After I had the car accident where I injured my knee, and had a surgery, I told Christa I realized the only thing to keep me down was physical illness. She asked me about this a few times.
The next thing I knew, I was getting sick. A lot. Out of the blue it seemed, I came down with bronchitis. I didn't smoke at all and wasn't predisposed. It was after I made some wins with my lawsuits. Both were still ongoing and it was going on 2 years. I started getting bronchitis a lot. The full-on kind with phlegm and everything. It wasn't allergies because it was so characteristically bronchitis. I had it off and on until I quit commuting from Oregon state to Washington state. It lasted for at least 6-8 months and then never returned until after my son and I left for Canada not long ago, after we were basically being fried alive.
The Abbey stepped it up after I rejected their $40,000 offer and turned down their newest member of the team, this lawyer. I think they were suprised I hadn't mentioned anything to Christa about knowing the alternative legal theory was a bad one. Maybe they guessed I was starting to catch on.
Christa had obtained the names and addresses (general location and occupations) of friends I'd had since I was a little girl, from the start. When I first knew her, I gave her information, and then later, she wanted to go over everything all over again.
I asked the judge in Multnomah county for a medical abatement because I was so ill. I was having some odd pangs and huge bruises the size of baseballs were appearing on my legs. I was very, very, sick with fatigue and bronchitis. The judge said she'd give me a mental health abatement and I refused. My issue, at that time, was not mental health. It was legitimate physical health problems, not to mention my migraines occured with regularity and at some point, I guess I gave Christa the details of how regular my periods were and exactly when I could expect a migraine.
Suddenly, all of the Abbeys and WW court dates were exactly on a day when I was due for migraine. I didn't notice, at first. But after it happened a few times, I put two and two together. It was intentional. Not only that, I had told Christa I was at my absolute worst in the afternoons and just sluggish and couldn't think well. All of the hearings were scheduled for afternoon after I told her this. The truth was, I wasn't an early morning person.
LOL.
I sent out a few false flyers, just to see what happened. Most of it was never coincidence. It was well-planned legal strategy. The problem was, some of the strategy wasn't legal at all but illegal. This was repeated with the medical professionals in Wenatchee, WA. I noticed the exact same pattern.
I had someone suggest I was just burnt out and that's why I got bronchitis. I knew somehow that this wasn't true. I was very healthy, ate well, exercised, and didn't feel more stressed than usual. I had panic attacks occasionally, and avoidance issues, but that was it. I stopped opening up my mail after the Abbey kept snowing me with motions and letters. I just quit opening it up. But I wasn't suffering from a bad immune system. I don't know what it was exactly, but something wasn't right. The bruises were especially odd. And no, I didn't have any disease or anything. Or STD or anything of the sort.
After I reported the FBI guys, and they were in my house, I'm sure this is of no significance, but I noticed, all of sudden, a huge black spot on the ceiling of the kitchen. A maintenance man came in and said it was very odd. He wanted to know how long it had been there and I told him it seemed to appear overnight. I thought it was some kind of black mold but he said, "it's not mold" and he had a strange look on his face. I never did hear what it was. It was the size of the palm of my hand. He had to paint over it.
I believe the bronchitis stuff happened after the FBI guys met me.
Now it's time to talk about that.
I told Christa, as I was losing my cases due to improper deals between judges and lawyers, that I was going to finish school and apply to the FBI through the lawyer referral program to fight corporate crime and do civil rights work. I told her it was my last dream, and that it was something within reach. There was no reason why I couldn't do it. The protest stuff looked weird, but I figured I could show the FBI all of the iimpropriety and proof of what really happened. I had no criminal record or mental illness record, and I'd never drugs in my life. Not even narcotics except to control migraine, with a prescription. When I had my knee surgery in 2004, I was given oxycontin, 10 mgs, and I weaned myself off of them even though I could have obtained several prescriptions if I'd wanted to. Anyone could check my record with Dr. Greenleaf and see this is true. And this is despite pain I felt for almost a year as the bone marrow hardened into place, after the transplant or graft. There was a black spot on my X-ray which showed it had not filled in. When there was no black spot, the marrow had filled in and hardened.
Christa wanted to know all about my plans. It was only a week or two later that I met Raul Bujanda, who worked for the FBI. I think it was within one week of telling Christa.
I told her that if I did not get my continuance or medical abatement from the Judge in Multnomah county, that after my case was dismissed, there on the spot, I was going to walk the few blocks it took to walk, to the federal courthouse, and I was going to file a federal claim I had prepared.
I lost my claim. My case was prejudiced and I couldn't do anything about it. So I lost my claim and afterwards, I started walking to the federal courthouse, across from the park.
I walked in the doors, and was standing in line to go through security, when a man came in after me and moved ahead of me to go through security. He was listening when the guards asked which floor I was going to. I asked which elevator to take. He walked towards the same elevator, but ahead of me. While in the elevator, I made small talk, as I did then with almost everyone I met. I asked him if he was a lawyer. He said no. I was wearing jeans and a green gap shirt with a twill lightly striped blazer from Nordstrom over it. Brown shoes. He was wearing a pale yellow shirt I think, but I don't remember, and I do remember he had on a very good watch. I then said, "You're not a lawyer?" and he repeated "no" to which I replied, "Are you a defendant?" and he laughed out loud. He pulled a card out of his wallet and told me he was an FBI special agent. He said he worked undercover. He went with me up to the 10th floor.
I suppose I'll title my next post and continue with this.
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