Alvaro, Jamie Dettmer, and Who The Hell

All the way up until last night, this ex was trying to get me to marry him, and at the same time, lying about everything again and changing his tune about every small thing.

The English guy who promised to help me, Jamie Dettmer, did nothing. I wondered about him, but I thought he was nice. He made the offer, and took me out. I didn't ask for anything from him but he suggested some things and then I notice, he's there right after I'm talking to someone from Pakistan, or about the Colombian, but not there for anything else.

Promised to help me get on my feet and pay for me to stay in a hotel in D.C. for a couple weeks while I got on my feet, and said would try to help me with legal things and work.

He never returned my calls unless I had just gotten off the phone from the guy from Pakistan, or until I had written my post online about marrying the guy from Colombia.

So why the hell does he have an interest in me anyway? I don't respect the "now you see me, now you don't" approach. It's like a lot of people have set me up and made false promises and then watch to see me fail.

Jamie approached me when I was on the sidewalk, while I was working at the Post Pub. He said he had a similiar situation with his son and was sympathetic about my custody issue. Said he worked as a journalist for 20 years or so and then got tired of it and went into work as the head of some humanitarian international group.

Was just traveling to Afghanistan, Pakistan, and the Middle East and then I reached him in London to see if he was still willing or able to assist as I'd broken off the engagement. He said yes.

If someone doesn't want to do something for me, that's fine. But don't TELL me you're going to help me, and make promises, and then leave me hanging to dry, with nothing, knowing of my situation all along, and then expect me not to write about it with full names attached.

After I'd met with Jamie and he was telling me to go back to Wenatchee (when I was involved with Chris Dabney), he was then not calling me at all. After I left The Post Pub and wasn't with Dabney, he didn't return my calls. Not once. Not until I wrote, in my blog, about how I'd stayed with a man from Pakistan, and how the Pakistani people and their diplomat friends had been kind to me.

All of a sudden, Jamie Dettmer is calling me.

WhY? Probably, my best guess, is because he had no interest in me whatsoever except for what kind of information he could gain from me. He's English, he has a British accent and perfect dialect, and he's more high brow than low brow. I am sure I'm not up to his class standards even if he dresses down just fine. At any rate, he knew who I was, and he's been reading my fucking blog or getting information from it, and I'd like to know what the fucking angle has been.

An interest in me because of my interest in Princess Diana? of my interest in MI6? or MI5? The fact that I wrote to them for help, telling them how things were going down in the U.S. for me and they would go after my son next?

I had all these English people coming into my workplace after I started writing about Princess Diana. I don't know why the interest exactly or why my blog stood out more than any other blog. But people have been reading and I saw a massive influx of curious persons. Who is good, who is bad? I can't say. Who is for me and who is against me? I don't know.

All I know is I've been screwed over more than once and have had a lot of people try to frame me for various things, including mental "illness" when what I'm REALLY SICK of, is this SHIT people try to pull.

People don't want ME to get ahead, and string me along, and I don't think they want Diana to ever surface, from the grave, above all the shit said about her that's not true but which still creates doubt as to the motive and cause for her death.

Then, this other guy comes out of the woodwork, saying he'll help me. Bryan, whom I assume is the same Bryan calling me from California this morning. But maybe not. There was the Bryan I went on a date with who said he might be able to help me financially for the legal stuff.

Then there's Bryan who calls me from, supposedly, California, and lives on a boat. He called me this morning saying he knows some lawyers and got my phone number from online, when I handed it out on my blog.

HE called me two minutes after my ex walked out of the house, saying he wasn't going to be back until noon and to have my things ready to go, because he was kicking me out at 3 p.m. Acting like he still wanted to do this marriage thing, which was a scam to begin with and an attempt to use me for who the hell knows what, until I declared I wasn't spying for anyone and didn't want to be a spy. He's been acting like an idiot again, too, dumbing himself down, when I see flashes of intelligence he thinks I won't notice, like when I was high yesterday, and I also see his flair for the dramatic. He's an actor. He's a liar, and an actor.

Everything comes with a major string attached, and attached to that string, is a bomb.

All the time, asking me how much I would miss my son and watching me cry. Laughing, yesterday, when I told him how The Willamette Week article was used against me in Canada. Like it gave him satisfaction that I'd been so defamed and this worked against me with the removal of my son. Telling me he wants to help and then trying to cheat me again. All the while, asking questions about what I need and my odds of getting what I need to get my son.

Like this guy Brian, or Bryan, who called me after my ex walked out the door, and says he wants to help me and says he's not a lawyer, but he sounds like a lawyer. He asked me for my whole timeline from the beginning of Abbey problems to the end. Asked me, at the first, if I'd thought about going to Oprah with my story, which I wondered about, like it was some kind of joke.

So he sounded serious and was getting the details, and then when I get to the part about the FBI, all of a sudden, he just CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH.

Let me say it here, Jack Nicolson style: YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH.

Fucker.

I'm sitting there, on the phone, wasting my time, telling him the whole story, and thinking, I don't even have where I'm going next lined up. The English guy was supposed to call me and I was going to a hotel. Now I have nothing. I tried to reach him by phone and by text with no response. For some reason, I think he may know these Colombian people too. I'll tell why in a minute.

Back to Bryan, he couldn't handle the fact that what Bujanda and Garza did was a crime. He kept trying to excuse it and justify it and reword it and twist it. He kept asking a bunch of questions: "did they hurt you?" "did they leave?" "you were conscious the whole time, weren't you?" and just going down a whole line of interrogation, and cutting me off when he wants to, at will.

Doing the FBI more of a fucking favor than anything. Saying what the other police did, and what the reporter did, was crime and amounted to RICO, but then avoiding everything about the FBI and shifting around uneasily in his seat. His fucking swivel chair, which probably spins all the way around too.

I finally said, "Look, you said you wanted to help me and I have to be out of here by 3 p.m. and I have no place to go and wanted to call my Pakistan friends but thought I was going to a hotel first and now that guy is not even calling me back. So I don't know where I'm going, I have nothing, I have no money and I've had medical problems, my son is in Washington state, and I'm sitting here talking to you about this and you're excusing things and I don't know where I'm going next. If you want to help me out with a hotel room and then continue this conversation, that would be great, but otherwise, I feel like I'm wasting time." He said, "No, I can't do that (help me with a hotel room)". So I said, "This conversation is over" firmly and hung up.

He didn't try calling back until I called my Pakistan friend and was reassured I would be okay and not to worry, that they'd help me out.

All of a sudden, Bryan is calling again. Several times, and I didn't answer.

I don't put up with bullshit. You either deliver on what you say you want to deliver, or it's not worth my time, and you're just using me for information for your own purposes and to distract me or stall. What did he think? i was going to talk to him for hours, all the way up to 3 p.m., and be stranded but have what he wanted?

He asked me if I had copies of the tickets police gave me, in Mt. Angel, which were never filed with the court. He asked a lot of questions about whether anyone had photocopied these tickets or whether they were stolen and when and where. I talked to him for hours. He also defended Dan Gatti and Dick Whittemore (Abbey lawyers).

If he really wanted to help, and had enough money to afford the phone call, and had all these great lawyer friends, if he really wanted to help, he could afford a fucking hotel room if that's what I needed, and his real intention was to "help" me.

Back to Jamie Dettmer. The English guy who approached me. I don't think he approached me until I wrote about Princess Diana and what I really thought, and how I was going to find a way to clear her name and how I was going to go through her whole case and the inquiry because I knew she'd been a victim of foul play.

There's Jamie, standing by the wall, watching me buy a hot dog at the hot dog stand. Smiling and smoking. If anyone shouts "SPY!" it's Jamie. He's like the fucking original James Bond. I just don't know what his motives were with me. What I do know, is that after I said I didn't want to be a spy, to Alvaro, Jamie called me right up. Right when Alvaro then decided maybe he didn't want to marry me afterall and I started questioning this. I noticed, they always paid attention to when the deadline was for losing my son or having my rights terminated and they'd take me right up to when I said the deadline was (I bluffed a couple times to see how they'd react with this imagined timeframe), and acting like nothing was possible, and they couldn't help all of a sudden, watching for my reaction. Then again, Alvaro is always checking my food and what I'm eating. The other day asking for a small piece of the narcotics prescription I was given and tasting it, maybe because he didn't know why I was laughing so much. I told him it was from the weed not the prescription and I'd taken the weed because the steroids had triggered a migraine.

So here's Jamie, calling me up when I say "No thanks to spydom" and he asks me all these questions like HE'S Alvaro's fucking handler. He wants to know what's going on, and asks a lot of questions about what have I noticed about Alvaro. What have I done with A., and what is the arrangement, and then comes prepared with a huge list of reasons not to marry him and legal information, with better delivery than most lawyers I talk to. I noticed, on the way in, the looks he exchanged with the coat person and the guy behind the bar. They all knew eachother well, it was clear, and they were hispanic or mediterranean. They took my coat and my computer bag and then I sat down with Jamie. Honestly, I had the impression that he was trying to help me and KEEP me from marrying A., for the interests of someone else. I actually thought it was his intention to help me, mabye for someone else. I didn't pass muster with him, I don't think. He watched everything about me, my table manners, and was very nice, but I felt he was sizing me up. I don't think I sized up well enough. It was like, "Well, get yourself out of there and I'll put you up in a hotel for two weeks and you should talk to someone at the Women's Clinic at Georgetown University."

So I told him I WAS going to go to that clinic, after I broke off the engagement, and if he was still willing to put me up for two weeks. He said, from London, yes.
But no word. And I did notice, when we were leaving the restaurant, he gave looks to the bar guy and coat guy, like, he didn't like me and was communicating this with his eyes to the other guys. Those guys did NOT seem to like me and I don't know why. I don't know how to describe it, but I'm usually right about non-verbal communication. Then, later when I told Alvaro and Pilar I was going to talk to this English guy, they said which one and when I said the one I told you I had lunch with and they looked at eachother with smirks. It was sort of like they knew HIM, but I could be wrong. The timing was odd though. Right when I was pissed off about being recruited for something, and not wanting to be a spy, after being promised the minicooper and all these things, I have Alvaro coming up with excuses AND then I get a call from Jamie, offering another "alternative". Like, if they were in on it together, it was the easy way to get rid of me since I wasn't going to work out afterall. And why Georgetown? When it's Catholic and I got absolutely zero help from them when I tried. It seems the only people who are NOT connected are the Muslims or at least some, from some of the countries. I told one though, "Do you think they would help me even if I don't convert to Islam? Because I don't want to convert to anything. I just want to be myself." Which is, I guess, "Protestant Christian". I guess that's what I am, but I don't want to go to church and I don't have any connection to any affiliation and I also came extremely close to becoming Catholic.

Before I go any farther, notice how I have been writing about others when I feel there may be something wrong, or amiss, but I do not write about my best friends. How much of their lives have I revealed? My friends who have given me serious, "show me the money" help, or not money, but absolute emotional support and confidence. Those who have been faithful to me, have known I've kept their confidences. These are my true friends, but unfortunately, they can't help me at all in these circumstances other than to be character witnesses. They don't have money and they don't have positions of power or influence. They have at least been there for me, like no one else has, not even my family. I have never had a "breakdown" when perhaps most people WOULD, for a couple of reasons:
1. God. faith in knowing God knows all and has seen everything and that he is probably as disgusted with my family as I am.
2. Loyal friends. They have nothing. I've received maybe $250 from them, put together, over the years. But they are smart, interesting, and faithful and have good moral fibre. I can trust them and I believe them.
3. Me. I believe in myself and I know my perspective is accurate. I don't look at things from one side--I do look at all angles and I am not quick to judge, but I'm not a fool either. I have guts.

Some other things Bryan said, "Well aren't you the hero" after I explained I didn't involve my friends who wanted to protest with me, because I was concerned that what was happening to me would happen to them. The other thing I noticed, was that, of all the comments to make in the conversation, the only time Bryan broke the conversation was to ask if I watched the inauguration. It was out of the blue. I said no, I was asleep by that time. I think I was thinking of election night though, which was different from inauguration. So he goes on to tell me about this prayer that was said over Obama. First he said, this woman gave a poetic prayer, and then, Bryan goes on and on about how wonderful this prayer was--made by a priest. How the priest said a blessing and everyone said "amen" and how great it was and that I needed to watch it.

Another plug for the pope. Yay! GO CATHOLIC CHURCH! thanks Bryan, for digging into my shit and trying to defend the Catholic FBI for sexually assaulting me, and then calling to attention something "good" about a priest. No hotel for you, but let me get all your answers about how no one punched you in the eye, on the record, for my clients here, and waste your time again while pretending I'm going to help you while I make it absolutely clear I am defensive about Bujanda and Garza. So yeah, they're the bad guys, but let's find out what evidence you still might have which you might scan in or put into a RICO case all by yourself, down the road. What do you have on Gatti and Whittemore and the police and FBI exactly and how do you connect all that to what happened to you and your son in another state, when you moved to Washington? while I'm at it, there is still enough pity for you, or enough desperation on OUR part, that you find something good about the Catholic church or a priest, and might convert. We couldn't neutralize her through a shoddy and shabby marriage, and this great proclamation of "peace" while trying to use me for everything I'm worth, or have me jailed as an alternative.

Then, Bryan is telling me not to go back to Wenatchee, no matter what, because they will lock me up in a mental hospital for spite, and use anything as an excuse. While Alvaro was telling me to go back to Wenatchee on my own to visit my son and he'd stay in Maryland, if we married first. In the meantime, Alvaro doesn't want to live with me in Wenatchee, and kept trying to get me to agree to go alone and he'd stay in Maryland and work over here.

Bryan is calling me again. I ignored it and I'm sure you're reading this Bryan, because you told me you were reading this.

(he said my writing was very good and that this was "compelling" and one couldn't quit reading.)

Since you have my blog address and you were able to find my phone number, you are also capable of making a financial contribution to my bank account. My bank account information is also online. If I see a donation has been made from a "brian" I might return your fucking call. If you're so eager to "help" me. The proof is in the fucking pudding--put the pudding on my plate.

He is calling again. Brian, you can send me a text and let me know which hotel I'm staying at tonight. I'll look for a text. I'm not picking up the phone.

Otherwise, I have someone from Pakistan who is already inconvenienced but who says he can help if I can make it into D.C. somehow. Alvaro said he would take me wherever I was going to go after 3 p.m.

And I just forgot this computer clock is wrong and that it's already almost 3 p.m. and I don't have anything packed because I spent hours on the phone today, with someone who said they could help me. I told the guy from Pakistan, I don't want some kind of living arrangement with a man, or in a house with a guy who just happens to have a "room". If someone is going to help me, I don't need romantic or sexual entanglements or ideas that I'm going to be putting out, or falling in love, or kissing someone, or anything with any man. I just need normal friends who are willing to help.

Best song of the day, which I thought of myself, this morning: Candle in the Wind.