How it Works

You can't win with these people. It all started with Pancho not wanting to be found out for being a woman beater. He went to the Captain for help. A female that was the most corrupt, and like many of the people involved in this liked the same sex. They came up with the idea that I was a stalker. I was arrested numerous times on that case and in 2004, December 17, to be exact I went to prison. It was really hard on me. The longest I had spent in jail was two weeks. Now, they have put me in too deep. I didn't sit around and cry all day, however, I had anger issues and beat the heck out bunkies that wanted me to "cooperate". Pancho in the Captain, each had their own reasons to turn me out, but I had my own reason not to be. I'm not gay! No matter what you say or do to me, it will never change that fact. So, I took all the games and tricks played on me. When I got tired, I just went upside their head with my fist. I did some kicking and some hair pulling, too. It was a nuisance to the officers, because they kept putting in a room with the biggest dykes on the yard, and it always ended the same; a fight and segregation. I think I moved 18 times, before they decided I wasn't going to give in. I went to live in the RTP unit. That's where all the crazy people live. That's also where I became bi-polar and schizophrenic. It was hard at first. I had to go to Acute first. They lock you in your room at ten o'clock and you can't get out to use the bathroom. The woman, too insan to go to the step-down unit, RTP, steal from you. I lost lotion. deodorant and soap. Billingsley, the "master" theif, would pretend to bump into the cart, and spill all of our toiletries on the floor. When she went to pick them up, she always had more stuff in her box than she did before she bumped into the cart. Don't try and get your stuff back, she could yell as loud as any of us. There was only one person who could get her stuff back, Nadine. She was six feet tall. with red hair and freckles and weighed at least 300 pounds. She made the officers flinch. She was my friend, because I shared my food. You learn quickly how to make people like Nadine happy. We had to keep our toiletries on a cart, because the women in the Acute unit might eat them. It was a horrible rule. That rules left me with some disturbing memories. not just Billingsley hollering when she got caught stealing, and people trying to get their soap back. Another woman, when she thought no one was looking, would stick another person's deodorant under her shirt and smear it under her arms. It was nuts, and I was on so many drugs, I couldn't fight. I woul just call my mother and ask for a little more money. Billingsley didn't have anyone to call. We had our own rooms, though. We couldn't keep our snacks either, pretty much for the same reasons. We could eat all of our snacks and not have any. That could cause more trouble than it's worth, too.

I arrived at Acute in September, 2005, I left in May of 2006. I got on a van back to RTP. I was so relieved, because that situation in Acute was stressful. I peed my pants twice trying to get the officer to open my door at night. Everyone told me that this unit would be better. I still had my own room, I was so happy, no bunky! I could keep my food in my room. I had my toiletries in my room, and I could leave my room in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. My medications were changed and I had gained 50 pounds. I was told to go outside and take a walk and take the skin off my chicken. I was funny to me, how they never tell us what the medecine does to you. They just tell you to take it. While at Acute, I got caught "cheeking" my pill. I was taken aside by our Jamaican nurse who told me in her broken English, "You can either take the medicine, or not take it and back out there!" She pointed out the window to the place I had left, general population. After that evening, I took my medication evert day. It was a jungle out there! I guess those are the things Pancho needed me to experience to make me a weak person, who uses drugs, because they hate the are. I have to say for all of my troubles there were always long periods of peace. In RTP, I met some of the most interesting women. They were all my friends. In our portion of RTP we got along. Our biggest issue was rather or not to watch "Friday Night Lights". We built the kind of comradery I was happy. As happy as someone could be who was locked up for something she didn't do. Even when I got kicked out of my Assaultive Offenders group. A group I needed to get my parole, because I wasn't going to admit I had done anything to anyone. A woman cried to me, that she wasn't supposed to be "here" either. I tried to explain that I was only supposed to serve 90-days max, and received 18-months to 5-years. That's what I mean by "I'm not supposed to be here." I should have stopped there, but my common sense got the best of me. I laid my hand to my chest and continued, "You killed somebody! How do you think you're not supposed to be here? This is where you go when you kill someone!" I threw my hands in thr air and finish it, "I wrote a man seven letters over seven months, I've never been in his house, on his property, had sex with him or boiled his bunny!" That sent her into hysterics. That's when this old-head stood up and gave the greatest performance of her life. She raised her hands, lowered her hands and spoke directly to me. "Noy everyone that's been to prison deserves to be thrown away. She went on about her friend and her accomplishment, since leaving prison. People nodded in agreement, and I just sat there with my mouth open. I didn't know where it was all coming from. I had not mentioned anything about ex-cons. I was truly out done. The next day I was called into the facilitators office and told I was not allowed back to the group. She said my attitude made people uncomfortable, and allowing me to stay would disrupt the group. I went back to the unit and told the women I lived with and the lifted me up. They were all such good friends. The nrxt year, I got my parole decision. My psychologist had it. I didn't have see "The Boars" Without completing that class, I didn't qualify for parole. I was denied. until the next year. I wasn't upset, I didn't cry, because I had my girls. I love thoe women, today.

I got home, November 25, 2008. After spending four years in prison. I came home different. I was 60 pounds heavier than I had been, with a bag of drugs that made sure I stayed that way, until one day I was cooking in the kitchen with my mother. She stopped what she was doing, turned and looked at me and said, "Who are you?" After that day, I never took those pills again. Later, I would be forced to take medication, again, but at this point, I was done. I was on parole at the time, and one of my conditions was to take this medicine. I lost track of all the times I needed to get refills. The woman at CNS had to call me to make sure I had my pills. By the summer, she had given up and called me into her office. She sat me down and asked me, "you're not taking the medication, are you? I knew I hadn't called her for MEDS in months. I just replied with the truth, "No". She looked at my case manager and the agreed that they both knew. The weren't going to tell my parole officer and I just needed to stay out of trouble. That was easier said than done. I finished parole, but not after getting into a fight with my sister and spending three months in prison. When I got out I maxed out on parole. I go to stop wearing the GPS tether that is mandatory for all those convicted of stalking. Some newscater or something was being harSo much shame from doing nothing to no one. It was the best part of going back to prison. I didn't have to wear that clunky, heavy and intrusive tether on my ankle. I was finally free! Except, Panch felt that it wasn't enough. I wasn't gay. I wasn't so damaged that I turned to drugs. He still kept trying to ruin my life. He tried to make people feel that I was a low-form of human life. In other words everything he is. I went back to school, and found out that I already had a degree, and needed three more classes to get another. I finished those classes in 2010. I graduated with honor's in both degrees. I was excited when I applied to Oakland University and was accepted. By the time it was time for me to move into the apartment on campus, Panch had struck, again. Somehow, my reservation was taken and I could not live on campus. Glenn McIntosh, Dean of Students, told me that he could take it all back. The campus housing and my admission to the school. I gave up after our fourth meeting. I was told that my mental state had him change his mind about my housing, and that the police on campus didn't like me, because my crime was against a fellow law enforcement agent. I asked him in all of our meetings, where did he get all this information. Finally, he lied and said my mother and sister told him. My sister, maybe. My mother, never! I was having problems with them both, I will admit. It was that sister I bet up to go back to prison. My sister is dead now. She was morbidly obese and had health issues. The perfect storm for the perfect murder. I know she knew too much, and I also she was two-faced. We weren't getting along when she died, or hardly ever, I miss my sister dearly.

After being tired of trying to find a parking spot, I challenged McIntosh for denying me housing due to my mental illness. that's illgal and violates my Civil Rights. When I went in to have a meeting with he Diversity and Inclusion dean, I was humiliated. I was called out of Spanish class one afternoon. I was marched through the grounds with a police escort. I was told by McIntosh that I would have to get a mental evaluation by a University Psychologist. I spoke to this man four awhile, and all I talked about was Pancho. How he was trying to stop me from telling people in law enforcement about how he beat her back to Detroit. How he was the lead detective in my stalking case and how he was still bothering me and was more than likely the reason Dean McIntosh is targeting me and marching me around campus with a police escort. Then I asked him. "Am I crazy?" He said to give him time to over it all and he'd give the information to the dean. I left and went home. I thought that all went well. I did do most of the talking, but he did want to know about me, and I had a lot to say. The next day, he called me to his office to tell me I was suspended, and the only way I could get back into school was to have a complete forensic mental exam. I had no idea how I was going to do that. I had one when I was being railroaded by Colleen O'Brien and Oakland County judicial system. How I would get one noe was beyond my scope of understanding. I went home and forgot about Oakland University forever. Pancho always wanted to attend OU. He would lie to Patricia about going to the library to study for the civil service exam to be a cop. What he was really doing was going out with other women. Again, he's not worthy, and how dare I be worthy. He has an unrealistic idea of what his standing is in society. I know who I am and remain humble. It was in that year that the Facebook Murder occured in Pontiac. Pancho followed behind a woman chasing another down the streets of Pontiac. One young woman was killed. One is mamed for life. The instigator Tori Emery got 25 years in prison. I begged her to have a jury trial. She was only guilty of manslaulter, involuntary manslaughter. The young woman, God rest her soul, entered the intersection on her own. Panch tried to lie and say she pushed them into the intersection. He followed behind them with no lights, no sirens, he didn't even honk his horn to get their attention. I'm sure Emery would have stopped knowing the police were behind her, and the young woman she was chasing would have calmed down and made better choices. Instead, he allowed the chase to continue. While at a red lightm Emery could leave her car and come to theirs. The young woman, frightened, took a chance and tried to beat traffic. Sadly, she didn't make and was hit by an ice truck. How does this happen with a cop two cars behind you? Again, no lights and no sirens.I believe it was staged. Pancho set the entire thing up to appear to be a hero. I had reached out to my City Council person not a week before. I told her about his history of beating women. Patricia wasn't the first, and how he sent me to prison we he wasn't even supposed to be on my case. Although he was never home, I was close to his kids and Patricia told me all about him.

Pancho has a long history of trying to ruin women's lives. All because he hates his mother. I feel sorry for all three of those wome, because they are all victims of Pancho's narcissistic ways. I'm a victim, too, but I got people. I'm strong. I don't believe that he is powerful. He got 'em all fooled in the streets, but not me. Since being demoted from investigator to a deputy, he's out on the street trying to turn as many young women out into prostitution that he can , to try and make as much money as he can. These young women are manipulated into thinking the are some kind of superstars. When really all they are is drug addicts who sell their bodies for money. They've never had love or attention at home. They need someone to guide them into who they can be. Sadly, like Little Red Riding Hood, they meet the wolf along the way. Some of these women hate me. I don't know what he says to them, but the hate me, but that's all they know from life. These are the women he looks for. Some of these young women are happy I'm alive. They know they could die if they tell me anything or talk to me. They are so tired. I could cry about the looks they give me. They have no idea how to get out, hell, they don't know how they got in it. They want me to save them, but I don't have that power. In obedience, I must wait, and they have to wait. I know you think that I could just call and tell somebody, and get some help. I have done that a whole bunch of times. I wrote this same story in blogs 11-years ago. There is no use, the "blue wall" has come up on Pancho. He's protected by his fello cops. Plus, he knows their secrets. When I went to tell the Chief of Police about him, I went to jail for stalking him. I don't know if the were trying to lock me up, again. Make me a dyke or make me a prostitute. What I did, no matter what their intentions was survive. In 2021, I wrote a book all about my experiences in jail. It's titled "JELL: A true story". It was on Amazon, but people were afraid to buy it. They have ways to know who is buying it. Nobody wants to change places with me. I'm just biding my time. Somethings got to give...

Traveling to the Beat of my own Drum

I never really cared. I was different. I still had friends. They loved me. We hung out and had fun. There no big hiccups, until 1991. Oh, I met Patricia in 1991. Pancho's baby-mama in 1991, but I also started sleepin with a man I knew for years. Ironically, and you can't make this stuff up, his sister was a seargent with the Pontiac Police Department. Their family had a home on the Southside where he lived with his brother. One night, we were all hanging out. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating popcorn and drinking a beer, and his brother was outside pacing the patio. Ocassionally, he would glance in my direction with a desperate look on his face. When I didn't return his desperate glance, he continued his pacing. I continued chomping on my snack. His brother, my partner, stood at the sink watching dishes and laughing at his brother. He knew my secret. When he finished cleaning the kitchen, and I had finished my meal, he motioned for me to come with him to the basement and we left the kitchen. A few weeks went by and by this time, his brother had found out my secret. I did not use drugs. All that pacing and those looks were impatience. He wanted to know when were we going to start getting high, because he was ready. After that, his brother didn't want me around. Once my partner pulled up in their work truck and she told me that it wasn't him. I saw his silouhette it was him, but she wanted me gone. She wasn't about to let me ruin their night of partying. I got in the car with my friend, and we took off. Closer to the end of summer, when the romance was dying down, I was there. The brother knocked at the door to his room. There had been a phone call from a neighbor and the brother's truck was being repossessed. I heard the diesal motor and the chains clinking, but I dared not to go to the window to take a peek. Now, he's at the door, asking to use his SUV for a job. It's what he said when asking for the vehicle that changed the course of my life to this point. He said, "I'm going to go get the $2,500 from Boo later on." I thought to myself, "Boo, the drug dealer, Boo?" I thought, "What is a police seargents brother doing going to get money from a drug dealer?" Then, I found out his girlfriend is the drug dealers first-cousin. Interesting to say the least. This hit me like a ton of bricks. I just lay there and became stiff. My partner obviously felt my exhilaration and stopped his brother, before he told anymore family secrets and asked him if he wanter to use his automobile. He replied, "Yes." My partner also lay there, and you could feel the tension in the room. We never spoke on it. More time passed and our relation became strained. The summer days were coming to an end. He didn't get his dream job, and I got a job. I didn't see him much and he eventually got a job. When it got bad it got bad. Since he was never home, I would call and ask him where he had been. One day he said he was busy or something and he couldn't talk. We hung up, and I got in my car and rode passed his house to see why he was busy. His mother's car was in the driveway. I knew, she was laying down the law, because his brother and his girlftiend were out for a walk in the darkness. As I was slowly creeping passed the house, I saw them and the saw me. The brother looked at me with a shock and curious glare, and that's how I became a stalker. I
did other little things as the weeks went on, but I found out I was pregnant. I was youn and felt entitled to make him miserable. He had moved on from me was sleeping with the biggest tart in Pontiac, plus he was having sex with a young woman I hung out with every Thursday, and who had slept with two of the three men I had been with.

But all of that was after the chance meeting with his brother in the dark. Before, I had even gotten pregnant, all of his indiscretions were discover. In bestween the "situations", my sister from Detroit and I got into an argument and she scream at me, "That's why you stalking..." I looked at her like she was crazy and shouted, "What?" To tell the truth, I really didn't know what that word really meant in legal terms, but I knew it was something I wasn't doing, because I was with him, just not as much as I wanted to be. He had never told me I was bothering him at that time. All the bad stuff came later on. That was the first time I knew I was a problem. We talked when we could, and he was still following me to the club or he would be at the club. After a while, he was having sex with the girl I was hanging with and he could be coming to see her. I don't She gotknow, but it never got that serious for me. It was Autumn, now. I was a few weeks pregnant and didn't even know. What I did know was his brother was going to get money from a drug dealer. His girlfriend is his first cousin and I'm not addicted. Furthermore, his sister, the seargeant was on patrol the night my cousin's husband was murdered on Bagley School's playground. I had to be something. So, to them, a stalker was ideal. I miscarried, due to a genetic problem with my blood type, and went into a depression that lasted a long time. That was 1991. My cousin came and saved me in 1994. She did my nails, my friend braided my hair and I was back. I was 60 pound heavier, but I was back. I was, however, back on their radar. I went to work at Sears at Summit Place Mall. That's when I found out about the theft ring. My partner didn't come in there, but his brother was in there all the time. His girlfriend was now his wife, and he was signing his name for the replacement employee discount card, and he didn't even work there, at least he wasn't coming to work regularly. I never saw him. I just work happy to be amongst the living. My "victim", Steve came to see me a few times while I was working there. We would stand a talk awhile. I would never steal, because I felt stealing was the reason that I was depressed and held up in the house all them years. I thought God was angry with me and had punished me for all I had stolen. That had me into it with most of the employees, because they were in an organized theft ring that had been going on for years. They would steal large amount of everything, clothes, tools, treadmills, appliances, lawn mowers, tracker, you name it, they stole it. A woman that worked in small appliances, husband bought a Sears franchise, "Up North", and they sold the stuff up there. They made multiple sign that they took up there to put on the merchandis. We got a new manager and when she had to make signs for the week she got so stressed, because the program woul make so many. The same was true with the music section. The lady would think she had everything placed properly on the tape wall and two days later, she would get fore boxes of tapes. She asked me why the manager ordered so many. I didn;t know, because I wasn't stealing. Ichool t involved some of Pontiac's important people. There was the Pontiac Police, Fire Fighters, School Board members, Preachers and the most popular people in the city. It included mothers, wives, daughters, confidential informants, there kids and others.

I left there around 1995. I worked I went to Concord, you know, it became Rite-Aid, that closed all of it's Miichigan stores.They were supplying the barbers in Pontiac with all their barber supplies and the Night Riders with all their alcohol. I would talk to the owner of Concord and he asked me why was the back door always open. I told him that's how the people got the stuff they were stealing. They took it out the back door. He said the security company called him every night to tell him the back door was ajar. I did a little dirt there. Then I went to HQ. I sat where Costco is now. The same cast of characters came in there that were in Sears. Same things went on, but now they are building entire houses. Refurbishing kitchens and laying floors, building play sets for kids and getting rich in the process. Do you know what it takes to build a house? A lot... You ain't paying the store, your paying the manager who runs that department. I was watching Brandi, today on Facebook. I posted that she got involved with "The Illuminati" or whatever it is, when she caught that vehicular homicide case. I believe that, because one morning I was on my way to work at HQ, and pulled out on Telegraph to make a left-hand turn and this man hit me. My face hit the windshield and I was passed out for a moment. I woke up, and there was an older man rushing towards me to get in my car. he yelled, "You passed out! Get back in the car!!!" The man who hit me was walking towards me holding his wrist. He was a professional. He hit people for a living. He sued my insurance company for his wrist injury. That's how I know. The police came immediately. A young officer, offered to take me home. I went my car no longer worked. I called he insurance company later on. and got this real snooty lady with an attitude. She told me that anytime you come out in traffick like that you are wrong. I was upset, because I had cleared all three lanes. He hit me in the left hand turning lane. She said that was fine, because when I pulled out in traffic he is allowed to do whatever needed to avoid hitting me. I was like, "Including hitting me? He swerved into me, not away from me!" She was so nasy, I just hung up. I know now they can let the phone ring as many time as they want to get you to the operator they want you to talk to. That accident is the reason I believe Brandi was set-up. She's not the only celebrity that been in that kind of accident. Kaitlyn Jenner, Bruce Jenner, also was in an accident where someone died. You know how the Kardashian's feel about him/her. You know how Kim is down with Diddy. The racket in Pontiac fashion themselves after Diddy. Or whoever is running the racket that is Hollywood. I could have lost my job. I wasn't stealing at HQ, either. They needed to have a few days without me so they could make some major moves. A friend offered to take me to work a couple of days, until I bought a car. He's now a drug dealin PhD. He claims to be uplift our people for the better good. He doesn't talk to me anymore. Guess who was a fixture at HQ. Yep, the brother of my partner that first called me a stalker. This time, however, my partner was coming in, too. I went to work for Girl Scout, found out they pimp little girls for Girl Scout cookie money. Turned her in, lost my job. The police helped her put me in jail, when she didn't want me to throw a party for the girls at Jefferson. only this time it was a Pontiac Cab that hit me. Watch out for them cabs, they don't drive old police cars for nothing.

I did temp work for awhile after Girl Scouts. I have a whole blog on Adrian Burn on my Yaktownlaisly blog. She was something else came into Pontiac and fit right in. It was the Walter Moore Days in 1997-98. The rules were easy, "Get what you can while you can get it". She tried it with me. I laugh when I think of her. She was the worst kind of addict. She used our kids and the City of pontiac was all for it. I got out of that. too. Then came the roughest years. My brother was indicted September 15, 1998. They came and got him from his house that morning. He spent a year in jail, and I went back to work at Sears that November. Judge Mester let him go. Gorcyca the Prosecutor at the time, appealed the dismissal to a higher court. Now, it's 2001. It took a couple of years to get the decision. In the mean time, I decide to call Steve. Like I said in the first blog, I didn't know the PPD had taken over the Feds wires on our phone. All the discovery in my brother case was the FBI's. The Pontiac Police hadn't done any investigation his indictment. It was all FBI. Let me tell you, the Feds investigate. They had my brother at 17 years old standing on the street selling drugs. They went waaaay back. Had pictures of me that I don't remember the clothes I was wearing. They get the job done! They kept listening, not because they were investigating they wanted to know what my brother was doing. Who he was talking to, and if he was going to snitch them out. They are still listening, but I've done so much. The Feds wanted to know how those seven men could run drugs in the city so long. We all knew. We knew them by name. To me the Feds were acting ignorant. There ain't nothing they don't know. Steve and I were found out quick. Even if we had never done anything. We talked maybe twice. The first time on 9-11, 20 minutes before the first tower fell or after. I really don't remeber. When Pancho found out, he was livid. I guess he went to my partners sister, who is implicated in a murder, and who is truly helping my brother and his friends deal drugs in the city. Pancho and the sister decide that they would end Steve's and my relationship by making him say I'm a stalker. How could they do this you ask? Steve had just been promoted. He had a sick mother and Pancho and the sister would make it seem like he was the one helping my brother and his friends sell their drugs. He had talked to me twice on the phone. Sure we've known one another 22 years, but I was nothing to him. After the way they railroaded me, I believe they would have put him in prison. Prison is no place for a cop. The letters I had written him were harmless. They made them semm like the Screw Tape Letters, letters from the devil to his apprentices. I've haven't had many lovers, but I will drag every one of them to court to prove that I never, ever did anything to them. Believe me, Pancho has looked for every one of them got people to talk to them or he talked to them himself, because a few of them are his "kind". I'm smart...I is beautiful. I have all the confidence in the world. I don't need to stalk a man. All my men still love me! Not one of them are scared of me or got a creepy story to tell. Not even my partner in this story, because he never saw me. His sorry brother did. If he was so afraid of his mother and would have stayed in the house, he wouldn't have caught me sneaking pass. Yet, I had to sit there time and time and listen to them scandalize my name. I guess it was my punishment for not sleeping with more men that wanted me. That surely includes several Pontiac Police officers, male and female.

I care now. There has been 23 years since I called Steve. I've never felt so strong. Some people, like Pancho and his Pontiac Police friends aren't happy with themselves. I have finished college. I have a master's in business administration. They have my landlord coming in my house. He stole my diploma from Walsh College.Pancho don't believe it's real. He always thought he was smart, smarter than Patricia. She had a thick Spanish accent. She was not dumb. In order to get a master's you have to have a bachelor's. He's so crooked he thought there might be a way I could get a diploma without getting a diploma. I can't go anywhere without these people following. I can't drive down the street. I meet people that end up just fishing for information. I was so tired of it all, I started using curbside and delivery, but they are so corrupt, they mess that up, too. That's why Pancho don't believe I have my degree. They did so much to disrupt my education it was just pathetic. I just push through. I've written three books. One about prison, we'll talk about that in another blog. One for the man I love, and JELL: Atrue story. That used to be on Amazon.It's just a struggle everyday to just live. I heard that when the devil leaves you alone that means he got you. Why bother someone whose doing your will. For 23 years, I could see it. Sadly, I think it's been going on for years. Since high school, I been targeted. I never gave in. I was watching Freddy P, from Fiddy's "Making the Band". He says Diddy has ruined his career. His life is just being disrupted by the things Diddy does to him. He had gotten so fed up that he was considering suicide. I can understand his plight, but I haven't considered suicide, but I know what it's like to have people constantly preying on you. They intefere with my medical. I've been to at least five different doctors in the last two years. I'm supposed to be diabetic with high blood pressure. These "men" are so jealous of me my doctors, all of them tell me I'm at least 60 pounds heavier than I am. I was taking four different blood pressure medication that gave me low-blood pressure and could cause a heart attack. These doctors in Pontiac, customers of the OCSD, will kill you. They have nurses and even janitors that do their dirty work in the hospitals. I had four grown men stand in the hallway of St. Joe (Trinity Health) and stare me down. Jusy try to put the fear of God in me, and they were pulling trash. I know what Freddy P is talking about, the racket and their white cars. When I say Osteopathic, I mean McClaren. It's not just Pancho, he has freinds. Lots of them at the racist and sexist OCSD. They are a gang of queers. My landlord, who admitted to his bi-sexuality, claims he has to search my apartment and go through my trash. He says, it's all due to the loyalty he has to "the boys". So, he's one of them, they're a gang; like Diddy. It's a consortium like Katt says. The use sex and drugs to run the city, and they are so mad about me. I don't stay out of their way, but I don't do what they do. I'm always messing things up. Let me tell you, God is good! He has kept me through it all. Without Him. I'm old now, and I'm tired, but I will never give up. I just pray that those in charge move a little bit faster. I got to get up early in the morning and see about this Personal Protection Order on my landlord. I bought a Ring camera, but they help him get around that. I bought a chain with a key and... Well, you know. Remember, what Diddy said, "I thought I told you that we won't stop...I thought I told you that we won't stop!" Guess what???

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Death to all That Knows and Speaks Aloud

I wrote the other day, "I would be dead, if I used drugs." My advesaries took it as fear, but I'm not afraid. Well, not at that moment was I in fear. I had just watched a You.Tube video on Craig Mack. I had forgot who Craig Mack was. So, I went to the internet to find out who he used to be. I heard his number one jam, "Flava in Yo Ear", or whatever and I remembered. He was only 47 years old. He had the first number one hit for Bad Boy Records that Puff Daddy had started. We know where he is today. The Feds raided his homes in LA and Miami looking for evidence of sex trafficking. All of you that have been following me over the past 11 years know my involvement with a prostitution ring at the Oakland County Jail, (OCJ). I was arrested several times for stalking the police, namely Steve and Val. The first time I was arrested was October 2002. That was 22 yeats ago. Do you know that I fight the police to this day. It is continuous. Some have retired, some have quit and some of them are dead. One thing that is true. I am a mortal enemy of the Pontiac Police, now the Oakland County Sheriff's Department, (OCSD). There are many women who were in my position in the OCJ. Many have died, had strokes and aneurysms. I had a stroke in 2020. I also contracted diabetes from the psychotrophic medication I was forced to take for my "mental illness". I am bi-polar and schizophrenic. Since I was a teenager, otherwise sane people called me crazy because I didn't use drugs or have sex. I still don't use drugs or have sex, homosexual kind or the normal stuff. So, I'm still nuts! It wasn't until I almost got into a relationship with Steve did I become certifiable. I knew that a member of the Pontiac Police had beat the mother of his twins black and blue, until she finally left him. She left me, too, and came to me to show me the product of the last beating. To top it off, one day while alone at her sister's, he was ready to beat her, again. In order to divert the beating she called out, "I showed Lesley!" I asked her, "What you do that for? Now he's going to come for me!" On September 11, 2001, I picked up my phone for the third time and called the Pontiac Police Department, but this time sadly I reached then Detective Steve Wittebort. My brother, who has done 19 year in the Michigan Department of Corrections, had been indicted for the first time and was awaiting a judgement from a higher court on a drug case. The Feds had our phone wired, and the Pontiac Police were now listening in. The woman beater, Paul "Pancho", found out that I was talking on the phone with Steve. For this post, we will call Steve, "Steve", and Paul, "Pancho". It seems that most people know Paul as Pancho on the street. That's the name his grandmother, "Rea", gave him many years ago. It seems that's what he goes by on the streets of Pontiac. Since I have lived this long, I hope my friend Patricia has not been unalived, nor her sister or her niece. We are the only ones who knows the kind of monster Pancho was to Patricia. While living in Pontiac, I was the only person she really knew. I had introduced her to my friends. but she didn't confide in them like she did me. After she left and went back to Detroit, she became discouraged and depressed. She gave the twins she had with Pancho, and kept her son from a previous relationship. I begged her not to do it, but she felt he would give them a better life. She had lied to the Pontiac Police and told him that Pancho was a great father, provider and boyfriend. She told me that his family thought she was trash and would ruin his career as a cop, and going after him for child support was just another way she would, "Ruin Pancho's life". They acted as if she was the worst thing that ever happened in his life. I told her to care less about what they felt or what he told them about her. She slept on the floor with those twins to make sure he got a good night's sleep. He was never home, she got food stamps to supplement his income, and now he tries to stop me from getting food stamp benefits, when he ate off them for five years. After beating her back to Detroit, he got her for child support, and when she got behind, every time she came into Pontiac city limits he had her arrested. So, she didn't get to spend anytime with her "boys" when they were growing up. When he was the absentee father, living in the house with them and not providing for them at all. One of the boys got a diaper rash so bad he couldn't wear a diaper. He would come home angry, because Patricia hadn't change their diaper. In reality, she couldn't change their diaper. because she didn't have any to change them into. He told the world she was an awful mother. Truth is, he was the worst kind of man to her and the kids. That's why he's a monster. Not to mention the things he's done to me for knowing all of this. They got Diddy, but what are they going to do with Pancho? He's a dirty and corrupt cop. He was demoted as an Investigator with the OCSD. He now patrol the streets. He makes friends with women that he can relates to, and all I can say is I know what Jaguar Wright is feeling. You know these men are bad men. I found out that the OCSD was running a prostitution ring out of the jail's clinic. I'm thinking the whole goal since 2002 was to get me into the jail to make me a prostitute. It's been going on long before I was arrested. Even before the stealing ring at Sears, the White cars and Flea Markets "Up North". These people Kill people who know too much. They kill people for insurance money. They kill people; period. That's why I say that if I was on drugs, the contaminate your drug of choice. If I drank in public or private, my mother don't drink outside our home she was poisoned. But I don't drink period, or if I chose a man other than the one I'm with I would be dead! Pancho would kill me, alone. In his attempt to silence me, he has exposed me to several other groups that want me dead. Those women that I wrote about in my book, "Jell". I don't talk. They would be unalived just like other women who have "situations" with OCSD. Some of the women who are dead I had direct conversation with or who were in jail with me. I know these men are killers. I watch those stories on You.Tube and cringe. The music industry is so small, and the Hip-Hop scene is even smaller. Just like Pontiac. How do these people die that are all connected to the same person or people in the industry? How do all these people in Pontiac die who are connected to the Pontiac Police and now OCSD"? I have friends I can't talk to. I have people who have came to the other side, but still have to do what they do. Deal drugs, have sex with the same sex. Claim to be dead, to keep the idea that they have snitched and have gone rouge. Jaguar Wright is right! Diddy was arrested on my birthday, September 17. I pray that was the Feds telling me they haven't forgot about me. Because these monsters in Pontiac have gotten away with it for far too long. They have "Freak Offs" in the OCJ. The men and women being sold in the jail, Wayne County, too! People being murdered for what they know. They have some drugs out there that will get you hooked the first time you try it. They have drugs out there that will give you kidney failure and have you on diaysis and dead in less than a year. Drugs that will give you cancers, strokes and liver disease and heart attacks. Not only that, but like Kim Porter said, "If they can get to your food they got you". I ate at China Jade, my food was so salty. Then, I had a stroke. China Jade is on Door Dash, and the women who deliver for Door Dash don't just deliver egg foo young, they also are serving up S.E.X. Not to mention the hospitals in Pontiac, St. Joe, now Trinity Health, Osteopathic and General are involved with their mess and will kill people on demand. The Fire Department and local ambulance services, too. People wonder how Jaguar Wright knows so much. How do I know so much? When your moving in the same circles you know what's going on in your circle. I was in the car with a women whose mother had me, and my then bestfriend, pick up from work. She was just talking about everything and everybody. She told us a story about her friend that was disappointed with this real good looking guy in Pontiac. I heard about him from my sisters who are older. She said her friend was so upset, because he had picked her up at a club. She thought she had hit it big. He was so fine and she was about to get, well you know... She told her friend that his penis was so small that it felt like he was dry humping her. Why the following summer I started dating his brother and had the exact same experience. You can't make this stuff up. Jaguar has to keep talking until it all comes true. Diddy, Jay-Z. Beyonce, Clive Davis and the rest. Look. Prince died, Michael Jackson died Whitney Houston died. The biggest Black stars of our time. The industry is too small for that!I'm going to keep writing, until those indictments come down! I know too much!