I want to relate to you something that happened over the weekend. I was walking to Taco Bell to get food for Nicolle and myself. Now, this is a rough part of town, and there are alot of homeless people. As it goes with the homeless, some are genuine people who have had a hard time, and some are genuinely evil people out to take advantage of others. One guy I've heard of around here who begs for money on the corner actually lives in a giant house and from what I've heard has significant control of some of the local gang activity.
On my way to get food, I past a homeless couple that I have seen on more than one occasion. I know these two from when they took advantage of a couple of other friends of mine who used to live here, and who I have written about in this blog, Ed and Cliff. I get a very bad vibe from them. I don't claim to know exactly what they're involved in, but I assure you it isn't good.
What was weird was that the two were accompanied by two other known drug people, which caught my attention specifically because the couple is usually by themselves. They were hogging the sidewalk, and I had to cut through the grass to avoid them. As I passed the four of them, I thought, "Man are they really going the wrong way. Both literally, and figuratively.". I also thought something to the effect of, "The wages of sin is death." After that, I forgot about them and went on about my business.
Also, earlier the same day, Nicolle and I had caught up on our daily devotionals. We had missed two of them, so we read them all at once along with the associated scriptures. The first of them referenced 1 Kings 3:12 - "Indeed I give you a wise and discerning mind." That verse in particular had been on my mind since we read it.
The next morning, I awoke and got on line, as usual. The first headline I saw was a post by a local news station:
"Wrong way collision kills four in Wise County overnight..."
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Chocolate Milk
About a week or so ago Nicolle requested breakfast from the Shell by where we live. She also requested I get her a chocolate milk.
Teasing her, I said "the Shell is out of chocolate milk. Not just that, they're out of all milk all together." I was joking, of course. Who runs out of milk?
I went to the Shell to get her breakfast (which is pretty good, actually). Then I went over to get her milk.
There wasn't any. No chocolate, no white milk. I looked more closely.
There, turned on its side, was one remaining chocolate milk.
It was Promised Land chocolate milk.
It was out of date and had been left behind, apparently. So they gave it to me for free.
Teasing her, I said "the Shell is out of chocolate milk. Not just that, they're out of all milk all together." I was joking, of course. Who runs out of milk?
I went to the Shell to get her breakfast (which is pretty good, actually). Then I went over to get her milk.
There wasn't any. No chocolate, no white milk. I looked more closely.
There, turned on its side, was one remaining chocolate milk.
It was Promised Land chocolate milk.
It was out of date and had been left behind, apparently. So they gave it to me for free.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Full Moon Enchanted Evening
One night a few weeks ago, Nicolle and I ordered Chinese food. Our two fortune cookies that night read:
"You will bring sunshine into someone's life."
and
"Next full moon will be an enchanting evening."
Well, Sunshine is my daughter's name. Tonight is the next full moon. That said, let me tell you the story of my evening.
Nicolle had a doctor's appointment today, and as usual we went via ParaTransit. The driver on the ride home was friendly, and after I got Nicolle situated here in the room he offered me a ride back up to Parkland to fill her prescriptions. This was a nice thing to do.. they're really not supposed to do that. But I accepted.
When I got to Parkland pharmacy I pulled a ticket to wait in line. The number was 326. At that point I looked at the time on my phone, so I would know how long I would have to wait. The time was 6:23.
I filled the prescriptions and left. Normally I take the train back home, so I walked to the train station. When I got there, the station was almost deserted, except for a black ladies wallet sitting by itself on a seat. I grabbed it and looked inside at the driver's license photo, hoping I would see the owner standing around somewhere and I could return the wallet to her. She was gone. So, I resolved to take the wallet and find the owner.
I took the train to Bachman Station, and arrived about 45 minutes early for the bus, which takes me back to the hotel. Being hot and having extra time, I decided to walk over to Racetrac for something to drink.
After grabbing a Sprite Zero at the fountain, I looked over and there was an unattended iPhone and car keys lying by itself. Once again, the owner was nowhere in sight. At this point I'm thinking, "Is this lose your crap day?"
I turned the phone and keys in to the cashier. He gave me the drink for free. Nice.
So, I walked back to the bus stop. While waiting for the bus, a lady comes up and asks me what time it was. I looked at my phone. "9:11", I said. Damn. 911 again.
When I got home I looked through the wallet more thoroughly, to get her name and hopefully to find a number where I could reach her. I didn't find a number, but her name is Donna Marie. My sister, who I've just recently gotten back into contact with, is named Donna Marie.
In the wallet I found a card for what appears to be a group called Zion Trinity. There was also a printout of the winning lottery numbers, which I spoke about in the previous post. I'd never have seen those numbers if I hadn't decided to try to help the lady.
While I was poking through the wallet, Nicolle asked me what time it was. I looked at the computer. "11:11", I said. Sigh.
So anyway. That's the story of my enchanted evening. Numbers, numbers, numbers. The same ones over and over. 911 and 1111.
I realize this may all be not that exciting or enchanting to the average reader, but you folks have to understand something: Lately this type of stuff happens to me ALL the TIME. If it were a one time deal, I'd say, "Sure, it's a coincidence". But it's not. And it isn't.
Bruce Fenton calls it "synchronicity". I didn't realize there was a name for it. Also, apparently the 11:11 phenomenon is happening to a lot of people lately. It is interesting to note that the end of the current Mayan long count calendar happens on December 21st, 2012, at 11:11. This coincides with the exact timing of the 2012 winter solstice. The Mayans were able to calculate this more than 5000 years ago, down to the minute. You can read Bruce's article on both by clicking here.
"You will bring sunshine into someone's life."
and
"Next full moon will be an enchanting evening."
Well, Sunshine is my daughter's name. Tonight is the next full moon. That said, let me tell you the story of my evening.
Nicolle had a doctor's appointment today, and as usual we went via ParaTransit. The driver on the ride home was friendly, and after I got Nicolle situated here in the room he offered me a ride back up to Parkland to fill her prescriptions. This was a nice thing to do.. they're really not supposed to do that. But I accepted.
When I got to Parkland pharmacy I pulled a ticket to wait in line. The number was 326. At that point I looked at the time on my phone, so I would know how long I would have to wait. The time was 6:23.
I filled the prescriptions and left. Normally I take the train back home, so I walked to the train station. When I got there, the station was almost deserted, except for a black ladies wallet sitting by itself on a seat. I grabbed it and looked inside at the driver's license photo, hoping I would see the owner standing around somewhere and I could return the wallet to her. She was gone. So, I resolved to take the wallet and find the owner.
I took the train to Bachman Station, and arrived about 45 minutes early for the bus, which takes me back to the hotel. Being hot and having extra time, I decided to walk over to Racetrac for something to drink.
After grabbing a Sprite Zero at the fountain, I looked over and there was an unattended iPhone and car keys lying by itself. Once again, the owner was nowhere in sight. At this point I'm thinking, "Is this lose your crap day?"
I turned the phone and keys in to the cashier. He gave me the drink for free. Nice.
So, I walked back to the bus stop. While waiting for the bus, a lady comes up and asks me what time it was. I looked at my phone. "9:11", I said. Damn. 911 again.
When I got home I looked through the wallet more thoroughly, to get her name and hopefully to find a number where I could reach her. I didn't find a number, but her name is Donna Marie. My sister, who I've just recently gotten back into contact with, is named Donna Marie.
In the wallet I found a card for what appears to be a group called Zion Trinity. There was also a printout of the winning lottery numbers, which I spoke about in the previous post. I'd never have seen those numbers if I hadn't decided to try to help the lady.
While I was poking through the wallet, Nicolle asked me what time it was. I looked at the computer. "11:11", I said. Sigh.
So anyway. That's the story of my enchanted evening. Numbers, numbers, numbers. The same ones over and over. 911 and 1111.
I realize this may all be not that exciting or enchanting to the average reader, but you folks have to understand something: Lately this type of stuff happens to me ALL the TIME. If it were a one time deal, I'd say, "Sure, it's a coincidence". But it's not. And it isn't.
Bruce Fenton calls it "synchronicity". I didn't realize there was a name for it. Also, apparently the 11:11 phenomenon is happening to a lot of people lately. It is interesting to note that the end of the current Mayan long count calendar happens on December 21st, 2012, at 11:11. This coincides with the exact timing of the 2012 winter solstice. The Mayans were able to calculate this more than 5000 years ago, down to the minute. You can read Bruce's article on both by clicking here.
Predictive Numbers
Readers of this blog and my FB page know that I've been having predictive dreams, and have been talking about numbers jumping out at me recently. Some of the numbers I've specifically talked about seeing are:
111 and 1111
3: The trinity
666: Number of the beast
9/11: My birthday
4444: Noticed it last Sunday, July 10th, on the building next door to this hotel and on the key card to the room (it's the last four digits for the number to Dominos). I didn't notice the 4444 before then. I mentioned seeing it to someone on Facebook.
Well, apparently I predicted most of the numbers in both the Texas Mega Millions for July 12th and the Texas Powerball for July 9th. The winning numbers are are:
July 12th Mega Millions
3 - 9 - 11 - 44 - 49 Megaball - 9
July 9th Powerball:
9 - 11 - 1 - 23 - 31 Powerball - 6 Powerplay - 3
Too bad I don't buy lottery tickets.
111 and 1111
3: The trinity
666: Number of the beast
9/11: My birthday
4444: Noticed it last Sunday, July 10th, on the building next door to this hotel and on the key card to the room (it's the last four digits for the number to Dominos). I didn't notice the 4444 before then. I mentioned seeing it to someone on Facebook.
Well, apparently I predicted most of the numbers in both the Texas Mega Millions for July 12th and the Texas Powerball for July 9th. The winning numbers are are:
July 12th Mega Millions
3 - 9 - 11 - 44 - 49 Megaball - 9
July 9th Powerball:
9 - 11 - 1 - 23 - 31 Powerball - 6 Powerplay - 3
Too bad I don't buy lottery tickets.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Dear Friends
Friends,
I previously have emailed the FBI about illegal wiretaps and rerouted phones from this hotel room. I also came in person on July 5th to the Dallas FBI main building with the same information, as well as other information. Also, per the FBI's direction, on July 7th I filed a report in person with the Dallas Internal Affairs Division about the events of March 19th, May 24th and thereafter. I also mentioned the rerouted phone lines in this report.
Sometime between July 5th and July 7th, the outgoing phone number from this hotel room has changed. When my girlfriend used the room phone to call my cell phone at 5:21 PM on July 4th, the call showed up on my call list as being from 214-351-5217. This has been the outgoing number from this room, and other rooms, for this hotel since I've been here..
The next time she called my cell from the room phone was at 4:27PM on July 7th, the call showed up as 214-654-0799.
This means that someone has changed the phone routing from at least this room sometime between July 4th and July 7th. I find this very interesting given I've complained about rerouted phone lines to both the FBI and Internal Affairs in this time period.
I hope and pray that the re-routing was uncovered during the course of the ongoing investigation, and not because someone was tipped off and removed equipment to hide their tracks. Based on what Nicolle and I know about things that have happened to us, this is entirely possible. I do not know for sure why the change was made because I have not contacted IA since the report.
Robert Hawkins
I previously have emailed the FBI about illegal wiretaps and rerouted phones from this hotel room. I also came in person on July 5th to the Dallas FBI main building with the same information, as well as other information. Also, per the FBI's direction, on July 7th I filed a report in person with the Dallas Internal Affairs Division about the events of March 19th, May 24th and thereafter. I also mentioned the rerouted phone lines in this report.
Sometime between July 5th and July 7th, the outgoing phone number from this hotel room has changed. When my girlfriend used the room phone to call my cell phone at 5:21 PM on July 4th, the call showed up on my call list as being from 214-351-5217. This has been the outgoing number from this room, and other rooms, for this hotel since I've been here..
The next time she called my cell from the room phone was at 4:27PM on July 7th, the call showed up as 214-654-0799.
This means that someone has changed the phone routing from at least this room sometime between July 4th and July 7th. I find this very interesting given I've complained about rerouted phone lines to both the FBI and Internal Affairs in this time period.
I hope and pray that the re-routing was uncovered during the course of the ongoing investigation, and not because someone was tipped off and removed equipment to hide their tracks. Based on what Nicolle and I know about things that have happened to us, this is entirely possible. I do not know for sure why the change was made because I have not contacted IA since the report.
Robert Hawkins
Monday, July 11, 2011
Visual Proof
Someone came over with their laptop cam today to photograph the images I spoke of in my last post. Keep in mind that it's hard to hold a laptop up in the air steady, however it appears both images came out pretty clearly.
Here is the first. Keep in mind that Nicolle is in serious pain, day in and day out. She spends a lot of time looking at the ceiling. This is written in the ceiling directly above her head:
The second is the angel facing a devil's head. It is in the plaster on the wall behind this laptop. It is less clear on film than in person, but here it is anyway:
Here is the first. Keep in mind that Nicolle is in serious pain, day in and day out. She spends a lot of time looking at the ceiling. This is written in the ceiling directly above her head:
The second is the angel facing a devil's head. It is in the plaster on the wall behind this laptop. It is less clear on film than in person, but here it is anyway:
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Signs from God
This is the nost important post I will ever put up. Remember this day.
A few days ago Nicolle was having faith issues. When one lies in bed most of the time in agonizing pain, faith can tend to waver. I asked God, out loud, to send her something to give her a sign.. something to help her restore her faith. I went on an outing, and she went to sleep.
Later that night, when I got home I was lying beside her and she said, 'It appears to say the word "Pain" on the ceiling. "And under that it says "cell". Of course I thought she was seeing things, because with a popcorn ceiling it is sometimes easy for your mind to make images out of nothing.
I looked for myself, and there, very clearly, in the ceiling, one word below and to the right of the other, it says, "Pain CELL".
I nearly flipped out. I don't have a digital camera or a cam on my phone, or I'd have a picture of it up already.
So last night a friend of ours dropped by to take me to the store. I showed it to him. I wanted to see if he could make it out without me outlining the letters with a pointer. He found it immediately. It's THERE.
A few minutes later he was sitting beside me, and he says, "Look at the wall".
I looked, and after a little difficulty finding where he was pointing, I saw it. It is a very, very clear outline of a female angel, facing what appears to be the head of a devil.
I swear under penalty of God himself that this is not a hoax, not something I concocted, or did myself.
It's funny, because if you remember my previous posts on this blog, I had asked God to send me an angel. It appears that is exactly what has happened. It also appears he has answered my prayer to send her a sign to restore her faith, which is now back at full strength.
As soon as I can get my hands on a digital camera or someone comes by with a phone with a high resolution cam, I'll be putting up images.
Get this through your heads now, people... this is not a hoax.
A few days ago Nicolle was having faith issues. When one lies in bed most of the time in agonizing pain, faith can tend to waver. I asked God, out loud, to send her something to give her a sign.. something to help her restore her faith. I went on an outing, and she went to sleep.
Later that night, when I got home I was lying beside her and she said, 'It appears to say the word "Pain" on the ceiling. "And under that it says "cell". Of course I thought she was seeing things, because with a popcorn ceiling it is sometimes easy for your mind to make images out of nothing.
I looked for myself, and there, very clearly, in the ceiling, one word below and to the right of the other, it says, "Pain CELL".
I nearly flipped out. I don't have a digital camera or a cam on my phone, or I'd have a picture of it up already.
So last night a friend of ours dropped by to take me to the store. I showed it to him. I wanted to see if he could make it out without me outlining the letters with a pointer. He found it immediately. It's THERE.
A few minutes later he was sitting beside me, and he says, "Look at the wall".
I looked, and after a little difficulty finding where he was pointing, I saw it. It is a very, very clear outline of a female angel, facing what appears to be the head of a devil.
I swear under penalty of God himself that this is not a hoax, not something I concocted, or did myself.
It's funny, because if you remember my previous posts on this blog, I had asked God to send me an angel. It appears that is exactly what has happened. It also appears he has answered my prayer to send her a sign to restore her faith, which is now back at full strength.
As soon as I can get my hands on a digital camera or someone comes by with a phone with a high resolution cam, I'll be putting up images.
Get this through your heads now, people... this is not a hoax.
Friday, July 08, 2011
May 24th, 2011 - Part 2
So they released me from Lew Sterrett. Once I had my cell phone back, I immediately called the hotel to find out what had been going on.
On my first attempt, I got the front desk recording, and hit 255 for the room number. I got a message that said, "This call is out of area". What the hell? The call to the hotel went through, but the transfer to the room didn't. I called back, hit 255 again, and this time the call went through.
Nicolle answered. She sounded freaked out. I asked her what had been going on. She said she would tell me when I got back. She called a friend of ours who came and got me and took me back to the hotel.
When I got there, I found out the rest of the story.
Apparently after I was taken, the phone to our room had been jacked with somewhere in the routing switch. She said she had tried to call 911 from the room phone, and got nothing but dead air. She had tried to call someone else, who's name I will keep out of this for the time being for investigation reasons, but it is someone in authority. When Nicolle dialed the number from the room phone, she was told, "She doesn't work here". She tried it again. Again she was told, "She doesn't work here."
She was able to get through to another friend of ours, Tara, who immediately came right over. I don't know why the call went through to Tara.. I guess it was a number they didn't know. But she did get through, and Tara came. God bless her. That girl has been there for us on more than one occasion. Readers of this blog will remember that Tara was the one who went in the middle of the night to buy Nicolle a bedpan when hers were being held hostage.
When Nicolle called the authority figure from Tara's phone, the call went through. The person was very surprised to learn I was in jail. She said I didn't appear in the jail system. At all. She said she would look into it immediately. Tara also looked online at the time, in the jail database, and I didn't show up there, either. At all. From what I understand, she continued to check all day. There was absolutely no record of me being in jail at all that day. That explains the missing signatures on the paperwork. The whole thing was a complete fabrication.
That isn't the best part. Apparently Tara found this laptop disassembled and hidden under the couch cushions in the room. She said the laptop was under the cushions, the charger was taken apart and hidden under this desk. Nicolle's medication, her cell phone and her bedpans were all taken and placed out of reach. Nicolle had to urinate on a blanket because of these assholes. She never did find Nicolle's eyeglasses.
I found those when I got back. They had been wrapped up in a green grocery bag and hidden under a side table all the way back against the wall. Somewhere she would never be able to reach, even if she knew where they had been hidden. She can't walk, let alone crawl around on the floor.
I'm guessing the whole point of all that was to do their best to make sure she couldn't contact anyone. If she hadn't gotten through to Tara, and subsequently was able to get through to someone in authority who started calling the jail and asking questions, there is no telling what would have happened to me.
Did you know that depriving a person of their eyeglasses for any reason is considered torture by the Geneva Convention? It's called no-touch torture. Look it up. These guys were highly trained in these tactics. I don't know who the hell they were working for, but given everything else that happened the way it did it is clear to me that they were under orders from someone. My guess is that they were some sort of DPD black ops unit that does this type of thing. I still don't know. The Interal Affairs investigation is just getting underway. The FBI is aware of what happened, because I went to them first, in person, and told them about all this, and the IA report was a result of their instruction. As I've said in another post, it was during the three day time period of my visits to both the FBI and IA that the outgoing number from this room phone changed. My guess is that either someone got wind of what I was doing and pulled out, or the Feds caught them. There are Federal wiretapping laws, and that gives them jurisdiction.
Somebody somewhere is definitely running scared right now. And they should be. Too many people in authority know about this. There are too many witnesses to what went on.
What was the point of all these events? Well, the police got sucked into what happened on March 19th under false pretenses, by someone who lied to them (I have a good idea who... isn't that right CHANELLE SAMUEL, DENNY BUCCI and CARLA SAMUEL?) and told them about drugs and drug addicts that didn't exist. But they came without a warrant, disregarded my 911 calls and the 911 calls made by both my friend Jack and even Nicolle's dad, who called from Missouri. My opinion is that what they did on the 24th was related to the coverup of that, somehow. But they got caught doing it. I dunno, maybe they planned to have me killed while I was in jail. I just don't know yet. The investigation is just getting underway, and some people are going to burn for this.
Funny thing about Chanelle's mother, Carla... she used to work for the city. In the courthouse right by.... Lew Sterrett jail. She has dated several cops. And she was also the person I saw in my doorway on March 19th that I didn't recognize, which caused me to charge into the apartment thinking my family was in danger. Funny how the police ignored multiple 911 intruder calls for almost an hour but showed up right after Chanelle and Carla walk out with my daugher for a "drug call". Amazing coincidence, no? Another amazing coincidence is that Carla lives in Oklahoma, and had just arrived in town right as all this went down. Incredible timing. Absolutely amazing. And here's the best coincidence yet.. Nicolle and I had had a falling out with Chanelle and Denny on March 18th, the day before the fake drug raid. I still have the email I sent to them. It was a little strongly worded, but it lays out the initial problem. I'll be happy to post that here for your viewing pleasure.
Then Chanelle and Denny were nice enough to retrieve Nicolle's mother from Missouri a few days later, and even more chaos ensued. That's all detailed previously in this blog as well.
Of course I'm just a delusional jerk who abuses his kid and girlfriend. I'm a crazy, violent drug addict. That's why I drug tested negative by the police during the raid on March 19th and negative by the CPS caseworker, Jeremy Pinnell, who came to visit us a few weeks later. I don't know what I'm talking about. That's why I'm letting the FBI sort all this out.
There are no coincidences. Ask Carl Jung about it.
On my first attempt, I got the front desk recording, and hit 255 for the room number. I got a message that said, "This call is out of area". What the hell? The call to the hotel went through, but the transfer to the room didn't. I called back, hit 255 again, and this time the call went through.
Nicolle answered. She sounded freaked out. I asked her what had been going on. She said she would tell me when I got back. She called a friend of ours who came and got me and took me back to the hotel.
When I got there, I found out the rest of the story.
Apparently after I was taken, the phone to our room had been jacked with somewhere in the routing switch. She said she had tried to call 911 from the room phone, and got nothing but dead air. She had tried to call someone else, who's name I will keep out of this for the time being for investigation reasons, but it is someone in authority. When Nicolle dialed the number from the room phone, she was told, "She doesn't work here". She tried it again. Again she was told, "She doesn't work here."
She was able to get through to another friend of ours, Tara, who immediately came right over. I don't know why the call went through to Tara.. I guess it was a number they didn't know. But she did get through, and Tara came. God bless her. That girl has been there for us on more than one occasion. Readers of this blog will remember that Tara was the one who went in the middle of the night to buy Nicolle a bedpan when hers were being held hostage.
When Nicolle called the authority figure from Tara's phone, the call went through. The person was very surprised to learn I was in jail. She said I didn't appear in the jail system. At all. She said she would look into it immediately. Tara also looked online at the time, in the jail database, and I didn't show up there, either. At all. From what I understand, she continued to check all day. There was absolutely no record of me being in jail at all that day. That explains the missing signatures on the paperwork. The whole thing was a complete fabrication.
That isn't the best part. Apparently Tara found this laptop disassembled and hidden under the couch cushions in the room. She said the laptop was under the cushions, the charger was taken apart and hidden under this desk. Nicolle's medication, her cell phone and her bedpans were all taken and placed out of reach. Nicolle had to urinate on a blanket because of these assholes. She never did find Nicolle's eyeglasses.
I found those when I got back. They had been wrapped up in a green grocery bag and hidden under a side table all the way back against the wall. Somewhere she would never be able to reach, even if she knew where they had been hidden. She can't walk, let alone crawl around on the floor.
I'm guessing the whole point of all that was to do their best to make sure she couldn't contact anyone. If she hadn't gotten through to Tara, and subsequently was able to get through to someone in authority who started calling the jail and asking questions, there is no telling what would have happened to me.
Did you know that depriving a person of their eyeglasses for any reason is considered torture by the Geneva Convention? It's called no-touch torture. Look it up. These guys were highly trained in these tactics. I don't know who the hell they were working for, but given everything else that happened the way it did it is clear to me that they were under orders from someone. My guess is that they were some sort of DPD black ops unit that does this type of thing. I still don't know. The Interal Affairs investigation is just getting underway. The FBI is aware of what happened, because I went to them first, in person, and told them about all this, and the IA report was a result of their instruction. As I've said in another post, it was during the three day time period of my visits to both the FBI and IA that the outgoing number from this room phone changed. My guess is that either someone got wind of what I was doing and pulled out, or the Feds caught them. There are Federal wiretapping laws, and that gives them jurisdiction.
Somebody somewhere is definitely running scared right now. And they should be. Too many people in authority know about this. There are too many witnesses to what went on.
What was the point of all these events? Well, the police got sucked into what happened on March 19th under false pretenses, by someone who lied to them (I have a good idea who... isn't that right CHANELLE SAMUEL, DENNY BUCCI and CARLA SAMUEL?) and told them about drugs and drug addicts that didn't exist. But they came without a warrant, disregarded my 911 calls and the 911 calls made by both my friend Jack and even Nicolle's dad, who called from Missouri. My opinion is that what they did on the 24th was related to the coverup of that, somehow. But they got caught doing it. I dunno, maybe they planned to have me killed while I was in jail. I just don't know yet. The investigation is just getting underway, and some people are going to burn for this.
Funny thing about Chanelle's mother, Carla... she used to work for the city. In the courthouse right by.... Lew Sterrett jail. She has dated several cops. And she was also the person I saw in my doorway on March 19th that I didn't recognize, which caused me to charge into the apartment thinking my family was in danger. Funny how the police ignored multiple 911 intruder calls for almost an hour but showed up right after Chanelle and Carla walk out with my daugher for a "drug call". Amazing coincidence, no? Another amazing coincidence is that Carla lives in Oklahoma, and had just arrived in town right as all this went down. Incredible timing. Absolutely amazing. And here's the best coincidence yet.. Nicolle and I had had a falling out with Chanelle and Denny on March 18th, the day before the fake drug raid. I still have the email I sent to them. It was a little strongly worded, but it lays out the initial problem. I'll be happy to post that here for your viewing pleasure.
Then Chanelle and Denny were nice enough to retrieve Nicolle's mother from Missouri a few days later, and even more chaos ensued. That's all detailed previously in this blog as well.
Of course I'm just a delusional jerk who abuses his kid and girlfriend. I'm a crazy, violent drug addict. That's why I drug tested negative by the police during the raid on March 19th and negative by the CPS caseworker, Jeremy Pinnell, who came to visit us a few weeks later. I don't know what I'm talking about. That's why I'm letting the FBI sort all this out.
There are no coincidences. Ask Carl Jung about it.
Thursday, July 07, 2011
May 24th, 2011 - Part 1
It's time I wrote about what happened to us on the night of May 24th, 2011.
Nicolle had been asleep for most of the night. She had been behaving strangely all evening, in and out of sleep. I can't exactly explain what was happening, it was something like being asleep and awake at the same time. She would wake up and not know who I was. I do know she had been on several depression medications prescribed by her doctor, both Prozac and trazadone, and had run out of both a day or two before. I have no idea exactly what was going on, but suffice it to say that I was very concerned, so I asked hotel security to call paramedics.
The paramedics came. They talked to her for a long time. They decided not to transport her with the firm understanding that I would not let her out of my sight. I would have preferred they take her in for evaluation, but they said no, and to call back if the situation got worse.
While all this was going on, I decided to try to get in touch with Nicolle's dad to let him know what was going on. I couldn't find my cell phone and didn't know his number, so I picked up the room phone, thinking I could get information from 1411. As I was doing this, before the call went through, I heard a female voice on the line who said something to the effect of "Go operation Alpha ____" I don't remember the last part of what the go code was. It freaked me out, so I hung up.
A few minutes after the paramedics left, two Dallas police officers showed up. One was black and one was white. They started asking questions and for ID. This had been a medical emergency, not a police matter, so I wasn't sure what they were doing there. Checking things out at the time I supposed. I didn't connect them with what I had heard on the phone at the time.
I couldn't find my wallet with my ID, and they stood over me as I dug around trying to find it. Never did. So, they got my SSN and told me to go wait in the lobby. This is about the time I started realizing something wasn't right.
While I was in the lobby, Nicolle says the white officer stood over her while the black officer started bustling around the room. She didn't know what he was doing, because he was keeping it out of sight. Eventually one of the officers came down to the lobby to get me and take me back up. When I got up there, I walked over to her and asked her, "Are you ok?". "SHE'LL BE FINE", the black officer said. "FIND YOUR SHOES." Ok, now shit is really starting to get weird. I had no idea what they had done while I was in the lobby. Nicolle said later that what they had done was force her to climb off the floor back into bed by herself. I didn't get the rest of the story until I got back.
The black officer informed me that I was going to jail. "For what?" I asked. "It appears you have a traffic ticket in Tarrant County." For the record, DPD does not have a policy of arresting people for traffic warrants in other counties. Normally they have enough to deal with.
So he handcuffs me and transports me to the county jail. The handcuffs were so tight that I couldn't feel my hands. Every time he hit a bump in the squad car, I screamed. I've been handcuffed before, and I know they aren't built for comfort, but this wasn't just uncomfortable. They were so tight that I had grooves around my wrists a quarter inch deep and couldn't type for a week afterwards. I still think I have nerve damage in the left side of my hand. I told him several times they were too tight and asked him to loosen them. He said, "Naw, they LOOSE". At one point I was in so much pain that I started squirming in the back of the police car. He told me that if he had to pull over "that I wasn't going to like it".
So we get to the jail. The white officer, who had been in a separate car, arrived. They made me carry my shoes, hancuffed, while holding up my pants, into Cental Booking at Lew Sterrett jail.
At this point, the black officer started asking personal history questions.. name, ssn, where I was born, and whether or not I had been in the military. Then, the white officer asked me the same questions, but filled out an identical form. Two officers, both independently filling out identical forms? WTF?
Nether of them ever even said "you're under arrest". No one ever read me Miranda rights. The only thing I got was "you have a traffic warrant in Tarrant county.
So I was booked in (supposedly). Saw a nurse. Told her I had diabetes. She took my blood sugar, which was a little high. So she put a white band on my arm, which means I am supposed to see a doctor.
I was seated in the waiting area. At this point I raised my hand, and the guards asked me what I wanted. I said, "I'd like to speak to a detective." So one of the guards said, "follow me".
I followed him. He lead me around the corner and straight into the drunk tank. He tole the guards in there, "This one can't sit still." And locked me in.
Now the drunk tank at Lew Sterrett is HUGE. It's probably 60 yards long and 30 feet wide. It's built to hold probably between 50 and 100 people. It is a significant chunk of real estate at the Dallas county jail and is probably usually crowded. On this night, I was the only SOB in there. At all. For hours.
I asked repeatedly to see a doctor. I was told no. I kept trying to call the hotel where Nicolle was to find out what was going on. I would get the front desk recording, and before I could punch the room number, the call cut off. Every time.
Finally, after several hours, I got through on one of the phones to what I thought was a bondsman, but he answered, "Attorney's office". I asked him "what kind of attorney are you?" "I'm a criminal attorney", he said. And before I could say another word, the door to the tank opened and some sort of riot squad came in. The told me to drop the phone and get in one of the side cells. "Well, I just got through to an attorney, can it wait a second?" "GET IN THE CELL!" they said. So I left the phone hanging and got in the cell. As they were walking out I said, "SO I GUESS THIS MEANS I CAN'T SPEAK TO AN ATTORNEY??" They ignored me and left.
I had now been in the tank for probably 4-5 hours. I had tried to call out many, many times and for some reason the calls kept getting cut off, busy signal, something. Every time. I got through to a bondsman one or two times, and asked them to call Nicolle at the hotel and give her a message, and through to the "attorney" once. This was out of about 20 calls I must have made.
Eventually someone came in and got me to take me out to court. When I walked out, I was hastily photographed, and some papers were stuck in front of me and the guy said, "these are you Dallas citations, sign these". Uh... I was never arrested for Dallas citations. I didn't even know I had any.
I was given a paper that set me to appear for a supposed bad check from God knows when. I had no idea what it was about or if it was even real. Could have been, I'm not perfect, but I sure as shit didn't know about it. The paper I was given said, "You are hereby released from Dallas County Jail" and it gave an appearance date. Ok, they're letting me go, I thought. I was wrong. So very wrong.
They took me over to stand in line for court. When I got there, I looked up. Now, I don't know if any of you know what police brass looks like.. you know, the Lieutenants, Captains.. the people with brass on their badges and hats. There were about 10 or 15 of them. AND THEY WERE ALL LOOKING AT ME. I nooded to one, and he nodded back. He had a funny look on his face.. not hate, more like.. respect?
Man, this business has definitely taken a turn for the surreal.
So I go to court. The judge goes over everyone else, and comes to me last. To me she says, "Mr. Hawkins, I don't even want to hear about that paper in your left hand. You have a traffic warrant in Tarrant County. Your bond is $500. They have 10 days to come get you and you are being held. I can't answer any questions." They gave me a piece of paper that had the bond amount on it with Euless PD (Euless is in Tarrant County). What the hell, the first paper I got says I was released. Now this paper says something different.
And there is something else I noticed. I had three pieces of paperwork by this time.. a property receipt, the citation to appear given to me by the fingerprint guard, and the judges paper. But none of them had any signatures!
Eventually I was taken upstairs to be dressed out for general population. I was in a holding cell up there for another.. 2 hours or so. There are no clocks in this place so I don't have an accurate account of the time, so I'm guessing. But that's probably pretty close.
Then they put me in line for dress out. I was last. At this point, something weird started happening. The guards would count the people in line, then go look at a piece of paper. Then come back and count. Then look at the paper. The count was off. Someone was there that wasn't supposed to be. Guess who that was. ME.
The nurse came around to give TB shots. I showed her my white armband and said, "Ma'am, I was supposed to see a doctor hours ago. Can you help me with that?" "Did you just get here?" she asked. "No, this paper says I've already been released. I don't understand what is going on. She looked at the armband, and had a look on her face that I will never forget as long as I live. It was a look of, "Oh shit."
I was taken into the dress out room, told to drop my paperwork, stripped, and forced to face the wall, bend over, open my ass up so the guard could look into it. When I turned back around I was handed a bag to put my blanket and stuff in. When I looked into the bag, I saw a piece of paper, I looked at it. It was one of my papers from court. I looked behind me. There were the other two papers. The sonofabitch guard had grabbed some of my paperwork and placed it in the bag when I wasn't looking. If I hadn't happened to notice what was in the bag and look behind me, I would have never seen the other paperwork and it would have been gone. I would never have had most of the record of me ever being in jail.
So I dress out. The guard is vicious and rude. And now apparently pissed that I caught him. He takes me out and sticks me in a holding cell by myself.
I'm in the cell for quite a while. No one comes to get me. FINALLY, I hit the button on the wall and tell them that I've been trying to see a doctor all day. I have diabeties. They say they'll send someone down.
So this guy.. don't know who he was.. what rank or whatever, comes down. He asked me what he could do for me. I tell him the whole situation, about not seeing a doctor, about not understanding why I'm in jail at all when I have a severely disabled adult at home who is probably by herself without anyone to take care of her. At this point I started crying.. not from anger or because I'm a pansy, but out of sheer frustration. I've been treated a dog all day and I've taken their best shots. But finally I just broke.
He said, "Okay, let me see your paperwork and I'll try to find out what's going on." he takes my paperwork and leaves. About 10 minutes later he comes back, and says, "Uh... heh.. well, it appears you were never supposed to be dressed out. The captain (I think he said Captain, not sure) said he was going to go ahead and release you. Just this once. As long as you take care of that warrant.
Nice try. If I was never supposed to be dressed out, why was he doing me a favor by releasing me? I was clearly never even supposed to be up there.
Oh, it gets better.
So I was taken to bookout to be released. I will never forget this as long as I live. While I was standing in line, I hear one of the guards say, "SERGEANT ON THE FLOOR!" The sergeant walk in, sees me and does a double take. He beats his chest like a football player and yells, "ROBERT HAWKINS! YEAH! LETS KEEP IT GOIN' BABY!!"
It was something like mad respect. What in the hell has just happened here.
I was released.
This post has gotten long, so I'll have to continue it in part two. You are not going to believe what I find out when I am released.
Nicolle had been asleep for most of the night. She had been behaving strangely all evening, in and out of sleep. I can't exactly explain what was happening, it was something like being asleep and awake at the same time. She would wake up and not know who I was. I do know she had been on several depression medications prescribed by her doctor, both Prozac and trazadone, and had run out of both a day or two before. I have no idea exactly what was going on, but suffice it to say that I was very concerned, so I asked hotel security to call paramedics.
The paramedics came. They talked to her for a long time. They decided not to transport her with the firm understanding that I would not let her out of my sight. I would have preferred they take her in for evaluation, but they said no, and to call back if the situation got worse.
While all this was going on, I decided to try to get in touch with Nicolle's dad to let him know what was going on. I couldn't find my cell phone and didn't know his number, so I picked up the room phone, thinking I could get information from 1411. As I was doing this, before the call went through, I heard a female voice on the line who said something to the effect of "Go operation Alpha ____" I don't remember the last part of what the go code was. It freaked me out, so I hung up.
A few minutes after the paramedics left, two Dallas police officers showed up. One was black and one was white. They started asking questions and for ID. This had been a medical emergency, not a police matter, so I wasn't sure what they were doing there. Checking things out at the time I supposed. I didn't connect them with what I had heard on the phone at the time.
I couldn't find my wallet with my ID, and they stood over me as I dug around trying to find it. Never did. So, they got my SSN and told me to go wait in the lobby. This is about the time I started realizing something wasn't right.
While I was in the lobby, Nicolle says the white officer stood over her while the black officer started bustling around the room. She didn't know what he was doing, because he was keeping it out of sight. Eventually one of the officers came down to the lobby to get me and take me back up. When I got up there, I walked over to her and asked her, "Are you ok?". "SHE'LL BE FINE", the black officer said. "FIND YOUR SHOES." Ok, now shit is really starting to get weird. I had no idea what they had done while I was in the lobby. Nicolle said later that what they had done was force her to climb off the floor back into bed by herself. I didn't get the rest of the story until I got back.
The black officer informed me that I was going to jail. "For what?" I asked. "It appears you have a traffic ticket in Tarrant County." For the record, DPD does not have a policy of arresting people for traffic warrants in other counties. Normally they have enough to deal with.
So he handcuffs me and transports me to the county jail. The handcuffs were so tight that I couldn't feel my hands. Every time he hit a bump in the squad car, I screamed. I've been handcuffed before, and I know they aren't built for comfort, but this wasn't just uncomfortable. They were so tight that I had grooves around my wrists a quarter inch deep and couldn't type for a week afterwards. I still think I have nerve damage in the left side of my hand. I told him several times they were too tight and asked him to loosen them. He said, "Naw, they LOOSE". At one point I was in so much pain that I started squirming in the back of the police car. He told me that if he had to pull over "that I wasn't going to like it".
So we get to the jail. The white officer, who had been in a separate car, arrived. They made me carry my shoes, hancuffed, while holding up my pants, into Cental Booking at Lew Sterrett jail.
At this point, the black officer started asking personal history questions.. name, ssn, where I was born, and whether or not I had been in the military. Then, the white officer asked me the same questions, but filled out an identical form. Two officers, both independently filling out identical forms? WTF?
Nether of them ever even said "you're under arrest". No one ever read me Miranda rights. The only thing I got was "you have a traffic warrant in Tarrant county.
So I was booked in (supposedly). Saw a nurse. Told her I had diabetes. She took my blood sugar, which was a little high. So she put a white band on my arm, which means I am supposed to see a doctor.
I was seated in the waiting area. At this point I raised my hand, and the guards asked me what I wanted. I said, "I'd like to speak to a detective." So one of the guards said, "follow me".
I followed him. He lead me around the corner and straight into the drunk tank. He tole the guards in there, "This one can't sit still." And locked me in.
Now the drunk tank at Lew Sterrett is HUGE. It's probably 60 yards long and 30 feet wide. It's built to hold probably between 50 and 100 people. It is a significant chunk of real estate at the Dallas county jail and is probably usually crowded. On this night, I was the only SOB in there. At all. For hours.
I asked repeatedly to see a doctor. I was told no. I kept trying to call the hotel where Nicolle was to find out what was going on. I would get the front desk recording, and before I could punch the room number, the call cut off. Every time.
Finally, after several hours, I got through on one of the phones to what I thought was a bondsman, but he answered, "Attorney's office". I asked him "what kind of attorney are you?" "I'm a criminal attorney", he said. And before I could say another word, the door to the tank opened and some sort of riot squad came in. The told me to drop the phone and get in one of the side cells. "Well, I just got through to an attorney, can it wait a second?" "GET IN THE CELL!" they said. So I left the phone hanging and got in the cell. As they were walking out I said, "SO I GUESS THIS MEANS I CAN'T SPEAK TO AN ATTORNEY??" They ignored me and left.
I had now been in the tank for probably 4-5 hours. I had tried to call out many, many times and for some reason the calls kept getting cut off, busy signal, something. Every time. I got through to a bondsman one or two times, and asked them to call Nicolle at the hotel and give her a message, and through to the "attorney" once. This was out of about 20 calls I must have made.
Eventually someone came in and got me to take me out to court. When I walked out, I was hastily photographed, and some papers were stuck in front of me and the guy said, "these are you Dallas citations, sign these". Uh... I was never arrested for Dallas citations. I didn't even know I had any.
I was given a paper that set me to appear for a supposed bad check from God knows when. I had no idea what it was about or if it was even real. Could have been, I'm not perfect, but I sure as shit didn't know about it. The paper I was given said, "You are hereby released from Dallas County Jail" and it gave an appearance date. Ok, they're letting me go, I thought. I was wrong. So very wrong.
They took me over to stand in line for court. When I got there, I looked up. Now, I don't know if any of you know what police brass looks like.. you know, the Lieutenants, Captains.. the people with brass on their badges and hats. There were about 10 or 15 of them. AND THEY WERE ALL LOOKING AT ME. I nooded to one, and he nodded back. He had a funny look on his face.. not hate, more like.. respect?
Man, this business has definitely taken a turn for the surreal.
So I go to court. The judge goes over everyone else, and comes to me last. To me she says, "Mr. Hawkins, I don't even want to hear about that paper in your left hand. You have a traffic warrant in Tarrant County. Your bond is $500. They have 10 days to come get you and you are being held. I can't answer any questions." They gave me a piece of paper that had the bond amount on it with Euless PD (Euless is in Tarrant County). What the hell, the first paper I got says I was released. Now this paper says something different.
And there is something else I noticed. I had three pieces of paperwork by this time.. a property receipt, the citation to appear given to me by the fingerprint guard, and the judges paper. But none of them had any signatures!
Eventually I was taken upstairs to be dressed out for general population. I was in a holding cell up there for another.. 2 hours or so. There are no clocks in this place so I don't have an accurate account of the time, so I'm guessing. But that's probably pretty close.
Then they put me in line for dress out. I was last. At this point, something weird started happening. The guards would count the people in line, then go look at a piece of paper. Then come back and count. Then look at the paper. The count was off. Someone was there that wasn't supposed to be. Guess who that was. ME.
The nurse came around to give TB shots. I showed her my white armband and said, "Ma'am, I was supposed to see a doctor hours ago. Can you help me with that?" "Did you just get here?" she asked. "No, this paper says I've already been released. I don't understand what is going on. She looked at the armband, and had a look on her face that I will never forget as long as I live. It was a look of, "Oh shit."
I was taken into the dress out room, told to drop my paperwork, stripped, and forced to face the wall, bend over, open my ass up so the guard could look into it. When I turned back around I was handed a bag to put my blanket and stuff in. When I looked into the bag, I saw a piece of paper, I looked at it. It was one of my papers from court. I looked behind me. There were the other two papers. The sonofabitch guard had grabbed some of my paperwork and placed it in the bag when I wasn't looking. If I hadn't happened to notice what was in the bag and look behind me, I would have never seen the other paperwork and it would have been gone. I would never have had most of the record of me ever being in jail.
So I dress out. The guard is vicious and rude. And now apparently pissed that I caught him. He takes me out and sticks me in a holding cell by myself.
I'm in the cell for quite a while. No one comes to get me. FINALLY, I hit the button on the wall and tell them that I've been trying to see a doctor all day. I have diabeties. They say they'll send someone down.
So this guy.. don't know who he was.. what rank or whatever, comes down. He asked me what he could do for me. I tell him the whole situation, about not seeing a doctor, about not understanding why I'm in jail at all when I have a severely disabled adult at home who is probably by herself without anyone to take care of her. At this point I started crying.. not from anger or because I'm a pansy, but out of sheer frustration. I've been treated a dog all day and I've taken their best shots. But finally I just broke.
He said, "Okay, let me see your paperwork and I'll try to find out what's going on." he takes my paperwork and leaves. About 10 minutes later he comes back, and says, "Uh... heh.. well, it appears you were never supposed to be dressed out. The captain (I think he said Captain, not sure) said he was going to go ahead and release you. Just this once. As long as you take care of that warrant.
Nice try. If I was never supposed to be dressed out, why was he doing me a favor by releasing me? I was clearly never even supposed to be up there.
Oh, it gets better.
So I was taken to bookout to be released. I will never forget this as long as I live. While I was standing in line, I hear one of the guards say, "SERGEANT ON THE FLOOR!" The sergeant walk in, sees me and does a double take. He beats his chest like a football player and yells, "ROBERT HAWKINS! YEAH! LETS KEEP IT GOIN' BABY!!"
It was something like mad respect. What in the hell has just happened here.
I was released.
This post has gotten long, so I'll have to continue it in part two. You are not going to believe what I find out when I am released.
Monday, July 04, 2011
Part 4: How It Really Is
One of the things people ask about our current situation is, "why are we living in a hotel?"
We haven't always. Seven months ago we had an entire houseful of stuff. We had chairs, couches, dishes, beds and computers. Pictures. Toys that belonged to Ilona. Meaningful things we have collected over a lifetime. Things normal people have that they use to live their lives. Granted, the vast majority of this stuff was in a storage unit in Tarrant County, where we lived for two years. We decided in November to move back to Dallas and start anew. We subletted an apartment from Calista, who was in a bind because she had leased the apartment and then couldn't afford to pay for it. We saw it as a win-win situation for her and us. It was even partially furnished, with a king-size bed, a couch and chair and a few other things. We were not only paying her lease for her, but we also were paying monthly on all the furniture that came with the place. We had what we needed. Three days after we moved in, the accident happened.
After the events of March 19th, we were throw out into the street. Calista and the others bagged up what little extra stuff we had accumulated, including the medical equipment, and threw it into another local storage unit that I provided money for. She also kept all the furniture we had been paying on, and from the time or two I've been to the new unit, it looks like some things were stolen from what they bagged up as well. I have noticed several items missing, including a mattress and houseful of food, that mysteriously did not make it into the unit. There are probably other things, but we don't know yet, because we haven't been able to go through everything. What it does look like, however, that in addition to picking through everything we own while I was at the hospital sitting with Nicolle, someone just took whatever they wanted. Nicolle's friend Andrea had been in town that week and had generously bought us new kitchenware and a houseful of food. All of that food was either taken or thrown away. They told everyone it was all rotten. I think Andrea might have something to say about that.
So, after Nicolle was cleared and released from Parkand, we landed here. The same day we came here, I paid up the other storage unit in Tarrant County. The unit in Dallas, where our pillaged stuff was placed, was off limits because Nicolle's mother removed our names from the lease. I was listed as "expressly forbidden to enter". This addendum wasn't removed until weeks after everyone involved left Texas. Anyone who doesn't believe this can call Marilyn at Uncle Bob's Storage on Skillman street and ask her. Also, I have a copy of the contract. Ooops.
This hotel room runs $240 a week. We have no vehicle, because it was totaled in November in the accident. We have been getting by, barely, but without a car and without me being able to get back to work. Taking care of Nicolle is a full-time job, and one that I'm happy to do. But other people put us in this situation, and recovering from the devastation of a major car accident is hard enough without other people doing their best to take advantage of the no-car, low-income, bedridden-adult situation to crush what was left of our lives.
We've lost the storage in Tarrant County. It was just too much to pay, considering we've been more worried about things like a roof and food. We have not had enough money for deposits on a new place, just enough to remain barely afloat here. No one has offered to help, really, and I haven't asked. And I won't. No one owes us anything except the people who did this, and they're too busy lying to cover their own asses at this point and pointing fingers at each other to bother with us. They should cover their own asses, too.. because one day we'll recover enough to get out of this mess, and we will have justice.
For anyone thinking I've forgotten about posting the text messages we were sent during that despicable week, I haven't. I'll get around to it in depth. In fact, here are a few choice ones to tide you over.
----
"You're beaufriend is toxic....that is why I'm in texas. He feeds you, he wipes your ass,,,, he feeds you drugs in multiple combinations that could KILL YOU........that is TOXIC!!!!!!!! I have a mothers love and you think i'm toxic??????" 3/23/2011 07:04PM [FROM} Nicolle Mom"
"Could you vanish, go die??????" 3/23/2011 07:11PM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
"I got into calista's face,,,not the other way around. I am Not holding her equip. Hostage goofy,,, You are holding her hostage from me and now she is a Missing Person and an APB out on her....maybe you'll see it on the news. You have hid her from me, the hospital would not talk to either her dad or I,,,,,that's horrible...WE LOVER her most. You sabotage her, drug her, take her meds than she suffers because of YOU. You've hit her...you should of thought twice on that one. You keep her fucked up so she can't think clearly.....truthfully, i don't think she even really wants you....i believe she really wants to die....that is WHY she lets you drug her so much....then she don't have to realize how really deepdown she hates you. You made her a dirty...now she just wants to die." 03/23/2011 10:03 PM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
"This is a new day. Are youi going to tell me whwere you are holding Nikki? HOlding her without the things she needs is only causing her more distress. Each day you are breaking her down by the ongoing neglect." 03/24/2011 08:58 AM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
"Fuck you tim....I'll send you a postcard in prison tobremind yoiu how i feel about you." 03/25/2011 03:19 PM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
---
Nothing like a mother's love, indeed.
We haven't always. Seven months ago we had an entire houseful of stuff. We had chairs, couches, dishes, beds and computers. Pictures. Toys that belonged to Ilona. Meaningful things we have collected over a lifetime. Things normal people have that they use to live their lives. Granted, the vast majority of this stuff was in a storage unit in Tarrant County, where we lived for two years. We decided in November to move back to Dallas and start anew. We subletted an apartment from Calista, who was in a bind because she had leased the apartment and then couldn't afford to pay for it. We saw it as a win-win situation for her and us. It was even partially furnished, with a king-size bed, a couch and chair and a few other things. We were not only paying her lease for her, but we also were paying monthly on all the furniture that came with the place. We had what we needed. Three days after we moved in, the accident happened.
After the events of March 19th, we were throw out into the street. Calista and the others bagged up what little extra stuff we had accumulated, including the medical equipment, and threw it into another local storage unit that I provided money for. She also kept all the furniture we had been paying on, and from the time or two I've been to the new unit, it looks like some things were stolen from what they bagged up as well. I have noticed several items missing, including a mattress and houseful of food, that mysteriously did not make it into the unit. There are probably other things, but we don't know yet, because we haven't been able to go through everything. What it does look like, however, that in addition to picking through everything we own while I was at the hospital sitting with Nicolle, someone just took whatever they wanted. Nicolle's friend Andrea had been in town that week and had generously bought us new kitchenware and a houseful of food. All of that food was either taken or thrown away. They told everyone it was all rotten. I think Andrea might have something to say about that.
So, after Nicolle was cleared and released from Parkand, we landed here. The same day we came here, I paid up the other storage unit in Tarrant County. The unit in Dallas, where our pillaged stuff was placed, was off limits because Nicolle's mother removed our names from the lease. I was listed as "expressly forbidden to enter". This addendum wasn't removed until weeks after everyone involved left Texas. Anyone who doesn't believe this can call Marilyn at Uncle Bob's Storage on Skillman street and ask her. Also, I have a copy of the contract. Ooops.
This hotel room runs $240 a week. We have no vehicle, because it was totaled in November in the accident. We have been getting by, barely, but without a car and without me being able to get back to work. Taking care of Nicolle is a full-time job, and one that I'm happy to do. But other people put us in this situation, and recovering from the devastation of a major car accident is hard enough without other people doing their best to take advantage of the no-car, low-income, bedridden-adult situation to crush what was left of our lives.
We've lost the storage in Tarrant County. It was just too much to pay, considering we've been more worried about things like a roof and food. We have not had enough money for deposits on a new place, just enough to remain barely afloat here. No one has offered to help, really, and I haven't asked. And I won't. No one owes us anything except the people who did this, and they're too busy lying to cover their own asses at this point and pointing fingers at each other to bother with us. They should cover their own asses, too.. because one day we'll recover enough to get out of this mess, and we will have justice.
For anyone thinking I've forgotten about posting the text messages we were sent during that despicable week, I haven't. I'll get around to it in depth. In fact, here are a few choice ones to tide you over.
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"You're beaufriend is toxic....that is why I'm in texas. He feeds you, he wipes your ass,,,, he feeds you drugs in multiple combinations that could KILL YOU........that is TOXIC!!!!!!!! I have a mothers love and you think i'm toxic??????" 3/23/2011 07:04PM [FROM} Nicolle Mom"
"Could you vanish, go die??????" 3/23/2011 07:11PM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
"I got into calista's face,,,not the other way around. I am Not holding her equip. Hostage goofy,,, You are holding her hostage from me and now she is a Missing Person and an APB out on her....maybe you'll see it on the news. You have hid her from me, the hospital would not talk to either her dad or I,,,,,that's horrible...WE LOVER her most. You sabotage her, drug her, take her meds than she suffers because of YOU. You've hit her...you should of thought twice on that one. You keep her fucked up so she can't think clearly.....truthfully, i don't think she even really wants you....i believe she really wants to die....that is WHY she lets you drug her so much....then she don't have to realize how really deepdown she hates you. You made her a dirty...now she just wants to die." 03/23/2011 10:03 PM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
"This is a new day. Are youi going to tell me whwere you are holding Nikki? HOlding her without the things she needs is only causing her more distress. Each day you are breaking her down by the ongoing neglect." 03/24/2011 08:58 AM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
"Fuck you tim....I'll send you a postcard in prison tobremind yoiu how i feel about you." 03/25/2011 03:19 PM [FROM] Nicolle Mom"
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Nothing like a mother's love, indeed.
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