Tag Archives: tragedy

Trump Terror

11 Nov

I was actually happy when Trump got the Republican nomination.  I thought Jeb Bush, with his family-backing, and Texas oil money, and far-right support was more of a threat.  I highly doubted anyone would take Donald Trump seriously.  I mean, all he had going for him was money and trash-talk!  I felt voting for him was akin to voting for a Kardashian.  They’re in the same camp–you know their names from the stupid stuff they say and do on television, but you don’look to them for any serious leadership.

And I knew if nobody took Trump seriously (because HOW could they!!!) that whatever democrat was running would be a shoe-in.  I wasn’t sad to see it was Hillary.  I had actually voted for her over Obama in the primary that first time around when she ran.  I knew her face, thought she worked really hard as Secretary of State, and yeah–I wanted a woman in the White House.

But I thought women’s rights were farther ahead than they actually are.  I really think if Hillary were a man, things would have played out differently.  It would have been an EQUAL assessment of two candidates.  Not just a singular attack on one and blind-spot toward the other.  They would have dug into her dirty laundry–sure–that’s part of the political game these days.  And believe me, they ALL have their share of dirty laundry.  The political machine is so caught up in money now, that ALL candidates that make it to a certain lever most certainly made back room deals to get funded.  They all owe somebody.  Every politician has to water down a certain policy they care about, because a special interest group contributed to their campaign.

That makes them all lairs.  They all manipulate.  Every politician is shady.  I expect it.

But they would have used the bad stuff to equal disadvantage, apples-to-apples.  They didn’t.  When people called Hillary a liar, I was like–yeah.  Of course.  But what I didn’t expect was to people to hold that against Hillary in a militant way, when they didn’t hold the male politician to the same standard.  I would challenge that every accusation, every piece of dirty laundry found on Hillary was used against her in a more drastic way then it is used against any man that has run or held office.  People were a LOT harsher on Clinton then they’ve been on most males in politics.

The patriarchal double-standard reared it’s ugly head.

Even so, I didn’t think the country would go for Donald Trump.  How could they?  He is a caricature.  He’s all fluff and propaganda, and realty TV!  He has no political experience, no solid policy ideas, only hateful sound-bites.  His business dealings were murky.  The guy claimed bankruptcy and didn’t pay taxes.  He wavered on issues, and lost all three debates.  His supporters were the trashiest, most backward, belligerents in the country.  He got caught candidly admitting his penchant for sexual abuse.  Americans would not get behind any of that.  We might like to see the train wreck on TV, but we expect more decorum and have higher standards for our president.

The leader of our country–the leader of the world.

I was in absolute shock when we didn’t.

This week was difficult.  I felt suddenly scared and alone.  I knew every person from my small town voted republican.  I felt since Trump is against many of the minority groups I belong to (women-in social standing, impoverished, gays) that my Utah work managers were also.  My hometown was also.  My Facebook friends were also.  My parents were also.  I was suddenly marginalized.  Cowering at the fringes.

And my groups are actually dominant groups OF the marginalized groups.  The illegals, people of color, transsexuals, Muslims–all have it way worse.  If I felt scared and alone, how must THEY feel???

I saw many Trump supporters come across my Facebook feed.  And they shut-down dissent by telling anyone liberal or sorry about the win to “get over it.”  They discounted their opinions, silencing their views.  I try not to make waves on Facebook.  Or at work.  I know I am more progressive then my small-town peers.  I understand I have lived in more states, have more education, watch documentaries and learn about issues.  I’m a moderate, but a progressive one.  That sets me apart from most loud political views.  I get that people that just don’t know, don’t necessarily hate, but they are ignorant.  I can let some things go.  And I am usually quiet.  I scroll past the politics that are opposite to my views, the hate-memes, and ignorance.  Because these people are family.  Or they are my past.  I grew up and went through every year of schooling from kindergarten to senior year with some of these people–it’s just not worth it.

But when people started hassling Cool on her Facebook page, I stopped to think.  She was upset and posted why.  People wrote long diatribes, personally attacking her.  People told her to shut up about it.  People said to “move on.”  And in a society that just accepted what Trump stands for, and voted him in the highest office–I decided we could no longer afford apathy.

A lot of the reason he got voted in was because people didn’t like either candidate so they didn’t vote.  A whole, big section of youth, and moderates, and democrats just didn’t vote.  Which left privileged people to make our decisions.  People whose lives look nothing like mine.  People who don’t have the same problems and worries as me (or other marginalized groups).  It made me think a lot of that Holocaust quote, which I will not directly quote (because I’m too lazy to go search for it, and I already have more tabs open then I like) so I will sum the sentiment up:  They took the criminals, and I was not a criminal so I didn’t say anything.  They took the gypsies, and I was not a gypsy so I didn’t say anything.  They took the Jews and I was not a Jew so I didn’t say anything.  So when they came for me–there was nobody to speak for me.

We always have to remember how the Holocaust started so nothing even remotely similar can repeat itself.  It’s not just about some tyrant stealing power–it’s the apathy and silence from the real majority that allows that to happen.

And Cool and I spent a very large part of the year watching WWII (and everything around the periphery of that) shows, interviews, and documentaries.  I know what apathy can lead to, I know how things got started in Germany back then.  So I felt motivated to stand up where I could in my own life.  I made a new policy that I would not be silenced by the privileged few.  I would not stand down as a woman.  I will not hide as a gay.  I will not let my poverty minimize my power.  And I wouldn’t stand by and say nothing when others were hassled–not anymore.  I will act with integrity and stand for what I believe in.  Even if it causes confrontation.  I will deliberately show my ethics and speak my morals.  I have to counter the negativity and hate that was just sanctioned by a vocal majority by stopping the silence and apathy.  First in my own life, then maybe even on a larger scale.

Here’s what I wrote to Cool (and her frenemies on Facebook):

hypocracy

 

And I wrote to her (and those frenemies of hers):

“Words of wisdom: I will not be shut-down or silenced. I will continue to voice my ethics and let my values guide my actions. Hate has no place here. Don’t let societal pressures make you falter. Speak your mind. Speak your truth.”

Because right now it’s super-important for all those just marginalized by the ignorants and the haters to have a voice.  Remind people we’re here and we’re just as valid.  And we have dreams, hopes, and rights.  We deserve an equal chance.  We deserve respect.  That dissent is not unpatriotic.  To speak out for injustice is as American as you can get.  It’s what this country was built on.

I also got brave and wrote from my heart on my own Facebook page.  Knowing I was outnumbered by right-wingers.  Knowing there was hate for my groups just under the surface.

“I try to keep politics off my page. Nobody really wants to hear it–you’re not changing anyone’s mind. And I don’t identify with either party. I think with all the money, and lobbyists, and Super-PACS all candidates that make it that far have to be corrupt just to be in the game. But I am in shock and dismay.

For me, this 2016 election result is not about red or blue, winning or losing, it’s about standing for my values, and modeling my ethics. I will not be shut-down and I will not falter in defending my morals for fear of antagonism. It’s not about, “move on, get over it.” Trump’s values do not align with mine. And friends/family I hope I know you well enough that Trump’s quotes/feelings are not in your heart either.
This is a country of immigrants, mentally ill, minorities, women, gays, impoverished, of “other.” Big-Money shouldn’t have the largest and last say in all matters. As a proud American I recognize how fortunate I am to be born here and at the status that I hold. But that’s all it was–luck, completely out of my control. I will raise my voice to defend the little people– outsiders like myself–because that’s the kind of person I am.
If you can’t respect that, if you are ignorant to the sentiment of this message–mostly I feel sorry for you. And a little afraid. For myself, for the others like me, for this great country, and for you. God bless, and may the universe be kind to you and yours.”
I was disappointed I only got 3 likes and one comment–none of those from family.  So the fears and isolation are real.  Those people on my Facebook WOULD turn against me.  I have to watch my mouth and watch my back.
But I will not be silenced.  I will not go down without a fight.
I took my new personal-policy of not being silenced to my job yesterday.  Crissy bought us ice cream.  She got 4 different flavors of candy bars.  Derick the Douche loves Reese’s PB cups best, so she specifically got ice cream in that flavor for him.  He claimed it before he saw it.  The rest of us decided which flavors we wanted.  Derick then saw the ice cream, and saw his flavor was smaller then the rest.  He said he wanted oreo instead (it was the biggest).  But an Indian gal had already picked that one out.  White, male, privileged, dominant Derick the Douche wanted it, and pushed for it.  She conceded.  I spoke up–“No Siama already chose that one.”  And I like PB, and didn’t particularly care which ice cream flavor I ate (I love ALL ice cream!) so I told him to take the Twix one I had picked.  He pouted and tried to take hers anyway.  I put my foot down.  Which, I never would have done before.  He’s always that way.  It was none of my business.  But under my new policy, I was not going to stand by and let him bully a minority and take the (perceived) better ice cream away from her.
I used my policy a second time in the same night.  A chronically slow, co-worker, who is always late, always lagging on his buckets, and actually disallowed to do basic tasks because he messes up, ruffled my feathers.  I always do the document imaging at work.  My co-workers don’t like to.  Everyone is supposed to do it.  We even have it assigned to a certain color.  But I do the lions share-no matter what color I am assigned.  Night after night.  Because I am a hard worker.  I’m motivated.  And it needs to be done.  I’ll do the scanning–ALL of the scanning.  Night after night, month after month, year after year-I do the majority of the scanning.  To the point, they don’t even know HOW, some of them, including the boy in this story.
For once, Crissy (who is just a sub and usually doesn’t work) was helping with the scanning.  She got stuck and didn’t know what had gone wrong, and this kid (Josh) was near so went over to help her.  But since he never scans, didn’t know how.  And they all just KNOW that I’m the scanning bitch at work.  In an accusatory tone, he called my name–like ‘YOU fucked this up, now come over and fix your mistake so Crissy can finish our work.’  That’s what his tone and body language said.  And he’s used that tone on me before.  Usually I let it go to keep the peace.  Even though it’s a totally inappropriate tone for work, and completely condescending.  I usually let it go.  Even though it makes me mad and makes me feel ‘less than’ I let it go.
But last night I called him out on it.  I said, “Are you asking for my help or accusing me of something?”  And he still looked agitated and a little hostile toward me so I continued, “You don’t need to use that accusatory tone on anyone at work–especially when you’re asking for their help.”  Turns out, I had not messed anything up.  But even if I had–so what?  And um–scanning is not MY job.  They are supposed to be doing their share and they never do–so don’t come accusing me of anything regarding scanning!  Anyway, Crissy had pressed something wrong, and it was no big deal, I simply showed her how to fix it, and we went on with work.  But my defense had made the kid mad.  He was storming around, slamming his stuff, and had a shitty demeanor for the rest of our shift.
But I wasn’t silenced.
And that felt good.  In a week where shock and horror ruled.  So I will continue on, living ethically, not hiding behind fear or apathy.  I will act with morality, defend those without a voice, and stand up for my beliefs–because they’re just as valid as Trumps, and those who voted for him.

Nobody Wants to be THAT Silent Bystander that Could Have, but Didn’t, Prevent Tragedy

25 Mar

Walking about-July 2012 030Today, when I went to class I saw something a little unusual.

I drove to the parking lot and parked, and saw a man walking through the lot.  He was around 50 years old, so not your traditional student.  And he was wearing a green army jacket–not typical of faculty.  He didn’t seem to be DOING anything in particular, I just thought he looked out of place.  But really, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice under normal circumstances.  The real thing that caught my attention was what he carried.  He didn’t have a back-pack or a brief case or any kind of binder of notebook, or even a rake or something that screamed student, staff, or maintenance.  All he had was a crow bar.  And he walked down the row of cars, and sort of meandered further into the middle of the parking lot, instead of the road or exit he had initially been approaching.

And I thought he looked like he could try to break into cars, smash windshields, or worse shoot up a campus.  He just didn’t seem to fit the environment.  And I thought some desperate homeless person or veteran with terrible PTSD could have come from the train tracks behind us or from downtown very nearby the campus.  I didn’t especially WANT to find out what he was doing, and being the only person in the vicinity I did not want to become victim #1, so as I walked I kept an eye on him.  Even through he was now sort of behind me, I just ignored the flashcards in my hand and glanced back every few steps.  And he watched me too.  So I was a little suspicious and unnerved.

I didn’t want to over-react in any way, and certainly I was not alarmed at this point.  BUT if the guy was up to something or intended on some horrible crime, I didn’t want to be that person that everyone interviewed afterward who looks all dumb.  Dumb because they saw something that wasn’t right, realized it, then ignored it and let tragedy ensue.  So I planned on reporting the incident (or non-incident as the case may be) to the front desk when I got inside the school.

But before I made it, there were 2 guys who looked like part of the school’s landscaping crew.  I said excuse me and asked if there was a third man working with them–which confused them greatly.  So I just mentioned the unusual man carrying the crow bar through yellow parking.  I didn’t want a scene or anything, in case the man had been doing something perfectly legit, but I didn’t think it would hurt for someone to ask him what was up either.  And I think landscaping headed over there to check it out, but I’m not sure if they followed up.  So I didn’t report it to anyone else–that felt like over-kill.  And luckily, no one shot up, bombed, or vandalized the school that I know of.

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Girl 27

11 Jul

MGM wanted to wine and dine their sales associates.  Invited them to L.A. and Mr. Mayer is quoted as saying “Anything you want.”  They got extras to a ranch under false pretenses–a movie call requiring western wear.  It turned out to be a party for the sales people.  With something like 1.5 cases of scotch per person.  This was a very thought-provoking documentary about a 17 year old extra (dancer), Patricia Douglas, who accused an MGM sales-rep at the party of raping her.  She had been a virgin.  Not that it would have been any less terrible (or true) if she had been sexually active.

In the 1930’s (and before) there was no sex education from parents or school.  No one talked about sex, pregnancy, or especially rape.  Rape was never even mentioned in the movies–it was avoided.  As such, rape could not occur.  When women accused it, they were stigmatized (as they are today) There was also no recourse or help when it did occur.  Like the “perfect” 1950’s, which I’ve discussed on my blog before, where things aren’t discussed, it doesn’t mean the perfect image portrayed is a true one.  The unpretty is just hidden.  And keeping secrets makes ugly, problems.  People can’t keep those sorts of things under wraps without facing consequences at some point or withering away internally.  Not talking about sex or rape, doesn’t mean sex won’t occur and rape won’t happen.  It just leaves people ignorant about sexuality and sweeps rape under the closet door with everything else unpleasant.

Along with ignorance and secrets so prevalent in that era, the institutionalized cover-up contributed to Douglas’ misery and decline.  It was the studio movie era so MGM was king.  MGM was the biggest employer in L.A.  This means they controlled police, politicians, and the majority of the public.  To cover the bad publicity, they got the doctor to give Douglas a douche PRIOR to an examination–essientially erasing all evidence.  The one witness changed his story–then got a lifetime (nicer) job at MGM.  When the case went federal, Douglas’ lawyer didn’t show up (3x) to the landmark–1st–federal trial.  Suddenly, Douglas’ mother, the minor’s custodian, came into money.  She had furs, a stable of horses, and cash–and dropped her daughter’s case.  Makes you wonder. . .

The film covers the subsequent trial (then lack of one), cover-up, and lifelong ramifications.  It is true, abuse and mal-adaptive behavior continues from one generation to the next.  Though she lived into her 80’s Douglas had died long before that.  Long term affects of the rape and the cover-up of it:  Douglas could not love or trust men, and became, in her own words, “frigid” sexually.  She never mentioned any of this to her daughter or grandchildren, but was cold toward them.  Douglas became home-bound and obese.  The only things she ever did were watch MTV all night and sleep all day.  Douglas lived with her mother, but treated her poorly.  The rift, ignorance, and pattern of abuse spans generations.

What else can you say, but rape ruins lives?  The documentary will stay with me.  I suggest you watch it too.

PS: Greta vanSustern is a total lesbian–married to a man or not.

P.S.S:  Film based on, “It Happened One Night. . . At MGM.

Train

1 Apr

I had the terrible luck of getting held up by a train on the way home. . .  Again.  And while I was waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting for the train to pass by, I was wondering

1.)  Why there isn’t a law that mandates “gates”?  Cool says that’s what the little stick dealies that go down and flash and block the train track when a train is coming are called.  Anyway, the intersection nearest out apartment has none.  It just has a line painted on the road then the tracks. . .

2.)  I was also wondering how long the average train is, what each car and the entire train weighs, what force the train would hit something with, how long it takes a train to stop, and so on.  So once I got home (20 fricken minutes later) I looked these things up on the internet.

Turns out, trains require a lot of physics and mathmatics, neither of which I love or am exceptional at.  But here is as close as I can figure:

An empty train-car wighs about 30 TONS.  A loaded car can weigh 140 TONS.

Amtrack passenger trains average 48 MPH, but trains are capable of 100+ MPH.  A bunch of political stuff is the reason why trains must go so slow instead of going fast and thinking of their bottom line.

A good average number of cars per train is 110.  Per some train conductor that was nice enough to answer someone Yahoo (or something of that nature) question.

So that means (if I used the right online calculator and numbers) that just one train-car exerts a minimum force of 144714.35 pounds!!!!

Which means a train with fully loaded (140 ton) cars (x110) going the maximum speed (100 mi/hr) has a force of 154769066.46 pounds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I’m no mathematician or physicist so the accuracy of my numbers may be questionable.  All I know is that is a LOT, and you wouldn’t want to pull your car too far forward when there are no gates.  A train.  Would fuck.  You.  Up.  Real big.  And I didn’t look up regulations, so I guess you should be careful on Mission.  Don’t park across the tracks.  Even though you are able.

I’m Sorry Jaycee Lee

15 Feb

Facts via “Shattered Innocence.” The book about the Jaycee Lee Dugard kidnapping/captivity/sexual abuse.  It was a more sensationalized account, but gave another valuable perspective on the story.  Mostly, I liked the acknowledgement of how deeply the Tahoe/Northern NV was affected.  It was also horrifying to see all the ineptitude listed in one chapter.  Here goes:

Phil Garrido received a 50 year federal prison sentence for Kidnapping Katie Callaway on the California side of Lake Tahoe and driving her across the state line to Reno where he had fashioned a “Porn Palace” in a storage unit.  He bound her with a leather strap for transit, then took drugs and raped her for 6 hours before a police officer stumbled upon the car with CA plates.

Garrido was released from federal prison after only 11 years.  He was sent to Nevada to serve time for the state offense of drugs and rape.  They only held him for 7 months before paroling him.  In 1999, parole was moved to California.  On four occasions (November 1999, July 2004, December 2005, and April 2008) California made requests that Nevada should let Garrido off of parole all-together.

Parole agents get a ten week training program, no field training, then are rushed into work where their caseloads are staggering.

Under conditions of his parole, Garrido had to submit to searches of his property at any time.  No prior notice or warrant was required for such a search.

During the first month of this transition from Nevada to California–no one looked at the Garrido residence, as was policy.  Worse, no parole officer ever visited the residence for the first year they lived in Antioch!  This could have been because CA mis-assigned Garrido to the minimum level of supervision instead of the high control status he was supposed to have.

No agent visited Garrido the six months from Nov ’99 to May ’00.  Phil merely visited the parole office on 3 occasions, submitted 5 brief monthly reports, and called on the phone once during that period.  It wasn’t until May ’00 that CA even realized Phil was a sex offender and should have been placed at a high level of supervision.  He should have been submitting to frequent drug tests all along, as he cited drugs in the rape case, as the primary reason for his behavior!

Another oversight were the mental health assessments mandated by the judge.  This was not done at all between 1999 and October 2007.

Still, between April ’01 and October ’03 no reviews were done at all!  Furthermore, between June ’01 and July ’02 no one even bothered to visit the Garrido residence as mandated.  From June ’04 to August ’05 there was only one visit to the house.

In June of 2002, the local fire department responded to a call that a juvenile had sustained a shoulder injury while swimming in the pool.  No juvenile should have been on a sex offender’s property.  Any parole agent had access to this report, but of course they didn’t bother to look.

There were at least 30 incidences in which emergency services were called to the Garrido residence, mostly to deal with Phil’s elderly mother.  Any of those agencies had an opportunity to see something amiss.  Also, parole officers have access to emergency reports.

On June 17, 2008, an agent went inside Garrido’s house unannounced.  His report stated inside there were Phil, Nancy, Phil’s mother, and “a 12 year old female.”  Again, sex offenders on parole are not supposed to be near children.  And when questioned who the girl was, Phil said it was his brother’s daughter.  The parole agent did not contact the brother to confirm this–if he had, he would have realized Phil’s brother does not have a daughter.

On at least 10 occasions parole officers had not completed mandated reviews.  And in 15 more instances, reviews were performed, but obvious deficiencies were not corrected.  It was noted that of the 123 months Garrido was under parole supervision, 111 months were rated inadequate to departmental standards.

In fact, over the years, there were about 60 face to face visits at Garrido’s home, where Parole Officers took pictures of utility lines, cables, and telephone lines running from the house to a carport in the backyard.  This was not investigated further.  Not on a single one of those 60 visits!

Parole agents never once spoke to any of Garrido’s neighbors either.  If they had, they might have talked to Dennis McQuaid, who said at five years old, he spoke with a blonde girl in Phil’s backyard.  “She said, ‘My name is Jaycee.'”  Two other neighbors reported seeing under-aged girls at Phil’s house.  On November, 30, 2006, neighbor, Erika Pratt, called the police and said, “He has several tents in the yard with people living in them, and there are children there!”  The report noted she was concerned because her neighbor has a sexual addiction.  This is the infamous incident when police were sent to the house, and instead of checking the backyard, or questioning Phil, they warned him tents could be a code violation.

It wasn’t until 2008, that Garrido had to wear a GPS unit.  The unit used satellite to transmit location, speed of movement, and direction of travel to the department.  In a 32 day period the summer of 2009, Garrido’s GPS proved that he had left his home after curfew 14 times.  Worse, it showed he traveled well outside of his permitted 25 mile range, to Berkeley, Oakland, and San Francisco.

Most suspiciously of all, the GPS device showed that Garrido had gone to his “secret” backyard 30 times in just one day!  Between July 23, 2009 and August 23, 2009  Garrido’s GPS signal disappeared every night, for as long as 9 hours.  A parole agent learned of the GPS descrepencies and no action was taken at the time!

Back to the “secret” compound in the backyard:  In a federal file was a report of the search of Garrido’s soundproof shed.  This is the same shed Jaycee Lee Dugard was imprisoned and raped.  This search by federal agent, was not shared with state authorities, who were obviously unaware the property extended any further.

In July 2008, a regional sex offender task force did a sweep of the Antioch area, including the Garrido residence.  They searched the house and backyard, but not one looked past the 8 foot fence and into the secret compound.

In June 2009 (a month before Garrido’s arrest), a recidivism test was requested.  The test could estimate the likelihood rapists would re-offend, and was primarily used on prisoners requesting parole–not those already out on parole.  The test was not run until 3 weeks AFTER Garrido’s arrest.  Of course results came back as a high-risk of re-offense-ya think?

On August 25, 2009, when Berkley officers called Garrido’s parole agent, that agent did the worst thing possible:  He asked (an increasingly paranoid and erratic) Phil to come to his office the next day.  This could have alerted Phil to a problem and prompted him to run, or worse, hurt Jaycee or her two, young daughters.

Everyone FUCKED up.  And sure, the state of California paid Jaycee Lee Dugard an unprecedented settlement of 20 million dollars, but is it enough?  How can all of the damage be un-done?  Jaycee missed her childhood, was held captive in horrible conditions, and raped.  Nothing can change that now.  She has two children and a lot of emotional damage that can never be un-done.  None of this should have happened, and 20 million dollars won’t change that. . .

Jaycee Lee Dugard [posted 9-2-09]

17 Jan

Here is a half-poem/half list of my feelings on the Jaycee Lee Dugard story:


Infuriated with the case of Jaycee Lee Dugard.  Mostly because it never should have happened.

.. ..

Saddened that Phillip Garrido’s first wife didn’t press charges for battery or for the time when he tried to gouge her eyes out with a safety pin.

.. ..

Horrified he kidnapped a woman, dragged her across the California-Nevada state line and repeatedly raped her in his “sex palace.”

.. ..

Terrified that Phillip was calm and collected when a Reno police officer stumbled upon his rapist’s lair.  He told the officer she was his girlfriend, as she screamed for help in terror.

.. ..

Exasperated the judge in the Callaway-Hall kidnap/rape case ruled to exclude the first attempted kidnapping, meaning Garrido was not on the books as a repeat offender.


Astonished that “Crazy Phil” only did 11 years of a 50 year sentence when he did such a violent crime, and had prior offenses.

.. ..

Angered that Nancy, (obviously disturbed) married Garrido while he was in a Kansas prison.

.. ..

Incredulous that Garrido was transferred, mid-sentence, from a maximum security facility in Kansas to Carson City, where they so obviously dropped the ball.

.. ..

Astounded that Carson City not only released Garrido on his 4th parole attempt, but they let him leave the state and go live with his mother in California.

.. ..

Furious staying away from children was not a term of Garrido’s parole, because the woman he raped for 5 hours straight was 25 at the time.

Pissed that Garrido drugged and raped a 14 year old (4 years prior to Jaycee), and was released because she didn’t testify against him.

.. ..

Disturbed that an 11 year old Jaycee Lee Dugard was grabbed (by a woman) from her bus stop, in the sight of her father.

.. ..

Alarmed that the Garridos swiped a child in plain daylight, then were able to just drive home in the same car without lawful intervention.

.. ..

Amazed that with the palpable fear in Lake Tahoe, neighbors who saw Jaycee Lee didn’t recognize her as a missing child.

.. ..

Startled that neighbors or law enforcement had no idea of the “secret backyard,” when it was visible on google maps.

.. ..

Disheartened that nearby residents left well enough alone, and learned to live with tents and sheds, weird noises, and children in the backyard of a known sexual predator.

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Shocked that Garrido masturbated while looking at children in parks, schools, restaurants, and drive-ins.

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Stunned Garrido’s mother and his wife stood by while Phil harbored and raped a child.

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Flabbergasted that a parole officer checks a sex offender with a sketchy, kidnapper’s past, but does not walk through the entire house and yard on every visit.

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Staggered that Nancy Garrido still kept Jaycee Lee captive when her husband was thrown back in prison for a parole violation.

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Infuriated that a person could get a 50 year sentence, be released on parole after only 11 years, BREAK the terms of that parole, then be re-released in a matter of months.

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Dismayed to think about the emotional, and physical damage that must have occurred when Phil made Jaycee Lee pregnant at 14 years old, then made her give birth in a filthy tent–twice.

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Troubled that when children and prostitutes were disappearing near a known sex offender’s home and work, nobody thought to connect the dots and investigate.

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Affronted by the fact Jaycee Lee Dugard worked for Garrido’s printing business, met with clients, spoke with them on the phone, and wrote e-mails, yet no one recognized her as anyone but “Alyssa.”

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Disappointed the system lost track of Garrido’s sex offender status when someone DID call the police on Phil.

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Upset that people thought “Crazy Phil’s” crazy behavior and religious ranting were harmless.

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Confused at how Garrido (a registered sex offender, who wore a GPS monitor) was able to parade 2 young girls around town, and even take them to a birthday party, and no one sensed anything out of the ordinary.

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Wonders if anyone in Antioch reads the news when I hear stories of Jaycee going to the store or a college campus with Garrido.  Especially when her kidnapping was all over the news in Nevada, a whole state away.

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Anxious to think “Crazy Phil” was only caught because he wanted to be.  Why else would he bring a kidnapped girl and two children of rape to a college campus and a parole meeting?

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Revolted at the audacity it takes to not only plead innocent to 18 years of crimes, but to call the story “heartwarming.”

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Annoyed when I hear the media call Nancy Garrido the “true” monster because she allowed this to happen.

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Upset some members of the media are blaming the victim for not escaping or trying to reach out in some way.

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Tired of hearing psychiatrists and media diagnose Dugard with Stockholm Syndrome, despite never meeting her.

Hungry for more facts about the case and all the people involved.

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Disgusted that informants are now requesting the media pay for any information.

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Eager to see what Jaycee Lee Dugard looks like today, after having grown up seeing her missing posters.

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Excited to hear what Jaycee Lee Dugard has to say about the entire situation.

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Suspenseful to find out if the Garridos will get the maximum sentence and really suffer for what they did.

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Hopeful that Jaycee Lee Dugard and her two (unfortunately named) children, Angel and Starlight can fully recover from their ordeal.

 

Traumatized [posted 9-1-09]

17 Jan

I’m not certain why I feel so invested in the Jaycee Lee Dugard case.  Maybe the event traumatized me in my childhood.  Maybe it’s because it could have easily been me.  Maybe I feel so strongly, because it was the first really terrible thing I knew about–it was the end of my innocence.

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I remember when Jaycee Lee Dugard was kidnapped.  She was 11 and I was 6.  I identified with the girl:  We were both blond, both petite girls who were in elementary school, both had slightly big front teeth, both of us loved cats, both had a sprinkling of freckles, both of us had unusual names.  When she was taken, Jaycee Lee was wearing an outfit I regularly wore—pink stretch pants and a pink shirt.  She was snatched from Tahoe—I went to Tahoe with my family often.  The face on that poster haunted me.  It was familiar, and reminded me of what could happen—how vulnerable I really was.  She was taken while her father watched—how could I possibly feel safe again?  I felt as if she was just a little more unlucky than me—that time.  I suppose everyone felt this way.  Most little girls fit that description, no little girl thinks she will be taken away from everything.

.. ..

I also remember the resulting panic in the community.  The event was splashed all over the news, everyone was talking about it, parents in the area went into protective mode.  Fear was palpable.  There were pink ribbons and “missing” posters, featuring that little girl, on every doorway, window, and bulletin board in Lake Tahoe.  I don’t think there is a single person from Northern Nevada or the nearby California area (1991 to 1995, especially) that wouldn’t recognize Jaycee’s smiling face.  For years afterward, Tahoe looked for any sign of Jaycee Lee.  Every young girl (and her parents) worried SHE could be next.

.. ..

Things changed when Jaycee Lee Dugard disappeared.  The area was no longer a rural area free from sickos and predators.  Fun at the lake or on the slopes was no longer as carefree as it had been.  Kids were no longer safe to go anywhere (even the bus stop) alone.  They weren’t even particularly safe if their parents were watching.  I had to constantly hold someone’s hand when we visited Tahoe or Reno.  New reports gave suggestions on kidnap avoidance, stranger danger.

.. ..

I ALWAYS wondered what happened to Jaycee Lee Dugard.  The case was close to my heart, and also piqued my curiosity.  When I found out some answers, I was relieved.  Not especially relieved she was alive (because maybe death would have been a blessed end to her suffering) but relieved to KNOW.  Now, I’m troubled at the circumstances that led to her miserable 18 years of captivity.  That’s the next blog though.