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I got a call the other day from a woman named Lee. She told me that her great niece was being harassed by the Oakland County Sheriff's Department, (OCSD). She asked me about some sheriff’s deputies I might know from the jail. She has been reading my blog. She asked me about Under Sheriff McCabe and Quisenberry. There was a Quisenberry who work in the jail, a narcotic dweeb. I know this because I would sit in my food slot and watch the bubble. Due to his narcotic and OCD, these two deputies decided to let him know he’s not the boss, because his uncle was a “big man” with the OCSD. So, they ordered pizza. ordered pizza and ate it in the bubble. They ordered pizza, ate it in the bubble, and left their mess in the bubble, and walked passed him on their way home. They walked passed him and didn’t even say, “Hi”. He came inside the Control Room and threw a “fit”, right there. I mean he went from totally chill to losing his mind. He was cussing and slamming pizza boxes and just losing it. I yelled out or somebody yelled out, “Quisenberry is in the bubble going off”. You could hear him having a conniption. They knew exactly what to do to get back at him. Being a cop is hard, because you are surrounded by Alpha-males and even if you’re not one, when you become a cop, you will become one just to keep up. Quisenberry was dealing with two guys who were not only Alpha-males, but the bullies from high school. What they had was just the equivalent of being shoved in a locker and having to stay locked in there overnight.
Once he finished cleaning up their mess, he sat down, breathing hard and thinking, real hard. I mean just staring at one spot on the floor heaving like he had just had an asthma attack. Some of us were watching him and talking amongst ourselves and agreeing that he was crazy. He is a nepo-deputy. His uncle is Joseph Quisenberry, a lieutenant, with OCSD, there are a lot of Quisenberrys at OCSD. He not only admits his uncle work there, but his cousins, brother, aunts and sisters work there, too. Most of his attitude was the disbelief that they had even done it, “Didn’t they know who he was?” McCabe an undersheriff and his uncle were good friends. It’s just like in “A Few Good Men”. How Jack Nicholson character Nathan Jessup, and JT Walsh’s characters started their careers together, but Jessup had moved up quicker in rank than Markinson in the Marines. There is a lot of that in OCSD. They reach back and help one another. It’s obvious they believe in nepotism and use their friends to run their enterprises in the department. Those who were lazy or who wasn’t liked by the powers that be. The older Joe Quisenberry was working in narcotics.
When Lee asked me about Quisenberry and McCabe I didn’t talk about the drugs, I only talked about the narcotic young Quisenberry that worked in the jail and how he had sex with the women at night, into the morning and how they liked his sex. Forgetting that J. Quisenberry was running the campaign for the opioid crisis in Oakland County. He ran the drugs. The biggest money-making entity for corrupt cops. The next money-maker is prostitution, and he has his nephew running that. So, McCabe has all his basis covered and so does Quisenberry. They’re making money “hand over fist”. They are helping Lee’s great niece’s father, Sean McMasters, whom I believe has been sexually abusing her great-niece since she was 17-months old. Lee is afraid, because now her great niece is old enough to articulate her abuse clearly, not in toddler gibberish, but as a articulate teenager. Now she is being harassed like me. Like Monica Canady and others. When I started talking about strokes, aneurysms and murder she got scared. She started to regret calling me. She asked me, “Am I safe?” I told her that I was living in a hotel for the last three months, and I don’t know if I’m being protected or if my landlord is just an asshole. I explained that we were being listened to while we were having this conversation and that they are watching me here, and were watching me at my apartment, they lost me my job and are responsible for my eviction and try to run me and my family off the road with 18-wheelers. She doesn’t live in Michigan. I told her she might not be safe, because my sister would drive from Michigan to Wisconsin and trucks would try to run her off the road. I told her that they work with the FBI and would call and ask them if I was FBI.
McMasters, the sexually abusive father, worked for the Detroit Police. You don’t get any more drug dealing cops than you get in Detroit. They will usually help people out when they are deeply involved in their game, because if they’re found guilty or have enough evidence, that person might turn evidence on them and start telling them everything. I believe that's why they got McMcMasters’ case dismissed. His story has a lot of lies. That morning when I woke up, I had a link to a page called Rumble. It’s like YouTube, but political in nature. A place where people go to talk about what’s really happening. Conspiracy Theories and stuff. McMasters moved to Florida and filed for joint-custody of the daughter he is abusing. I think they knew the judge down there and that he would do what they need him to do. You know Florida is huge on drug trafficking. Leigh Dundas stood in front of the court and told Lee's niece’s story. The judge, Nilon, gave the former cop, who took her child to the house of a sexual abuser, Larry Orr. Larry Orr raped a 15-year-old who was incapacitated by a closed head injury. He said when he handled her to put her in her chair, he “saw her body” and began to sexually abuse her. She admitted to it, like it was okay. In Michigan, a caregiver can’t have consensual sex with his mentally challenged patient. Just like a deputy can’t have sex with a prisoner. You are trusted with the well-being of that person, or those people and it’s called statutory rape. Orr is on the sex offender list but was allowed to have a room with toys and games, the games used by McMasters’ and Orr to sexually abuse the little girl. Now, a man should have lost custody for even taking the little girl to Orr’s house. Nope, Oakland County and the State of Michigan didn’t see it that way.
It's an hour and something long, but if you're worried about our babies, it is worth it!
I explained that “they” love pedophiles, and told her a story, I will not repeat here, but I sent her the conversation. I don’t know what she will do with it. I don’t care, because I didn’t lie. I’d say it all over, again. She says that her niece recently went to stay with her father and came home and spent weeks in a psyche ward. I told her they made me insane and gave me pills that took my hair out. I didn’t tell her “Pancho” had people pull it out when I was having it braided. She didn’t need to know all of that. She was scared enough. Her niece had a psychologist that berated her told her and not to talk about the abuse by screaming in her face. There was never a tumultuous divorce. It was amicable and the mother gave him a visitation, until her daughter put her fingers inside her vagina and asked her to smell it. The news never reported that but reported the lie that the mother was bitter and was lying to get custody.
I told her that OCSD owns CPS. They target the prostitutes that work for them in the jail. One day I passed notes asking the women to turn on the deputies. I wanted to organize a rebellion like Nat Turner. Shelly, with her big titties and height, a high-ranking deputy's girl, and at least six feet tall went to talk to the woman next to me. She spoke loudly, and I heard her clearly. “My parent were good to me. I messed up. My son is doing good. I couldn’t stand it if he was taken from them. He has a good life.” My mouth dropped open, “Oh my God. They’ll take her kid”. Then I saw someone on the street who said that another woman was about to lose her son, and another one had lost her daughter. If she thinks CPS will helping them, she needs to forget it. Child Protective Services are a member of the racket that protects pedophiles and scar children for life. Pedophilia is generational and most people who have been abused, become abusers. That’s just how it goes.
McMasters and Orr’s semen were found all around this girl’s bed. It was found that there was a 160.66666666666666666666 match with the sperm around her bed. They passed polygraph, which could be true or not. He could have “brat the box” or the person doing the test could have lied. Orr already confessed to being a child molester. There shouldn’t be any reason for taking his daughter Larry Orr’s house; none! Just like the women in the jail, he gets whatever he wants. If he were to get the life sentence, he deserves he would flip on them in a minute. I’m already getting threats from the Detroit Police through the news. Apartment buildings, burning down and blowing up. Old women, like my mother, being carried out of houses and stuff. I have never lived in Detroit and have never been to Wayne County Jail (WCJ). I never speak about them. Dana Nessel dismissed the case in 2019, because an assistant prosecutor working on the case was a sexual deviant himself, Brian Kolodziej. They probably picked him due to his sexual exploits with victims, knowing he would be lenient. Never thinking it would be found out what he did or was doing. Those women were vulnerable at the time, being sexually abused and everything. He was charged with two counts of felony misconduct but got no jail time. A gift for not turning on his buddies in Oakland County. This is the worse club ever!
“Though hand join in hand, the wicked will not go unpunished…”
Proverbs 11: 12
After Patricia confronted Pancho about the women on the job and he beat her up, she moved back with her sister to Detroit. I had moved from my mother’s and had gotten an apartment. Even if she did like to hang with Black folk, she still looked White. She got herself a job in Waterford and she would stay with me from time to time. I liked the company, and she would bring “the boys”. We would cook and watch television like we did when she lived here. This guy who was crazy about her had put together a piece of car for her and I had lost my car, and she would take me to work. One day, she was taking me to work, and she made a startling confession. She had to go to the Pontiac Police for an interview. Paul had applied for a job there and as a part of the process, people close to him had to be interviewed. Since she had lived with him and had his twins, she was someone they wanted to speak to. “I know you’re not going to do it! Well, not give him a good review.” She told me that he needed the job, and it would help him take care of the twins.
“You still want to give him those boys!” I turned in the car to look at her, “And your going to the police and lie to them after everything he put you through?”
Suddenly there was a voice from the back seat. “My Dad’s going to be a cop, he’s going get the bad guys!” He was elated.
“Your Dad is the bad guy!” I spit out from the front seat and turned to look at him. He looked confused.
“DON’T SAY THAT TO HIM!” Patricia scolded me from the driver’s seat, “That’s his father!”
“I don’t believe you are defending him the way he used to beat your ass!”
She was stuck with him like all the people in his family. Everyone but his mother knows how sorry he is, and she hates it. She blames it on her mother, his grandmother. “Rea was a sweet woman that loved him very much and let him do whatever he wanted all his life, while his mother left him with her to live her life. He hates his mother, probably because she left him to be raised by his mother and when she didn’t like the way he turned out it took it out on him. He was a teenager when she took him from “Rea”, whom he loved dearly. Only to try to raise him when he is grown. She wasn’t his mother, “Rea” was, and she had coddled him and treated him like he was special. All his mother’s discipline was nothing but causing him to resent her, and I guess it turned into hate eventually. Patricia and I talked on the phone for hours and I have to say this to people who want to treat their significant other badly, beat them and talk badly to them, don’t tell them your secrets, because they have no loyalty to you; not really. They’ll tell all your business. Patricia told me everything. Patricia kept “The boys” from their father’s abusive nature. Her eldest son, the one that’s not his knew. When the door was closed to their bedroom, he would bang on the door and cry out, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY MOMMY!”
She left him, though. She went and lied to the Pontiac Police, however, and ruined my life. One time, after she’d left him, he had come to her sister's house and tried to beat her up. She had told him that she had come to my house to show me the last beating. “She knows everything. I showed her.” Then she went and lied to the police and got him that job with the Pontiac Police Department. It was the worse thing anyone has done to me. The man is diabolical, and the badge he has is just a tool he uses to destroy the lives of people in his way. That would be me.
On September 11, 2001, I made a bad choice. I called a friend at the Pontiac Police. Only three years before, my brother had been indicted. My brother’s case had been dismissed, but the prosecutor had sent the indictment to a higher court to have the charge reinstated. We were waiting to see what would happen. The charges were reinstated and two years later, my brother was tried and convicted. He was 19 years in prison. Thanks to Pancho, I did four years. I told my lawyer, wrote letters to the judge saying he used to beat my best friend years before and that he is using his authority as a police detective to punish me for knowing and seeing his brutality all over my friend’s body. Nobody cared and nobody listened to me. They even over sentence me. I had never done time before. I was arrested twice but never convicted or did time in jail. My statutory guidelines were 0-90 days in jail. Upon violating the conditions of my probation, the most I could get is 90-days in jail. Colleen O’Brien gave me 18months to 5years in prison. While in prison, I was declared officially insane, because I was beating up all my bunkies, because they anted to have sex with me. One woman wanted me to steal green peppers out of the kitchen. I didn’t care; I got my own room. I didn’t have to worry about another sleepless night, until now.
Pancho is the devil who is jealous of women. He hates me, because of what I know about him. I told you that his family thinks he walks on water. I saw his cousin at “The Choice” at The Apostolic Church. I asked her about the twins and if Pancho still had them. She had her nerves to say, “Paul would never let Patricia raise them boys!” I turned my head quickly so she could see the expression on my face. I was so pissed, and she knew, they all knew. She didn’t have anyone while she was living in Pontiac. They are just as culpable for her abuse as he was, abusers have a way of turning people who trust them to villainize their victims and even make them believe that they deserve the abuse. Somehow these people are less than human. They do everything wrong that ruins the abuser’s life. Patricia was the primary caretaker for the twins. She gave them to him, because she was worn out and didn’t want the reminder. I begged her not to, but I didn’t know what it was like to be abused. At least that’s what she said.
She tried to still be a mother and come to see the twins on a regular basis, but Pancho didn’t like that people would think she cared. He was telling people she was a horrible mother and person. If she came to see them and loved them people would think she was good. He couldn’t have that, and he put her on child support. Whenever she crossed eight mile, as soon as she got behind, he would have her arrested. His own cousin told me that.
When I came home from prison, he wouldn’t stop either. He was convinced and still convinced Patricia, and I were lovers. He is bi-sexual and wants the world to be bi-sexual, too. Every chance he gets, he tries to put me with a woman. I don’t swing both ways, it goes against God’s Word. I let people do what they want to do, it’s just me. So, when I came home, I wasn’t who he thought I would be. He has never stopped harassing me. I got tired of it, and went to the Chief of Police to make a complaint, and he charged me with stalking him. That’s when I went to Oakland County Jail and was picked out for prostitution and made an enemy of all the deputies who work the Annex. I’m harassed constantly. When I tried to complain to Lt. Robert Ford, he called one Tuesday morning to say if I made another complaint, he would send me back to jail.
People are always talking about how bad White people are, and they are, but Black people can be bad to other Black people, too. I don’t know where Patricia is. I haven’t seen her in 30 years. “The boys”, are grown men now. I heard she got married and was an emotional wreck. I can believe it after all she’s been through. I’m an emotional wreck and I’ve never lived with Pancho or had his children. The racket is relentless and scary. The protect drug dealers, pimp prisoners and steal from local stores. I got fired from Meijer because I refused to give free groceries to mostly White patrons in the racket. They kill people, too. I spend most of my time inside. One day I left my hotel room after three or four days to go to the store, and this crazy bulldagger stepped to me and stared me directly in the eyes and wouldn’t go away. Just stood there looking at me with a grin I didn’t like. She was even blocking me in. As I walked back to the chips, I thought, “Paul.” He’s not giving up; they aren’t giving up. They’re watching me, still, but someone is watching them, too…
"They shoot from ambush at the innocent; they shoot suddenly , without fear. Thet encourage each other in evil plans, they talk about hiding their snares, they say. 'Who will see it?' They plot injustice and say,'"We have devised the perfect plan!' Surely the human heart and mind is cunning."
I met Paul “Pancho” McDougall the winter of 1990. I was hanging out with his
best friend, John. We were in his den watching television when we heard a
knock at the door. It was Pancho coming for a visit. He walked to the back
room where we were sitting and took a seat at the other end of the couch. He
had a 40 oz. Budweiser, I guess he got from his job. He still wore his work
clothes and seemed tired. I guess back then he was still delivering beer to
local party stores, and I guess it took a lot out of him that day. He admitted
in front of me that he was hiding from his girlfriend and that he had walked
over from his grandmother’s house around the block. He didn’t feel like
arguing with his girlfriend, and when she called, to tell her that he wasn’t
there. In about 15 minutes after his arrival, she called. “Hey…Nah, he ain’t
here.” He was silent for a bit, while she talked about what was going on. Then
John ended the conversation by reiterating that he hadn’t seen Paul and didn’t
know where he was. He sits still like if he moved, she would hear him and know
that he was there. I sat still, too. Whoever his girlfriend was, she had him
hiding out. That meant she was tough and from the looks of him, he was running
on all amps and couldn’t survive a fight with her that night. I thought if she
showed up, I would be an accomplice and maybe he would let me have it, too. At
that moment, we sat still and let John handle it. Like the pro he is, he did
his best friend’s duties and lied through his teeth. Paul took a couple of
swigs of his “forty” and gazed into the TV with relief he had dodged that
bullet. Taking another swallow, he settled in.
After about 15 minutes, he was asleep. I looked over at him and thought, “He
does look like Dewayne Wayne from A Different World”. He had flip-ups and
everything, just like the popular television character. I also felt sorry for
him. He couldn’t even go home and sleep comfortably in his own bed. John
looked him, and was also sorry for his friend, and said, “Dang, my boy tired!”
I look at him and said, “He did right to hide. She must be something else.
Should I get him a blanket?” “Nah, he’ll be okay.” John motioned to dismiss
the gesture. He looked so pitiful. That’s how I felt for him, until about a
year later, when I met Patricia.
Patricia is Puerto Rican and beautiful. We met at the old women’s clothing
store “Hit or Miss”. The first day we met, she had on this black skirt a black
leopard print blouse and a thick black belt around her waist with a pair of
saddle boots on. I looked at her like, “Who is this woman?” That outfit was
interesting to say the least. As soon as I got the chance, I would tell her
what I was thinking. It was lunch time or something, I asked a question and
ended with, “Vennesa del Rio” and smiled. Now, Patricia has a thick Spanish
accent. She’s Puerto Rican, but she grew up in Texas, San Antonio with a bunch
of Mexicans. She had identical-twin brothers that looked White but speak
fluent Spanish. Mostly, she said she spoke Tex-Mex, and her mother hated it.
She lost her mother when she was 16. She and her brothers were separated after
she died. Patricia moved around. Being treated unfairly and being used. She
met a family that used her and had her sleeping in their basement. They forced
her to pay them rent and just mistreated her badly all around. She left them
when she got pregnant with her son. She felt that she didn’t want to raise him
in a basement and got an apartment for the two of them. Then one day she met
her long-lost sister and moved in with her and her daughter. They had their
issues, but she was with family and that was better than strangers. Then one
day she met Pancho, and they started hanging out. Then she became pregnant.
Then she found out that she was pregnant with twins. It started one day when
she was four months pregnant and fell asleep in the middle of the day. Pancho
was calling her. She told me she was just sleeping hard, because she is
pregnant. Pancho took off from work, drove to Detroit and in her words,
“Kicked {her} my ass.” I couldn’t believe it. The guy who came to John’s house
that night.
“Pancho-Paul-McRick”, that’s what John had called him the night he fled to his
house. It took her about a year to tell me she was in an abusive relationship.
I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t feel sorry for him anymore because he was a
monster. All she ever talked about was Paul. Paul…Paul…Paul was al she would
say at work all day. When he walked into the store, he had given up on the
flip-ups and had on regular glasses, but it was him. When he had left, I said,
“Oh, you go with Pancho-Paul-McRick? She didn’t speak English well, but she
had the “ghetto” expression down. She gave me one and exclaimed, “Who!” I made
a face of my own, “Pancho-Paul-McRick. That’s what John calls him”. She still
was looking at me crazy. I asked, “Do you know John?” She relaxed and I
believe I told her the story about him hiding out, because she said the ex was
a horrible girlfriend. She was happy about the story and told me Pancho got
tired of her being so obsessive. When she finally told me about the abuse, I
asked if he beat that ex. She told me that he tried, but she fought back. I
think she won, too, due to the night he hid out with John and me. I asked her
why she didn’t fight back. She told me that she did, but it was worse when she
fought back, so she’d just curled up in a ball, protecting her face and
waited for him to stop hitting and kicking her.
I should have known something was wrong, because one night, well morning when he came home late, she put on
his winter jacket and walked to my house. She lived in Crystal Lake
Apartments. I lived near the Lighthouse off Woodward. She walked, in the dark
and in the cold, getting away from him. My mother called out to me, “…Somebody
is knocking at the door”! I got up and let her in. We sat up and talked four a
few hours. I gave her my bed and slept on the couch. The next morning, before
he came to pick her up, he and I talked. She hadn’t told me about the abuse
yet. I told him she was ungrateful, and she needed to appreciate him more. He
is a master narcissist and psychopath. He had fooled me and against her. I
would never believe it, until I saw it for myself. The last beating. She came
over and showed me the results. It was just nasty. The bruises on her arms
were blurple. A mix of black and purple. Triangles the print of his shoes
where he had kicked her in the back. She had no one here, but me and no one
else. He had his family and had turned them against her. She went back home to
her sister who had taken her back in. They had fallen out, because her sister
had lost her job and had asked Patricia to use another address to get aid. She
had been using her sister’s address and was getting cash and food benefits.
So, it wasn’t a fairytale for my friend. He wasn’t taking care of her; they
had been taking care of each other. Plus, all those late nights he claimed to
be out with the Bud Girls, he was with other women.
Pancho thought Patricia was dumb. That thick accent could make someone believe
it, but she was smart. He had gotten a promotion at Budweiser, and they had
updated their pagers. He laid the paperwork on the pager program on the
counter and went to lie down. Patricia got it and learned how to check his
messages, she was so good, she taught me how to do it, so I could check his
messages while she was at work. Her work phone wouldn’t let her do it. I
checked all the guys’ voicemails who worked at Budweiser. That’s what ended
it, because he was cheating. There was at least three other women. His new job
had him traveling around Oakland County putting taps in bars. The waitresses
were too much for him to resist and Patricia was pissed, because she was
mostly at home alone and when he was home he was beating her up!
"Beware of fake men who come in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are ravenous
wolves...Every good tree bears good fruit, and every bad tree, bad fruit."
Fifteen years ago, when I was forced to reside in Oakland County Jail (OCJ), an Asian woman was rare, but they had one and her name was Lisa. She was bi-polar with manic tendencies. This meant she was a kind of a menace to society. She was a menace to OCJ, too, but they appreciated her more that the city of Lake Orion did. See, when in a manic phase you’re not only violent, abusive and have insomnia, but you’re sexual prowess is also heightened. Lisa had tortured various people in Lake Orion, due to not taking her medication. After she stopped her car in the middle of a busy street and refused to move, until her “boyfriend” got out of her truck. At that point, a judge felt it necessary to have Lisa be court ordered to take a shot once a month, instead of trusting her to take her medication every day like prescribed. If she missed her appointment for one month, the clinic calls the police, and they would take her to jail for her shot. Not to the clinic, but to jail. They had to use that tactic, because although Asian women were highly profitable, they are good. They are taught to be passive and humble and not resist authority, Confucianism. Lisa was Chinese and neither passive nor humble. She was mentally ill. Only when they were brought to the jail for a shot wasn’t manic. She felt like herself and didn’t need the shot, but she did. She was calm and civilized. The times she was acting crazy was manic Lisa, hot and horny who would have sex with a deputy male or female for Hungry Howie’s cheesy bread sticks.
>p>
Asians weren’t the only group that were scarce in the jail, Mexicans and Chaldeans stay out of trouble for the most part. Ever since “Full Metal Jacket” Asian women had become a novelty amongst men who buy sex. When Lisa was bored and trying to be funny, she would stand in her door and yell, “Me sucky, sucky…Me so horny…Me love you long time!”
Over the last 10 years those massage parlors have been popping up in Oakland County. Like the one that was raided the other day in Farmington Hills. They don’t have hustle Lisa into jail anymore they have buildings with tons of Lisas. I know OCSD got something to do with them, because an Asian woman tried to run me of the road at the corner of Opdyke and South Boulevard. She thought she as going to get away. I chased her to the light at South Boulevard and Crooks, right where the Kroger is on the right. She got on her phone and texted someone. I got that license plate number; she had a handicap tag. I spoke to myself, “They have gotten deep into the Asian women. They have truly moved out of the jail and into the neighborhoods. These cities are being affected by the prostitution ring. This business backed into an entire neighborhood. It’s the place Kelli Bryant lived in. She worked at UWM for a minute, and she works there as a hooker, too.
"Sampson went to Gaza, and there he saw a harlot and he went to her..."
Every time I write a blog; I’m telling you a story about the Oakland County Sheriff's Department. I don’t like them! Period. From 2010 to 2015 I was stuck in the Oakland County Jail (OCJ) stuck. You have got to understand. When you’re in jail, you belong to Oakland County. They do whatever they want to do. For the most part you are all alone and if you don’t have family to call and talk to, friends or so forth to put money in your account or come visit, you are stuck in hell with no life jacket. Even when these men/women have family once that phone hangs up, you back in hell; alone. You’re left to survive the best way you can, and that’s hard. It can quickly change you. Who you become is up to you. Prostitution is always a choice in OCJ. For the women who are chosen from the website, their life in there is good. Only once you start making money, it’s impossible for them to let you go. Many of those women are targeted by the deputies and come back to jail often for their money-making abilities. You must read my book, but they have taken off Amazon. We’ll fix that later.
On the flip side of that these women are spoiled. Trustees and the women in Max get store every week. That’s chips, pastries, pickles and stuff. They have HOT FOOD. You can get hamburgers, wedges, calzones, nuggets and more! They give you pop, too. Pepsi. When the women are somebody’s whore the get Coke and Fanta and outside food, like Aranci. Those Italian rice balls. We were talking about them one day and Mr. Beane’s girlfriend said she was going to get some and a Coke. Somebody told, it wasn't me, and when they were delivered to “the bubble", the Sergeant was in there. So, I sat there and watched Beane eat the Aranci and guzzle the Coke. Someone as nosey as I am called out, “Aaaah! Seargent is in there, Mr. Beane is eating her stuff! Aaaaah!” I could hear people moving to their food slot to watch, too. I just watched his fat butt eat those fried balls; no pun intended. When they leave there, they also can have what they want.
That includes getting on welfare. I have been talking to people on Facebook, and we all know MDHHS don’t give cash benefits no more. We all want to know how Kelli gets $30,000 in five years. That’s $500 a month. MDHHS is not giving away that kind of money. She’s not the only one. The benefits are supposed to stop. It’s the job of the jail to contact MDHHS to stop the benefits. If a man/woman is getting money or EBT benefits, and they are a “money maker” their stamps are left on. While they’re in jail making money, they are collecting money and food benefits on their card. When they get home, they can sell their food stamps and get high immediately or sell them to get money on their books. In this case, Kelli isn’t just a “money maker”, she’s Superstar. Looking at her Facebook page, I know she’s a Superstar! She gets whatever she wants. I’ve said that MDHHS is 100% under the control of the OCSD. This situation proves it. You’re telling me that for five years MDHHS didn’t have to see those kids and just gave her $500 a month. I don’t mean no disrespect, but this girl is lazy. I must recertify every six months. I can’t believe she did that. She barely remembered to feed her kids. She wasn’t being monitored; she was on autopay.
Let you tell you, my story. As I said, once I found out I knew about the prostitution, they sent me to the Forensic Center and made me insane. At one point, Martha Anderson let me go, because the Prosecutor lied and didn’t have a victim for over a year. She was willing to give me a "Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity" plea. They are trying to give Kelli, that now. They have sex parties at the Forensic Center, too. I was ecstatic to go home. They starve you in jail. Food is another thing they use to get you to prostitute. That Crumbley lady got so fat in jail. I think she's a prostitute, and her son wasn't missing any meal either. Deputy Tate ushered him into the courtroom, every time. He made sure the kid stayed quiet. Tate stays in the clinic, running "the girls" They were letting that woman see her son. She talked him into taking that plea. TATE, "Head Pimp", let them talk, face-to-face. While there, I got a call from Social Security. They said I had been approved for Social Security. They said I needed a payee, I chose my mother, and we had to appear at their office. The man at the office told me if I said I pay my mother rent I would get more money. My mother said $100 was fine. So, I got a few dollars more. He had cheated me out of about $200. He felt guilty, too, because when they hadn’t paid me for the rent, I called angry, and he immediately put $600 in my checking account. Don’t let them tell you they can’t pay you instantly; they can! He did. With back-pay, he gave me all my money. From $400 to $600 and something. I never knew until I was talking to people about it. That’s just the first time I was shorted, but they tried to get me cut-off SSI several times or cut into my amount by breaking the rules.
Their best girls, usually the ones that get psychotropic medication, while in jail, get on SSI, too. Once they go to CNS and start working for the pimp,James Patton, they get SSI, too. When they go to jail, their SSI is supposed to stop, but it never does. Not only does mine stop, but they try to make me pay for the last month I was paid, before I went in jail The rule is, you have to be in jail 30-days, before your checks stop. If you go to jail anytime after the first, you are entitled to that check for that month. Not me, I had to get my check garnished. They waved it three times. Three times I went back-and-forth on my case, each time they said I was overpaid and started taking a portion of my check for restitution. I always had to fight it.
When my case ended, it ended with a “not guilty” verdict. In the SSI handbook it reads that you get all the checks you missed while in jail fighting your case. I had about $7k in back pay due to me. I didn’t get one dime of that money. One young man called me a deadbeat looking for free money. They truly act as if it’s their money, but the insults let me know there was a more sinister reason for me not getting paid. I write at least two letters a week. When I was in jail, I refused to sell myself for a hamburger, a lighter sentence or anything that had to do with my case. I didn’t do anything to be there, and I wasn’t doing anything, for nothing!
A couple of months ago, I had it with MDHHS Supervisor, Princess. While I was working and unemployment, I got $23 in EBT benefits. They stopped my unemployment in November. I notified MDHHS in December, like the 3rd. I received a notice at the end of December telling me my food benefits will increase to $30. Well, one Friday evening I got through to them on the phone. This young woman on the phone, got me straightened out. She saw there was a mistake in my file and took care of it right then. She tried to give me December, but the system wouldn’t let her. We thought we had it all straightened out. Nope, in February I got $23. I called for a hearing and got to talk to Princess. I like her, she’s strong like me, but she was wrong. She had to do my file again and got the right numbers. She folded on the idea that my stuff was all wrong. She still didn’t give me December, but I received a sizable amount of benefits. From $30-$300 is fruitful, I almost feel like a Superstar…Sike!
"Wisdom will save you also from the adulterous woman, from the wayward woman with her seductive words…" Proverbs 2:16
The Oakland County Sheriff's Department tried to kill me twice. The first time, I had a stroke after eating salty chicken wings from China Jade. They claimed my blood glucose was 536 and that had caused me to have a stroke. I had been diagnosed with diabetes in the winter of 2015. It was Christmas time, and I was so thirsty. With it being the holiday we had a lot of pop in the house. I’m thirsty, we have pop, and I used it to quench my thirst. That was a horrible choice, because it only made my “diabetes” worse. I would be put on a medication that causes diabetes in patients. Then put on another medication that causes diabetes, it’s hard to find a psychotropic medication that doesn’t have the potential to give a patient diabetes. My niece is on the same medication, and she is now diabetic. Poisoning my food and giving me a stroke and blaming it on my condition is convenient. I’m not the only one. Kim, Tammy, Debra and the kid hit on his bike on Baldwin. People die, messing with OCSD. There were several murders on Baldwin that were suspicious during these 15 years I’ve known about the corruption in the Oakland County Sheriff's Department (OCSD), including the death of Vernon a childhood friend from “The Projects”.
When I first watched the story of Monica Cannady on television, I asked myself if she could be an OCJ girl. The idea that she thought the police was trying to kill her is not lost on me. This racket is huge and the in the white cars, trucks and SUV’s are real, too. They’ve been following me for 25 years. I worked at Sears from 1998-2002. That’s the color of the cars many of the managers drove. It’s a sign that you belong to their gang of thieves that stole from the store and took it “Up North” to sell.
These people are everywhere. I don’t go to Walmart, anymore. It was easy to follow me and harass me there. Everywhere I go they are there. I have a hard time going anywhere, because they always want me to know they are there. They like to go before me and let people know I’m coming. They told my friend’s husband when ICE came to get him that it was me who turned him in and that I’m FBI. Everywhere I go, they’re there, my phone is tapped they follow me either with an apparatus in my car the GPS on my phone, they are consistent and overbearing. It’s something out of a movie. These people have a lot to lose. It’s not just prostitution, but drugs, theft and government entities. If Monica was at the edge, they could easily push her over the edge. I remember almost having a breakdown, because I had a white vehicle problem. They were everywhere. They try to make crash scenarios, speed pass you down the road, move slowly down the road and create chaos on the road in general. They love to act like they are going to run into you from a side street or when you're making a left turn. It is very scary to drive. They love to say people are crazy, and nothing they say can be looked at as true. They made sure when I left the jail that I was deemed insane. I’ve been institutionalized a total of four times due to police misconduct. That includes the time in prison. One day you take a ride to the Forensic Center, and the next thing you know, you’re legally insane. I get a check every month and I’ve earned every penny. The first thing they do is call you crazy. They have the resources to make it true. When you have a charge, and can’t bail, you are the property of OCJ. What they write about you and send to the judge is deemed true, even if it’s a bunch of lies. Whatever law enforcement says is bond. Never mind they are liars and lie all the time, and it’s legal. How can you tell someone who can do and say what they want without being questioned. They ruin my name all the time.They've ruined Monica, even her family says she was crazy. Once again crazy means "liar".
Monica’s dead, and why did she die? Somebody listened to what she had to say and concluded that she was having a breakdown. She said someone was trying to kill her. Well, she’s dead. OCSD blames it on the fact that she is Black. He called our elected official’s “ghetto”. It’s funny how White folk can think of themselves higher than Black people when they are far worse than we are. They are just better at hiding it than we can. We don't have judges and stuff to ignore the law and rule on our side, eery time.This racket has been going on for over 50 years. I’ve come to think that the Oakland County Child Killer had something to do with OCJ. The prime suspect spent time in OCJ. They love pedophiles, especially people who have sex with their children. How come Monica died and her tiny daughter lived? Why did she live and her mother died. Was there something they ate, but she didn’t. That has always bugged me. As a medic, I know that size matters. A child will freeze before an adult. Plus, the said Monica had on a coat. Did she take it off and give it to her daughter and that’s why she survived. If she was wearing it when she died, I’m not buying she froze to death, not when her 90-pound daughter lived. It just doesn’t seem feasible to me.
The second time they tried to kill me they would take their time. Let’s start by saying that the racket has a lot of “tricks” at the hospital. Doctors have so much money. I’m telling you that hospitals are “hot beds” for prostitution, and the idea that OCSD found her there is no surprise to me. They have snitches everywhere and one of them in that hospital called to tell OCSD she was there. St. Joe is now Trinity Health. I have changed doctors at least four times over the last 10 years since I discovered I had diabetes. All of them were infiltrated by OCSD and the racket. At St. Joe, I was still treated for diabetes and high blood pressure. The doctor claimed my cholesterol was being managed well. It was always my A1C and blood pressure. I was on four blood pressure medications. One of those medications is Amlodipine. The doctor who had taken over my case thus far said that it caused swelling in the legs and helped patience with heart issues. He made it clear that I didn’t have heart problems, but he was using it to get my blood pressure under control. Even changing my diet and taking my medications, it was always 10-15 points higher than the average blood pressure. I was on four blood pressure meds that were slowly killing me and giving me a heart problem. I had low blood pressure. I would be at work like I was going to pass out. When I told my doctor at Trinity Health, he asked me what medications I was on, and I couldn’t remember, he rushed me spitting, “If you can’t tell me what medication you are on, I can’t tell you if you have low blood pressure”. I pointed to the laptop he was holding and asked him, “Aren’t they in my file?” He was nasty and snipped, “No!”
I kept taking my medicine as prescribed. I was scared if I didn’t, I would be harming myself and deemed insane. It just takes a crooked judge to lock me in a mental institution for the fifth time. I was still taking my medication, going to work feeling that my heart was going to stop beating all at once. When my psychiatric nurse practitioner took me off one of my blood pressure medications. She just opened our appointment with the declaration she thought I was on too much blood pressure medication, and she was taking away half of my anxiety medication. It as the stuff I need. I was shocked, because they switched nurse practitioners when I took a stress leave from work, because of mt anxiety at the job. See, they control most stores in Oakland County and a lot of them came into the store. They lost me my job, but they didn’t want me to claim mental distress, which was exactly what I was feeling. They had CNS get rid of the beloved doctor and gave me the one I have, now. It seems that they don’t have a hold onto her as they thought. She wasn’t willing to be involved with a murder.
This is what I think would have happened. I would have gone to work one day and passed out due to the low blood pressure and an ambulance would have taken me to the hospital and I would never have made it out. The second time they tried killing my mother, she refused to go to the hospital. I begged her, she wouldn’t keep anything in. She was 81 years old and was losing weight, every day. She still just lay in the bed and waited for it to pass. They had poisoned her wine. Yep, they’ll get you with things bottled. I bought this hair care treatment, and I was using it, but it wasn’t causing my hair to grow, but making it fall out. “Pancho” wants me bald so badly. He wants my man. I think he’s still mad about John. Monica wasn’t crazy but probably being harassed for whatever reason she believed. I know I wouldn’t stop talking about what they tried to do to me and what they did to others. They’ve gotten my book off Amazon, everybody was scared to buy it, anyway. Facebook is supposed to be shutting down my pages every day. Today, they took down my Three Kids and a Racket part II blog. I can’t share and tag people in other parts of the country. If I tag my brother in California or my cousins in NYC or Atlanta, they take it down immediately. Don’t want me to go nationwide.
They broke the link to my blog on my Facebook page. Google is posted chronologically. If you Google me, my latest blog won’t appear. Stuff from 2002 and 2010 will all appear. Nothing about what I wrote about the OCSD. I have over 200 blogs. across two pages. Yaktownlaisly an Other Stuff and Wanawake. A page I created for my Marketing class at Walsh College. My slumlord, Clyde Kemp stole my diploma one day while rummaging through my stuff and gave it to “Pancho” who took it to Walsh and claimed it was fake. They told him that it was real. I have a Masters; he didn’t take that one. “Pancho” thought he had fixed my chances at a degree. My Operation teacher did flunk me unfairly, but Walsh’s secrets are greater than he is evil and diabolical. My slumlord filed for eviction, after I got in Pontiac’s escrow program. He said that my tub had overflowed and caused damage downstairs. I knew that a woman and her daughter had lived downstairs. He had came upstairs asking me about water running in my apartment, because there was a leak downstairs. I didn’t have a leak, but my tub had been drip-dropping since I moved in. In a couple of weeks, she and her daughter moved. I was coming home one night, and they were moving. He had shown me the teenaged girl as a potential lover. He presented her, after I called him “old”, after he cussed me out about the trash. He had filled all the bins, and I had met him downstairs to show him the situation. Suddenly, he walked over and knocked on their door. A young teenager opened the door, and he stretched the screen and looked back at me and put on an evil grin. I stood there and the young teenager, and I had the same look on our face, “What?”
I had never seen her before and haven’t seen her since. Clyde was calling himself telling me I was old, and he had fresh meet downstairs. This teen was barely 12 years old. I really don’t know why they moved so suddenly. He made me sign a year lease. She was there about six months. Maybe the leak was too much, maybe he came on to the teen. After he made his accusation, I needed to talk to her. She could tell the court that he was lying, and the leak had been there before July 13, 2024. Her mail was coming to my address now and I had learned her name, Fay Alexander. A Further search on Facebook and I found out she also used Cannady. I saw her at a balloon release. I kept reading and discovered she’s a relative of Monica Cannady, the woman that froze in a field in Pontiac. That teenager was the little girl who had survived that night. I was shocked. I had been messaging her family or who I thought was her family on Facebook. No one would answer me. Her family, people I’ve known for 40+ years took their message button off their Facebook page, and I blocked them. Now, it’s a guarantee I won’t ask them any more questions. I believe she is akin to the slunlord's girlfriend. I started writing her family telling them I didn't want to talk about the death of Monica, but Fay's and my slumlord, Clyde Kemp. Who has been getting help from OCSD from the beginning of our landlord tenant proceeding. proceedings. They have CPS and MDHHS on their team.
slumlord, Clyde Kemp. Still, I got no reply. I have two friends who have either recently died or had a stroke this month. The one friend and I worked at a store that she had worked at for over 20 years, and the racket has been stealing out of since it’s inception in 1988. My other friend had an aneurysm and stroke. She and I collaborated to send her low-down African husband back to Senegal. They came and got him and told him that he had to stay with my friend, because he had two other wives. He couldn’t just keep marrying women and keeping his green card and stay in America. That wrote her death warrant as soon as she left him and changed her name. If she died of natural causes, he could marry again and stay in the country. Everyone they kill die of a seizure, heart attack or stroke. Then they told him the biggest lie. He was told I’m FBI. FBI can't stand me. I write and tell them they aren't doing their job. It's been 15 years and so many deaths. My friend, not wanting him to know she was in it with me, cut me off. Claimed she was mad I told one of her best friends her African was having sex with their daughter. Yes, his daughter from his loins. They sleep with their sister’s too in Senegal. She had a 43% chance at living. She made it! Thank you, Jesus! They flew her up to Flint, they’d killed her at St. Joe or Osteopathic/McClaren. They would have finished the job. That’s what my mother knew when se got sick. The sheriff’s put Fay up with the slumlord, Clyde Kemp. They set me up with him, too. I didn’t like him at 16 and I don’t like him at 54. I worked and used that as extra money. When they took my job, I got unemployment. When I got into the escrow program that made them mad. I keep winning and they keep causing me to lose. Ain’t God good? Isn’t He the majesty we all want and need? I think Job said it best:
I hate to say tell y’all, but I told you so. Today, while I slept, Cynthia Walker (pictured above) set Kelli Bryant free. You might say, “All she did was lower her bond”. Look, the bail bondmen are in on this, too. She was probably set her free as soon as she got back to the jail. Bondsmen like sex, too. I didn’t hear of it when I was in jail being harassed and abused, but those men/women are probably working for them as sex workers. Believe me, she’s already at home. She’s to hot to stay in there. They have numerous places for her to work. That’s where she has been for the last five years. Probation is in on the game, too. She’ll leave her home to “work”. Those women in probation are worst than the men! They will get her off that life sentence, too. That will shrink to probation, watch. Cynthia Walker found a reason to throw me out of my home. I didn’t do anything to be thrown out of my home. I’ve been living in a hotel for the last two months. My apartment has no heat! That should have been enough to get a stay on the eviction and get a new trial. It’s okay, however, my landlord was a sexual deviant who worked for the pimps at the Oakland County Jail. Plus, he wanted to have sex with me for rent. So, I’m good… This is my slumlord Clyde Kemp.
The locks on my door to keep him out when I'm there and when I'm away. After I put the chain on to keep him out when I'm away, he would open the door at nught and put crazy glue in its keyhole. I had to pour hot water in the keyhole to leave, so I put the bottom lock on, so he couldn't open the door at all.
I tried to put a Personal Protection Order out on my slumlord. First the judge, Julie McDonald, refused to hear my complaint. After I refused to give up, she granted my motion to reconsider but gave it to a visiting judge. They do that when they want to do dirt. I have filed investigations on visiting judges, too, with the Judicial Tenure Commission (JTC). All you need to do is get a notary to sign the request. I wrote two today. I’m not playing and if you read of my death, I have all my evidence written in blogs, complaints and investigations. This girl is free after leaving her kids in filth and I’m homeless for not letting a serial rapist in my home. He’s never been convicted of rape, but he acts like one. He’s been coming in my apartment from the first day I moved in. Filtering through my trash, and when I refused to put it out, he came into my house and stole it while I was sleeping. I left a copy of the PPO I had filed and put it in with my file at the court. So, either they read it and ignored it, or the clerks took it out of my file, because they do favors for the OCSD. I also put the complaint in my file I made with Fair Housing of Metro-Detroit. They’re another kind of whore at 50th District Court. It told why I didn’t want my landlord in my apartment. If they took it out my file was completely empty at one point. It’s still the Chief Judge’s problem. I filed a complaint with the Court Administrator. His name is The woman who works the cash office was surely one of “the girls”. She is stealing all our money. Yep, the chick with Auburn hair. This is Steve Tomkowiak. He came into Pontiac telling the citizens of Pontiac how great the escrow program is, now he won't return my calls.
I told my man that I wanted to go to jail. I’d have to have a bunky, because I have diabetes. I wouldn’t get to have my own cell to myself. She’s not there anymore. My man doesn’t want me there. He says I’m too old now. They don’t want me there, anyway. I will write more in there, than I do out here, Their money. They are working on their summer money now. Some of them might have kids wanting to go on Spring Break. I know Beane had girls in college, and he had bought them cars and paid for their car insurance. Kids in private school, soccer, football and the house “Up North”, boats, catamarans and jet skis. These men/women live well. It’s not just drugs, but a lavish lifestyle. I know Kelli Bryant is not just “going home”. The are showing me she still has hair, but that hair could be fake. Look at that picture of her at her arraignment. She was practically bald. It was dark, but you can see. That hair was cut like nobody cared. I told you they have women in there who can do wonders. I want to see her April 15th.
I don’t know what they will do, but whatever happens, it will be exactly what the sheriff’s deputies want to happen. Just like they punished me, having me to lose my job and my home. All punishment for not prostituting and refusing to stop talking about it. I’m messing up the Auburn Hills Police money at this hotel. It got quiet around here. It didn’t help that I sat my book outside my door. They were doing what the “Brides of OCJ” tried, harass me into becoming a sex worker. First, I bought a baseball bat. Then I thought setting my book outside my door was more assertive than beating someone with a baseball bat. I’m getting better…
Tell me she ain't bald. That's weave she got in her hair now.
