Someone Has To Infiltrate: Me?

Just about anyone can walk into the evidence room of the police department. I did. And I'm notorious.

Someone asked me how I was let in, and I said someone at the door, but actually, the door was propped open. It wasn't her fault really. I guess I could say it was a real thrill, but I didn't realize it was wrong of me to do this until later.

I don't know. I really don't KNOW what got into me. I think it was MK ULTRA talking. "Cameo...beep beep...walk into and infiltrate the police station. Go spy, go spy, go!"

Well, what I really liked the most, was how I first went to the main office, where they knew I was walking to, and this was right after being told my rights were terminated. So I was obviously upset and people wanted to see me reacting, and what was really sad actually, was the response I got from these 3 women who just stood there and they couldn't have been more smug than the cat that swallowed the canary. One wore blue, the other red, and the other black and white. I didn't think about it until later, because the 3 women who came into the cafe where I was were wearing, one was in red, the other blue, and the other black and white. So I go from one coffee place where they were purposefully sitting next to me after I saw them mocking me in their car.

SO I just went in to ask for a freedom of information act form and that was it. I wanted to get all my records from everywhere since I'm being hauled to a termination. So I have evidence of my own to collect.

I walked in, and these 3 women just stood there watching me and smirking. It was very obvious, the feel. They couldn't be happier my life was falling apart. They could not be happier. So they're standing there, arranged this way and I later found out they are not all usually up there and then the one woman wouldn't even tell me what the other's names were.

So I asked how to get information from Rivercom if it was a separate form and they said no. They didn't give me the right information though. So I went around and went up the stairs and walked in. I walked past offices until I got to: voila, evidence.

I don't know. Something directed me straight to the evidence room. There was this man standing there putting things into a manilla envelope. I asked him where the FOIA forms were and he jumped. He asked who I was and I said, "Ms. Garrett."

He said I couldn't be there and so I went back out into the hall and said I'd leave and they said they had to escort me. I said I'd go out the same door and they said no, I had to go through the main office again. I don't know why. But the guy came out and said, "Are you with the media?" and I said, "Yes, I am." I thought maybe he'd talk. He got upset though, and I said, "Well, I'm a blogger" and then downplayed. He said, "What's your name again?" and I said, "Ms. Garrett" and then he said "What's your first name?" and I said, "Cam" and he said, "Cameo Garrett?" and I said yes and then I was escorted down.

When we got to the very bottom of the place and I was coming through, the women all looked nervous. I can't imagine why and then Miss Red, Blue, and Black&white scattered.

I then picked up FOIAs from other places and one Chelan County officer dressed in camoflague made a cocaine snorting motion torward me. NO kidding. He did this sniff and then thumbing of the nose thing on the left side of his nose.

Then I waited at a retirement place until this church was opening so I could pick up food. There was an "authorized personnel" door sign but I didn't notice it. I found myself in the kitchen and waved at the chef and walked out into the lobby and played piano in the main room until I was able to go somewhere else.

It was very odd. The whole thing was weird, with the police because what I got out of it, was this huge, power trip. It was like they wanted to smirk and laugh about my losses and be smug and stand there in their little posse, and the minute they thought they did something wrong or that I might be someone or have a position which is unexpected I would have, they totally changed their demeanor.