HOW I KILLED SOME WOMAN...

  Sooooo... there I was. Between gang rapes. Take me here, gang rape me. Take me there, gang rape me. Maybe pretend to pay me, maybe not? Between them they had a woman who'd seduced me on film, and now the gang bragged she could torture me for life & be their cover forever if I should ever get an honest Police Officer to give me half a chance.

  The in between times went much like this after the initial seduction on film. They sat me down at a table, sheet on the wall to disguise the location (the Bomb Shelter Garages). She sat across from me & slapped me in the face. SLAP!

  I protested.

  She told me to calm down. She was my girlfriend after all.

  I calmed down.... usually. Sometimes as my next dosage neared I became semi-lucid. Then i tried to leave.

  The Jocks & whoever was the on duty 4 Stars attacked, subdued me, drugged me, sat me back down at the table, & it all began again.

  Slap!

  I protested.

  She tells me to calm down.

  I calm down.

  Slap!

  I protested.

  She tells me to calm down.

  I calm down.

  Slap!

  I protested.

  She tells me to calm down.

  I calm down.

  Slap!

  I protested.

  She tells me to calm down.

  I calm down.

'  ... You get the idea?

  Another time I became semi-lucid & it was a little different. You see from time to time different levels of memory access are available  while on their memory impairing drug(s?). This time recent memories of my multiple failures to escape bubbled to the surface. Memories of how she helped in my capture, memories of her bragging of my demise at her coming testimony in court. How she insured the gang's immunity to prosecution by virtue of her films of us & her acting skills.

  I recalled the endless memory resets, as my memory reset over & over, as I endlessly reassessed the situation before me & drifted off into a drug-induced stupor.

  In a moment of time I realized I had to act, come up with a plan & be acting on it before my memory reset... again...

  Grrrrrrrrrrr.  I judged her in a moment of time & decided then what I'd do to her as the Jocks stared on bored from a distance & children played with the assortment of toys in the background.

  I reached over & grabbed her by the head & slammed her against the table & turned her head as hard as I could while the shocked Jocks & 4 Stars watched in horror as the ever-present music played on! K-K-K-K-K-K-K-KRACK!

  In the past I didn't get "the job" done & a few of the people got back up & laughed at me... on film of course. With her & many after her this was not the case. As the 4 Stars & the jocks surrounded me I twisted on her neck with all my laborer might. Ramming it forcefully over & over while glaring at my coming attackers. On film...

  The blond had been very beautiful, about 27 maybe 30 years old?

  They say the edited films are quite convincing. She slaps me & I kill her despite the heroic attempts to save her by the Jocks 7 the 4 Stars.

  There's not a... cop who saw "the films" who didn't tell me that they bought the gang's story hook, line & child-graveyard-soaked sinker.

  Whatever...

​

BURIED ALIVE.. PRACTICAL joke??? Does it matter? The guy is just as dead either way...

  I became semi-lucid after the gang-rape slash killed some people slash ticked the gang off big time slash why bother writing this down? The gang promised me death by slow suffocation. Buried alive in a casket in a graveyard.

   Me? As Fagboy tied me up I stiffened my muscles, hoping the slack gained by relaxing later might be enough to escape.

   They took me to a graveyard claimed it was the one that I would work at years later but in truth I cant say where it was?

  Soooo they put me in the casket & laughed at me & closed the lid.

  I tried my best to relax & escape the ropes & got free in less than a minute or so.

  Then I smashed my way out of the spacious casket! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The lid burst open I I looked up at a dark sky. I could see I was in a neatly dug grave. Standing I could see the vehicle we'd arrived in pulling away, easily within shouting distance.

  The 2 approximately 18 year old men seemed to be quite alarmed at my coming out of the grave & shouted to the leaving spacious luxury car filled to the brim with gang members & jocks & little girls.

  That meant they turned their backs on me. One of them left his shovel in the ground when they turned their heads to shout at the leaving car. Being he was the closest to me I rushed up on them as soon as I saw they took their eyes off me, grabbed the shovel, whacked one with the blunt end of the shovel,  Then I came up from behind the guy armed with a shovel who looked shocked & quickly disarmed him.  There was a brief struggle where we swung at each other, recovered,squared off, then I whacked his pal in the head again as he tried to get up, we fought some more, rinse lather repeat, until the 1st guy no longer got back up & I ended it by hitting him over the head with the blunt end of the shovel blade a few times while the other guy squared off against me & he just laid there. The  2nd guy wanted to get his shovel, it didn't help him. I stood between him & the shovel & gave him no opportunity to grab it & keep it in his hands. I struck him several times with the blunt of the shovel doing little damage. When we squared off I took the time to hit his partner in crime a few more times in the head & it didn't seem to phase him until I teased him to throw him off his game. "Are you just gonna let me keep hitting him in the head"? "I thought you guys were friends"? "All 1 big happy team". And taunting like unto it. Not exact quotes, maybe they are exact.? Blame it on the drugs & sleep deprivation. I said a lot of insults to throw guys off their game. Why? Because I learned from the best & it works against the vain. If I had to judge my blows against the 1st guy I would say the claims by the gang he lived were very believable in my opinion.

  Then it occurred to me that using the blade edge of the shovel would be more damaging. We fought some more. I won. So I took the blade end of the shovel & smashed him in the head over & over with all my laborer drug-fueled might! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Over & over. Lots.

  The later "obligatory" snitch said the one had died. That it'd all been a PRACTICAL joke gone horribly wrong.

  What can I say? PRACTICAL joke or not... that guy is just as dead.

  I wasn't laughing.

​

  "I don't get my kicks from killing people. I get my kicks from tricking others into killing people". - Duh Jerk answering as to his motivation

​

  EVERYONE NEEDS A GOAL... everyone...

  Circa Summer 1973. It was a defining moment in my life. A life changing few minutes was about to occur. A moment of time I would remember for life. I'd suppose if you were a mid-Michigan... cOP it'd just be another lie? What would be my motivation? I had to ask. Am I just plain old crazy? A liar seeking attention? Do you suppose this is how I get my kicks? Is it a sick quest for revenge? Am I seeking fame? Fortune? Friendship? Frankly I don't want to be friends with anyone who'd want to be my friend because of any part of my story. Money? As I look at others with even remotely similar stories I see zero evidence any of them made even a single net penny once the dust cleared on any investigation. Fame? But I'm the guy who sits quietly in the back. Kicks? I revel only in the truth. Sell a lie? Telll me oh wise ones? Tell me that if I'm proven publicly to have tried to sell even a single exaggeration let alone lie  that I'd still have half a chance in a public battle against what mid-Michigan... cOPS will surely call "my alleged stalkers"? Does even a single... cOP have the audacity to say I believe that a lie packaged thusly has even the slightest chance against a well-organized gang of professional liars & frame-artists in public under what would be intense scrutiny if I( ever got even a single Police Officer to give me half a chance? I'm getting off subject, it all matters not. That's the beauty of the gang's case against me. They need not define an answer & are still very much free to "wing it" & "make it up as they go" & cOPS lap it up like a dog giddily staring at their own vomit.

  This is about a life-changing event... for me. I was about age 8. Standing alone in my bedroom recalling a promise I'd made to myself during a drugged torture session after a slaying or 2. I was going to count the number of people I'd killed.

  You see reader for years by now I'd had a goal. That I'd try my best to live long enough that my age in years was greater than the number of people I killed.

  So I tried standing there alone in my bedroom. I quickly felt overwhelmed.  My head was reeling at the body count. I had to sit down. It wasn't like me at all to sit on the lower bunk, My Bro's bed but I had to sit down.

  So I sat down & started to count the dead. Him, him, her, her, them, uhhh... that guy. Wait. Did I count him? Wait again. Wasn't that a PRACTICAL joke & he lived? Yeah but they said the next one was & I was about positive that guy died. I tired to count again. Same results. I thought about writing it all down. Sifting through the evidence & coming to a reliable total. I rejected that idea for reasons I included in my 1,000 page letter to the FBI where someone dies every few pages. Every few pages...

  Then I pondered the logistics of the task before me. My goal. The information I had to come to a conclusion, an answer on how close I was to "my goal". I judged it impossible. I'd lost track of the number of the dead & would likely never be in a position to know the actual number in this lifetime. I was failing at my only major goal I had in life.

  I resolved then 7 there to try harder.

  Switch to September 2019. I'm not sure a human can live long enough, medically speaking to fulfill my single greatest goal in life.

  I'm sorry.

​

  LIKELY DOOMED NO MATTER WHAT... Not as glamorous as... cops try to tell me I make it sound...

  Sooooo here I am, fresh from the kidnapping. Star of many a child-porn film & all around Snuff Film star. The gang boast I'm one of the big stars of the biz. Lucky me huh (sarcasm, just in case a mid-Michigan... cop has somehow read this far & assumes I'm implying my luck is good regarding this subject).

  I am gifted with a singular ability to make... cops not listen to me nor regard my pleas at any time for help. I could never make my story believable enough I'd suppose? That's if we don't count the dirty... cops who told me they knew I was telling the truth & planned to thwart me & the multitude of base coward... cops who told me they were to afraid of the gang to even consider helping me. Some of them even told me they'd reluctantly, but assuredly destroy me for the gang free of charge, if I should ever come across their caseload or enter their sights. Their fear of the gang meant they'd destroy anyone who accidentally got between them & the gang. Who cares how many people get hurt as long as they get to keep a cushy... cop job so they can carry guns in public & impress people? Right?

  Originally I was going to write about another killfest. The 4 Stars taking me around the country (according to their boasts) killing innocents & being bestest buddies on their happy drug(s?). Good times for them & they got films no 100 Prosecutors could resist. Clean or dirty. Snickering they boasted  that if I should ever get in a position to take them down the films would surface, they'd plead "State's Evidence", and laugh at me in court, but only after the Judge had rendered a verdict.

  I'll explain the concept as simply as possible & with as few words as I can for the simple who may be reading this. Here goes.

​

  1st, a few definitions. Since the 1st is about a game, usually foolish but often perceived as brave while it it likely just foolishness.

  What does the idiom “Game of Chicken” mean?

  Definition:

  Game of Chicken

  A conflict situation in which neither side will back down for fear of seeming cowardly (chicken)

  For example:

  “The argument between Sean and Tyler has turned into a game of chicken—neither one wants to be the first to back down, even though they’d both be better off if they did.”

  A Game of Chicken can be many things. I've heard of it where  2 or more players wait for some large vehicle such as a bus or train comes at speed 7 stand in it's path. The 1st to move to safety is "chicken" & loses & the last is the brave one or winner. Foolish.

​

  Okay, now another concept I like to call "the Monty Hall approach to law enforcement". It's stupid, doesn't work, & lets horrible criminals walk free on our streets. You want proof? Look at the crime stats from when the technique became popular. Crime hasn't doubled, nor tripled. It's way over 10 times what it  once was. This is in the face of the most well-trained & modern-equipped police forces of all history. As a mid-Michigan... cop you just might want to pre-glaze your eyes over at this point & tell me later you never researched what i had to say but like the rest of my story it must surely be wrong. No need to check.

  Definition:

  State's Evidence state's ev·i·dence /ˌstāts ˈevədəns/ noun

1. evidence for the prosecution given by a participant in or accomplice to the crime being tried.

2.  freedom for criminals based on them (often seemingly but not actually, it's all a frame-job by professional frame-job artists) testifying against those they claim to be their friends, co-workers, partners in crime, or even buttbuddies. example:  Our gang member turned state's evidence on our victim & now our guy will walk free & most of our guys will finger him out of revenge facilitating our plan against our real targets. Business as usual my co-conspirators".

  Okay, now we will combine these definitions into a criminal concept popular among many of the criminals I've interviewed in life. Particularly among professional frame-job artists (ie: there's tons of them in America but nooooooooo one knows who they are... according to the... cops I've met. Me least of all).. When you combine the 2 definitions what you get is a bunch of crooks roaming the streets each doing horrific evil & figuring that if they get caught they'll be the 1st to turn state's evidence & get a free pass from some prosecutor in exchange for testifying against their co-conspirators. A massive ongoing game of chicken with the innocent honest people of America as the victims & pawns. But when dealing with a gang of frame-job artists who specialize in framing people you get the same concept, but the winner of the game of chicken is chosen by a crime boss or leader & the finger is usually (as a matter of business) pointed at an innocent victim who will of course deny being a member of the criminal conspiracy, let alone it's star or leader. This is done to facilitate the gang's own goals, whatever they may be.  Remember. The goals may seem small or petty at 1st & probably are. But the gang wouldn't do this unless they had a plan you don't see that will leverage them into wealth, power, entertainment, revenge or some combination of the 4.

  There you go. The sum of my defense. It may be that you are a Police Officer or Prosecutor & you've totally got "the goods" on me & taking me down for either the good of society or the criminal reward (as the clean or dirty case may be) seems pretty tempting. I submit that I'm not asking for a free pass nor have I begged for leniency. All I want is to provoke an investigation by 1 or more honest Police with at least some courage & a little talent. I'm confident that once a fair investigation begins on my story inconsistencies will appear. Experienced interrogators will discover "tells" made by the lying liars of the gang prompting some to come forward when confronted. Once you get a few to come clean fight the initial urge to pounce. You still have their counter-attack of a mountain of lies to sort through. Don't give up. Don't make it easy either. The gang brag once discovered everyone pleades guilty (to anything but the truth if they can sell it en-mass) so they never endure public scrutiny. Feel free to use your imagination here & remember the children who died. Then think of the unborn children you will be saving based on the gang's boasts about what they plan to do to innocents for the rest of their lives IF you as law-enforcement let them.

  Sigh...

​

  FILMED OPPORTUNITY... how madmen, their "pet... cops, & gang have fun & insure an eager army of vigilantes will help them...

  This tale gets deleted often by the gang. I'd suppose that means something?

  Sooooooooo... there I was... doped stupid. Duh Jerk, Dirty Cop himself armed & in uniform, & a roomful of eager 18 year old gang bangers. A camera stood on a tripod. viewing me. We were in a white room. Freshly painted & very well lit. There was a table beside me. Duh Jerk said something like. "Oh. You're back". Noting I'd become lucid... presumably again? He had something planned for me. He wanted me to know. I was going to do some things for him.

  I refused.

  He told me my refusal mattered not. He knew my memory would reset soon, leaving me open to suggestions.  Then he dismissed a disappointed Dirty Cop.

  My long-term memory reset.

  They brought in a new born baby.

   They brought in a new born baby & put her on the table.

    They brought in a new born baby. & put her nude on the table & brought in a knife.

     The baby was crying, not too loud but like new born's are wont to do from time to time.

      They brought in a new born baby. & put her nude on the table & brought in a knife.  Duh Jerk ordered me to stab the baby.

  So I did.

   Duh Jerk smiled broadly. Cheering it on. "Really get in there"! He coached me to disembowel her.

  The baby girl screamed.

  Eventually the crying stopped.

  Duh Jerk stood around, presumably for my long term memory to sufficiently recover, reset, & so he could brag.

  Now he had films that would insure no one would ever give me a chance. No... cop would ever listen to your whines about being attacked because of... "The Gym".

  I asked about the girl & he said she was the daughter of a whore, born in a brothel & of no consequence. Just a throw away life. Like so many before her.

  I asked Duh Jerk why he kicked Dirty Cop out of the room & he said he liked to spare him some of the worst aspects of his job. Plus the films of my doing the killing were a great way to manipulate the man who was convinced I was the biggest scumbag on earth. Always a bonus for his line of work.

  The Last Snitch complained about it. Saying the lil girl had been the daughter of a rich socialite. They'd covered up the murder by listing the child as still born officially (as only someone with dirty cops & hospital contacts can do) but the parents knew how she died & who'd done it because of the films she'd been show. Now she would pay a fortune to finance revenge against me. "I'm no killer but I am in a position to kidnap this scumbag & rape him over & over" and she'd bought it hook line & sinker, her family too who'd all been filmed discussing my ongoing kidnappings rapes & tortures & how they paid for it. Little did they know they would eventually lose everything. But.... that's just business.

  I asked him why Duh Jerk lied (actually I told him I didn't believe him either, but I digress) about the lil girl & he said the daughter of a whore is of no consequence. Who care if she dies? But the daughter of a rich socialite begs the question. "Where's my cut"?

  I dedicate the lil girl's short life & tale of her death to Officer Hernandez-Walther  of the Annapolis pOLICE without whom's police work & the police work of others my website would not be possible.

  Just business.

​

  YOU'RE UNBELIEVEABLE!!! Whatever...

  Today... 3-5-20 I was just sitting there, minding my own beeswax, & a raccoon attacked me! I wanted nothing to do with the beast which looked otherwise young & healthy & of average size in my opinion so I punched/shoved it away & yelled. "GETOUTTAHERE"!

  It lunged again!

  So I punched it in the nose sending it reeling & yelled. "GETOUTTAHERE"!

  It flew farther, recovered, and attacked again!

  So I punched it in the gut (it was standing & I was sitting)  & yelled. "GETOUTTAHERE"!

  It lunged again but not attacking me but my things & left.

  At first I figured it attacked for no reason & maybe did. Later I found I had a sandwich in my bag that may have motivated it?

  I thought about going to the... cops (what if the animal was rabid?) but loathed yet another "You-don't-look-hurt-to-me-so-how-do-I-know you-ain't-lying" speech. They grow tiresome to me.

  Later... it reminded me of this...

  ...

  Soooo... there I was... bebopping along, minding my own beeswax when this group of 7, generally fit young men almost my size & none of whom were my weight. They were of average build & fitness. Average? You mid-Michigan... cops can deal with that concept? Right? Av-er-age-. Healthy men.

  Though I had never seen a one of them they announced their intention to beat me up.

  Describe what happened? Okay. We fought. I won.

  My assessment of their fighting prowess? Mediocre at best & they made a bunch of straight out of comedy mistakes at key points. Truth be told it's kinda hard to judge as the memory has dulled with time & the heat of combat blurred it more than most for no reason I can think of at the time of this writing.

  I was angry. So I went to the Bay City Police & reported it.

  The... cop who I was "assigned" told me he didn't buy it one bit there had been any fight.

  Then 4 of'em walked in. They too wanted to file a report. They claimed I had attacked them & submitted as proof their 3 pals who were in the hospital & produced a bunch of wounds.

  Then "bAY cITY's finest" asked me to submit my wounds as proof. I think I had 2 scratches, one on a knuckle & another inches away on my wrist.

  The... cop announced "I don't know what really happened but I know this, that none of you is telling the truth". He didn't buy it I'd attacked 7 men without provocation & hospitalized 3 & wounded 4 & he certainly didn't believe that they attacked me & did so little damage. He told us we could leave. I waited my turn to talk while the 4 Pals dominated the conversation & the officer's attention.

  The 4 Pals insisted the uniformed on duty... cop at his post go with them to interview their friends. Yeah... they were kinda violent with me there in the copshop prompting another... cop to help his partner form a wall between us by shoving them into a group & bodily standing between us.

  Me? As the minutes ticked away I got sick of it. All of the situation before me. All of it. So I just left. I recall one of them kept trying to get the... cop's attention while pointing at me as I left but he told him to shut up & wait his turn no matter how much he pestered him as I left... in disgust.

  I was willing to chalk it all up to random street violence in broad daylight when a man who claimed to have been sent by Duh Jerk showed up. He said that in Duh Jerk's opinion the 7 men had made fools of themselves & the gang & were about to be punished/humiliated in epics ways so horrifying that surely by the end of it I would have 7 new enemies for life. The least they could've done was mark me up some but failed at that. Then they were sent to take me down in the Bay County Law Enforcement Center & timidly let me escape the jail when in Duh Jerk's opinion they should have been more forceful in getting the... cops to NOT let me leave the copshop. Then when the... cops asked them if they knew my name or who I was he said all 7 of them forgot my name from the briefing (I'm not now nor was I ever a mid-Michigan... cop so I don't automatically believe every child-molester "snitch" who comes to me), each supposing one of the other 6 would remember it. None of them knew where I lived or anything about me so the... cops just dropped it.

  Now they were going to be punished & I could expect an epic punishment for making the gang look so bad in public.

  Sometimes my responses to their "debriefings/boast sessions blur together. Frankly I've never put much thought into them. They usually went like this so I'll write it here. "Tell Jerk I told him to f#$! off".