Tag Archives: corruption

Corruption and Mental Health

As most who know me personally know, repeated attacks to my physical and mental health in the form of predatory and corrupt practices by law enforcement in Ohio, Virginia, and North Carolina has caused me to suffer for many years from PTSD, depression, anxiety, neuropathy, and extreme chronic pain. I, like many, had dealt with the occasional false traffic ticket – fuel for the lawyers, one of the reason Shakespeare had such glowing words for them – and I went to court and faced them, always. Those who know my upbringing (living with a polygraph and a P.S.E in my house, along with the most capable and adept examiner for both instruments on the planet) know I always make the truth my winning answer. I was raised in a military/law enforcement/intelligence household. I was taught to respect the truth and the intent of the law, if not the letter, as the unjust do not deserve respect. In that way, I inherited the mores and ethics of my grandfather. And those that know me, know how pissed I get when I see those institutions fuck over the common man for nothing more than greed or the narcissistic need for control. I was raised to expect a higher standard, and when I see it used against people, including myself, who take time and effort to obey the law and believe in truth made out to be criminals and liars, all for the sake of a buck.
This may have been the reason why I was affected so deeply when I had my life threatened by a Virginia State Police Trooper when I asked if I could have a copy of the witness list after suffering a forward ejection through the sunroof of an SUV. I had suffered injuries that, had it not been for the timely intervention of the EMT’s, could have left me paralyzed had the Trooper been allowed to carry out his intent. I became a hermit for seven years after this event, four of which were spent learning to walk without screaming. I still cannot see flashing lights on the highway without suffering an extreme panic attack. The mere sight of police cars can do the same, and having to deal with courtrooms in any capacity affects me for days before and after.
Later, I moved to Ohio as a result of a relationship with my future ex-wife (another story entirely) and that move proved to be the start of a chain reaction of encounters that further traumatized me. Three days after the birth of my third daughter, a TRAP syndrome birth that cost us her twin, I returned home from the hospital (an hour and half drive through freezing roads and black ice) to find I had taken the wrong bag home with me, and had to return my wife’s meds. So back I go, knowing I have to do another round trip in these conditions, when in Rising Sun, Ohio, I see a police car approaching from the opposite direction. Seeing an approaching change in the speed limit, I see the car turn around behind me, despite me doing the speed limit, and as I change my speed in time with the sign, I get pulled over. I get searched, and despite my being truthful about the meds, I get charged with possession, thrown into the back of a police car, re-injuring my back, and I get to listen as this ass and his buddy talk with glee about how many charges they can hit me with. In court, they dropped the charges when I told them every person who transports meds for terminal and/or handicapped people would like to know about my experience. I was thrown in jail after I slipped a disc in my back while on a walk with my child for 37 days – 7 days beyond the limit of their ridiculous charge – because I was swearing at an umbrella stroller’s inability to traverse the crappy sidewalks of Fostoria, Ohio, and laid in jail passing in and out of consciousness for 3 days before I even got looked at by medical, and humiliated by double-digit IQ goons the entire time.
For cursing at a stroller.
Having enough of this shit, I moved to North Carolina. I wanted to eventually move us closer to the Outer Banks. There, I encountered pretty much the same treatment.
One day, while driving to the store about two week after moving, my toddler daughter started to choke in the back seat. We were stuck in slow moving traffic in a school zone, and there was not room for me to pull over in order to help her. Her mother decided to unbuckle her seat belt in order to help her as I spotted two motorcycle cops in the median. I tell her to hurry, because we are going to be pulled over. When asked if I’m speeding, I tell her no (I wasn’t), but we had an out of state license plate, and that was pretty much a free meal ticket to them. Sure enough, we are pulled over, and not allowed to tend to our choking daughter as the cop explains how easy it will be to pay the ticket. Not only that, this goon says I was doing 40 mph, which was mathematically impossible, as I would have to be doing a minimum of 14 feet/second more than any car around me. At the hearing, the prosecutor laughed in my face when I said I would be pleading not guilty, had a cop who couldn’t remember what vehicle he was driving that day, had my daughter and now ex insulted in the court room, and was still found guilty.
And this is typical of my experiences over the last almost 20 years. Without fail.
Driving at all became an exercise in anxiety. I’m hyper-vigilant behind the wheel. I never speed. Have never driven intoxicated. For that reason, I’m never in a hurry when I drive. I always wear my seat belt, etc, etc.
And it still isn’t enough, because you can get pulled over and accused of something you have taken the time and effort to do right, and one way or the other, you’re going to have money yanked out of you.
Case in point:
After my ex revealed the extent of her narcissistic abuse, I once again became a hermit, as those dealings with the system did nothing but exacerbate and heighten all my symptoms, both physical and psychological. For several years, I would only drive when absolutely necessary, never driving more than 20 miles or so away from my home.
This changed in September, 2020. I had met a friend online through a support group, and continued to chat with her online as she battled colon cancer. She would be going into hospice, and I promised to visit her in person, as she had had few visitors in the recent weeks. From my previous experiences, I knew it would be a risk, but all I could do was drive the speed limit, and hope for the best.
And, wouldn’t you know it, despite all the above, I still get pulled over, and told I’m doing some ridiculous speed that I would never do on an unfamiliar curving country road.
Not only that, but the courts decide to mail out the notice of the trial the day after it occurs, effectively denying me any chance to appear in court.
And people wonder why I’m a hermit.
Now you know.

Update: 8-5-2021

Greetings,

I can’t believe it’s already been 3 months since my last update.
Wait…
Yes I can.
Repeated abuses, both by the travesty we have as a court system, and as either a direct or indirect result of actions by my cheating ex, has affected me all levels: physical, emotional, intellectual, and financial. Time has become very strange, as I can no longer maintain a normal sleep pattern due to anxiety and depression (not without a shit-ton of meds, which I can’t afford anyway), and the combined effects have made life difficult for me in a multitude of ways. I lose track of days, events, and thoughts now, when I never did before. The difference is substantial, and time has become like a rubber band. 5 days can seem like 1 long work day. Sometimes 1 day seems like 3. I no longer pay my bills on time – haven’t for months. The only thing, and I mean this quite literally, that I get right is being on time for my visitation, and even that requires more energy than it should.
Every time I have tried to heal, the sources of the original pain and injuries reappear to fuck with my life again, and further exascerbate my injuries – namely, the joke that we call the legal system in this country. Don’t be stupid enough to let anyone convince you that any part of our government is here to serve the people. I know you WANT to believe that…you are TOLD to believe that…and then those that comprise that entity reveal themselves to be greedy, narcissistic, pedophilic sociopaths – and we just go right along with our day and ignore it.
Sadly, I can’t.
I was raised to believe in certain things, and when I am forced to live in a corruption of that ideal, and that corruption affects my life on a very real level, it just cannot be ignored. I have suffered PTSD since 2002 – the source? A Virginia State Trooper threatened my life when I politely asked for a copy of the witness list after suffering a forward ejection through the sunroof of an SUV that was flipping over at 40 mph. Had it not been for the EMT’s that showed up at that moment, that narcissistic bully with a badge may have ended my life. EVERY single encounter I have had with the system since then, has been of equal ridiculousness, been equally corrupt, been morally and ethically wrong, and an egregious misuse of the authority GIVEN to these people (the fact it is given seems to have been forgotten).
I have been writing, however. I write because it’s the only outlet I have. The state, in collusion with my ex, were complicit in assault, battery, perjury, kidnapping, defamation, misrepresentation, adultery, and extortion. This left me pretty much without the means to do much else, so I do the best I can with what I have. It isn’t easy, living every moment of every day in outrage and indignation, of seeing the principles I was raised on become as useless as wedding vows, of having double-digit IQ nimrods abuse you physically and emotionally – just because they have the immunity to do so.
And we, as normal citizens, normally do not have the means to strike back. But I CAN write.
And I will.
My non-fiction work may get me sued. I don’t care. I’ll have all the transcripts, texts, emails, and other evidence to back it up. I’ve decided, you see, that if I cannot win against the shit-show that is our government, the lease I can do is continue to tell the truth. This will be sure to make some ass-fucks upset. Too bad. It’s my life, and I’ll tell the facts of it, one way or another. If they didn’t want their deeds exposed, don’t do the shit to begin with – pretty simple, right?
So, every interaction I have is now recorded, names taken, details noted. I may not be able to avoid the damage caused by the incompetance, greed, and sheer sociopathy I encounter in our ‘authority’ figures and institutions, but I can sure as fuck expose it.

Until next time,

~Namaste