature, county or town government is controlled by lawyers? What about attorneys seated on corporate boards? You can bet a cheesecake, their numbers in key positions are pretty high.
It's a good thing most attorneys are honest, and Americans can count on them to save this country from those who aren't. But it doesn't hurt to imagine if the world would graduate more doctors, and less lawyers her people would live longer, happier, and healthier lives.
NEXT: Coroners and how they're selected, and trained.
Initially, Davina's death was ruled suicide, and after years of struggle her parents, in coping with the suicide verdict and knowledge of altered, scrubbed crime scene evidence on Bald Head Island, were able to see the ruling changed to cause of death as, "unknown." But District Attorney Rex Gore, a public figure since the 1980's, would never accept anything other than suicide, and refused to reopen the case.
The police dispatcher's taped comments regarding Davina:
"I could hear her advise someone to put the gun down."
Davina's last words taped by police recordings:
"There ain't no reason to have a gun here on Bald Head Island.
Okay?
Come on, do us a favor and put down......"
––––––––
Before now imprisoned Sheriff Ron Hewett's reign (1994-2008,) the sheriff was John Carr Davis, whose son-in-law was murdered. Before that, the sheriff was Herman Strong involved in the "Colcor" scandals.
COLCOR: Brunswick County, North Carolina, 1983
"...B-25 bombers landing in fields, dead bodies searched for in hog pits, fake kidnappings, Cuban smugglers, U-Haul trucks with 10,000 pounds of pot getting stuck in a ditch, fake drugs busts, and legislation enacted to make it illegal for the Federal Government to use money to influence a vote...."
FBI Special Agent Robert Drdak was responsible for unraveling the web of deceit, drug crimes, and high level corruption in the Columbus/Brunswick, North Carolina areas, 1983. Among those involved in bribery, racketeering and drug smuggling was a police chief, sheriff, District Court Judge, and State Senator.
Even then present District Attorney Rex Gore was involved in local politics.
From 1976 until the late 1980's, former Governor Mike Easley, with homes at Southport and Bald Head Island was District Attorney for the 13th prosecutorial district, which encompasses Brunswick, Columbus and Bladen counties. Easley went on to become North Carolina's State Attorney General from 1992-2000, then Governor for two terms, until 2008.
Although little remains on the internet regarding the Colcor scandals and investigations, former NC Governor Easley must have been involved in the investigations and court trials, among those involved: HERMAN STRONG, Brunswick Sheriff -numerous charges of conspiring to smuggle drugs, providing protection to drug smugglers, accepting bribes, and 2 incidents of smuggling marijuana and methaqualone tablets HOYAL "RED" VARNUM, Shallotte Police Chief -conspiring to possess with intent to distribute 1,100 to 1,400 pounds of marijuana STEVE VARNUM -past chairman Brunswick County Commissioners, involved with his brother Red Varnum L. HAROLD LOWERY, Police Chief, Lake Waccamaw -racketeering taking $1,650 bribe money EDWARD WALTON WILLIAMSON -payoff to send Star News reporter, Judith Tillman back to Alabama J. WILTON HUNT, District Court Judge -racketeering, interstate gambling G. RONALD TAYLOR, State Representative -burning 3 warehouses of a competitor in the farm implement business R.C. SOLES, State Senator -influence peddling, vote tampering and buying votes for DA Rex Gore (R.C.Soles is North Carolina's longest serving legislator, and was reelected to his 21st term, November 2008.)
Much of this information was obtained from and more indepth information regarding Colcor can be found
–––––––––––– It shouldn't be surprising Davina was aware of drug activity, even at Bald Head Island.
Somewhere in the midst of correspondence with Senator Helms, I had contacted Mrs. Birdie Frink to ask her whether she'd received information I'd relayed the summer before, in 1998, to Brunswick authorities regarding the unsolved murder of her daughter. She said she hadn't received any new information from the police.
A few months later, Officer Davina Jones was dead.
From 1988 to 1991, I was a freelance amateur cartoonist with The Enquirer Journal newspaper, in the home county of the late Senator Jesse Helms. I felt fortunate that Ramie Barker, the editor, welcomed my amateurish cartoons, and so willingly published some which were quite daring.
Ramie lost his job when the Democrats lost the county after having had control for more than 100 years, and I looked for other avenues to utilize my talents. An "Ivy-Leager" came down from up North to take Ramie's place, and surprisingly, staunch Republican, Ramie moved up into West Virginia to work for Democrat U.S. Senator Robert Byrd.
Senator Helms was documented as enjoying the cartoons created of him, so he kept his favorites displayed on the walls of his office. I'm sure the lone cartoon I created of him (with the hot air balloon) wasn't one displayed.
––––––––––––––– A political cartoonist once playfully described his profession as one of.... "an assassin, except we use pen and ink."
Wouldn't Officer Davina Buff Jones have been fortunate to have met her final fate with a political cartoonist instead of the genuine assassin who took her life?
Crime scene evidence was destroyed and Officer Davina Jone's blood was hastily washed away to make way for a wedding on the affluent island. Nearly seven years after the loss of this courageous officer, North Carolina lost a great talent, and native son. Doug Marlette was a tremendously gifted political cartoonist whose life was lost in a tragic truck accident. North Carolina has lost prematurely some very talented, and courageous citizens. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doug_Marlette
Like Davina, and miraculously coincidental, my "suicided" son as a toddler was was fondly nicknamed "Beany," too. How startling both these children were born so affectionately nick-named by family. Yet each was destined to bear a cruel-sham-labeling "suicide" ruling by questionable and contradictory police reporting. With insensate mishandling, and political distancing, authorities controlling outcomes of these investigations would cast shadows on these kid's memories in concealing and distorting facts even common sense would recognize as shady.
And for those of us denied justice, who haven't the connections or means to challenge tightly-knit authorities, wealth, and well-established power–– the First Amendment is worth more than any politician, psychiatrist, court, detective, coroner, state employee, district attorney––or affluent island.
What really matters to those who've loved and lost their children is the truth.
Devil's in the Details: Baldwin, AL | Cobb, GA | Brunswick, NC | Washington, KY
Around two weeks before Amy Frink died, our family was vacationing at Ocean Isle Beach. My eldest son was with her and she drove him back to the rental house where we were staying. We lived in Matthews, and returned to Matthews, NC the next morning. We nearly always rented from Cooke's.
I remember standing in my NC kitchen, startled while reading the details of her tragic death. We received the weekly Brunswick Beacon newspaper through the mail. My eldest son walked into the kitchen from outside, and I gave him the news. He went upstairs quietly to his room. Not so long after another of his close school friends would be killed in a head-on collision on the road to Ocean Isle Beach. Amy died my son's junior year at Charlotte Latin School. He graduated in 1993.
1993, our family was transferred from North Carolina to Cobb County Georgia where my husband would begin an executive position with Norfolk Southern Railroad, with communications and signals. In Charlotte, North Carolina he had been in charge of the railroad's construction machinery.
There are two questions that remain. If Amy's death is reported as 1994, how could I have read about it in North Carolina, while standing in my kitchen? I lived in Georgia in 1994. That North Carolina memory is so well-planted in my mind because I knew how painful it would be to tell my son, and how horrible it must be for her poor parents.
I also recalled reading that Amy had phoned her sister from a pay-phone at a South Carolina store to notify her she would be arriving for a visit in Myrtle Beach. I had recalled from the story that Amy had died in South Carolina. Now accounts indicate she was killed in North Carolina and her body was then moved across the state line, which would explain why the trial occurred in North Carolina.
I had initially given the information to three entities offices in 1998, D.A. Rex Gore, Brunswick County Sheriff, and The Brunswick Beacon newspaper. I'd spoken with Sheriff Ron Hewett's office on more than one occasion. In the latter conversation around 2001, I had asked the sheriff if the crime had been committed in South Carolina, and then how could the trial be held in North Carolina? His response at that time, was generally that it was the way they do things there.
I had notified Brunswick authorities in 1998 of new information describing the killer, and after that Amy's murder was solved. But by that time my younger son was dead with similar circumstances, those being 1/ the phone booth, 2/crossing state lines, 3/bloody, crime scene, 4/ Birdie Frink had told me in a phone conversation, she was disallowed to see her daughter's body, and I was unable to identify my son's body.
Yet getting information from Alabama and Georgia entities with my son's "suicide" was as difficult as understanding the lukewarm, even evasive, almost rude reception I'd received from Brunswick authorities and entities in attempting to help them solve a six-year-old heinous crime. As it turned out, neither of those arrested in Brunswick matched the description of the man I'd given them 1998, who my son believed had killed Amy. This man lived in a trailer south of Ocean Isle on I-17, had blonde scraggly, long hair and a bad temper. He lived with his mother, and it' s where they'd been the last night my son had seen Amy alive. My son was 17 years old the summer of 1992, and Amy had written to him in Matthews after their summer friendship had developed the year before.
I'd taken the following notes regarding my own son's death, and body shipment. I'd suspicions from all else I'd suffered, there was foul play involved, particularly since initially his father made plans to cremate his body. Through Marietta, Georgia attorney George C. Childs I had demanded burial instead knowing exhumation might be the only way I could eventually get the truth. I'd been to Mobile to examine his body, and via cell phone was told the morgue had closed at 5:00 p.m. I made a purchase there with my VISA card as proof, and believe the date was December 23, 1998.
Suspecting organized crime and being dangerously alone, then I opted not to stay in Mobile, and drove back to Georgia, the drive totaling somewhere around 18 hours. A couple days began the jailings and harassment, which along with a protective order and my husband's apparent intention to have me incarcerated permanently, discouraged attendance of my son's burial.
Note: The "BODY SHIPMENT" information as relayed via telephone, by Baldwin County Coroner, Huey Mack, Sr.
The body was released by Alabama's Judge Stuart on December 29, five days AFTER his Cobb County, Georgia funeral, and the same day I was arrested and placed in Houston, and Cobb County's jails.
(Those false charges were later dismissed. According to my attorney, Kenneth Schatten, there were no harassments, to justify the "harassing phone call" charges and he had listened to a tape recording which proved it.)
But for several days, and the duration of my court ordered "state hospital incarceration," the body was apparently stored in Georgia a full week before being flown to Pittsburg, PA, and then moved to Roanoke, Virginia, 1/7/99.
So the body was moved to Virginia and stored for a week before the 1/14/99 burial.
It was moved from Georgia storage one day after I was released from the "mental hospital" trap, and the possibilities for a permanent incarceration and a "guardianship" over me was lost by my husband and his attorney, Michael Broadbear.
(I'd refused all medications, even though intimidated and threatened with injection, and was finally released, ruled "not a danger to herself or others." It's good for the public to know that in Georgia this a method of forcefully intimidating and permanently discrediting, silencing potential witnesses, as well as settling divorces. It's a horror to imagine and, God only knows how many others have not escaped these devilish traps.)
So where was the body stored in Georgia? And why won't they release any records? The Cobb County funeral home handled all arrangements, and as I understood it they handled payment to other entities in Virginia and Alabama. They would not release records after asking the boy's father.
Why wouldn't any of them release the records?
Even John Garner of Alabama had said to get copies of police reports I would need to hire a lawyer and get a subpoena. Why? These were public records. The one person who seemed to be missing was Jimmy Johnson, the actual Baldwin County sheriff. Huey Mack and John Garner were doing all of the talking, and Jimmy Johnson's name was never mentioned until I found it out almost by accident, in 2004.
Sheriff Johnson provided records promptly, one even with a tattoo picture on a foot that I recalled looked like my son's tattoo. Being a graphics artist, I would tend to believe a coroner's report faster than a graphic image. The coroner had written that on the body, there were two well-healed scars, one above each knee. My son had no knee scars at all, no leg wounds, and no knee surgery. While the tattoo is similar in my recollection, I'm sure my son isn't the only person who had that particular tattoo. A tattoo image can be transposed directly on to a photograph with graphics software, or manually to a human body. Instructions: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lceb-BbVoFo http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TynVZHRmpUU
December, 2008, former Sheriff Ron Hewett of Brunswick County, NC began serving a federal prison sentence. He'd become sheriff in 1994, and in 1998 I had contacted his office, the office of District Attorney, Rex Gore, and the Brunswick Beacon Newspaper, to anonymously tip them with new information regarding the unsolved 1992 murder of Amy Frink. About four months later my own son was reported dead, with many similarities as Amy's death.
Below are notes taken from "Man04" of North Carolina, 2004. He had a message regarding my son's death. I should stop what I was doing and go on with my life, or I might be killed. He also mentioned Sheriff Huey Mack of Baldwin County, Alabama These are copies of three arrest records, of area gang members and trespassers, and a few of the 16 state police reports of vandalism to my home and animals.
The cruelest thing law enforcement can do is lead a victim to believe there's an ongoing investigation when there isn't, which prolongs the agony––the worst form of human cruelty.
I'd been to speak with Detective Jude at the Criminal Justice Training Center of the Kentucky State Police, in Richmond, Kentucky summer 2001 regarding the harassment from local gang members, dead animals, and sabotage. I also believed the sale of the farm was an extortion plot and would find out later more of the 'players.' There, my picture was taken and officers acted as though they were working to correct Mercer & Washington County's problems. It never happened.
It was at that same general time I'd phoned Sheriff Hewett's office in Brunswick, NC and asked if Amy Frink's murder had been solved.
Hewett, or his deputy, had replied, "Oh yea, we solved that back in 1998––a great, big, fat black guy and a white guy. They're in prison." I responded, "That's funny, in 1999 I spoke with Amy's mother, and she said the murder wasn't solved, and she hadn't received any information I gave you in 1998 regarding the murderer's description."
Later I spoke with Brunswick's sheriff deputy Crockett who had investigated Amy's murder, and he maintained it occurred in 1994, when I remembered clearly it occurred in 1992.
There were many issues for Mr. Stumbo, in which I had tried to explain that I was being victimized by organized criminals and the problems had crossed state lines. Note in return Mr. Stumbo suggests (yet another) private attorney.
Since my story has finally, after ten years of horrors, begun to prove factual, I hope to put together more of these connections that neither authorities in Alabama, Georgia, nor Kentucky were interested in unraveling.
Mike Johnson was a resident of Nicholasville, Kentucky in the year, 2000 along with his friend Roger Garrett. Mike was driving Roger to the local jail for DUI charges to be served on a daily basis. Roger had said he was from a wealthy family in Eastern Kentucky, his grandfather built trucks of some sort, and his brothers had a local construction company, "Garrett Construction." Johnson had said he was "from coastal North Carolina," and that he built custom sailboats. He said he was also involved in the crabbing industry, and had two sons who had been in some trouble and were jailed in Las Vegas. He said his mother was in Arizona, and noted as a psychiatrist. He spoke of his twin brother who had passed away some years before.
Around 2004 there were several deaths late in the year in Mercer County, Kentucky. In one instance a native North Carolinian named Mr. Combs was in his automobile on Grapevine Road near the church, and took a shotgun to his own head.
In 2001-2 vehicles with North Carolina tags were frequenting my neighbor's house, Mr. Jerry Jones, whose house had burned because of a faulty freezer connection. Mr. Jones had brought two North Carolinians over to my farm asking about purchasing it––for $25,000.00 less than I'd paid. Curious as to his North Carolina associates, they explained they had relatives "in politics in Gastonia." In my best recollection, the explanation was their relative was seated as a commissioner.
Later Mr. Jerry Jones explained he'd met his North Carolina friends at a "used car lot." He never explained the visitors from NC who frequented his home other than some neighbors said, "Maybe it's family." I would receive two other offers to purchase my farm for $25,000 less than I paid after all of the killing and sabotage. One was from Mr. Wes McClure, the forger of the checks, and the second was from Mr. Black, a friend of the seller, Denver Mills.
What Mr. Stumbo did not understand, is that living in Kentucky can be a dangerous, and terrifying situation, and a private attorney is worthless when a person's life and property is threatened and vandalized by organized criminals. He also apparently wasn't willing to investigate the area for organized criminal activity, nor examine my farm purchase as and it's extortion characteristics.
Mr. Stumbo may have found other information from outside his state I could have provided interesting, which could have helped him protect the citizens of his state from the horrors of organized criminal activity. Other NC connections were my ex-husband's boat, docked in Brunswick County for several years before he moved to Georgia and then begun again later Florida. We spent several years in Brunswick and owned land, paying taxes there at one time. And, I had a political cartoon published there in the Brunswick Beacon Newspaper. Other politically connected North Carolina connections which could have spanned states were my husband's employment and associates with the Railroad's engineering department, and Cobb County's Facility Group, which has recently suffered losses of some of it's highest, politically corrupt officers. Historically, the company's officers trace up to Charlotte, North Carolina, on up to Massachusetts, and the over to Dallas, ongoing for years. Heavily involved in politics, Facility Group hired the retired Cobb County sheriff, Bill Hutson, who hosted my 1998 stay, and I found the jail to be corrupt, and believe my stay there was staged. They also had, as Sr. Vice President, a Georgia House Representative, Board of Ethics Chairman, Mr. Erhart. Facility's former CFO, involved experienced with the cheesecake industry, as well as attorneys associated with Gingrich and Barr, jumped ship in 2005, and set up shop in Vero Beach, while maintaining another residence in Massachusetts.
There are some curious connections at 75 Beattie, in Greenville, SC which also houses some Sun Cruz Casino offices, as well as connections with Facility. There's another office near Brunswick in Little River, SC, near a Casino boat captain's restaurant who had a scratch with Brunswick's officials. Little River, SC is to North Carolina like Fernandina Beach, FL is to Georgia - just a hop across the boundary line.
There are also, the dog show connections with the American Kennel Club, with its headquarters in North Carolina. At the onset of my problems I had some problems getting papers from them, and another breeder actually said he was leaving this country in fear for his life. Bud Samples collapsed and died at the Warner Robins (Stumpff) landlord property, in the presence of Chow Chow breeder Sandy Goldschmitt.
Connections of the ex's new wife might include one link of a family business to an accounting agent, B. Rains, who relocated from Atlanta to Wilmington, mid 1990's. Two others have relocated from north Georgia to Ocean Isle, brothers who operate businesses there.
One thing is for certain. There's plenty of golf, and boats of all kinds, sail boats, yachts, plenty of scuba gear, snorkling, surf boards, lots of deep sea fishing and water sports with this crowd. At one point even Kentucky's former Attorney Greg Stumbo was stranded off the coast of Tampa in South Florida on a boat hung up on a sand bar.
American's Hope is that federal law enforcement agencies are honest, and operate with fairness and integrity, and will end the nightmares of coverup with "The Bluegrass Conspiracy," and organized "Company" of Kentucky; the Brunswick, NC Sheriff Ron Hewett, and Sheriff Herman Strong narcotics convictions stories of North Carolina.
Because of these corrupt public servants, our children should not be dying.
Many thanks to Jillian Kramer and the Mobile Alabama Press-Register
Gerard J. Sniffen, III
I am extremely grateful to the Mobile Alabama Press-Register and Jillian Kramer who did such a wonderful job in writing an article about my son's disappearance and reported Alabama death. The article can be found
Many thanks for pointing out that the Alabama state forensics report recording 3-inch scars on each knee, did not match my son's body. He disappeared not long after I had reported information to Brunswick, North Carolina police I had hoped would help solve the the murder of Amy Frink. My son's disappearance and reported death had similar characteristics as Amy's. Both were last known calling at a phone booth. Both crossed state lines and died in adjacent states. Both suffered gruesome deaths. In neither case did the mother identify the body.
I have strongly suspected foul play, even interstate organized crime, and believe since there were no witnesses to his alleged suicide, there should have been a homicide investigation.
were taken to destroy my credibility, to hinder my identification of his body, and to attend funeral and burial services; that his father and myself were in process of a nasty divorce, and that my [deceased] son had told me of his father's mistress, who later became his father's wife. My son also knew his father had provided Georgia police with false information to gain leverage in the divorce outcome. In a 39 day period of my son's death in Alabama, memorial service in Georgia, and burial in Virginia I was suffering harassment, false arrests and accusations by Georgia police, living in fear for my life and my husband's and his Georgia attorney's arrangements. I have understood that in Georgia these tactics are not uncommon in justice with divorce situations.
It is also important to note my divorce attorney, Kenneth Schatten called me to his office Spring, 1999 and advised, in the presence of Billy Carter, Private Detective, that he and Mr. Carter believed my husband may have murdered our son, and as mentioned above, there was motive to make him disappear before he could witness in any court trial. The past ten years were spent with shock and dismay, confusion, grief, anger and fear fleeing Georgia, while finding more of the same harassments in Kentucky. While attempting to get the truth I was enduring all forms of intimidation, stalking and sabotage to my home and animals.
Below are notes taken March, 2001 in speaking with authorities in Baldwin County, Alabama. Mr. Garner explained I would not be able to get police records without a lawyer and subpoena. He was very rude. He did say he'd spoken to me before and I recall telling him I'd never called him and it must have been someone else. A few years later, in 2004, I learned Jimmy Johnson and not Garner, was sheriff and Mr. Johnson was kind in sending records. I am still curious to know who was driving the truck my son was said to have hitch-hiked on from the phone booth location in Georgia.
Family Affair It is very important to note there are two "Huey Macks," father and son. Huey Mack, Jr. is presently the Baldwin County sheriff, who replaced James Johnson, sheriff in 1998. At the time of my son's death I believe Mr. Mack, Jr. was a deputy. Huey Mack, Sr. was the coroner, and owner of the funeral home who in 2001 provided much of the verbal information recorded below, including the flight records, body shipment schedule, and shotgun model.
I do not recall speaking with Huey Mack, Jr. but recall 2001 conversations with Huey Mack, Sr. besides speaking to Mr. Garner, 2001. I have since read there was only a cooler at his funeral home to store bodies temporarily, so have wondered if that long-term body storage information given was in error. There is considerable evidence to open a proper investigation and find the truth regarding the death of my son. Information provided from a suspicious local resident, noted apparently near the same time there was a similar shot gun death in the same area, and the homicide victim's body was decomposing in his roadside car, undiscovered for three days. For the past ten years with an abundance of evidence, I have been unable to convince any authority to unravel the truth. My former husband of twenty-three years, well connected as a railroad executive, and his Atlanta attorney Michael Broadbear were very powerful people in Georgia with far-reaching business and political liaisons. If the public could please submit any information regarding this tragedy, I would be most grateful, having never lost faith in the good will and integrity of the American People, at-large.
It is very important these tactics are never used again against other Americans––that those of us committed to stand and resist corruption and crime are not punished, ridiculed, stalked and harassed by criminals and ignored by disinterested or misinformed law enforcement.
If anyone should have any information, please feel free to contact me at fm_looney@yahoo.com or feel free to post comments anonymously or otherwise at this blog. You may also submit information to the Federal Bureau of Investigation at this site: https://tips.fbi.gov/ --Private Detective Billy Carter's Website, which has since been taken down-- Where the Mobile Alabama Press-Register article suggested my son had taken "a few swigs" from the whiskey bottle, forensics examiner records challenge the information relayed to Ms. Kramer.
".....When he saw a whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter, the 18-year-old Georgia native took a few swigs, then moved over to the gun rack and selected a shotgun. ..."
In memory of Michael Connell, who perished in a plane crash Friday, December 19, in Ohio.
His federal testimony regarding election tampering, missing e-mails and witness in other areas could have helped Americans understand the instability of the American government, and failure of justice systems for the past several years. It is documented he was afraid, felt threatened, and could probably unravel mysteries surrounding US Attorney scandals and the political persecution and imprisonment of former Governor of Alabama, Don Siegelman.
The Dog Game and an American underground nobody understands
"I'll teach you the dog game."
Dorothea Carvelas lived in Stockbridge, Georgia. In 1999, when Mark Barton of Stockbridge killed the stock brokers in Atlanta, I couldn't help but make a connection. Gordon Bennett had flipped on the TV to the shooting story like he knew more about it, and said, "You're going to see some of 'it' now." Gordon was a part of a Kentucky organized network, and I believed he would eventually lead to the pack who'd kidnapped and murdered my son, the son whose body I never identified.
Dorothea was an older lady, had been showing Wire Fox Terriers with the AKC for years. Bud Samples, an old friend, had suggested I could get grooming tips from Dorothea. So I would occasionally make the trip to her house, and in return for learning the art of hand stripping, I would groom her older show dogs.
Dorothea bragged the the famed terrier handler, Peter Green, would show her dogs without charge. She also took pride in being German.
"Honey, I'm German," she'd say more than once with a grin, boasting ancestry and roots from West Virginia.
She referred to a niece, named Sue, who lived near Lakeland, Florida, like Jim Coutts, and Sue had shown fox terriers and groomed for a living. At one point I'd driven Dorothea to the Cincinnatti Wire Fox Terrier specialty show to stay the weekend, and she enjoyed the generosity. The return was on Easter Sunday so I wanted to get back to Georgia to be with my children. Dorothea wanted to stop at a restaurant instead of a fast food stop, and I told her I didn't have time for a leisurely meal. I had to drive her all the way through Atlanta to Stockbridge, and back to the northern side, which in itself added two more hours to my trip. I was generous in paying for her meals, even if, the last one together had to be a quick-stop.
What happened after that was incredible. Dorothea spread gossip and lies around to her dog show friends that I had refused to stop on the trip to let her go to the bathroom, which simply was not true. She didn't get her way at the expensive restaurant. She continued her badmouthing to the point the story later landed on my doorstep, and I was amazed that for all I'd done for her, that she could turn against a person in a cut-throat manner. I had given her and her husband George nice gifts for Christmas and was grateful for her sharing her expertise in grooming Wire Fox Terriers.
She took all she could take, but it was apparently a plan, because she'd later pay a visit to my husband's office at Norfolk Southern Railroad, and without my knowledge or consent, took a birthday cake for my "Happy Birthday." What else they might have spoken of is the real question, because Dorothea Carvelas was up to absolutely no good.
She and cairn terrier breeder, Nell Stumpff, who would later be my landlord, were the same kind of people. They pretended to be your friend, and later stabbed you unmercifully in the back.
It was by the Grace of God, that I survived. If this it the "Dog Game," I would caution anyone lead to believe as I did, it's a healthy family sport. It's an old, established network, but I'd heard more than once the words, "Those terrier people are a different breed, altogether."
And more than once Dorothea had said, "Honey, you have to pay your dues." She said novices just weren't allowed to win, whether or not they had the best dog.
So had something evil manifested itself in the terrier group? I didn't think so, but Tony, a fellow breeder and friend got out of the sport and left the country not so long after my troubles began. There were definitely some powerful folks in the dog world pulling strings.
What was ironic was my birthday seemed to be in several plans particularly Dorothea's and my husband's. I'd never had anybody care so much.
1998, my husband called, October 13, and said, "Sorry I'm out of town. I'll be home Friday and we'll celebrate your birthday." And for the next three months I'd find jails, harassment, and incarcerations, learn of a dead child, with the landlord, and my husband's team skillfully colluding to keep me as far from my son's funeral and burial as possible. Later my lawyer would say he believed my husband murdered our son. At that time, I couldn't believe it, but now I believe the man is capable of anything.
The knock at the door was unexpected because my husband never knocked but walked right in. It was the Cobb County, Georgia police who followed me into the house, asked if I had a gun, and followed me around demanding I pack my bags and get out. It was startling to say the least.
I'd never owned a gun, in fact, never fired one except as a child with my father's assistance, while aiming at mistletoe. But my husband had two guns, in fact one was similar to the rifle that would later kill my son.
This would begin the emotional coercion rollercoaster and horror story planned surely by legal professionals and psychological consultants. Only the CIA could plan a person's destruction better than this railroading team.
It was quite an arrangement, surely coordinated with his lawyer, Michael Broadbear, a former US Army Captain with ties to very powerful politicians, and the Republican network. An eighteen month reconciliation period had bought the timing Broadbear and his client needed for planning. These people had skills as precise as any trained military intelligence person, to go for the throat of an enemy. And they didn't just destroy a person, they made sure the person's life after tangling with them would be so horrific over time, the uphill struggle, losses, sabotage and constant bad news would inflict a perpetual suicide wish.
At its best, this was premeditated mental cruelty and human destruction. Worst, it was criminal collusion and conspiracy to coerce cooperation–– protected by law and assisted by utilization of law enforcement and the courts. This particular scheme was surely used to destroy other Americans, because it was so well-designed.
Broadbear was good, and if what George C. Childs said was true, he was a railroad accident attorney. My husband said they'd met at the athletic club he'd joined to exercise in Atlanta. I've believed Broadbear, a former Army Captain, and later Nell Stumpff's ex-husband, Lt. Colonel George Stumpff, and some of the other former military stalkers were part of an organized underground network.
It's difficult to know what the truth is, because these people were capable of just about anything, and I'd discover later how dangerous they really were. Drug and mafia networks I found in Georgia and later in Kentucky, are useful to some powerful Americans who might have a "problem" that needs addressing. Lawyers solve problems. It's their job to plan and arrange "success" for clients, and Mr. Broadbear did a great job. Two remaining children are emotionally affected for life. Their brother is dead, their mother stalked and terrorized for the rest of her life, and his client happily married his mistress and sailed away on the yacht. Now, that's success!
These things are proficiently planned so covertly the conspiring ones scheming the crimes won't be caught. Without legal recourse, the only alternative a crime victim has in stopping the horror, is to expose the well-documented story and participants involved. As planned, statutes of limitations expire during terror-harassment-coercion-intimidation periods. Powerful people can prompt selection of a case to prosecute or prevent an investigation. Ever present street criminals do the dirty work.
Not so long after delivering the birthday cake to Norfolk Southern Corporation Dorothea Carvelas was dead. I even visited her in the hospital and took her lotions she'd requested, unaware that she was a betrayer. I've wondered since how many lives she'd conspired to destroy and who her "Dog Game" friends were. What would qualify a person to be a member?
The only other Wire Fox Terrier breeders near Stockbridge were Tommy and Sue Yates and I'd bump into a Yates name later in Kentucky. They seemed to distance themselves, kept respectable positions at the WIre Fox Terrier clubs, and kept a low profile. Tommy at some point became an AKC Judge. Nell Stumpff was respected in the dog show world.
Names are strange, because you always wonder if the folks are somehow kin. I'd bought land in Georgia from a man named Mr. Ridings and later the Richmond, Kentucky New York Life Insurance agent was named Mr. Ridings, as well.
Nell projected an image of self-confidence, an air of absolute integrity with a calm, outward show of wealth, control and dignity. She once spoke of a dog show judge whom she referred to as "Pilgrim," complaining that at one point he held a knife to her throat, insinuating he was a dangerous man. At the time I couldn't imagine what might have put her in that position. After a few months experience with Nell, I could understand it better. She'd said she had three sons, Steve, who had colon cancer, and lived in a trailer behind her rental apartment; Jim, who lived in Augusta and was studying to be an ER doctor, but changed to geriatrics. And the other was in north Atlanta, working for a Japanese company. Later I found that Steve was a local drug dealer and Jim was an electrical engineer, having graduated from Mercer University.
Nell said her former husband, Lt. Colonel George Stumpff, had owned a farm in Alabama, but lost it. Although they were divorced they kept in touch as he visited and whispered to her at the front door once while I was at her house.
Alabama was where my younger son would later have his head blown away with a shotgun - ruled "suicide." (No witnesses, no homicide investigation.) Ironically I hadn't known my son had been involved with an older, married woman who'd said her father was a "retired Army General" who kills people and covers it up. It appeared I and my son had some "former" military enemies possibly both connected to the dog show world, in Alabama, and in Georgia.
Nell had Alabama connections. In accompanying her to Montgomery and Birmingham dog shows, she had dinner with a man she called "Jack Onofrio," at the Olive Garden. Once to Jacksonville with Nell and I returned with stomach pains so tremendous I was in bed for three days. Looking back, it's when I should have been suspicious.
But when the Cobb County police said I should leave my house, with my terriers, Nell was there. She had the perfect accommodation -- a kennel/apartment just built with construction overseen by Bud Samples, my friend.
Bud Samples had been a dog breeder, know for his World Champion Chow Chow dogs, most of his life, and he was a good friend. He's lost everything he had. Why? Best guess is North Carolina developers. He'd had a farm in Weddington with about 15 acres and lived there for years. But a developer moved in and developed adjacent land, and began to build nice houses on one-acre lots, naming the subdivision "Wedgewood." It's where I lived, and it's how I met Bud and Margaret Samples.
Wedgewood developers approached Bud and asked that they could make a deal with him, to limit the number of show dogs Bud could own, they would, in turn build a nice new boarding kennel on Bud's property, and erect a privacy fence dividing Bud's house from the Wedgewood Subdivision. Bud and his wife rejected the offer. They resented the fact that developers were attempting to tell them what they could and could not do on property they'd owned for many years.
He'd been building for Western Steer, and his construction business depended on it. So soon Western Steer stopped building their steak houses, and Bud's business began to crumble. Attaching his farm to the business to bail it, everything was lost. His farm was snatched up at the bank by a wealthy grandfather who wanted a nice tract for his dog-breeding granddaughter.
Bud and his wife had separated through the tribulations, and Bud found himself in a spot with nowhere to go. Nell came to the rescue, promising him free rent in exchange for grooming and help with construction on the kennel/apartment. He lived in a trailer behind the structure, that would later be occupied by her son, Steve.
I'd noticed a change in Bud after he'd moved to Nell's rental. He'd had terrible diabetes and in the 1980's had a serious bypass operation. His vision was failing, but his mind was clear. After he arrived at Nell's I kept contact with him via telephone and his memory began to fail terribly. It was a noticeable change, and I was worried at the time his health was failing, and told Nell had encouraged him to go to a different, and new doctor in that area. It wasn't long before he died, collapsing as Sandy Goldschmitt had confided to a friend, while Nell Stumpff watched and "then waited more than five minutes" to casually "pick up her cell phone and call 911."
Initially Sandy Goldschmitt had lived in the apartment, but she moved away and lived with a neighbor just before I arrived. She'd moved in from around Jacksonville, had a veterinarian acquaintance there, and then proceeded to rent from Nell. Her male Florida acquaintance was said to have had connections with scuba diving which was strange, as it was the same sport my husband had so recently become engaged in. We'd been to Hogs Breath Saloon in Key West, and to a casino boat at Key Largo after leaving a Tampa dog show. My scuba lessons were scheduled at Largo without my knowledge. A premonition of an intensive-care hospital room with breathing apparatus overshadowed the idea of sporty, sun-loving scuba with air tanks, and I gracefully refused the lessons.
Sandy and Bud Samples had much in common as they both bred Chow Chows. After she'd moved out of the apartment, she lived for a while with Betty Jo, who would later come to my rescue. Nell was said to have done her homework regarding Sandy's finances, I learned later, which was one of Nell's preoccupations with her tenants. And Sandy had confided to a friend that "Nell has every drug known to man at her house," and Sandy had moved out of the apartment to make way for me.
Nell complained Sandy had left a mess in the oven, and she'd left a pan of ammonia in to "soften the dirt on the sides." I told her not to worry, go on about her business, and I'd take care of it. On opening the oven, it was spotless as though it had never been used. When I went to remove the metal broiler pan of ammonia, it curiously had a wire attached, and wrapped around the heating element.
Later one person would comment, "If you'd have cooked a turkey that Thanksgiving you'd have blown up. That could have been a bomb with a little diesel fuel in the ammonia." Curiously the ceiling of the dog kennel beneath was covered with shiny metal, and I've thought since if it was indeed a bomb, then would the explosion go upwards protecting the valuable Wire Fox Terriers beneath?
Someone wanted my dogs so terribly when I arrived in Kentucky I was made an offer by Mr. James Lay who boasted he was uncle to the famous Nashville country singer, John Michael Montgomery. The question is, did someone want Bud Samples Chow Chows as well?
The kennel apartment set on a twenty acre tract in the middle of a large, open area. Behind it sat woods, surrounding a little dirt road that circled back to a hidden house trailer initially occupied by Bud Samples, but later occupied by Steve Stumpff and his night-crawling, engine-gunning, truck-driving friends. From the main road there were two accesses to the trailer area, as Nell owned an adjacent brick house which she also rented, and Steve had access to both. A neighbor said the brick house controlled the water that ran to the apartment because to save money, Nell had only put in one street line.
I'd paid Nell a $600 security deposit on a six month rental, thinking my divorce would be final by that time, and I could move along and find myself a permanent home.
Nell had wanted the front gate locked, with a lock that had a dial combination on the bottom. I explained to her that I didn't want the gate locked, but she said it had to stay locked. Steve's friends had access, came in and out freely gunning their engines proceeding to his trailer in the woods. Yet Nell demanded the gate should stay locked.
It was frightening to be locked in an area with drug-dealers, and more than once I suspected the apartment had been entered, and things were tampered with. At one point my computer went online and instead of dialing the local all-tel number, it dialed a phone number in Austria.
"I lived in Dachau, Germany when George was in the military." Nell went on to tell about her past, saying she had fraulein maids provided by the US government, and that she's seen those "human skin lampshades," adding, "with the pretty tattoos."
At that point, I was overwhelmed with fear, and suspected if I could carefully find a way to vacate her property it might be the safest thing to do. The emotions were many having found the woman was actually doing a job.
Bud Samples had collapsed and died in front of Nell and Sandy Goldschmitt and Sandy had later told a friend Nell waited five to ten minutes before using her cell phone to dial 911. With the drug dealers, human skin lampshades, death of Bud Samples and the dogs below acting as though they were drugged at times, I knew the way to survive it all was to move out.
I'd asked her earlier to please remove an old washer and dryer from the front of the kennel. I'd tried to move the washer a few weeks later and it fell off the dolly. She'd paid $35 for it. She'd often appear without any invitation just to "check" to see how I was doing. At one point she pointed to my wrist and asked, "What's that?" I explained I was moving one of the dogs and got a scratch. She had a plan, and it didn't take long to figure it out.
The rage inside, unable to make the combination work on the gate in the rain, unable to see the numbers, the drug dealers gunning the engines, poisoned pups, poisoned dogs, and locked inside a 20 acre tract finally one night I'd had enough and drove through the gate so it couldn't be locked again. Damages. Nell then had the ticket to fulfill her objectives. Was she working with my husband and his mistress? It may never be known, but I'd bet my farm on it.
Nell then phoned my family in Virginia. "Your sister has gone crazy. She's ice picking my stove! She's tearing up my apartment! She's driven through my gate! She tore up my washer and dryer!" "It has cost a LOT of money!"
So in the meantime my husband called my family and said, "You know, we have to have her put away, but I can't do it since we're in the process of a divorce."
They had it all worked out, down to the crossed "t" and dotted "i." He'd even driven a week before to Houston County and set it up with the judge, and then had my elder son sign papers based on all of the lies. The papers were then dated, 1999 instead of 1998, which is how they hide records.
It's how they'd ordered me out of my house saying I'd attacked my daughter, which was untrue. The witness is dead, and died about three days before I moved out of Nell's apartment. He'd also known his father had a mistress. He was my son.
I'd gotten out of all of their traps, out of their jails, endured the police harassment and stalking as best I could alone. Charges later were dismissed, and when Nell Stumpff got a felony warrant against me for "damages" I was not surprised.
For a $500 fee, Stan Martin, a local attorney, said I should turn myself in to Peach County police. At the jail, Magistrate Judge Laurens Lee said if I would just sign my divorce papers, my problems would go away and I wondered if they would kill my other two children if I refused. But after it was all over, the felony charges miraculously disappeared. Calling the courts to ask about a trial, there was none.
This had all been a well-planned coercion tactic, the debt, the thousands in bills, the thousands in bail and travel for charges later dismissed, the thousands ripped off by landlords and costs to the veterinarian, the emotional turmoil and constant harassment.
An angel of a person appeared in the midst of it all, saying, "I know you didn't ice-pick her stove and I know what's going on." She then placed her home as bail to get me out of jail. She lived in the neighborhood and wanted Steve Stumpff and his drug dealing friends out of the area. She knew Nell Stumpff had watched Bud Samples die and believed she was a dangerous woman. But if the charges disappeared then how would Betty Jo get her house released? Before all of this, I was one who believed the system was honest. Live and learn.
It was difficult to believe a perfect stranger would do this, but apparently she'd examined the apartment to see there were no damages to the stove and the other lies which were told. She was running a storage rental facility for a man named Rich Gannon of Knoxville. It was funny because I'd already been to Knoxville with Nell Stumpff and that's where a man named Steve Crouch had appeared. The suspicion of a possible organized network grew over time and I realized I was possibly in the midst of organized crime.
From thereon, paranoia was justified and suspicions regarding new acquaintances and situations would generally prove to be justified as well. A few years later, after escaping that situation only to find one similar in Kentucky I went to a Lexington psychiatrist, took her copies of the arrests and horrors including my son's death certificate, and she explained my former husband was an extremely dangerous man, and that my problems were probably similar to those of another client. I just might be up against the mafia.
A few years before, I sought help from Prepaid Legal Services, being a targeted individual, ever present legal assistance was a necessity, I was directed to attorney Marvin O'Koon of Louisville who said,
"There isn't a lawyer in Georgia who will take your case."
The psychiatrist diagnosed obsessive compulsive behavior in my persistence to get to the truth, to exonerate my name, and to uncover the untold truth about my son. There was no mental illness, no unjustified paranoia, no schizophrenia, no "demons" in my mind. Among the last thoughts she had were those shared by many, who find law enforcement insufficient, and the justice system ineffective while wrestling with crime in neighborhoods and corruption in the courts.
"You know there's an underground in this country I just don't understand."
American Justice. Can the "compliance industry" correct itself?
POLITICS Successful elections are determined by many factors, and election results will determine changes in the present system. Factors producing winning candidates include teams of political consultants, professionals, corporations, media, volunteers, skillful organization, and incredible amounts of money.
Long term planning produces a winning candidate, and the outcome of the election selects politicians who write our laws, select judges, appoint US Attorneys, and investigate injustices and complaints.
MONEY Political donors come from all areas of American life and business, ranging from billionaires to blue chip corporations, labor unions, political action committees, to single families and everyday people. One politician, in speaking of his campaign donors, job performance and loyalties, said something like this:
"If two phone lines ring at the same time, and one gave my campaign $5,000, and the other $10,000, I'll answer the $10,000 phone line first."
Who wouldn't? It's one dilemma of the American political system. Congress has addressed and rewritten laws to correct campaign donation problems, but questions regarding fairness and objectivity remain.
CORRUPTION Can powerful organizations fairly investigate themselves and be trusted to make appropriate changes? Or is an outside consulting firm or committee the trustworthy alternative? Politicians often appoint judges and others are elected.
Legal advice: "You clearly have a clean case, and I see no reason for you to lose."
But the judge can make any ruling he wishes.
In American justice quality commands a higher price, while the system provides legal assistance to those deemed "indigent." Success with courts often results from the quality of the attorney, which, besides education can include business and social connections, social status, and experience. And all too often rumors are a few extra dollars "under the table" will win a case. Question is, how can a person pay off a judge and avoid a potential bribery conviction? The answer: attorneys.
"Make sure you get a hometown, old attorney. I got a DUI and local lawyer. The lawyer asked me to walk with him to the judge's office. We then walked to the bank, and the judge asked the teller to cash my $500 check. We walked back to the judges office. I handed him the money, and he tore up my file."
Attorneys connect it all, good and bad, with resources few could imagine. Bar association members have handled nearly every criminal case that has ever been tried, every corporate client with an issue, and every political candidate that ever ran for office. Their associates range from mafia dons to corporate executives. Every attorney isn't dishonest, but with the complicated American Justice system, mountains of laws and loopholes, it's easy for an attorney to appear dishonest. It's a competitive profession, and carries with it the social issues of blacklisting among bar members.
Would a corporate CEO receive the same punishment for the same crime as a homeless man? Would a ship's captain be punished with equal sentencing as an ensign? Can Americans expect their courts to deliver equal justice under the law? CONSTITUTIONALITY
"That's not the way we do things around here."
It was a statement made by a law enforcement official regarding a murder that occurred in one state, with a trial that occurred in another. Yet clearly, the U.S. Constitution addresses the issue, Amendment VI
"In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed......"
An important Constitutional Amendment, VI guarantees a speedy trial and impartial jury. But in American justice, with lingering postponements and a booked system, months or years can accumulate before a trial. Victims or witnesses could actually grow old and die before the courts make a ruling in a case. Yet, statutes of limitations have been set in many crimes, and a victim might attempt to find resolution unaware time ran out on the "SOL clock." It's a useful tool for attorneys wishing a winning verdict for clients.
is a statute in a common law legal system that sets forth the maximum period of time, after certain events, that legal proceedings based on those events may be initiated.
COLLUSION & CONSPIRACY
"There's not a lawyer in the state who will take your case."
Such words implicate injustice, and unconstitutionality. Whether the situation involves "criminal" or "civil" law determines whether attorneys could unite and deny a potential client fairness within the justice system. "Civil law" lacks a clear definition. Cases involving criminal acts are often settled in "civil" courts, which appear as payoffs to make a problem disappear. And if an attorney steps out of line to represent a controversial individual, he might suffer blacklisting within his legal-social network, resulting in a destroyed career.
While victims of crimes should have assistance from prosecuting, district, and state attorneys, it often doesn't happen. The issue lies in whether an individual can show cause to open or investigate a criminal case. In the case of former Governor Don Siegelman of Alabama, a U.S. Attorney associated with the opposing political party, representative for federal crimes and the F.B.I., brought charges against the governor as she determined his guilt. News stories indicated this U.S. Attorney's powerful, business and politically connected husband was a motivating force in the charges and subsequent trial. Was the trial and conviction politically motivated?
And in civil cases, horror stories abound where savvy, well-connected lawyers plot with clients, detectives and authority to arrange destruction of a plaintiff or witness.
AMERICAN JUSTICE: The Frame Game
"Call the cops!" It's extremely important that Americans realize the "Frame Game" is often used in legal situations.
A most useful tool for an attorney is in destroying the credibility of the opposition, whether witnesses, plaintiffs, or defendants. And if an attorney has the time, connections, and assets, he can possibly arrange it with skillful planning. A perfect way to discredit a person is by using law enforcement to produce tarnishing, permanent public records, or to dig up the details of a person's past, long buried. An attorney can direct his client to invent a story, call police, and get a criminal record against a foe, based on lies. Legal manipulation and false accusations utilizing "the system" can have a perfectly sane person incarcerated in a mental hospital, and a perfectly innocent person serving time in prison. It can also brand an innocent person as a sexual offender.
The Justice System can be utilized to destroy an innocent person's life.
e.If he has the wherewithal he can utilize detectives, psychiatrists, and consulting firms to aid in a courtroom victory with the bar association's support. Most people would lose sleep in knowing they'd destroyed a life, but in the compliance industry, and in business often conscience isn't a consideration.
Premeditated, skillfully planned character assassination has a legal flight pattern just above the treetops in passing ethics tests.
laws are seldom applied for lack of proof and a tight camaraderie among legal associates. It's business, and the Media helps destroy lives when it publishes indictments and accusations that have not been tried in a court.
For certain innocents, like whistle-blowers or political foes, the politically connected justice system can be destructive, dangerous, threatening - even deadly, as in the case of Attorney Jill Simpson, whose house was burned and vehicle run off the road after witnessing in Don Siegelman's favor. These covert incidences are skillfully planned but seldom prosecuted for lack of "proof." Targeted individuals are wise to keep cameras and cell phones handy.
Most attorneys don't operate on lower levels, but those who've made justice a winning sport, money racket, or frame game have created monsters for society and the legal community at-large. It's cast a dark shadow on a system designed to promise fairness and integrity.
For the sake of future generations, an innocent person can get
to dismiss and remove wrongful charges from public records, and to correct false accusations, although the individual will seldom live a normal life after the experience.
PERMANENT DESTRUCTION When the justice system fails, and a person is blacklisted, he can be blacklisted throughout the legal community, unable to find an attorney foolish in risking his reputation to become involved.
Elected officials are ultimately responsible for protecting individual rights, the U.S.Constitution, and investigating corruption. Thousands hope the new administration will make needed changes. For victims of justice, a well documented story will provide protection for posterity. Relief for emotional turmoil resulting from disillusionment with "democracy" is more difficult to find.
When the Justice System takes, it seldom replaces. And when it issues corrupted rulings, it seldom admits mistake.
Living temporarily in the Nicholasville area of Kentucky was the only choice after leaving Georgia. With six show dogs, living in motels and boarding the animals is expensive. Georgia courts were playing a waiting game in signing divorce papers. Miraculously a farm came available for rent near R.J.Corman & Sons, in Wilmore, Kentucky. The powerful railroad company was no more than a city block from the farm. Soon Bill Casey would show up with his friend Larry just in time to retrieve my belongings from Georgia. Georgia had set a date, that if I did not get my belongings from the house, I would forfeit them. Those would include the original furniture designed by my granfather, his paintings and mine, along with my personal belongings.
I was lucky to have found two men willing to help because the 23 years marriage had accumulated many belongings. Casey explained he and his biker friend, Larry had been in some trouble with cocaine in his past. But his most prideful history was his connections and heritage in Rhode Island. He was Irish as his father had been. His uncle he called "Donlevy" (Dunlevie?) was over US Customs in California. His mother was still living in Rhode Island with his ex-wife and son. He was disappointed once we visited a pawn shop to see someone had pawned his favorite gun. And he said he'd been a military policeman during Viet Nam. He mentioned he'd been in Atlanta and knew famous people, even Elton John. He also said he belonged to the James Gang, which I'd thought was an old '70's band, although Casey didn't play any instruments. He joked tornadoes were good, because disasters generated work and income for siding people like himself, and he asked that I hand his business card to the local Nicholasville veterinarian. Two of my animals were treated there, and I figured Casey wanted their business should they need help. Last I heard, he had a house with a pool, a new corvette and a couple new Harleys and had done quite well for himself.
Rhode Island kept popping up, and when a person lands in one of these stalking networks, there will always be connections here and there. I had already lost one child, with two more at risk, so had nothing to lose other than tread water and try to stay alive. So, I found Saddlebrook Associates of Rhode Island had Michael Broadbear as an apprentice of some sort with a Georgia college business program. Michael Broadbear was the name of the opposing attorney in Georgia. Then there was my husband's mistress, who had a Rhode Island uncle and Pennsylvania native ex-husband.
Two of the largest companies in central Kentucky are R.J. Corman & Sons, and Okonite, ironically in the two towns I was visiting while awaiting the divorce. Okonite has a huge plant in Richmond, Kentucky; and R.J.Corman is extremely influential in politics, a railroad affiliated company located in Nicholasville, with tentacles invested with campaign donations in politicians in Texas and Pennsylvania. Both have connections to Rhode Island. Both are privately owned, and ultra-conservative, like the railroads they service. Whether private companies fall under the same legal scrutiny as publicly traded companies, anti-monopoly laws have apparently not prevented them from controlling leaders, steering work, wealth, and playing favorites in local, state, and national politics.
Both firms are associated with the engineering division of the railroad, in construction, maintenance, and the Board of Corman has Norfolk Southern's former VP of Engineering as a director. There isn't a politician or construction company who hasn't known of R.J.Corman in Kentucky. And Okonite is a cable provider for electricity and communications.
Mississippi River boat trips, Denver vacations, golf outings, and Nashville Grand Ole Opry shows are just a few of the perks enjoyed by executives, financed by vendors and business associates such as Okonite. A week trip to Germany and Austria with the finest accommodations was hosted by an Austrian owned railroad equipment manufacturer.
Business associations have become extended families in upper echelons and provide social functions and vacations, all subsidized by consumers and taxpaying citizens. As the middle class disintegrates, and business and lobbyists run political offices with generous campaign donations, and contribute millions of dollars to their favorite charities, it's easy to forget those expenses are also passed on to consumers in product pricing.
It's time for drastic change, and for the new Congress to protect the interests of the general population, and prevent monopolies, networking, and collusion in business, politics, and industry.
When your attorneys work against you, it can be deadly.
The Justice System experience is an indicator of the health of a society, and integrity of a country.
James K. Knight, was my attorney 1996, but in 1998, his partner George C. Childs moved in and took control of the case. Mr. Childs wasn't concerned I'd been ordered out of my house based on lies to Cobb County police, although he surely knew false information to a police officer is a felony. Two months later my son disappeared and was dead in another state, and Childs was on vacation while I was being jailed, harassed, and falsely accused. Arrangements for a mental incarceration had been arranged, and I had no attorney to call. All false "criminal" charges were later dropped, or disappeared, and have since been expunged. And as soon as my son was buried, George Childs dropped the case.
Three months was good for a few thousand dollars in Child's pocket. And in three months time I had bond costs for false charges totaling more than $4,000 and a "court ordered" state hospital bill of $8,000, all because a married railroad executive had a mistress and wanted it all. Having never been in handcuffs in my life, to say the 39 day period of arrests, and a child's death were nerve rattling would be an understatement. But this is apparently how legal cases are won in Georgia courts, which should awaken every father from his sleep before he agrees to walk his little girl down the aisle.
"I'm so sorry you were married to the mafia," said one observer.
He would later marry his mistress. During the 15 months I was living in motels and in the streets with my six show dogs, awaiting the settlement, the two would live together, form a business and abandon our teenaged daughter to live alone in our home. I was ordered by the courts to stay away from her, so could not even attend her high school graduation. She was afraid to be alone, and moved in with her boyfriend's family. But her father was careful and the loving couple made sure to protect themselves, and my daughter was not abandoned until after her 18th birthday.
Courts are inhumane and dangerous, designed to destroy lives and provoke rage, and enrich attorneys. Georgia's House Speaker Glenn Richardson obviously knew it when he had his divorce settled within two months, and the records sealed. Most Georgians don't have those advantages, and Richardson is lucky his children are safe and well-protected. Childs cited "harassing phone calls" as the reason he dropped my case. There isn't a Georgian who wouldn't be angry with an attorney who refused to question the opponents criminal behavior in giving police false information against his client. Furthermore, Childs was on vacation during a series of well planned false arrests and incarcerations, designed to cause emotional duress. And Childs had joined in with my husband, in citing "harassing phone calls" as a reason to get out ––after all the damage was done. It was obvious whose side he'd taken, and why he'd dropped the case. He'd done his job.
Later in reading an incident where an elderly Macon man had taken a gun over to his attorney's office and solved his problem with a bullet, I could understand why he'd done it. Before this I hadn't understood how skillfully attorneys can provoke their clients, nor how brutally they can destroy them.
The second attorney said, "You weren't even harassing anybody. I heard the tape recordings."
But later he took the other side, and cited harassment, as well. I figured at that point the money passed under the table or there was intimidation by some "men in black." Even when he'd said the day of the trial,
"It's over, I'll be in touch this week,"
it didn't happen. It was four more months before Judge Adele Grubbs would sign the papers. They were colluding in playing a game of mental cruelty for money, and I was living in the streets and at the mercy of strangers.
Later in Kentucky, another lawyer, Gatewood Galbraith said,
"You don't have any lawsuits. There's too much money against you." More than once the words,"You won't win in court, because the money against you is too powerful," was advice from those who knew the "system." Even Brian Blanchard, an FBI agent at Louisville insinuated my problems were the railroad in saying, "The railroad has attorneys you can't beat."
So who was paying off whom, and how much money was going under tables?
Magistrate Judge Laurens Lee of Peach County said,
"If you'll just sign your divorce papers all of your problems will go away."
He said this just before applying the handcuffs, and jailing prompted by a landlord Nell Stumpff's false felony charges that later mysteriously disappeared. All the while Nell's son was running freely distributing drugs and like Jimmy Jones, Peach County detective said,
"Oh you lived in that apartment where her son was out back cooking dope?"
I've always wondered if Steve Stumpff and his band of drug dealers weren't responsible for the disappearance of my son, and whether his mother and retired Lt. Colonel father, George weren't involved.
But Georgia was how I'd later find Kentucky. The only folks with rights and protections were the criminals, and in my case, the police were working for them.
The "vacation trend" was set for my attorneys. Later when the divorce dragged out, and Kenneth Schatten would take a trip out to San Diego while I was again, arrested in Kentucky, he said,
"We were at a cocktail party last night laughing and joking about you and your case."
Not so long before that Spring 1999, in the presence of Private Detective Billy Carter, he'd said,
"We believe your husband murdered your son."
He'd changed his direction.
So American justice is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get, like it or not. Old WWII movies of Nazi parties up front and gas chambers below are comparable. Except instead of the gas chambers, lawyers and courts put a person on the street, gain control of his belongings and wealth, and send in the street gangs to finish him off. Imagine the finest social hour for attorneys in Cobb County, Georgia, of hors d'oeurvres, and fine wine, with humorous discussions of your dead kid, dead animals, and hilariously desperate living arrangements. The only thing missing is the gas chamber. This legal social club appeared be a sick, ridiculing cult that moved far away from humanity and integrity, and forgot the word "justice" altogether.
The important thing is to forget the things society has conditioned Americans to believe. Attorney/client privilege is something seen in the movies, comparable to the fantasy show "forensics files" science solving every crime. And, an attorney is not an officer of the court, but exists to make money, and lots of it. Note in this police report, George Childs spoke for me saying things I wouldn't have said. It's good to note the mood and message he was sending.
Both of my sons had been victimized by a parolee named Frederick Grant who'd said he was a mafia associate. I had beckoned their father to please report Mr. Grant to police and he declined saying,
"I took care of Fred, myself."
And I've never known what he meant by that. Later my living son said he'd heard Fred was dead. I had never and would never have said my son was suicidal, but it's what Mr. Childs told police. Childs insinuated instability to the police, and I wondered why Mr. Childs did not direct police to speak directly with me instead. I never said my son had a nervous breakdown, because if I had said it, it would have been untrue. Mr. Childs was correct that I was suspicious of my son's disappearance, because the boy's father was acting irrationally, and I was being falsely arrested and the landlord was apparently involved in all of it.
I did suspect my Long Island/New England native father-in-law may have committed suicide. He'd called my husband several months before his grandson died, and pre-announced his death with the words, "Gerry I don't want to live anymore. Take care of your mother." A week later he was dead, with no body to view at the Matthews, NC Catholic funeral. And the urn of ashes was never buried in Long Island in the spring, as planned. I've always figured he left the country or went into hiding. It was just too coincidental.
Besides, my husband had met with another dog breeder at his office for no apparent reason. I felt he'd been scheming plans with these people, as he could not tolerate dogs, dog shows and hated everything about them saying,
"I went to that dog show (Tampa, '97) and saw the ugliest people I have ever seen in my life."
In an Alabama police report, he says he reported his son's disappearance to Cobb County police the night he disappeared. According to our daughter, her father told her to get in the car and simply drive south that same night. They were on I-75 toward Florida and drove nearly all night, while all he could say was "I have to be at work on time in the morning." If, as the report says, he knew his son was calling from Newnan, Georgia, then why didn't they drive on I-85 to Newnan, Georgia? In all of his travels he knew Newnan, Georgia was located on Interstate 85. So why go I-75 all the way to Florida? To pretend he was concerned for our daughter, creating an alibi? To avoid any other phone calls? Why didn't he trace the call? He was the Assistant Vice President of Communications, so surely he had the knowledge to trace a calling location before he left the house.
Next day he is said to have driven to Newnan and found the abandoned car along I-85. Why did it sit there for nearly four days with slashed tires if he had reported his son missing to police on the night of December 8? In the midst of our separation, my husband abandoned our daughter in the house in March 1999 and moved in with his mistress, and they started a Georgia business together, "DT Consulting." It wasn't until January 2000 that Judge Adele Grubbs would sign the divorce papers, and months later would the settlement be distributed. So why did they start a business together as two unmarried people living together?
From April, 1997 until October 1998 there was plenty of planning time for all of the lawyers involved in this case. The fact that my husband would not involved police when our sons had been victimized by Frederick Grant shows he had no concern for their safety, and that he "took care of the problem" on his own suggests criminal activity.
We may never know the truth of what really happened in Georgia. What we do know is beware your attorney can and will turn against you.
Later after hiring Kenneth Schatten, and then asked the help of Florida attorney Willie Gary, at the suggestion of Tommy Schlette. Gary turned down my case, but soon Schatten was representing Gary in a paternity suit in Atlanta. The entire thing appeared to be a huge, interconnected frame-job with some outside manipulation, no matter how you looked at it. Had Schlette lead me to Gary knowing Gary was in need of an Atlanta attorney? Were Schatten and Gary set up to lose in court?
Tommy Schlette was the key. How and why he overdosed 5/3/2006 is a mystery, but I refused to call the detective whose name was given by Tommy's landlord to offer any information. Tommy said I should stop stirring up the story, because I was "making it more difficult for detectives." I didn't know whether he was working for police or protecting the railroad mafia I was up against. His story, "Your son is still alive," was believable, because his reference to the autopsy, of three inch scars on each knee. How did Tommy know that one detail? The boy's father had 18 months to make the plans in whatever happened. And Tommy Schlette knew too much, knew the right things to say and was sent by someone quite powerful. What was motivating Tommy Schlette solves much of this mystery. Since then I've found a possible link back to the in-laws in North Carolina, and the Long Island, Massachusetts connected grandfather who so suddenly died after announcing his impending death; and Matthews/Monroe, NC, Jesse Helms country, where I did the political cartooning. Maybe it's a connection, and maybe not. If my son's dead, he was murdered, and it's all just another All-American cover-up.
I've followed the story of "The Facility Group" since its Cobb County executives were involved in politics and the Cobb County jail where I'd been incarcerated. Tracing that company back to the name, Carlson, I've wondered if the NC firm, "Carlson Products" was connected. A salesman had called upon me mysteriously and asked for some art work during the cartooning era in Monroe, NC. I don't know who referred him to my office. Luckily, I kept some of that information, as well. The Facility Group connects with an engineering firm in Waxhaw, NC, another Union County town. Maybe the in-law's "mob" was keeping a watchful eye out, even then. Had I been Speaker of the Georgia House, like Glenn Richardson, my son might be alive, and I might not have been stalked and sabotaged for the past ten years. I would have had a divorce in less than two months and had the details sealed to protect the children. As it was Mr. Richardson's law firm was in on the torture, and after I'd turned down the "buyer for your show dogs" in Kentucky, everyone came in for the kill - even Richardson's Paulding County law firm - with more false accusations. That his friends died in a plane crash is not surprising in Paulding County. The crash is suspicious in itself, and so was the wrongful confiscation of valuable show dogs and the list of U.S. customs agents at the shelter. So here's what happened next after running to Kentucky to escape Georgia lawyers, false arrests and stacked courts:
The first puppy litter was poisoned in Warner Robins, Georgia at 622 Miller Drive. Only one died, and the veterinarian asked if they'd been eating any venison. (No.) Later in Kentucky the deaths continued, some from apparent Antifreeze poisoning, and others by "vicious dog attacks" in the night. One was found on the side of the road with no bruises, no blood, no apparent injuries. It's been a terrorizing and bloody ten years, and "Homeland Security" was nowhere to be found.
I was afraid to type this story, and lived in fear while living there. I figured what was left of my family and animals would be brutally murdered if I told my story in full. They had me right where they wanted in Kentucky, and all I could to was make myself known and seen, so that if anything happened, there would at least be questions.
It was in temporarily leaving Kentucky early last year I was able to begin to document more explosive details on the blogsite. Had I stayed there, amidst the threat of terror, death and destruction, I would not have made this story fully public. As it is, in my home state of Virginia I am well-protected, and feel an obligation to expose these tactics. I have faith in the Good People of this country that when awakened, they will not tolerate corruption in courts or in any American institution. We cannot let these same situations visit and torture our grandchildren, and hopefully the information recorded here will help avert future horrors planned for unsuspecting, targeted victims.
Back in Cobb County to collect my belongings my ex-husband met at the house. He set up a ladder at the front door with painters, to create difficulty and added time payments for the movers. He pulled back some belongings to a back room attempting to hide them, and when I offered to show him the court paper, he grabbed the phone and called Cobb County police. When they refused to heed his call, he seemed surprised. After all, he was a railroad executive, and railroad police fix tickets with local police, and there are all manner of favors. So, then he phoned Acworth police. He knew the tricks, of stomping puter before packaging it in boxes, of tossing in old papers and books of his own to weight the movers fee. This corporate man skillfully played them all.
There was no remorse or grief for the loss of our son, just a hatred and aggressive attitude. He particularly enjoyed engaging police in effort to cause as much negativity as he possibly could cause, with concocted stories. It proved how well the man cared for his children, that he would go to uncommon extremes to destroy their mother. But because he was an executive with Norfolk Southern railroad, the police would believe his stories over mine. He was evil beyond anything imaginable in all of the 23 years I was his house slave.
"Do you want me back, now?"
He had a snide grin on his face, knowing he was living with another woman, enjoying every minute of inflicting as much suffering as possible. I never wanted to see his sick, evil face again as long as I lived.
That day, I knew Mr. Schatten could possibly be right. If my husband could continue this cruelty, he had the capacity to murder our son. My son had told me his father had a mistress, and knew his father had lied to police to have me removed from the home. He was a living witness that could lose the divorce case, and even have his father imprisoned. And if my husband "took care of Fred," as he had boasted, and Fred was actually dead, he had the connections to do it. Apparently attorneys know exactly how to manipulate the system to destroy opponents and ruin lives, and my husband's attorney, Michael Broadbear, was one of the best.
This is the man the railroad used to negotiate with labor unions. He prided himself in his ability to play the waiting game.
"Sometimes we sit in the room for eight hours and not one person in the room says a word."
In speaking with my brother in trying to understand the underlying evil, he said, "You know there's something about the railroad. They just have to win, and they train everybody that winning is everything." I didn't want to blame the railroad, but since two of their executives were staged to testify against me, then I knew the railroad had somehow provided the power and connections he'd used that would inevitably end my existence. There was no other life outside it and the railroad was his world.
When lawyers turn against you, expect plenty of blood. They gang up and go for the throat. In divorcing an executive you're divorcing his corporation, his co-workers, his vendors, his satellite businesses that could be far-reaching and cross state lines. They have a camaraderie, and an interest in your settlement, and none of them wants a negative outcome for the "company man." Corporations are powerful organizations, politically connected, and dominate the business world. With a few words spread here and there, your life is finished, and it will be rigged so you'll never prove it.
You might find your daughter called to the front of the class, asked if her mother is beating her because of birthmarks on her legs, falsely accused by the public school system, as it rustles through records to audit construction costs provided by a friendly corporation. You will be in Facility Group's (Bill Hutson's) Cobb County rigged jail and bondsmen won't answer the phone. You'll find yourself in Peach County jail with a Magistrate Judge saying, "If you just sign your divorce papers, your problems will go away." The watchful octopus had traps set everywhere.
Described by Childs as the railroad's accident attorney, Mike Broadbear knew the game well. These people are apparently available for executives and surely have a powerful team of planners.
In reading of Speaker Richardson's speedy divorce, wikipedia says, in Georgia, "a judge may grant an immediate divorce after finding circumstances such as spousal abuse, incurable mental illness or adultery."
The reason I wasn't "ruled incurably insane" when incarcerated against my will, is because I refused their medications even when threatened with injection. I made plenty of phone calls, more than one to the Mental Health Advocacy office. Otherwise, I'd be there today, walking around the halls drooling with facial ticks, haldol overdosed, and living my life out in institutional man-made hell. So there's the little trick to the "mental illness" tool available for those who know the game. Another drugged inpatient said giving orderlies oral sex had been one of her "inside" requirements, after her husband had her "put away" 14 years ago. Death would have been more humane. And surely the "husband" got that quickie Georgia divorce, his mistress, and all of the money, just like mine planned to do.
These people are tagged professionals, or businessmen, politicians or executives, or attorneys. Somewhere in justice, winning and financial reward preceded integrity and fairness, and the country, its families and children were destroyed.
Blacklisting in the USA is an organized criminal endeavor where a target is watched and stalked by interconnected gangs connected to powerful people. There will be great suffering created by the stalkers, but one of the most unfortunate symptoms is the target will distrust other Americans. Doctors would categorize the distrust as paranoia, while the fear is not imagined but very real. Life is spent alone, keeping a casual distance from local people, potential information gatherers.
For a blacklisted American, foreign born or newly visiting residents are safe, genuine, and interesting friends with less possibility of connections with established, local stalking gangs and their affluent handlers. In meeting Willie from South Africa, his stories regarding his country lead to a better understanding of problems in his native land. He was very interested in Native Americans, and so I drove him to a powwow near Louisville. At one point, we stopped and he searched for something to take home that was American-made. He was distressed with the inability to find products produced by Americans. And he was shocked in seeing Native Americans having so many differing skin and hair colors, as he had expected tan skin and long black hair, like he'd seen in the movies.
He had overstayed his visa, but had employment with a fellow South African, a wealthy horseman married into an affluent Missouri/Kentucky horse family. Mr. Visser was successful with his saddlebred horses, and Mr. Orr was buying and selling farms. Willie was amazed at the prices paid for the horses, while I was amazed to compare horse prices and consider the extreme poverty and desperation of so many Kentucky inhabitants.
We shared stories, and it was Willie who said he believed the death of my father and uncles sounded suspicious, and being formerly associated with the military, he suspected my Dad's heart attack might have been a homicide. He greatly admired Nelson Mandela, and loved the Bushmen of South Africa, where Willie had been a safari guide. But the new president was Communist, and the farms had been sabotaged and life there had become an ongoing horror story. I explained to Willie many of the same sabotage tactics are present in this country, particularly where areas of crime and drugs are more prevalent. Drugs are destroying lives, and houses are burned and animals slaughtered, and while families have been devastated by the illegal drug trade.
"The communists in this country are the drug lords and organized criminals."
His response, "If that's true, then I hate them, too."
Returning from the powwow, Willie mentioned he would like to see a rodeo. We noticed a truck following closely and in arriving at Willie's quarters in the barn, his boss appeared. Willie jumped out of the truck and very strong words in Africaans mixed with some American obscenities could be heard even with the windows closed. Returning to the truck, Willie said, "Neil called you a 'bitch.'" I wondered why or how his South African boss would know my name, or have any information regarding my life or personality. He had no reason to hate me or to advise Willie to stay away from "that bitch."
This is blacklisting. Words of destruction are whispered among those affluent ones capable of pulling every adverse string against a person. They're hate-crimes so skillfully concealed, they continue in secret.
The wealthy South African had been advised by local associates that I was "bad." They apparently had information I was marked. My capacity to expose powerful people was involved, the political cartooning, and all of the other things I'd fought had angered some powerful people in Georgia and Kentucky. Plus that I could expose the murder of my own son and some other criminals, probably useful to their cause.
When a person is blacklisted there is a klan of powerful people who convey messages among their groups and organizations that this person is an outcast, should be shunned and inevitably destroyed. Police will harass the person, gangs will stalk and sabotage and every aspect of that person's life will be destroyed. They operate like the KKK in secret whispering with colluding politicians and attorneys with such skill the collusion could never be proven. Forget lawsuits. They're worthless.
That a complete stranger from another country, who was extremely wealthy and tied in with the horse community would refer to me as a "bitch," was shocking. I didn't know any horse people, and hadn't offended any of them. I had done nothing to be hated or judged by anybody in the state of Kentucky, other than endure harassment by police and try to survive their stalkers. But in Georgia my child had been set up to be murdered and I figured it connected to Kentucky. Surely arrangements and all of the Georgia arrests, had been made by intelligence connected Atlanta attorney, Republican Michael Broadbear when it all started in 1998.
A friend in Germany says the same is happening there and throughout Europe, particularly with her blacklisted Jewish family, which is frightening. Rumors of detention "FEMA" camps are floating around the USA now, just like the rumors were prevalent in Nazi Germany, while the country's citizens remained in denial.
Soon Willie was without a job and on the streets, at the mercy of anyone who would risk being targeted, to help. He wanted to go home, and had no way, no support and no money. Feeling responsible, I offered to buy his zebra skin and help finance his escape, hoping he could get out of this country safely. Willie was a good friend and he was a genuine person. It was good to know his love for his country, his admiration of Nelson Mandela, and the suffering and remorse he had endured in being required to fight in the wars. I felt responsible for the loss of his job knowing I, "the bitch" was the cause, so sorry that this country is filled with such evil and hatred. I was glad Willie found America as it truly is, and not as the Equality based, humane country it portrays itself as being.
Blacklisters set a targeted person alone and surround him/her with their sharks and spies. In this circumstance, Willie had a constant spy-visitor "friend" named Montgomery, who kept tabs on his every move. Surely this man was the information link back to Willie's boss. That's how stalking works.
Two years earlier the Patriot Act had been enacted and it was dangerous for the many illegals in this country working in any industry at all. Willie was never able to see the rodeo and I've hoped he found a safe journey and happiness in his own troubled country.
"Old George Bush cared about us," he'd said, referring to South Africans.
Problem is, Bush doesn't care about some of us Americans.
Willie returned home to his own country, knowing that for his call to duty and loyalty to his country in earlier wars he was a marked man, and would be hunted there. I remained in my own country targeted and marked as well, for reasons I could never clearly define.
And my German friend explained her understanding of the situation, "Your CIA has infiltrated other countries so this blacklisting is happening in many countries besides the United States. There is not a place here that isn't under surveillance."
Is our CIA running rendition flights with cocaine carrying aircraft? Are we as evil as other countries perceive? Is our military wrongfully deployed, and are our leaders blood-thirsty madmen? Are Americans funding the unnecessary and cruel and inhumane torture of other people? Exactly what was Jack Abramoff doing in South Africa? The mainstream news tells us so little about the CIA and things taxpayers should know.
It is obvious the United States has trouble within its own boundaries, in its courts and communities, with organized crime, corruption and drugs. How can it afford to cause so much trouble elsewhere?
Tommy Schlette had contacted me from Stuart, Florida while working for Pinkerton Government Security Services at a Vought Aircraft Facility, 2003.
"Your son is still alive," he said.
Tommy had information prompting me to look closer at the autopsy report, which is something very difficult for a Mother to do. He was right. My son hadn't had well-healed, 3-inch scars above his knees, and in fact, he'd never had knee surgery or injury to his legs at all. The body autopsied had obvious scarring, well-healed, and the scars were located above each knee.
It was a couple months after his 2006 death in May, the Comair plane crashed in Lexington, Kentucky, August 27. Forty-nine people perished. Among those were four employees of GALLS, a company that makes police security equipment. Two others were involved with roller skating rinks and enroute to Las Vegas. A few were Florida bound and three were looking forward to an Alaskan cruise, one Carol Bizzack, wife of John, director of Kentucky's Criminal Justice Training also mentioned in "The Bluegrass Conspiracy." Many were prominent. Several had interests in the race horse industry, and others were involved with medicine and the problems of addiction.
For more than one, Sunday flights were not routine.
One victim lived at Harrodsburg in the Lake Herrington area, and one Galls employee was originally from Harrodsburg, Ky. Timothy Snoddy, a forensics accountant who perished in the crash, had a partner, Daniel Fulks, with an address near Lake Herrington, very near the other victim, an Intergraph employee.
It was interesting that Snoddy was enroute to his Stuart, Florida office.
Mr. Snoddy also had offices in Asheville, NC and Ashland, Kentucky. A Boardwalk Restaurant waitress in Lexington drove from Ashland to work, which was a good distance. More interesting, Snoddy's Florida partner, John Moffitt, was located in Palm City, same town as Schlette's mailing address.
Because Tommy's life began to fall apart just before his death, and he'd suffered sabotage and harassment at the Rickard residence as I had been enduring. I figured maybe the same drug gangs were involved in his destruction as mine. When I began to cartoon about corruption and drugs and tried to help in solving an N.C. murder, the Georgia and then Kentucky harassment and sabotage began. I began to be arrested, harassed, accused, and even lost a son. Having taken the story to Detective Jude of Kentucky's Criminal Justice Training center in 2001, there was little relief provided by Kentucky police. In fact I'd handed Detective Jude stolen belongings stolen from his headquarters by some of the workers. It wasn't long before Detective Jude retired, and my problems continued.
Shockingly, like in so many south and central American countries, in some areas of the USA, it appears "justice" works against good folks, protecting criminals and the valuable drug trade. Nobody wants to believe it's so. But at least the downing of the CIA plane with loaded with 4.4 tons of cocaine is opening windows.
It isn't surprising Tommy passed away while under personal attack. He'd said he'd even been beaten with baseball bats. But just before he died, he mentioned Mark Foley, saying they golfed together, said he'd been in some trouble with fireworks, and said he'd owned a candle company. It wasn't long after Tommy's death before Congressman Foley's destruction was splattered across the TV, and the Florida bound plane crashed carrying Tim Snoddy, and even the wife of Kentucky's Criminal Justice Training Department. Strange, Tommy'd never mentioned golf at all until then.
Charles Lykins, one of the Comair crash victims who was a Naples golfer. He'd been to Winchester, Kentucky to visit family. Golf seems to enter into these tragedies in larger ways than anyone could imagine.
"Creative Candle Magic" was Tommy's 1990-91 Florida company, with agent Leigh A. Williams, and partner Jeffrey Custer. Tommy's landlord, Deb Rickard, offered the name of a detective. But according to her, a next-door-neighbor who'd been building a new house there, and last to see him alive, was also the one who found him dead in the woods.
Lake Herrington in Kentucky has long been rumored a haven for drug runners and cocaine. Locals speak of planes landing on the lake and police road blocks that protect the cargo. UPS has been rumored more than once to be moving the cargo, even delivering seeds for cannabis. House boats are homes there, and non-traceable addresses for those who wish to evade land tax. Bill Casey and Larry Hagerman had friends there, complaining they'd "been in some trouble with cocaine" in the past. It's very near "The Triad," site of the 1980's terrorist training camp which involved Adnan Khashoggi, and the foreign arms dealer and corrupt former Lexington police officers. (The Bluegrass Conspiracy, by Sally Denton) It wouldn't be long before more planes would fall from the sky, including one helicopter carrying a man named Stumpff, and then the Mt. Airy, NC crash carrying Paulding County, Georgia Republican developers and businessmen. I had a personal interest in that one too, as a few of them formed the bank my deceased son had an account with, and Paulding County wrongfully confiscated my animals and falsely accused me of abuse. Somebody there wanted my property, and they wanted it pretty bad. I'd declined a "buyer for your show dogs" offer made by Kentucky's James Lay. What I've learned, this crowd takes what it wants, and there's nothing you can do about it, legally or illegally. And they're a well-connected intra-state. Dixie Mafia? Possibly–– doing favors for corporations or other mafias.
They will wipe you out, wipe your slate clean, and smile during the process. And police look the other way hoping they aren't next.
I'd bought the Paulding, Georgia land from a man named Ridings, later to find the NY Life insurance agent in Richmond, Kentucky was also named "Ridings." Even with that, falsification of records occurred, in misleading a change of beneficiaries which was never recorded at the main office. When the "Big Boys" decide to destroy a person they go in long-term planning mode and they go literally for blood, with plans to take what they can get, your animals, your children, your money, your property and inevitably they'll end your life one way or another. They cross their T's and dot all I's. It appears as though little "mistakes," were made, when the tricks have been used thousands of times before on innocent people.
American systems and institutions were written to be used to best advantage to enrich some and destroy others. Trained experts work out the details.
If Homeland Security was randomly inspecting private planes and yachts with concern for the public, there would be more reason to suspect the ultimate and most threatening villain as being "Bin Laden." The truth is drugs and organized crime has savaged this country since before Viet Nam. And while with precision our military can physically site and target a man from two miles away, this government cannot get criminals off its streets, out of government and away from industry. More than likely, Comair wasn't an accident and neither was the Mount Airy crash.
The generational problem is when and whether Americans will be given the truth.
At a dog show this man was walking an Alaskan Malamute, and in his own words, "trying to get his bitch laid." He knew everybody in Knoxville, even the mayor who, at that time was an old friend of George Bush, Victor Ashe, currently Ambassador to Poland. If he could find a proper stud dog, "Ridge-Runner" planned to give the pups to the local orphanage.
As we spoke, he lost concentration about his dog and focused on a couple at the ring with an attractive male malamute who had rejected his offer. Because of their rejection of his "bitch," with hatred, and a vengeful attitude he'd said,
"You see those two people? See how they're dressed? Why if they were walking in the desert and they asked for a drink of water, I wouldn't give them one."
His reference recalled Biblical scripture from somewhere, and later he'd pull a sizeable roll of money out of his pocket to make his point: He wasn't a poor man, and knew the most powerful people in town.
Would I like to go with him and play the poker machines? I'd never heard of poker machines, but he'd said we could run them and get $10,000 in two weeks. He had a friend who had invented the machines, and had a trick dollar bill that would trip it producing plenty of cash. This is an example of one of the lure tactics, and they have many.
I cautioned he might be caught and jailed for robbery. His casual response was as witty as those "runners" or criminals I'd later find in Kentucky, proclaiming religious roots while cultivating drugs thanking the "Good Lord" for providing illegal income.
"Oh, nothing will happen. They can't do anything to you because the poker machines are illegal. It's just thieves stealing from thieves."
When asked how they could have poker machines if they were illegal, his response was confident.
"Politics."
At that time it was incredible that any township allowed poker machines for some and not for others. That was then. This is now. They had the machines placed in Kentucky as well. There they also have machines that push quarters. Drop a quarter in, and if its weight pushes the others over the ledge, you win a handful.
They also have Pentecostals and those raised with religion deeply entrenched. Gordon Bennett had said Kentucky was a kind and welcoming spot. A Lakota Sioux mother had been lured to the state with the same "promised land" trickery. After being lured there, she turned down an offer for her children to be given away to a local couple, then subsequently lost her children to the state of Kentucky and found herself in jail. Kentucky's Attorney General's detective, Steve O'Daniel described the tactics saying Kentucky gangs bring folks in and take everything they have. Apparently, they take young children, as well.
I was lured there to escape horrors and corruption, false arrest and coercion tactics used by corrupt Georgia law enforcement, courts and attorneys, only to find more and intrastate collusion of the same in Kentucky.
Gordon Bennett said he'd been brainwashed and spoke of all he'd experienced,
"They stand around you and keep talking to you with bags over their heads. Their heads are covered so you don't know who they are. They made me watch a video of a boy being raped by a man. Then they told me to go over and blow the man's brains out, saying he didn't deserve a trial. So that's what I did. When I knocked on his door, he answered and I blew his brains out with my shot gun." Continuing,
"My Preacher knows what I do."
"Really? Which church do you belong to?" I had to ask.
Having been raised Christian, I had to know which "Christian" churches condoned murder and judgement of this caliber.
"Pentecostal Holiness. You ever been hit by the spirit?"
How could Mr. Bennett be certain the man was guilty? How and by whom was the video made? And why hadn't Mr. Bennett been charged with murder? Above is Mr. Bennett's personal sketch of "the devil." Was he planning on "casting out the demon" with his shot gun? He spoke of running marijuana and of having been imprisoned for cocaine. Yet he was free, and then ordered by guys with hoods to administer vigilante justice via shotgun to someone seen on a video?
What's going on here? State sanctioned drug-trafficking? Murder? "The Lord?" Ku Klux Klan? Gordon made other statements.
"I've seen people get skinned alive." "We've got wells in eastern Kentucky full of human bones."
Re, the state of Georgia, he said, "I know who runs that state."
I couldn't help blurting, "You're saying the State of Georgia isn't run by the Governor?"
One local Kentucky mother collapsed with anxiety and faltering health after years of agony knowing the "accident" ruling in her only son's death was murder. Several locals had threatened to kill her son, and the skillful drug gang had colluded with disinformation to confuse the story. She explained to the doctor she could not find justice for her son's death, that law enforcement had been dishonest. Her doctor was sorry law enforcement was dishonest, and offered her some pills and anti-depression medications to make her feel better. While her sickness was caused by the ongoing drug war, swarming local criminal gangs and public corruption, apparently Kentucky's local physicians are trained to drug the victims, while the real problem remains at-large.
There are underlying secretive, extremely powerful networks in this country organized to destroy every aspect of a person's life. They are infiltrated within courts and law enforcement, and a person targeted and trapped by them will not find protection or relief unless help comes from outside. The thirty billion dollar marijuana industry and criminal drug entrepreneurs have laundered portions of the tax-free proceeds to provide legal/law enforcement/court protection for cultivators, smugglers, and future crops. As with any narcotics republic where illegal drugs provide millions of dollars for drug lords, politicians, and associates, there are vast networks of extremely secretive and dangerous people, and the innocent population lives in constant fear, while taxed to provide expenses of the "disabled" or "unemployed" who cultivate and traffic the drugs. It's a mega-ripoff for the innocent citizen living in terror with family and children in jeopardy, in fact, incredible that narcotics republics exist in the USA, at all.
In these areas look for tinted windows, and helicopters, aircraft or any vehicles with camouflage or a black/red-stripe color pattern.
My artistic talent was known probably before I'd left Georgia, and soon I was asked to perform.
"I want you to paint a picture of me, my brother and a prominent lawyer, all riding black horses."
"Really? Are you asking for a price quote? I'll paint the original for $20/hour. But reproductions costs lots of money in color separations alone."
(no answer, no deal)
"Hey, didn't you know they outlawed slavery in 1865?"
But in these areas, laws often don't matter. Many "friends" will work to be paid in drug or alcohol benefits, as "favors." Knowing the riders of black horses in religious land signify death, I didn't know whether to take the proposition as a potential threat or compliment of my artistic ability. Relatively certain the "prominent lawyer" was the local lawyer and "apostolic" sideline preacher in town rumors were he'd also been found with drugs on his property. (Scary!)
For the Biblically oriented, this is how "old-time-religion" sometimes works in the lands of the less fortunate. It's most extreme branches can become fanatical and dangerous, particularly when mixing the words of the "Holy Book" with drugs or alcohol. In outlying areas extremely religious folks often include the farmer's almanac and superstitions with scripture. When tragedy, hate, suspicion, and/or judgement is folded in, a dark and evil personal belief can evolve from the mixture. Vigilantes then rise to "do the Lord's work," and society has yet another problem.
It's those few who tip the scale and create extremist religions who torture, judge, hate, abuse, and create all manner of evil within communities and countries, all in the name of "The Lord." The twisted beliefs survive every war and generation. Life according to this scripture does not afford equal justice or pursuit of happiness to every man and woman, nor does it grant respect to those who believe or appear differently. There is no equality outside their own narrow beliefs. It's often cultist behavior, and the responsibility of tax exempted church's leaders to steer followers away from the darkness. To many of these, God hates Muslims, Gays, Mexicans, foreigners and African Americans.
That anyone should believe God "hates" any part of creation is puzzling to most people.
Surprisingly, many people in the U.S.A. believe this is the "End of Time," and are secretly readying for "God's Army" to begin the harvest, and the Battle of Armageddon.
"We got guns buried in plastic bags all over our back yards in Kentucky," said Gordon.
He also said he had "enough C-4 to blow up an Air Force Base." Another local resident said, "Some folks have guns buried in the walls, behind the drywall waiting for the right time. They've been planning for this a long, long time."
This particular area of Kentucky produced the Iowa forensics examiner who, while based in Alabama, allegedly examined my child's body long before I was lured to her state to be destroyed. Here you will find suicides and overdoses, many if rightfully investigated would be ruled homicide. The "Bluegrass Conspiracy" has developed a well-organized and powerful network, which crosses state lines. Local law enforcement is rumored to know which name's written on the next waiting tombstone. During a recent visit to the Florida panhandle, a slow gas pump prompted a conversation with the store clerk. Minutes into the conversation revealed a deep racism.
"You let those *N's* move in, next thing you know they're living next door, marrying your daughter. My Daddy was in the United States Air Force, and I've lived in Las Vegas and about everywhere. I can tell you there are some folks in Michigan and Kentucky, and they're not going to let this kind of thing happen."
And, during the same vacation were the words,
"If we elect that *N* we're gonna get nuked."
Even the famed Todd Blodgett, son of a Bush appointed Judge and former Iowa politician was a writer for President Ronald Reagan. He was powerful behind-the-scenes yet later, publicly noted for his commitment to racist causes, with ownership interests in a white supremacist music company.
With these people so well-hidden and secretive, yet entrenched in high places, will Americans stop the hate? And if Mr. Obama wins the race, can he survive his Presidency?
How people disappear, one experience & the crazy game.
The old Mercedes purchased from Central Motors was an alternate substitute for my Ford Explorer. I was sure I was being followed. Brian Trader lead to Mr. Russ Taghi, (Rasoul Taghizadeh) who owned the dealership, and had allowed Brian to pay cash weekly for his truck. Brian's truck was strange. The brakes occasionally expelled a screeching sound, and when accessing the code gate at the Stor-All storage facility at Palumbo Drive, one windshield wiper would swipe the windshield as the access code was keyed.
Life became a "wonder what-they-have-planned-next" ordeal. And curiosity eventually revealed every trap. There was nothing to lose in uncovering the criminal networks involved. They'd already killed one of my children. Extraordinary liars and planners, they might kill whatever could survive. If nothing else, I'd live to write about it so preserved the documents to prove the story. American law enforcement was not my friend. They had been tricked to collude with criminals and cooperated in the death of my child, covered up the details, and proceeded in destroying what was left of my life.
Brian had the strangest vehicle ever experienced. It was a nice, shiny black truck with tinted windows, but it had some curious bad habits.
"It's wired to the dish at the motel," Brian said.
It wasn't the weirdest thing that happened. One day at the Meier store and I noticed an empty grocery cart in the parking lot making circles, all by itself. Startled at first, I motioned to Brian,
"Look at that!"
He laughed.
"Somebody must be playing tricks with remote control!"
We both looked around for the Candid Camera guy, and proceeded into the store.
(And I've wondered since if the local Inventor's Council was at work.) This was a rigged state and someone had spent lots of money and time rigging it. And so often I'd recall stories of blue-blood corruption from "The Bluegrass Conspiracy," and a local resident's words,
"They worked on poor, old Ralph Ross until the day he died."
Ralph Ross was a police officer who fought Kentucky's organized crime/drug problem as best he could, but was apparently out-numbered. He lost his battle with cancer a few years ago, but Ralph never gave up the good fight for the good folks, and little innocent children there.
Back to Brian, he'd said the new motel manager at Knights Inn was a cocaine dealer. That I could believe because she'd spouted statements which were incredible, even delusional. It was known as a cocaine state. I'd been told to read "The Bluegrass Conspiracy." Cocaine dealers are often affluent and placed at the highest levels of business and government. There were credible tales elsewhere, one told by a witness of a lawyer selling cocaine in Washington D.C. as an income supplement.
In 1999, the thought that any commoner's vehicle would be wired to a motel dish for tracking purposes was ludicrous. But, that was 1999, and this is now. Technology can create even invisible horror situations, cameras can see through walls, and the stealth bomber was kept secret for 20 years. Many who saw it believed it was a UFO before the government decided to tell the truth.
So the old Mercedes acted up nearly from the day of it's purchase. With starting problems, it was seldom driven unless it was to baffle the stalkers. But then one day moving south on I-75, the vehicle began to make sounds, and finally rolled to a stop, miraculously, right at an exit ramp.
I sat for a few minutes wondering what I would do next and with incredible timing, a van pulled up beside the car and some folks opened the side door, "Hey want a ride?" No, thanks.
They went on, but immediately I suspected this was a pre-arranged maneuver. My son had disappeared on an interstate highway and maybe this was how they did it. His car had been found with slashed tires. So, I thought I'd test their backup plan, because they surely knew I might just turn down the "free ride." The next stop would be the convenience store just up the ramp. I proceeded to walk to the convenience store and call a cab.
The cell phone stayed in my pocket for a while, thinking I'd test the pay-phone system first. It was operated by Bell South, the same company I had trouble with throughout all of the horrors. The ongoing divorce had triggered many of my problems, and he was a railroad assistant vice president in charge of communications. Millions of dollars in contracts had been written to communications companies every year, with social events, and free golf outings on the side, so I figured there were favors outside written contracts. I wasn't surprised with any telecommunications ripoff I encountered. And there were several.
So when I phoned directory assistance, the pay-phone would not return the quarters. I contacted the operator requesting a refund. The operator explained he couldn't make the pay-phone return quarters, saying the money would be credited to my bill, instead. But I didn't do business with Bell South if I could avoid it in any way, I told him. The conversation went on, and I told the operator I was stranded, needed a cab and the phone had taken my last quarters. He was very sorry for my predicament. But I got the information about pay-phone rigging in Kentucky.
Curious as to where this operator was located, I'd asked, not surprised to find he was in Knoxville, Tennessee. I'd had some experiences there, too. The size of this network was ghastly, and the experience at planning a person's destruction had to have been intricately designed by former CIA engineers (trained in Russia.)
After getting the pay-phone information I'd wanted, my cell phone was used to make calls for a taxi. An old Colonel's Cab van arrived from Richmond, Kentucky and I hopped in. We started down the highway nearing the exit, and loud noises sounded like bullets coming from a machine gun. Startled at first, quickly my mind reasoned, it had to be the tires. One of the retreads had loosened and was slapping the metal on the van.
Glancing at the driver who was obviously very concerned, I started laughing uncontrollably. At first, we'd both thought we were being shot at. He had both hands tightly clenched on the wheel as he rolled the van over to a stop. He grabbed his radio, very upset, and called the dispatcher,
"I'm out here north of the exit and had a blowout......... yea, I'm okay.........
.......just nearly pissed my pants, is all."
(More nervous laughter.)
"I think if you just go really slow, you can get back to Richmond."
That's what he did.
The incredible part of this story is that law enforcement and criminals appeared to be colluding, in all three states: Georgia, Kentucky and Alabama, where my son is said to have died. Another thing I noticed several involved had telephone numbers given or used by others were ending with two numbers, "99" which appeared to be a part of the intra-state network, as well. A father might think, "What if this happened to my daughter?" And I can say if my Dad were alive, he would have killed these Stalinistic schemers. And maybe that's why I'm a target. Maybe my Dad knew a little too much about Mafia casinos in Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis, about the lies about the USS Indianapolis, and maybe he refused to use his Navy Pilot's skills to fly filthy, but profitable cocaine, torture renditions, and illegal weapons. Maybe that's why he's dead. And maybe that's why they're trying to destroy what's left of his family and children. So none of us can survive to prove that good men once existed in the United States.
How many other American families are targeted and destroyed? Surely my old, colonial American family isn't the only one to be targeted.
Georgia's Kangaroo Courts- Right by the United States Air Force Base.
When I lived in Warner Robins, rented from Michael Livingston, a check was forged by him. But another man who frequented the neighborhood was named "Al Smith," and rode his bicycle past the house often, neighbors said, with a concealed magnum gun. He'd prompted one of the local "Lt. Commanders" to ride past my rental house screaming obscenities. I felt I was in danger and went to police filing a complaint hoping a protective order would require this man to cease his terroristic antics. Note the papers say I was asking to have him arrested when my actions were alerting police this man had targeted me, was stalking my house, was not acting alone, and was potentially dangerous. Later I was advised Al Smith was associated in some way with the drug world, and was also a state mental facility employee in Columbus, Georgia. Surely he knew "the Crazy Game" of inducing terror and creating paranoia in a target.
Drug smuggling-distribution-people, particularly those who've acquired fortunes are, surprisingly, the people local courts often protect. (Some of them even receive Presidential Pardons.)
It was ruled that Al Smith could ride his bicycle anywhere he wanted. There was no protective order granted. And there was no other witness called, because the one witness's mother said,
"They've stacked that court room to make a laughing stock out of you. It's all over town."
Welcome to the incredible State of Georgia Justice System, right by the United States Air Force Base, Houston County, Georgia. The irony is that they've bankrupted this country fighting a war in Iraq to "free" foreigners and spread democracy while this trash is happening in our back yards and even beside some of our largest military bases.
"Your son isn't dead. He's alive and well-protected at a Biker hideout. I've talked to him myself." - Tommy Schlette, guard, Pinkerton Government Security
Tommy Schlette of Stuart, St. Lucie, Jensen Beach, Delray and Melbourne, Florida
Tommy Schlette worked for Pinkerton Government Services. When he contacted me, he was working for Vought Aircraft Facility in Stuart, Florida. Vought, he said, was owned by the George Bush family. Tommy was a security guard.
He said I should stop attempting to uncover the truth about my son's disappearance and alleged suicide. He said I was "making it harder for police," and said there was an ongoing operation. The year was 2003. For about three years he maintained my son was still alive, and even said I should go and look again closely at the autopsy report. All the while I continued enduring the sabotage and stalking which, as one Kentuckian described it,
"They're trying to drive you crazy and I know the game."
If the locals in Kentucky could achieve what they'd surely been contracted to do, then I'd be terrorized to cease exposing high crimes in Georgia, 1998-1999 and for years later. Because so much of my trouble was divorce related, the FBI wasn't interested in stopping my problems, with Louisville, Kentucky's Agent Brian Blanchard saying, "The Railroad has attorneys you can't beat."
The opposing Americans were dark, evil creatures and apparently above the law. Surviving to get to the truth, each day I could stay alive and keep sanity amidst the terror in the back yard, I was winnning. My executive railroad husband and his attorney, Michael Broadbear, with associates in high places like Robert Fisak, Washington DC attorneys, railroad executives, truckers, vendors outside this country, Swedes and Austrians. One vendor, a Swede named Bjorn Olssen with Harmon Industries, had a winter home at Sanibel Island where George Bush's CIA Director Porter Goss had lived for many years. Olssen also had a Missouri home. Although foreign, he owned more in this country than 99% of Americans. I'd last seen them at a Greenbrier visit, and his wife was seriously intent to win a silly golf game. But golf is a very powerful game, where Presidents often enjoy the scenery and camaraderie while children are being sent to war.
Broadbear is a great and powerful lawyer. Trained to win, he'll destroy your spouse, turning him/her to trash with exquisite, supreme and sterling long-term planning and connections, leaving your children emotionally scarred for life --the ones that survive, that is. Mr. Broadbear and associates had 18 months to plan, and with his powerful connections, my son could be anywhere, even overseas to Switzerland where his father took a trip shortly after the divorce. He probably isn't even dead. His body doesn't match the forensics description, and Alabama authorities couldn't be as ignorant, and sloppy as they were in recording the details of the crime scene. Any police department recording a rifle holds more shells than physically possible has problems. Besides, the boy's father, along with Baldwin County, Alabama authorities, they're all concealing the records and trying to hide everything and keep it covered up. Money talks and I can't compete. Whatever happened, landlord and dog breeder Nell Stumpff and her retired military, Lt. Colonel ex-husband were involved in the planning stages. Her son being a known drug dealer, if you put them all in a room with truth serum, the attorneys involved, with the "deceased" boy's father and wife, the entire story would unravel. Smells like military intelligence, strategic planning, with so many military folk, Broadbear being a former U.S. Army Captain. All-Americans have done this -- there are no Muslim terrorists.
So Tommy went on to say that Vought Aircraft had a Milledgeville, Georgia facility, and that boxes and boxes of papers and documents were being shipped from Milledgeville, Georgia to be shredded. It was the job of Florida based security guards to shred the documents nightly. Milledgeville is where they had arranged a state committment for me, and I was never supposed to get out of that horror story. I had refused the drugs and they'd threatened to inject me for the refusal.
Central State Hospital at Milledgeville was a communistic nightmare. There were women drooling and suffering facial ticks, from medicines while one walked down the hall dripping huge puddles of menstrual blood. It was one of the filthiest, most threatening places I've ever been. One woman had been there fourteen years, and her husband had conspired to have her put away, just like mine had done.
It wasn't long before Tommy lost his job. It was at the Vought facility I would call him at nights, as his shift was evening. He was relocated by Pinkerton, he said, to a Florida U.S.A.F. Base and worked there a while, living in a house owned by D.L. "Deb" Rickard, a NASA employee. There, he said NATO members were coming in having all-night meetings, and he said it was a huge base somewhere near Melbourne. It wasn't long before Tommy's life began to fall apart. He said he'd been confronted by some men in a limousine, taken into the vehicle and beaten gruesomely with baseball bats. A beautiful "Indian" girl began working there, then had him jailed unexpectedly. He found later she was married to a trucker. He said he'd owned a candle business in Florida at one time and had millions of dollars. He said he'd once been in some trouble running fireworks for the Sicilian mafia, and that he'd been involved in a prostitution ring, but was innocent of the charges. He said he was suicidal in the end, and was Baker Acted to a Florida forced commitment program; and that he golfed with Mark Foley.
Tommy was frightened, and had no place to go. His landlord asked him to leave, he had lost another job, and was being stalked and beaten by thugs. Like my Kentucky experiences, Tommy experienced similar sabotage: to his car, when the car was rolled into a pond, and his phone was disconnected outside the house. There were gangs using similar tactics in Florida as in Kentucky, probably all connected.
A man had moved in next to the Rickard residence and began to build a very nice home and befriended Tommy. According to Ms. Rickard, he was the last to see Tommy alive, and later found his body in the woods. She was kind to give me the name of the Florida detective investigating Tommy's alleged overdose. But after the Amy Frink experience and horrors with my own son I'd learned to avoid getting involved with police to help solve crimes as much as possible. The safest way is to document and publish the truth as best you know it so there are plenty of witnesses if any more horrors occur, and if anyone else unexpectedly dies.
The thugs who had beaten Tommy had said he would not come to Kentucky, that if he and I put our heads together we'd figure out everything. He also said they had forced him to sign papers saying he wouldn't talk about anything. In my mind this was ludicrous if thugs were beating him with baseball bats, the courts were worthless.
A few months later, Florida Congressman Mark Foley's horrors were splattered all over the news. I didn't know who Mark Foley was when Tommy had mentioned his name. And, the Comair plane crash in Lexington, Kentucky happened about three months after Tommy passed away. The plane was carrying several Florida destined people, one most curious being Timothy Snoddy. Kentuckian Snoddy had a business in Tommy's area of Stuart, Florida, in forensics accounting. One of his customers, Reina Mullins, appears to have operated under an alternate name.
Some others who died in the crash were prominent Kentuckians, including the wife of Criminal Justice Director John Bizzack, and many others. In reading the details, at least two took the flight contrary to normal routine. Mr. Snoddy reportedly had business locations in Ashville, NC; Ashland, Kentucky and Stuart, Florida.
Early this year another plane crash killed several affluent Republican businessmen from Paulding County, Georgia. My son had an account at the bank some of these victims were involved in just before he disappeared.
Tommy had mentioned there were several trucks headed from South Florida to New Jersey carrying cocaine disguised as potted, tropical plants. He named the three trucking companies involved, which I have written as notes. Knowing the only way they could make plans for my destruction was by monitoring my phone, I always figured the information conveyed in the phone calls might have been related to Tommy's death. I've also learned while some criminal organizations are removed from society, others are left to flourish, grow and prosper. Crime bolsters the American economy, and the marijuana business alone is a $30 billion black market, illegal industry supportive of crime. Keeping it illegal means more money for the elites who prosper from crime.
This mess has existed for fifty years or more, as the "conspiracy theorists" would say, all a part of the NWO plan. Al Quaeda can take a vacation. America's destroying itself without any help. Next: Jacksonville/Gruver/Stallings/Childs; NASCAR; Port Orange, Daytona,Sexton; Monroe/Matthews/Wilmington; Seneca/Anderson SC, Mills, Stumpff, and Jason Knapp
Nicholasville, Kentucky had a little place named Corner Pocket with a live band called, "Cheyenne Social Club," and they were pretty good, playing country and old rock. You couldn't find many bands in Kentucky who played contemporary or pop, or blues, unless you went to the larger cities. Temporarily I rented a farm from Tom Morton about a city block from R.J.Corman Railroad affiliates headquarters, who have also expanded to Rhode Island, I understand. Stayed there in Wilmore a year, and had some pretty interesting times at Corner Pocket. Then, I heard later that Miss Kay, the owner, decided to shut the place down. A guy named Sid was a helicopter pilot in Viet Nam and said he'd owned Corner Pocket before. He said he'd sold it after a boy was killed there.
"How did he get killed?" Sid said the shooting involved a drug deal.
Several of the folks who frequented Corner Pocket lived near or at Lake Herrington. One of those was James Lay, who also had a place in Florida. He bragged he was the uncle of some famous country music singers. He also said his name was "Lay, like Layman," and we had some Laymans back in Botetourt County, Virginia, which rang a bell. Another was Lou Abel.
They had a bar down at the lake that was called a "private club," and many of the members lived there in house boats. It was a tiny little place, with mixed drinks, beer, and some card games. I also met Bill Casey at Corner Pocket, and Bill was very proud of his Irish heritage. His mother lived in Rhode Island, he'd said she was quite wealthy. He had a friend named Larry Haigerman, and both enjoyed their Harley Davidson motorcycles. They helped me move my belongings back from Georgia. Luckily, they showed up just in time because a specific date had been set that I should retrieve my belongings. Bill had an uncle in Rhode Island named Mr. Donlevy, he said was over US Customs for the Pacific. I can't remember whether he said San Diego, but California, nonetheless.
The house band, Cheyenne Social Club, had a home near the lake and I was invited one night after their gig. It was late and returning home I was ambushed by three police cars attempting to give me a D.W.I. I passed all of the tests. They're pretty incredible there, because they make you recite the alphabet starting at the letter d, walk the line, touch all fingers to the thumb on each hand, count backwards starting with 60, and blow. There was only one other truck on the road the entire ride, so I couldn't imagine why I was chosen unless the truck's driver had a cell phone and called. But since I passed all of their tests, they said I could go on but to get the address changed on my license.
"Somebody called." That's what they always said when they target a person for harassment. But they never would tell you who it was that called. In my case they said I was "swerving" and I hadn't been swerving––at all.
Once at Corner Pocket a swarm of Irish guys came in from Ohio, and many people from Ohio came from the Cincinnati area. They'd done the same at Lexington's "The Boardwalk," a bar owned by the late Jack Goble, and Lanny Murphy was the musician there. He hosted free mike night every Sunday, and quite often, musicians would move in from Cincinnati and play.
This particular Irish group appeared to have had a few Irish coffees before they came in the door. Besides that a couple were musicians. One plopped down beside me and proceeded to pour a long-neck beer on his head. The beer was full so he was pretty wet.
"George Bush is my cousin," he said, "and I voted for Al Gore."
It was pretty hilarious, and his friend was so laced, I told him, "If I were you, I wouldn't drink that double-shot of whiskey, because if you do, they're going to throw you out of here." He gulped it down and soon after some rowdy behavior, was escorted to the door. They said they were in the area painting a water tower.
Then one night a guy came in wearing a "Washington D.C." decorated T-shirt and was asking for folks to go down to Lake Herrington skiing. It was nearly dusk, and I told him, "Anybody who would ski on that lake at night's crazy. Besides that, you're wearing a D.C. shirt in this place? If I were you I'd turn it inside-out." He didn't get any takers. I think the D.C. shirt coupled with his unfamiliar face turned everybody off.
Corner Pocket is the place I was offered the 'hit-man' to take out my ex-husband, the railroad executive who put me on the streets, wouldn't settle the divorce, and who had stomped and destroyed so many of my belongings when packing them.
The state was rigged, no matter where I went there would be a trap or two. If I'd have bitten that bait I'd probably still be in prison. The guy, without a doubt, was sent, scripted–– and wired.
I was one of those kids who always avoided stepping on cracks, but kept good notes for school. Then I always did a cram course study session the night before, and made a pretty decent grade.
Lake Herrington is pretty large, and related to "The Bluegrass Conspiracy," adjoining several Kentucky counties. At least one of the Comair Crash victims lived adjacent to the lake, and some others associated are still there.
I knew if I spent enough time with my ears and eyes open in Kentucky I'd find the links to the network that kidnapped and murdered my boy. I surely couldn't get my husband's railroad accident attorney, Michael Broadbear, to talk about it!
I was lured to Kentucky to be destroyed, and it just didn't happen as planned. Like Mike R. said when a scaffold collapsed killing a neighbor's boy......
"Ain't that just too bad."
For the person lured to Kentucky with sites set, never, ever make the move in haste. It's a tight state, like others, with an intra-state criminal networking underground and in my experience, the Nicholasville Lake Herrington areas are places to avoid. It's no place for a woman alone. Renting or purchasing property in haste not recommended. Word of mouth travels, and by the time you're there a while the rumors will be circulating that you're "black," "Pocahontas' descendant," "a drummer," (and more. Geesh!!)
You can lose everything you have, and like Attorney General's Detective Steve O'Daniel said, "Maybe it's one of those gangs brought you up here to steal everything you have." Mr. O'Daniel even suffered personal legal battles after making the statement, not that they were related. But it appears he was set-up–– like the best of us. This is what the politically corrupt call
And it's how "they" wreck folk's lives for being non-compliant with the ruling machine.
Like the country music song says, "Everybody knows everybody, everybody calls you friend." However, scattered around, avoiding the stalking gangs and dodging organized criminal networks are the majority of Kentuckians, the very finest Americans you'd ever want to meet. I was never a country music fan but after living in Kentucky learned to enjoy it. The only country music folks I knew before that were my husband's boss, Phil Ogden of Norfolk Southern Corporation. He was vice president of engineering, and hosted a Christmas party with Cobb County, Georgia commissioners as guests. He was adorned with a cowboy hat, and country music was played by Norfolk Southern's own band, "The Lawmen." Mr. Ogden now sits as a board member of R.J.Corman & Sons, Nicholasville. The other, was Al Coppola, who hosted a fine affair for railroaders at Nashville at the Grand Ole Opry. Al's company is located New Jersey, with a huge plant in Richmond, Kentucky called, "The Okonite Company."
If it weren't for Al Coppola, I'd never have met Louise Mandrell in person. She's incredibly gifted, and quite beautiful. She was grateful to Mr. Coppola for inviting her to perform.
Networking in the USA. Sometimes good, and sometimes not so good.
Keeneland was the horse race track to explore in Lexington, Kentucky. It was where Brian Trader had gone to work. Brian was one of the first German/Army connected people I'd met in Kentucky. There appeared to be a networking group which was retired military with German connections later I found were operative in Kentucky as well as Georgia.
I wondered how it all connected, as have since found my husband's attorney, Michael Broadbear was very connected with German and other foreign clients. And my husband's mother was German. Several railroad executive families, had been given a free trip to Germany/Austria where the men left a day to tour Dachau concentration camp. The trip was sponsored by Plasser American Corporation, flight on Lufthanza and curiously no record of the trip showed on my American passport.
The Georgia landlord, Nell Stumpff, had boasted 12 years in Dachau, and enjoyed German maids provided for her by the American tax payers. Stockbridge, Georgia dog breeder, Dorothea Karvelas had boasted being "German." She took a birthday cake to my husband without my knowledge at his office at Norfolk Southern Railroad. My husband had no reason to meet with dog breeders, because he hated the sport and any of my personal successes, and had little tolerance for pets.
Later I'd find Steve Pence, US Attorney Western District, FBI was also German experienced, via military. I'd turned documented evidence of Muslim infiltration, false arrest and corruption to the FBI Louisville headquarters, under Steve Pence, and the information was ignored. It was two months after 911, and Pence later became Lt. Governor for the state of Kentucky.
So on one of the few visits, I took my grown children to both, Keeneland and Red Mile race tracks in Lexington, so they could experience both, harness racing and regular track racing. At Red Mile a man with a New York/Jersey accent approached advising my daughter where to put her money. Of course, she won, and I told her if he had any other suggestions to do whatever he said. He was wearing a Red Mile shirt.
A widowed family member was taken to horse races shortly after her husband passed away, and found the excitement therapeutic, but the addictive part of gambling is not so good for a person's health or finances,––a good lesson for future generations. The races are exciting and very entertaining, and the money bets make them moreso. Like slots and other gambling forms, it's easy to see how a person can be snared to return for more, and to inevitably lose in the end.
Like with the lottery, and Las Vegas, I told the kids, "Leave the credit card at home. Take the money you want to lose along. Have lots fun losing, and enjoy the entertainment."
In internet chat, I was approached by "Saratogafilly," of Boston and wondered since whether he borrowed the name from the tracks, and was doing an "information gathering" job on me - for the Boston group.
Just this year in Virginia a stranger approached and began a long conversation about being a writer, connected to Tennessee and Kentucky. As the conversations continued, he confessed in the good ole days he had both, an airplane and a winning Thoroughbred. Somehow these folks show up and just know exactly what to say. This one had a brother affiliated with Santini of Fort Myers.
He said "the law" is going back to uncover these drug kingpins and organized criminals from the 1950's. I wish they would. Their foreign, secret bank accounts could probably bail out our national debt. The American government could be owning some huge private corporations, race horse farms and more.
Strange how these common places and things connect, over the course of decades.
In the 1980's George Moore was the local Virginia Thoroughbred breeder, who sold horses to the tracks if they weren't trained as hunters for fox hunts. George was quite successful with several airplanes at his farm, and another in a hangar at the Roanoke, Virginia airport. He boasted of his condominium in Colombia, South America.
Thoroughbred horse is the emblem representing Norfolk Southern, the merged entity formed from Norfolk and Western and Southern Railroads. The railroad's history traces back beyond Happy Chandler, former Governor of Kentucky who was Baseball Commissioner. Chandler's baseball attorney was W. Graham Claytor of Virginia, who became President Carter's secretary of the Navy. The Claytor brothers were railroaders instrumental in merging the railroads.
Not long after purchasing my Kentucky farm a neighbor moved in from Ohio, with connections to Pennsylvania horse breeders. He offered an opportunity that I could purchase two mares and a stud horse for $12,000 and get started in the horse business. By that time I distrusted anybody with offers, and kindly declined, but offered to use my truck to haul horses if he'd like, if he was willing to pay. I wasn't one to loan my truck to strangers.
I have loved horses all of my life. They're among the most beautiful animals on earth.
One thing's for sure. There are few Americans, or children, or little babies worth as much as just one winning race horse.
Funerals without bodies. How often does it happen?
"I'm in pain and I don't want to live anymore. Take care of your mother."
Those were my father-in-law's last words to us, early 1998. A week later his wife called extremely upset. Apparently he'd collapsed and died of a heart attack. I remember thinking it was as if he'd pre-announced his death, and was suspicious about it. He'd never appeared to have any pain at all.
A few months later his namesake and grandson would be dead, as well.
The bodies were not present for viewing at either memorial service.
His was cremated and we'd traveled to NC to the Catholic church for the service. Few attended, those including the children and a couple neighbors.
His grandson had disappeared in Georgia 12/1998 and died in Alabama, and during his Georgia memorial service his dead body was still in Alabama storage. Had I not protested strongly through my divorce lawyer, George C. Childs, my son's body would have been cremated, too. Instead it's supposedly buried next to my grandparents, in Roanoke, Virginia.
Devoutly Catholic, he and his wife had moved from Massachusetts to North Carolina shortly after retiring from Sun Oil Company, around 1987. The family was native to Long Island, New York, and he'd been a semi-pro hockey and baseball player in his younger years. His old coach New York was nicknamed, "Heinzy," and would be a contact throughout his life, connecting a younger son to a Houston Oil company employer.
Kentucky, the state I ran to flee the horrors of Georgia, I've since discovered is a baseball state with the influence of former Governor Happy Chandler as NY commissioner years ago, and Senator Jim Bunning.
My father-in-law had been stationed in Germany with the U. S. Army, WWII.
They were quiet people who kept to themselves, and weren't social or accepting of strangers. The only social activity ever discussed was a membership in the Republican Club of Long Island, and weekly visits to Mass at the Catholic church.
Shortly after the southern relocation it was announced he had bone cancer, but for nearly ten years after there was no apparent chemotherapy, hospitalization, or hair loss.
"The cancer is in remission," would be the explanation given by his wife.
Shortly after attending the Matthews, NC funeral, she explained the ashes would be taken to Long Island, buried with "the family" at the Catholic cemetery in the spring. That would be a few months later.
It never happened.
"When are we going to Long Island to bury your Dad's ashes?" I was curious.
"Oh, Mom's decided she'd rather keep them with her on the fireplace mantle. It makes her feel like he's still there with her."
Not so long after he passed away, his widow took the trip to the Vatican in Rome. When offered free airline tickets for a similar visit, they'd declined while he was still alive. It was strange she'd agree to the trip later. Besides Rome, she also was able to see Paris and Switzerland, and before that, she'd been party to having me jailed in Georgia. I wondered if Rome had a confessional and whether she visited and was granted the weekly forgiveness they'd received with so many years attendance. She'd bragged that they'd given the Long Island church so much money, they'd do anything she asked–– even marry a divorced Protestant to a Catholic. "Jackie Kennedy's sister had five kids and was married 20 years, and the Church annulled her marriage," she'd said.
It had been a few months since I'd notified Brunswick, NC authorities giving them new information regarding the death of Amy Frink. Many answers are in North Carolina. This is my son in North Carolina, Ocean Isle Beach near the time of Amy Frink's death.
It was strange. Amy had been my son's summer girlfriend. Besides Amy's death, several of my elder son's friends died in NC, one even accidently hanging himself in middle school. My daughter was stood up for a dance, and soon the boy was in a horrible accident suffering permanent brain damage. Last year I began to aggressively write this story, and a house fire occurred at Ocean Isle Beach, killing seven college kids. This wasn't so long after the shooting, killing more than thirty at Virginia Tech, where I was married in 1976.
[[Intelius records give incredible information regarding my location and residence. First, my present, and birth name is Fielda Michelle Looney. When married I was Fielda Michelle Sniffen but assumed my maiden name with the divorce. So now Intelius shows me living as "Michelle Sniffen" with my in-laws in Matthews NC, and I never lived at their house in my entire life - never even spent one night there. It also shows me living with my former husband's mistress/now wife Dale A. Sniffen in Smyrna, Marietta Georgia, Nashville, Tennessee and Gresham Road, Georgia. And I have never lived at Dobbs Crossing, Marietta, although my medical insurance statements were routed there. Nothing could be further from the truth. Where are they getting these records?????]]
Next, horses, among the most majestic of beautiful animals and sadly incorporated into this horror story: the race horse links......
Medical omissions and errors. Rigging the medical system: How it works.
There were several pretty incredible medical experiences in Kentucky, and nearly all involved medical insurance, "omissions and errors," which would burden the finances as well as emotions.
One physician in Nicholasville had a clerk who could not record insurance information properly which resulted in an ongoing, unpaid bill. They appeared to have lost the information, but the end result in most of these instances appeared to be destruction of credit, which had already been done.
Collections is another racket if insurance and medical providers are uncooperative providing proper information in billing matters. Individuals are destroyed by having the rug pulled out from under them and then the collections dogs are unleashed to make life a living hell.
For a severe shoulder injury I had from Kentucky, a Danville chiropractor had a billing manager who made an agreement I could pay $10.00 cash per visit, and then for some strange reason my insurance statements ceased coming to the house. I found later my medical information and statements were being routed to my ex-husband and his new wife, and they had also received one of my medical refunds. When the two were notified, I received a bundle of preserved statements in the mail, along with the refund. This particular group of doctors connects over to the native area of my son's Mobile, AL forensics examiner, Dr. Goodin and a Kentucky based, powerfully-politically-connected SW Florida land developer. (Republican)
A Harrodsburg physician failed to put all the coding numbers necessary for insurance to cover extensive tests, and nearly cost $500 extra. At that point I was so sick of the fights I went into the office and said, "Ok I work for the State Police! You're going to please resubmit the proper diagnosis!" I figured they all thought I was "crazy" anyway, I could plead it, because the bad people had already spread it all around the state that I was insane and apparently to take all the money and belongings they could get.
You have to be careful getting angry, because they will put you in jail, even though they are often the ones who planned, and/or provoked the anger.
More than once my insurance card issued by railroad insurers had errors in the mailing address, once "Wilmore, Pennsylvania" instead of Wilmore, Kentucky. You have to watch every number and word with these people because they know every little trick, error and omission, that causes problems.
The most incredible experience was at the University of Kentucky emergency room. I had a toothache that was actually causing an earache, so I went to the emergency room at the suggestion of my then lawyer, Gatewood Galbraith.
When the doctor approached, we began to chat, and it was nothing more than the need for a root canal, but she proceeded to order two bags of some form of antibiotic to be dripped into my veins. I thought this was suspicious particularly for a toothache, and I was told to come to the dental clinic the next morning for a root canal, which I did. (Usually amoxicillin pills were ample drugs for an infected tooth.)
During the e.r. visit, I was telling the doctor why I'd come to Kentucky and of all the arrests and horrors in Georgia. As you can imagine, she then called in a psychiatrist without my knowledge or permission.
The psychiatrist then asked, "What do you want?" I wasn't sure what he was asking, and whether he was offering drugs, but I told him I wanted the truth regarding the death of my child, and I also would like to have my divorce settlement finalized. It had gone on long enough. I also said,
"You know you psychiatrists prescribe all kinds of drugs to make people feel artificially happy in miserable situations, but you don't change the situations, do you?"
Regarding wanting resolution to the horrors of living in the streets awaiting the Georgia divorce, I was worried history would repeat itself after having had a young, widowed aunt whose deceased husband's estate was tied up for nine years. Roanoke, Virginia courts and lawyers sat on her rightful estate while her children grew and left home. She had struggled and worried herself sick depending on her parents for help. Washington D.C. area race horse people entered her picture, and as yet I haven't put the race horse stalking network together, but eventually it will all fall into place, the pieces targeting my family fitting together quite nicely.
So being at the emergency room for eight hours, I would go outside to the bench and sit to pass time. A woman sat beside me and said, "It's terrorists." I thought she must be insane, and I said, "What are you talking about?" She just mumbled about, "Terrorists." She asked for my phone number, which I didn't deliver thinking she was another part of the drug gang that seemed to be everywhere. This was the summer of 2000, and long after dark, I left the UK hospital to return to the dental clinic by 8:00 a.m. the next morning.
Terrorists? I thought to myself she really must be insane, or was sent carrying more mind games, which I'd already experienced. But I had suspected something pretty horrible was ongoing in Kentucky. It was obviously corrupt, much like Georgia from experiences I'd already had. And since I've found a Baker bunch that spans several of the towns I was in, Georgia and Kentucky. Yates is another name that crosses lines.
The dental clinic experience was a success but then, the shocker came in the mail, and health insurance had refused to pay.
Why? "We don't pay for mental illness."
The hospital had coded my visit "paranoid disorder," instead of infected tooth.
Tried as I may have, I phoned the hospital requesting they correct the papers submitted to insurance, and received a letter addressed to my address but erroneously to "Mrs. Smith" that they were refusing to correct the initial diagnosis. So then I contacted the insurance agency and as you can imagine it was battled back and forth amongst the three.
This isn't the worst of it. But truth, with personal papers I've kept all these years when I could feel safe enough to publish this part of the story.
Stories like these exposed will eliminate the problem for future victims. Every visit to a doctor doesn't produce an error or omission. But, if you're targeted, you can bet every aspect of your life will be complicated, and a maze of red tape, arrests, harassment, threats and horrors will be planned for you, ongoing for years.
I had always believed things like these only happened in places like Nazi, Germany or Russia.
Of late, I have been examining some Stallings medical connections with a former attorney named Childs. It will be interesting to see how the network connects to Florida, and in how many ways it connects there and to other areas besides Georgia, Alabama, and Kentucky. This is a pretty slick, professional crowd.
So when "Cobra" ran out I took out a policy within a year raised rates from $3240.00 to $3480.00/year. It was a lot to ask of someone on fixed income trying to avoid questionable doctors like the plague. Money for nothing. The health insurance company's CEO then reportedly gave himself a little raise, a skim off the top of $6 million-per-year increase in his salary.
Like McCain's 13 cars and seven houses, this guy surely needed a few more boats.
How omissions and errors: "little mistakes" made by professionals can wreck your life
The next series for this blog will be about omissions and errors, or "little mistakes" made by professionals, and will include spelling errors which hide public records in databases, false or inadequate information provided to health care providers which results in rejected insurance payments, collections, and more.
This particular story is about an IRA, an experience with Waddell and Reid, a Kentucky accountant and the Kentucky Department of Revenue (taxation) Richard Litwin, a tax-type lawyer in Atlanta and more. Mr. Litwin had advised I could cash an IRA and move it to an alternate company, and so I placed it in the care of Waddell and Reid. Initially, Litwin didn't advise me that I had to notify the company the money was going to another company so I caught the mistake in time to avoid a great loss. I hadn't hired Richard Litwin. He was hired by Kenneth Schatten, my divorce lawyer who'd explained he didn't specialize in "taxes" or "criminal law" so he found Mr. Litwin, without my knowledge or consent. They were all paid very well, and my experience with these particular lawyers was they skimmed their fees and gave me what remained.
So when income tax time came I called Waddell and Reid's Mr. Meyer and told him to please release a portion of my IRA that I had to use for taxes. Mr. Meyer said he would, but explained I hadn't notified him in time to get the money before April 15. I wondered why he hadn't used overnight services, as he had about 7 days to get me (MY) money. He commented, "Oh, it would have cost ten dollars to have it overnighted." I told him ten dollars was nothing compared to penalties and red flags with the IRS.
It wasn't long before I removed my IRA from Waddell and Reid and was confronted by Mr. Meyer's father who said,
"Whatcha' gonna' do wit' de money, honey? Bah-muda?' Bah-amas?"
(Honey?)
"I don't guess it's really any of your business what I do, is it, Mr. Myers?"
Somewhere in the conversation he said he was a "contractor" for Waddell and Reid. And I thought to myself it was unfortunate the company didn't screen its contractors better. In closing his account after 2:00 p.m. on a Friday, the weekend lost about $3,000.
In any event, my taxes were paid late. I had a Kentucky accountant named Mr. John David Saunders, his name given by the same person who had lead me to Joey Spalding, a loan officer at Springfield State Bank. It's pretty self-explanatory, but important to note how "the system" and omissions and errors, or "little mistakes" can destroy a person's life, rattle emotions, create anger and distress, etc.
It's important these stories are known, so that the general working, taxed population with little schooling in complex financial systems and complicated tax laws can be on-guard and informed. It's frightening to know how many Americans have suffered horrors and losses, even all they own because of "little mistakes," (omissions and errors.)
Mr. Saunders charged $300.00 accounting fee to calculate my taxes.
Saunders wrote the amount, $1290 I should pay on a sticky-note with the address, and I trusted his numbers without reading the fine print in the stack of papers. Having been trained as a fine artist with little schooling in business and finance, I still find our tax, financial systems and IRA accounts with laws and loopholes often incomprehensible for normal, law abiding people. The system requires accountants for good folks to try and live honest. Living in a "specialized" society I trusted Mr. Saunders to perform according to good business/accounting ethics. But his little error and my negligence in questioning the numbers created an incredible and ongoing nightmare. So when I received the notice from Kentucky's Department of Revenue that I had underpaid, I was shocked, and immediately went to Mr. Saunders to ask him why. Surely he should refund some of his fees or "eat" some of the difference. But you see the "little mistake" was mine because I trusted his note and didn't read the fine print.
So, I paid the difference. And then I contacted Kentucky's tax department and spoke about my continuing payments and the stressful and continuing "red letters" from Kentucky's revenue people when I had already paid them. I told Mr. Saunders I was going to report the Kentucky Revenue Cabinet to the Federal Bureau of Investigation because they were committing fraud.
Mr. Saunders asked that I please do not do that, because he would take care of the problem. And miraculously it went away.
But you can see even after I paid them the entire amount with penalties they again attempted to bill me duplicate amounts moving on into the month of November. Needless to say, the mail carrier after that and with other "little mistakes" in billing and information transactions, was perpetual bad news, coupled with the dead, bloody pets, slashed tires and other horrors. Ever paid a banknote and then received unnecessary late notices? You then go back and pull out the records, make duplicates, write letters, etc. to prove to the bank they've made a "little mistake." That's happened too. And you wonder how many people have been ripped off by "little mistakes," because they weren't taught in public school how to adequately deal with a complicated and aggressive financial/tax system.
We have a wonderful country and the best people in the world. This blog is dedicated to Americans whose lives, families, and children will not be destroyed by "little mistakes," or omissions and errors.
I recall my aged grandmother rummaging helplessly for hours through stacks of mail–– papers made ridiculously confusing with medical and insurance statements. She didn't want to die without paying her bills, but she couldn't determine what was and wasn't a bill. Americans have been so flooded with unnecessary complications in every aspect of life, now a person cannot perform even a simple mechanical task without having a set of both, English and....metric tools.
Now working Americans will be paying billions of dollars to bail out financial "professionals," who apparently made too many "little mistakes." Are executive Bah-muda, Bah-hama foreign bank accounts protected with Golden Parachutes, and complicated finance/tax laws too? Back to the story....
"There's not a lawyer in Georgia who will take your case," said one Kentucky attorney. "You don't have any lawsuits. There's too much money against you," said another, implying paid-off judges.
An FBI agent suggested I couldn't fight "the railroad," saying they had lawyers I "couldn't beat." The harassment and horror were coercion "compliance" tactics. I never would have dreamed law enforcement colluded, even if blindly with organized and/or political criminals to destroy a person's life or intimidate them to silence.
Tax-funded American public schools had taught us that only in Communist Russia would a person experience these horrors.
"The railroad has lawyers you just can't beat." - Agent Brian Blanchard, F.B.I. Louisville, Kentucky
If you withdraw this from an IRA account, you will be penalized and lose about 1/2 of the amount. (He never said that, initially.)
Fleeing Georgia's police harassment and intimidation by thugs, and arriving in Kentucky I looked to find help for the false arrests in Cobb-Mob County, Georgia. I found a lady attorney
I'd already visited Mr. Sherman's office and he abruptly and rudely told me to get my documents and leave his office.
The lady lawyer was more understanding and helpful, "Listen to me, you be careful. You hear me? There are lawyers here in Kentucky who will get you killed."
She couldn't have been more serious. And she said she was leaving the state to practice elsewhere and avoided my cases. But she cautioned my life could well be in danger. Nobody wants to be stalked by the court house connected mob boys. What honest or dishonest lawyer would be insane enough to take my case?
"Lawyers get people killed?" "Oh, which ones should I avoid?"
It almost became a comedy during that period, I even asked a police officer,
"Hey, do you know any honest lawyers around?"
His response, "Sure, they're all honest. Just go ask one."
I hadn't imagined this evil was working through lawyers always believing those were the folks you could trust. The year was 1999, and time proved Kentucky wasn't a safe haven, but instead, an arranged, and well-planned death trap.
The "school of hard knocks" was my teacher, and I'd lived a padded life as a corporate wife my best 23 years. It didn't take long to realize that every day I could survive would be a day's donation to guaranteeing these things won't happen to other innocent Americans. Hands-on experience and one-on-one confrontations proved to me the feigned robbery/murders are often hit-jobs and falsified suicides are concealed, premeditated eliminations. Heart attacks can be drug induced. Life on the streets teaches you what's real and what isn't, and TV is entertainment and fantasy land for those who haven't a clue.
(Yes, the mafias are very real. Yes, the country is saturated with drugs, crime, and corruption with some of it at the highest levels of government and businesses. Yes, we're $9 trillion in debt and can't afford to help ourselves, while fighting wars overseas to "free" other people. Yes, the middle class is disappearing while funding it all, while the rich hide money away and take more without conscience. Yes, the future is bleak, and banks are going broke, but if your home is safe, warm, happy, with love in the air, and enough to eat, you have everything that's good, and it's time to count your blessings.)
Muslims couldn't be further from my mind, when income tax is due, another tire's been slashed, and I'm grubbing enough money to change the door locks....again.
"Aren't you afraid to go out in your yard after dark?" Miss Geneva lived in the area more than 80 years accepting it as an unsafe community long ago.
I hadn't realized this country's only safe havens were gated communities, or for those with hired or secret service security or mafia protection. It's thoughtful that some of these gated high rises, and complexes allow pets who can survive the wars happening elsewhere.
Now is the time wealthy ones will buy up the cheap, foreclosed land and property and soon this country will be like Europe where farms are worked by grateful tenants, or corporations, and the land and property is owned by a few.
"My husband and I built this tire store for our family and children."
While awaiting a new tire installation for my car, the store owner told a personal story that happened in her small Kentucky town. I'd taken a slashed tire in to get a verdict on a replacement. Since the tire had been intentionally and obviously slashed, the owner explained it wasn't covered under warranty, and I'd have to purchase another tire. She went on with her story...
"When my husband died, he wasn't even cold in his grave, and two men walked in saying they wanted to buy my tire store. They said women shouldn't be owning tire stores alone."
She said she explained to the men they should come back the next day and discuss the matter. Next day, when the thugs walked in, she was there with her lawyer, and the bullies didn't buy the tire store–– this time.
As she was telling me the story, two well-dressed, suited men walked in, each taking a corner stance to the back of the room. Glancing behind, noting their folded arms suggesting impatience, I took my cue to cease the present discussion, changing the topic to the weather. Feeling intimidated, and a little frightened and for safety's sake, I quietly told the store owner I'd see her again.
The stalking bullies obviously still wanted her tire store and were watching for the first chance to grab it. I thought to myself, soon the MOB will control all of Kentucky, politicians too. According to one Kentucky thug, the MOB controls the entire American Government with business contributions to political campaigns. (Say it ain't so!)
"When the lottery moves in to a state, so does the mafia," said a N.C. politician years ago.
Next thing, they own all the businesses––and, the politicians, courts, and local gangs. Next, your children are mighty beholden to be working for them at their local factory.
For years after the encounter, I admired this female store owner for standing strong against northern mafia intimidation and organized criminals. Many men would have buckled or abandoned ship and run. My tire had been slashed by a southern gang member, so the bad boys are everywhere and all work together for one greedy goal. Intolerance of bullies is a motherly emotion, and maybe women will put an end to it. Kentucky's a state prone inevitably to do what's right.
A woman can run a tire store just as well as any man, but generally you won't find women out slashing tires, breaking into houses, or intimidating store owners.
The really sad part of it is in mob secret societies, naive mob wives often have no idea what their "husbands" are really doing at the office, at work, on the road, or after dark. They're kept pretty much "in the dark," and go about life wearing rose-colored glasses, blindly enjoying the security of mob bank accounts and protected, and arranged social and corporate activities.
"The Mafia Runs the Government," said Gordon Bennett of Kentucky.
No sound-minded American wants to believe it, preferring to think those stories are Hollywood's invented, creative horror. Imaginary industries squeeze plenty of profit from Americans raised to believe a big fat guy defies every law of physics every December, delivering presents with the help of flying reindeer.
The CIA knows well through careful study and experimentation, the powers of the creative mind and shortcomings of it, and they've reportedly employed mafias for "dirty work" from time to time. So, all the while curious people read about Operations Paperclip, Monarch, Northwoods, MK-Ultra while society shuffles them to the underworld of the blacklisted, branded "conspiracy theorists" who are actually nothing more than truth seekers: the most undervalued and abused human beings on the planet.
FACT: The Mafia isn't just one organization, but many who work together owning businesses, infiltrating corporations, employing lawyers and funding politicians and elections. They also orchestrate heinous crimes from smuggling, theft, extortion, terror to gruesome murder. Fear is their instrument and the power that keeps them alive commanding their devilish required respect. They're terrorists. So, considering deeds done, it's often difficult for "conspiracy theorists" to separate the CIA from the mafia, or understand who is working for whom.
Thinking back to the Comair plane crash in Lexington, Kentucky 2006 news sources gave accounts where some victims had changed plans to make or miss the fatal flight. Many prominent Kentuckians and some others involved in horses, medicine, law and business lost their lives that day. Many years ago and years before, an acquaintance executive said, "Glad I missed the flight–– our meeting ran late, else I'd be dead." It was the Everglades crash he'd escaped because of a lengthy business affair. Conspiracy or coincidence, fact or fiction, more and more Americans are hungering for plain and simple–– TRUTH.
.......So, continuing the Gordon story, (and back to 1999,) at Gordon Bennett's suggestion, I spoke with Attorney, Mr. Sherman in Lexington, Kentucky about my human, civil constitutional rights violations and false arrests in Georgia as described in previous posts. I was shocked when Mr. Sherman so rudely demanded I take my papers and get out of his office. It was a perfectly good, winning case and would make him tons of money. (That's when I believed the system was honest.)
Back in the car, Gordon Bennett says, "He says there's nothing even Jimmy Carter can do about it, now."
At that point I thought Gordon must be truly going insane. Jimmy Carter? How did he get involved in all of this? I don't even know Jimmy Carter–– never met the guy in my life. Mind games! Since then I've wondered if Kentucky's Mr. Sherman was friends with Mr. Rosenbaum. My Atlanta attorney, Mr. Schatten, might answer that question. Or Mr. Broadbear might know. M. Stan Martin of Warner Robins could offer some information. And then several Kentucky attorneys know the score. Whatever it was, they all ran away from it, so it must be bigger than Jimmy Carter, who's struggling against it lately, too.
In fact, remembering the COMAIR crash, perhaps we should all go roller skating, and avoid any airplane trips to Las Vegas or Atlanta. Maybe the Stoll Keenon folks can take my case since O'Koon Hintermeister's firm said not a lawyer in Georgia would handle it. And the list goes on, and on, and on. When you're a victim of criminals, isn't the STATE supposed to supply you with a lawyer, like a D.A. or an Attorney General?
Maybe that's why my Dad dropped dead of a heart attack, 1962 at the age of 39. He sold law books (for CCH) and maybe died in shock knowing he was profiting by selling corrupted justice that victimizes victims. Later lawyers would sit on his widowed sister's estate 9 years. Her children were grown before the lawyers released the estate money. Pretty incredible. Do these guys belong to a fraternity and huddle saying, "This is a good person to rake clean. Let's shake his pockets for all he's got." Is that how "law" works?
"See this? Know what this is?" My Dad was holding up a little yellow piece of paper from across the room. He had a smile on his face like we should all be happy. I was probably around eight years old.
Excited to see his smile, I jumped up and ran over to get a closer look, "Oh, what is it?"
"It's money!" he said.
"Money? Oh, please, please buy me a pony with it then!"
It was a Shell credit card and the beginning of the era of Happy Fascism and American slavery to debt.
Maybe the problem was my Dad knew too much about too many things and disagreed with the big master plan. And like a South African friend confirmed, "Since it was a heart attack and so young an age, yes, he very well could have been 'taken out.'"
And like another Cuban Missile Crisis Veteran said, "They had a lot of secrets back then."
"They?"
And in the obit, it's not "Dahlbery," it's "DAHLBERG" like the guy's name in Watergate, and hearing aids.
I might be "crazy," but I really hate it when folks don't spell things correctly, because SO MANY RECORDS GET LOST THAT WAY.
If he only knew what they've done ..... and of all the wars and drugs and poisons they've been selling to Americans and their children since 1962.......
THAT'S RIGHT, MR. CHENEY. GO ON. COVER IT UP-- AGAIN.
America's greatest enemies are those who've sold her drinking water and her grandchildren's homeland to foreign investors, and who with war and greed have reduced her inhabitants to desperation, fear, and debt, while enriching a select few. (Maybe SAIC's Kenneth Dahlberg can explain these things. There have to be some GOOD AMERICANS–– somewhere....)
Mid October, 1998, Cobb County, Georgia he moved quietly in the court's hallway and whispered carefully,
"Mom, I don't want to do this."
His eyes darted to the corners as though someone was eavesdropping or looking over his shoulder. He'd told me a few months before about his father's mistress and was heavily reprimanded for divulging the secret. Now he, along with his brother and sister, was being asked to testify against me in court. From his apprehension and fear in his eyes, I'd figured he was afraid of the court, lawyers, or the questions, and said to him,
"Don't worry about anything. Just go in there and tell the judge the truth."
But neither I nor my children were called in. We stood in the hallway while the lawyers handled everything with the judge.
It was the last time I saw my son alive. Since then I've realized he was trying to explain as best he could that whatever was about to happen, he was not a part of and things were happening beyond his control.
It's how I want to remember all of my children for the horrors I had endured for so many years stemming from Georgia, and following into Kentucky and elsewhere. The kids were afraid, and later a counselor said, "Your husband is an extremely dangerous man." My children had no other choice than to pledge allegiance to his causes.
Over the course of 39 days my son disappeared, died and was buried, with three states involved. He disappeared from Cobb County, Georgia, then "blew his brains out with a shotgun" in Baldwin County, Alabama. About two weeks later, Cobb County hosted his memorial service, where I was told about 200 men in suits attended.
His father was a railroad executive, and I had grown up as a Virginia railroad foreman's granddaughter–– for years, railroad people have considered funerals very important.
About three weeks after his memorial service, his body was laid to rest in his native home of Roanoke, Virginia.
Had I not protested, the body would have been cremated as his father wished. But Marietta Attorney George Childs was kind enough to convey my message that the body was not to be cremated. Working through my remaining Virginia family, my husband and his lawyers were able to procure a burial spot next to my paternal grandparents in Cedar Lawn Cemetery. Initially I'd had his partner, James "Jim" Knight, but Mr. Childs seemed to move in and take the case along the way. And then later when Mr. Childs wanted to drop my case, after the horrors and jailings, Mr. Knight seemed angry with his partner for the decision.
I could not attend any of the services, because of all of the arranged arrests, and the legal injunctions he had procured set traps for more police persecution. So I drove to Mobile Alabama, instead, to identify his body, and was told via telephone the morgue closed there at 5:00 p.m. Conditioned from birth to have faith in the integrity of the American system, after several brushes with corruption, a person will eventually surrender to the fact it's built on people, and every one has a price.
So, while his memorial service was held in Georgia on Christmas Eve, 1998, his body still lay in Alabama in a morgue which took absolutely incredible, in fact, brilliant planning. What is more incredible is that anyone would believe a person could host a Christmas Eve funeral while deceased's body was being stored in another state.
My husband was one who loved Ludlum and Grisham type mystery novels and if I could survive the traps he'd set, in the end I knew I could write one. It would be about criminal scheming and utilization of justice, health, billing, collections, law enforcement and organized criminal systems in destroying lives while enriching themselves with the processes.
(The only way to stop this type of criminal is to expose them, their schemes and designs, which this blog attempts to do.)
During the same 39 day period of my son's misfortune, I was being jailed and incarcerated, Attorney Childs was unavailable and on vacation. In distress, I was unable to reach him for assistance. Later, he dropped my case blaming me for "harassment," which is the key in these types of scams.
So I later complained to the Bar Association, which I found was pretty useless.
So after Mr. Childs dropped my case, then Kenneth Schatten took it. And it's when he in the presence of Private Detective Billy Carter said,
"We believe your husband murdered your son."
But then Mr. Schatten said I'd have to find another lawyer to help with my "criminal charges" of harassing phone calls, although he'd said he'd listened to the tape recording and admitted I hadn't harassed him at all. It was thrown out of the ridiculous court after I demanded a jury trial. They were having a blast passing the money around among their comrades.
"This must be how these people get their 'kicks,'" I'd thought to myself more than once.
Soon I'd leave the state of Georgia in hopes for mental and physical survival only to find these boys had networking capacity which crossed state lines. I was advised the mafia was involved.
And I'd landed right in the back yard of R.J. Corman & Sons, Nicholasville, Wilmore, Kentucky. Little did I know at the time that my husband's boss, VP Engineering Phill Ogden, was on their board of directors. One of his and Ogden's favorite vendors had a huge facility nearby, and Kentucky coal country is the railroad's ticket. The year was 1999–– (when the system appeared to be honest.)
Marietta "State Court" and the Cobb County, Georgia Justice System
Georgia's "STATE COURT" You drive to the Marietta Square area for scheduled court appearances to be greeted by a man disguised by dark glasses. He's driving a fresh, cream-colored Lincoln Continental. He aims his oncoming vehicle briefly toward yours. You swerve to avoid contact, and experience the common-shock reaction, "butterfly" syndrome in your abdomen.
A well-dressed business woman walks beside another in the Marietta Square and as your car is stalled for the stoplight, the stranger increases her pace until she's running, and douses your driver's side window with a full cup of sugared coffee.
Terror. Intimidation. Welcome to the Cobb County Justice System.
You're consistently harassed and arrested in another Georgia county and over a period of 39 days are placed in three Georgia jails, even state ordered to a state hospital based on tales told to a local judge. In the midst of it, a Peach County Magistrate Judge, Laurens Lee, makes a suggestion, "If you'll just sign your divorce papers all of your problems will go away." Sarcastically and with bitterness, you reply, "Oh really? Do you think they'll kill my other two children if I refuse to sign?"
In the midst of the arrests, one child was already dead in Alabama and allegedly "blew his own brains out" while Georgia's law enforcement officers and "justice" employees continuously harassed, intimidated and terrorized his mother.
This is divorce, "Railroad Style," and it's a picture of Southern Justice, and how the State of Georgia handles it.
In the Cobb County court room, the solicitor read us our choices while the man seated next in the pew offered his advice, "It's best to just plead guilty, and pay."
He continued, "I've been here 32 times."
"Thirty-two times?"
The solicitor explains, "You have three choices. You can plead guilty and pay your fine. You can go before a judge and plead not-guilty and have your case heard. Or you can request a jury trial."
But she explained that should you choose a jury trial, your trial would fall on a day, within a two week period. You wouldn't know which day, but would be notified the morning of the trial. With only an hour's notice you would be expected to get yourself and any witnesses to court.
A jury trial was impossible unless you pitched up camp at the courthouse and witnesses joined you there for the two week period.
Mine was a harassment by phone call charge, and I hadn't planned on pleading guilty. My attorney even said he'd "listened to the tapes" of my calls, and explained that I hadn't harassed anybody.
"Tapes?"
I looked at the guy next to me again, and whispered, "Thirty two times, huh? This is lower than any kangaroo court. I'm requesting a jury trial. This is absolutely unconstitutional."
(But it's "STATE" court, which seemed to be an excuse.)
I knew I wouldn't have a chance before any judge in Cobb County, and probably in the whole state of Georgia.
After those 39 days, I found a way to get out of the state. Funny, the problems followed all the way to Kentucky. Well organized crowd these railroad executives have. Plus, Kentucky produced the Alabama Forensics examiner, Julia Goodin, who examined what was said to be my son's body. She now enjoys the highest paying forensics position salary in the Republican state of Iowa.
From there I called my attorney to ask him when things would be settled in Judge Adele Grubbs court.
Attorney Kenneth Schatten's response, "Oh, I was at a Christmas cocktail party last night with Judge Grubbs and your husband's attorney, Michael Broadbear. We were laughing about you and your case."
Ridiculing a client and discussing a case at a cocktail party? Surely this is acceptable to any Bar Association in the U.S.A.?
Schatten had said he "knew Judge Grubbs," and that she'd "be sympathetic to your case" because "her daughter killed herself, too."
Games.
The games people play are incredible, but the cruelty used is often beneath anything human, particularly in Georgia's Justice System.
Next, Cobb County Jail, and how Sheriff Bill Hutson set up a fun visit, 1998.
Now "The Facility Group" is a hot item, and has had tentacles in justice, Georgia's legislature, and schools in Cobb County.
Perhaps the owner of the Cobb County "cat dealership" who said in 1998 he couldn't keep employees because "Cobb County cops keep harassing and giving my drivers tickets," will show up. He had a Porsche enjoyed racing, and a British accent, just like Adele Grubbs. He even said he was once lead guitarist for the famous Searchers Band. He was upset because he felt Cobb County authorities apparently preferred the success of his competitor, and suspected they were trying to put him out of business by ticketing his drivers. The only competitor I could think of was Yancy with a frat brother of my ex-husband's as an employee. Both, Virginia Tech grads, of course! Mormons, too? I understand Sheriff Bill has moved on to other employment since leaving "The Facility Group."
And next we will move over to Paulding County, the Republican airplane crash, and the West Side Bank where my "dead" son had an account. Then we'll examine Bruce Rains and go up into several areas of North Carolina, then to Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Long Island, and let's ask some questions about Minneapolis and Carlson.
OOPS sorry, statutes of limitations is up!!
Nope, it's not up for R.I.C.O. or murder.
[NOT YET.]
Your lawyer verifies the fact the system of justice in Cobb County nor can law enforcement be trusted. This is a "private matter," and it will cost money to get the truth. Later a conversation with a G.B.I. agent confirms the worst. After glancing at the document he says, "It's a lawyer's tactic." You've been had.
Looks like more than Georgia's Cobb County's all mobbed up. More than praying for rain, Governor Perdue should pray for honesty in his present drinking water. When Alabama Governor Riley joined Sonny praying for rain, it was obvious both states had more troubles than drought. The political prosecution and destruction of former Governor Don Siegelman's life, and Health South's struggles with its leadership and survival proves part of it. Will we ever know the rest? Maybe Mississippi cattle can whisper some leads before they all get sent to the slaughterhouse.
BTW, they threw the harassing phone call charge out of court on the jury trial request. You have to call their bluffs.
(I've since learned another 'face blasted off' death occurred in Baldwin County, Alabama near the same time and since John Garner appears to be associated with prisons, one has to wonder if there isn't some sort of covert "organ donor" program down there. One's mind does tend to wonder when authoritarians are proven dishonest and big money is pulling strings. And while six months prior to my son's disappearance, Jason Knapp disappeared in nearby South Carolina; while West Side Bank is involved in helping to locate missing children. The fact that prisons are owned and run by private, wealthy individuals and medical insurance and facilities are, likewise I've found some of those same directors with fingers in both. Scary, if you allow your mind to wander and when you realize a wealthy, affluent person isn't always a person of the keenest, most upstanding integrity.) http://www.crimeandjustice.us/forums/lofiversion/index.php?t9905.html http://www.ajc.com/metro/content/metro/gwi...gwxmissing.html
It's crazy, even dangerous to tell the truth in the U.S.A. and the saddest part is–– the bad people in this experience aren't Muslims.
If taxpayers' forced donations for funding law enforcement were effective, witness protection programs would be unnecessary, and NYC would not have suffered 3,000+ deaths.
One of Amy Frink's murderers was set free after serving only nine years. According to articles, John Paul Counts was set free, and John Gamble remains in prison maintaining he's serving time for a crime he didn't commit. The article says the case is still open.
Summer, 1998 I had tipped off Brunswick, NC police, the district attorney's office and the Brunswick Beacon newspaper anonymously about the unsolved murder after having gained information from my eldest son. Amy had driven him back to our Ocean Isle Beach rental the night before we left to go home to Matthews, NC a few weeks before she died. She'd written to him and they saw each other in the summers when we vacationed.
WIthin a few months my younger son was dead with similar circumstances. Both he and Amy died in adjacent states, both crossed state lines, both were last known calling from a phone booth, and both died gruesome deaths. In neither instance did the mother identify the child's body.
The truth about my own son's death has never been told. And I believe if I had not become involved and tipped police in Amy's, he might still be alive.
Brunswick police were quick to solve the crime after I tipped them off in 1998, and I spoke with Mrs. Frink, 1999 when she said she'd not been notified of the tip by police. But then in 2001 calling back the Brunswick deputy said they'd solved the crime in 1998, which I believe he meant to say, 1999.
Such is justice.
While my son was being brutally killed in Alabama, ruled "suicide" as recorded in Alabama police records, with a shotgun incapable of holding the number of shells recorded, I was being detained by police, falsely arrested, and harassed in Georgia jails, unable to identify my own child's body, unable to attend his funeral, burial, and memorial services, which were held in three different states over the course of 39 days.
Incredible planning, I believe the murders are associated and with very good reason.
My "criminal" charges in Georgia were all dismissed, but it was incredible cooperation by police and high-end criminals in the death of a child and destruction in discrediting a witness.
Such is justice.
Hindsight says if I'd stayed silent in the Frink murder, my own son might still be alive and well. And I was advised, there isn't a lawyer in Georgia who would take my case.
Having been a former Christian Church Secretary and corporate wife, political cartoonist, it's incredible to know how this system can destroy people, discredit witnesses, and bungle criminal investigations. Every county and township should have a "CSI."
Coverup in the USA: American Children, Gone with the Wind
"That is something that we might have read about in history books as happening in Russia, but it is not something that should be allowed to happen in the United States of America." -former governor & political prisoner, Mr. Don Siegelman, Alabama
"We believe your husband murdered your son." - Attorney Kenneth Schatten, Atlanta in the presence of private detective, Billy Carter, 1999.
Republican Judge Lynn Stuart, who signed my son's body release papers, is now seated on the Alabama Supreme Court. When she signed papers to release my son's body, was she aware his funeral had been held in Marietta, Georgia four days before? While my son's funeral was being held in Georgia on Christmas Eve, 1998, his body remained in Alabama.
My son is said to have died in Baldwin County, Alabama 12/9/98. Because of conflicting reports, errors, omissions and false reporting, and questionable circumstances I believe my son was murdered, and his death erroneously ruled suicide, and the murder has been covered up.
Although there were no witnesses to the "suicide," there was no murder investigation while with suicides, seldom are two shells discharged from a gun as reported below. Statements of whether the A.B.I. investigated are conflicting. Portions of the autopsy report do not match his body and other questionable records are below.
**Please note, a list of names found within these scanned authentic images will be listed at the end of this post. These are the records from Georgia with two counties involved: Cobb and Coweta. From the beginning untruths were told. I never stated to Attorney Childs my son had a "nervous breakdown," nor did I nor would I ever suggest my son might commit suicide, and in fact Mr. Childs soon requested to be relieved from my case. In fact my sons had been victimized by a parolee named Frederick Grant, they had been poisoned with cocaine, and I had beckoned their father to contact police. Instead he opted to handle things in his own manner later stating, "I took care of Fred," which suggests: coverup. "GREENWAY STORE #612" is located at US29 and I-85, at Exit 41. There is no Exit 9 on Hwy I-85. Bullsboro Drive is at least 5 miles away from the store location mentioned in the Coweta County Sheriff's Investigative Report. ANother document online shows Greenway Amoco in Fayette County, Georgia, 1998: "Fayetteville police broke up a gathering of Fayette County High School students who apparently planned a fight at the Greenway Amoco Station on Ga. Highway 85 Wednesday afternoon. Capt. Harold Simmons said that the investigation is still open, but..." My Atlanta attorney, Kenneth H. Schatten, spring 1999, in the presence of Private Detective, Billy Carter, explained he and Mr. Carter believed my estranged husband murdered my son. Later, Mr. Schatten wrote I should send $2500.00 and hire Mr. Carter to get the facts, and advised me not to contact police which suggests: COVERUP.
His correspondence advised this was a "private matter," which suggests, coverup. There were two reasons for my son to disappear. These facts would have devastated my husband financially in any divorce trial: 1. My son had informed me his father and my husband of 23 years had a mistress. 2. My son knew my husband had filed dishonest police reports in order to have me removed from the home. Later when I attempted to get records of financial transactions regarding my son, of which the Cobb County Funeral Home handled for two other states, I was denied the right to copies of the records, which suggests "coverup." I was lead to believe "John Garner" was in charge of the investigations by Coweta County Georgia police report, whom I later referred to as Sheriff - instead of "Corporal Garner" in 2001 notes, Garner was was very rude and uncooperative on the phone, refused to send me any file copies of police reports and in fact said, "Your son is dead. He killed himself. Case closed. Good-bye!" and slammed down the phone - which suggests COVERUP. Garner also said I would have to hire an attorney and get a subpoena to get copies of the police reports, which was suspicious since the reports were public records, and I was the boy's mother. It was several years before Sheriff Jimmy Johnson provided me with a full set of records. Why did Garner put up a fight to conceal the records? Coverup. The information given to me via phone by Huey Mack regarding the members of the Alabama Bureau of Investigation was valuable, but other calls suggested none of the ABI agents investigated the "suicide" while Mack said they did. Police reports received from Sheriff Jimmy Johnson years later gave yet another story, spinning yet another mystery that Warren Stewart and Stan Stabler were actually present from the A.B.I. and so was Dr. Julia Goodin, the forensics examiner. The coroner report provided by Sheriff Jimmy Johnson, and as performed by Dr. Julia Goodin, lists several questionable facts regarding the examined body: 1. The "tattoo" is listed as being six inches in diameter. My son's ankle wasn't that large, and could not have carried a tattoo of that size, although a picture was provided of the tattoo and leg by Sheriff Jimmy Johnson several years later. 2. That my son's hair was six inches. He'd always kept his hair cut short. 3. That the body had two scars, well healed above each knee. My son had no scars on either leg of any kind, and had never had knee surgery at all.
During the thirty nine days my son disappeared (Georgia) 12/9/98 died in Alabama, was memorialized in georgia and buried in Virginia, police harassment, false arrest, calculated legal scheming, and every corrupt legal means of
was being used to prevent me from identifying my son's body or attending his funeral or burial, which implies: COVERUP. No matter how I attempted to convince authorities foul play existed, continuously I was presented with negative responses and refusals in furthering investigations. All the while I experienced dereliction of duty and criminal neglect by law enforcement, politicians, and and officials elsewhere while suffering continuous destruction of my home and property. I was in a vehicle with another whistleblower to experience having a tire shot; my car was run off the road, and more than once it was suggested houses burn. These "terrorists" weren't Muslims. The night my son disappeared he phoned his father in distress. His father, Assistant Vice President in charge of Communications for Norfolk Southern Railroad, did not contact authorities. He did not trace the phone call. And he didn't get instructions as to where my son was stranded and afraid. He merely told his 17 year-old-daughter to get in the car and drive. During the trip down I-75 nearly to Florida all he could speak of was "getting to work on time in the morning." It hardly sounds as though he was concerned about his son, who disappeared on I-85 instead, which suggests - coverup.
While my son was being murdered in Baldwin County, Alabama, I was being persecuted, shackled, handcuffed, falsely arrested and harassed by police in several Georgia counties and the political persecutions moved with me into Kentucky which suggests organized crime and political corruption crossing state lines.
No matter the quantity or quality of information provided to authorities, none would consider opening and reexamining the case. The last time I saw my son alive, 1998, his father had my children in a Georgia court room dressed to testify against their mother. He approached me with fear in his eyes, as though he was looking over his shoulder afraid of something behind him. "Mom, I don't want to do this," he whispered quietly, with his eyes darting to the corners. I had no idea he had something more important he couldn't divulge at the time, and as I casually said, "Don't worry, just tell the truth," regarding his testimony against me, I've realized since he was worried about something far greater. While living in the midst American terror, enduring police harassment and false arrest, stalking and sabotage while exhausting every possible means for assistance from authorities and relief from criminal stalkers, still the truth remained hidden regarding my child, and surely other children in the USA whose parents haven't the means to endure the fight.
In these days of "homeland security," dereliction of duty, criminal neglect and corruption at high levels of authority continuously decided my case, and determined mine and my son's long-term destinies of terror, death and despair.
If my son lived a short life and died for no other purpose, then let this be his legacy: that Americans still exist who will fight for truth and equal justice, committed to survive and endure the battle.
"If you'll just sign your divorce papers, all of your problems will disappear." - Magistrate Judge, Laurens Lee, Peach County, Georgia, 1999.
NOTE: Senator Paul Coverdell passed away July 18, 2000. **NAMES CONTAINED within these above images Alabama: Corporal Garner, Baldwin County; Deputy John Garner; Coroner Huey Mack, Sr.; Larry Crenshaw; Forensics Examiner, Dr. Julia C. Goodin, Alabama Bureau of Investigation Agents: Warren Stuart, Bankston, Stan Stabler, Alabama Forensics: Kevin Putnam; Judge Lynn Stuart; Lt. Huey Mack; Investigator John E. Brennan; Attorney General Troy King; Baldwin County District Attorney, John David Whetstone;
Georgia: Georgia Senator Paul Coverdell; Cobb County DIstrict Attorney Patrick Head; Cobb County District Attorney, Dorothy H. Bishop; G.J. Sniffen, Father; Pastor Lynn Eynon, Woodstock Christian Church; Private Investigator, Billy Carter, Atlanta Attorney Kenneth Schatten, Atlanta Orr's Wrecker Service, Coweta County Greenway Amoco, Newnan, Georgia Coweta County, Officer Gordon; Coweta County Investigator John G. Lewis; Cobb County Deputy Donna Gordon; Cobb County Detective P.J. Coalson; Cobb County Investigator, R.B. Smith Cobb County Attorney George Childs; Gerard Sniffen; Agent Lanny Cox, Georgia Bureau of Investigation; Ralston, Pilot, Georgia State Patrol; Tony Grant & Donny Payne, Coweta County Investigators; Fielda Michelle Sniffen; Philda Michelle Sniffin; Mayes Ward Dobbins Funeral Home;
Kentucky: Attorney General Greg Stumbo; Attorney Gatewood Galbraith
OTHER PLAYERS and QUESTIONS: Did Alan Winston Littlefield (U.S.A.F.) of Oakland, Maine visit Lake Tahoe, Portland, Maine and Marietta, Georgia before his fatal heart attack? If so, who was the blond lady he met with on Dallas Highway?
Who were Auburn, Maine's Ken Townsend, (Guard) Arizona and Georgia connections?
Who was (U.S. Army Brian Trader,) of Lexington, Ky, working for and who was the General he drove the limo for in the Philipines?
Was the late Tommy Schlette, (overdose, May 2006) of Melbourne, Florida United States Navy, and who were his connections who told him to contact me?
How was Mike Johnson of Nicholasville, Kentucky connected to Las Vegas, Arizona, drugs and sail boats? Was he in the sail boat manufacturing business with Stephen Colgate and Tom Tilinski, 2001?
Before George P. Moore of Fincastle, Virginia was killed by the locomotive, who were his connections in San Diego?
Who were Atlanta attorney, Kenneth H. Schatten's connections in San Diego?
Who is Mrs. Rose, former employee of Michaels Arts and Crafts, Kennesaw, Georgia and her "US ARMY GENERAL" father who she said she hated because he "kills people and covers it up?"
Musical-Mother. Artist.
Freelance-Cartoonist.
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." (Edmund Burke)
In the USA, you can't just tell the truth, you must be able to document it.
About Me
Name: Michelle Looney
Location: Kentucky, United States
Free thinker, free speech proponent, freelance artist, cartoonist.
Love never gives up.
