Hays For President 2012

My activism in the streets will probably be decreasing as I fight in the Courts for a better world for all. This post will tell you why I am saying this. My beautiful America is falling apart quickly. Many of my patriotic friends can see this as clearly as I do. We will fight, civilly I hope, to regain our country back. We do not want to overthrow the government...we want to restore what our founding fathers meant for us to have.

I am working on a new computer, since the NYPD stole mine. I apologize for the quality of some of the links and the way I laid them into this post. My old computer was much easier for me to use. It took me 2 days just to get this post up on the internet. This will have to do, as I have so many things that I need to address. One of the reasons I am making this post is to see if I can find a Pro Bono attorney. I will not spend any more of my husband's hard earned money on attorney fees. If I have to do this on my own, I will.

This summer I had two awesome trips. The first one was for 3 weeks. I spent 2 weeks in Fort Meade, MD at the Manning court-martial trial. I don't have time to go into the details here, but it was an awesome experience.

I then went to the Occupy InterNational gathering in Kalamazoo, MI. for 1 week. We had a fun parade through the streets. Although the police tried to be tough on us in the beginning, in the end they cut us some slack. For that I was greatful.

I actually had some good coverage in the Kalamazoo Gazette. I was mentioned in the body of the article, a video interview was posted, and I was in 4 of the 25 photos. If you want to check it out, here is the link:

http://www.mlive.com/news/kalamazoo/index.ssf/2013/08/occupy_international_gathering_2.html

My photos are:

#2: This is my favorite one. We were doing the parade. I was talking on my amplified microphone and telling the police they looked so much friendlier when they smiled at us. This woman officer could not keep a straight face. This shows that even the police have a human side to themselves...we just need to discover how to reach it.

#7. You can't see me, but it was my generator that powered the electric leaf blower that kept the Statue of Liberty inflated.

#8. One of my motos: Let us love, not hate.

#20. I seem to be the spokesman for amplified sound and whether it should be allowed for important issues of public interest and concern.

#21. The energy of these young adults is inspiring. Many of them have made some pretty big sacrifices in order to join the "fight for what is right" agenda.

I was only home for about 2 weeks when I had a sudden prompting that I needed to get back to Washington, D.C. Protests were being organized and I knew I needed to be included. The issue that ignited my call to serve was what was happening in Syria and the position Obama was taking.

Most people were clueless and did not know how close the United States was to therm o-nuclear WWIII with the crisis in Syria. England was not even willing to stand by our side and our enemies would have included Russia, China, and Iran. I never thought the day would come when a Russian leader would save the day, but Putin did it, at least for right now.

I have recapped this trip in this blog post. I hope that those that read this will share it with as many people as they know. Here I go:

Sunday, September 8, 2013

As I was working in my office today I kept getting e-mails about the tension in Syria and how close Obama was to declaring war, especially after the nerve gas release last month (which he blamed on Assad; my sources say otherwise). I had a very strong prompting that I needed to participate in the protests.

I went down to the garage in tears, as I knew my husband, John, would not understand the way I felt. I needed to get his blessing…there has been so much stress in our relationship and I knew this was not going to help.

When he saw how upset I was and how much I seriously felt I needed to go, he told me to go and that he would be OK.

I immediately made my plane reservation. I needed to leave Los Angeles the next morning. The airplane ticket was more expensive because I did not have the 2 week advance notice, but it was not outrageous on Southwest. I made a car reservation through Travelocity with Enterprise. I made a reservation for a Top Secret Hotel in Fairfax for $48/night. I wanted to see how the location worked out for me, so I only reserved it for 1 night.

Monday, September 9, 2013

John took me to the airport. Donald Kronos, a fellow activist who was tortured by the Sheriff's Department after his unlawful arrest in Atlanta in 2012, surprised us whan he showed up at the airport to bid me goodbye. Donald had recently become homeless, as he had been living in an apartment that was considered by the city to be "illegal" and the owner had to vacate the unit. Donald could not find housing that he could afford, so he had been moving around amongst the various shelters in the Los Angeles area. I have made contacts with some great individuals that work directly with finding shelter for the homeless. They offerred guidance, but the program that was going to work best for Donald was going to take some time for the paperwork to be processed. In the meantime he was a man without a home.

John ended up taking Donald to our house and played innkeeper for my homeless friend for 2 weeks. That was really putting John out of his comfort zone, but he did it. John made it very clear to Donald that he was not doing it for Donald, that he was doing it for me. Nonetheless, he did it, and for that both Donald and I were very grateful.

Opps...I got tangential. You will see me do that a lot. It is a symptom of PTSD. For right now everyone, including myself, has to just live with it.

I arrived in D.C. at about 10 p.m. I got a great car rental from Enterprise (they have always treated me well wherever I have traveled). I told them I needed to have a 5-door vehicle with a rear door that would lift up. They gave me a beautiful Chrysler Town and Country mini-van, which was great for all of my cargo. This time I managed to get all of my supplies in the 2 checked bags and 1 carry-on. It is indeed amazing how efficiency comes with practice.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

I loaded up my roadshow supplies in my big red suitcase (actually I borrow this one from my daughter-in-law when I travel and carry lots of supplies because it is HUGE). I headed off for the Fairfax Metro station. It took awhile to get oriented. I parked in the parking lot and later discovered there was a parking garage, which I decided to use the next time.

I still suffer extreme disorientation due to the PTSD. The GPS is nice, which I have on my cell phone. I have learned to also travel with my Garmin GPS as well, just in case my cell phone gets lost. There's nothing worse than being in a strange place and not knowing where you are or how to get to the desired destination. I have found that, since I grew up with maps, I actually do much better when I have a complete map and can visually see where I am and the route I am supposed to take.

I generally try to make a log regarding where I park so that I can find my car…but this time I didn’t, which was a bit of a problem when I returned from D.C. around 1 AM. God helped me find the car…He has been by my side through this entire ordeal and I know He sends me angels on a regular basis to help me when I need it.

See how easy it is to get tangential! If you are reading my material....get used to it. I was told that my "circuits" will reconnect once the stress goes away. My stress won't go away until the police go away or they simply decide to leave me alone. It is apparent that neither of these two options are going to happen in the immediate future, so I too will just have to "get used to it." Trust me, it's not fun!

Now..back to my trip...

I discovered that there was a Metro stop much closer to the Capitol than Union Station, so I got off there. It was very hot and humid and my roadshow was not light-weight. I stopped a few times to catch my breath, and I eventually made it to the lawn where the Tea Party had their rally regarding ObamaCare; they are trying to have Congress defund it. I chose to sit a distance away from the rally so I could sit in the shade of a tree on the lawn. Their amplification was loud enough that I could still hear the program.

When the Tea Party rally ended, I did some of my “show” to passerby’s. I had some great conversations and met some very nice people. I was pleased to see that the Tea Party people that were in D.C. for the rally were more awake regarding the Muslims; my Tea Party friends in California still swear the Muslims are evil people…they obviously have not had many conversations with good Muslims.

I joined Code Pink in front of the White House at around 6 pm. It was Medea Benjamin’s birthday, so everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to her; she is the co-founder of Code Pink and is an awesome lady. She and I must have been twins in the pre-existence. She is a real pistol of a gal. Take a look at the video below to see what she did in the presence of President Obama:

I do agree 100% with her and I am tired of hearing the lies from our government officials, including the President of the United States.

Back to my story...

I did some of my “show” for the tourists in the area. A gentleman by the name of Rick gave me a brochure from DC9-11truth.org. You can see a copy of the brochure at the following link:

http://www.docstoc.com/docs/161330486/9-11-Brochure-from-Rick-at-DC-9-11Truth-Conference--130913-130915

He told me there was a conference on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday and that I might be interested in coming. I, of course, have a real passion towards 9-11, since it was that event that cursed our country with the Patriot Act, Homeland Security, TSA, the NDAA 2012 unlawful detention law, and the wicked word “terrorist” which the government can now use to label a person and lock them away for life, without a trial. It was a TSA agent that placed a falsified police report on me and had me arrested and thrown into jail when I had not commited the alleged crime. It was TSA that orchestrated the tainting of the evidence that was going to be used in my criminal prosecution to make sure I would be convicted and put in jail. If you think I might be a little p*****-off at TSA for what they have done to me, you are right on.

Brian Church, who was an activist during the NATO protest in 2012, now sits in a high-security prison in Chicago just because he videotaped the unprofessional conduct of the Chicago police and exposed it by uploading it to YouTube. Most people don’t realize that in America you don’t even have to be guilty of committing a crime to be incarcerated…they can do it to you because they think you might commit a crime. Does anyone else see how this way of thinking is wrong, or is it just me?

I got tangential again…sorry about that.

So I got the brochure from Rick and thought I would look into that, as I did not need to get into New York City until Monday, September 16^th.

Before Code Pink’s program got going, I turned on my roadshow amp and started my education program. I had an officer in a white shirt come over to me and ask me if I had a permit. I told him “Yes, the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.” He did not like that response. He cited Federal Law for the area around the White House that described the rules for using amplified sound. I cited 42 U.S.C. 1983 to him. I then had another officer in a light blue shirt come up to me and ask me 3 times, “Are you with that group?” Dummy me…it took him asking 3 times before the light bulb went off in my head…he was indeed one the angels sent to protect me that night. I finally responded, “Yes, they are my brothers and sisters.” As soon as I said this all of the police left and did not bother me the rest of the evening. Code Pink had a permit to be in front of the White House with amplified sound, so now, with what I had said, I was not in violation. Thank you Heavenly Father, once again, for protecting me.

By the way, I later discovered that the officer in the white shirt was part of the Secret Service!

Code Pink’s “No War In Syria” program got started. They had speakers. They had singers. We listened to Obama’s address to the people live…he was delivering it in the East Wing of the White House and we were sitting directly outside. I felt like I was really living part of history. (This day was documented in my YouTube video file on Medea Benjamin).

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

I had told Lou Levite that I planned on participating in the Million Americans March Against Fear today, which had been organized by a Muslim group. This was a peaceful protest to try to wake up America to the truths and to show the people that this religion has been demonized by the propaganda generated by our mainstream media. Yes, there are bad Muslims that do bad things…I’ll call them the radical extremists. But there are also bad Christians, Jews, Mormons, etc. We cannot judge a group and say it is bad just because it happens to have a bad person or group within it. I have the philosophy that I judge each person individually. If I do not like what they believe in, I go elsewhere. Birds of a feather do indeed flock together…it’s more comfortable that way.

Why are the Muslims being picked on? Personally I think it is because the Federal Reserve and IMF feel threatened by their way of thinking. Muslims do not believe in charging interest when money is borrowed; this is also known as usury. Muslims believe in giving 20% of their excess to help the less fortunate; they also believe in personally reaching out to help those in need. I know that when a person does service for others their personal character grows. Our government has taken that opportunity for outreach away from us by instituting a welfare system that encourages individuals to be dependent and not independent. This is not the way God wants his children to be.

I get tangential…another symptom of PTSD. Now back to the day’s events.

So as I talked with Lou regarding the Muslim march. Lou warned me that there was a gathering of bikers to D.C. and to be very careful. Many of the bikers are still asleep and believe the Muslims are wicked people. This event had the possibility of getting violent; I prayed for it to be peaceful on both sides.

Off I went from the hotel to the Metro Station. Today just was not my day. I just got past the gates at the Metro station and my collapsible dolly’s wheel broke…I mean broke and came off, so I had no rolling capability on one side. “This is it…I have had it with these crummy quality dollies!”

I managed to have a police officer on a bike agree to drag the dolly to curbside so I could go get my car in the parking garage. After loading all of my supplies back into the car, I headed off for Home Depot. I bought a heavy-duty metal dolly that I knew would not let me down. Then I went across the street to Costco to get a deep-cycle battery to power my roadshow.

By the time I got everything together and back into DC the marches were over. I headed over to the White House just to talk with the tourists. While I was there a young woman who had been a speaker at the march came over to me and gave me an interview, which I recorded. It was very touching. She was in the service and was serving in Iraq. It was her birthday. Her sergeant told her to get in the jeep and that they had to go somewhere. They ended up at a humble and modest home of a Muslim family. When she entered the door, they surprised her with a birthday cake. The family had even bought her a gift, even though they barely had enough money to survive. She had a personal opportunity to feel the spirit of good Muslim people. Her life was changed forever.

Connie, who has had the peace vigil in front of the White House since the 80’s, recently had her collarbone broken so she heads off to the Peace House for the night. A young man by the name of Jason was taking over for her (the post has to be continuously occupied or else the city will take everything down and not allow anyone to set things up again). Jason was a veteran; he had been in the Marine Corps. He shared the fact that he was in Fallujah when the U.S. shot uranium depleted weapons at the city. The city is still highly radioactive and woman are now giving birth to babies with radical birth defects. The cancer rate has escalated and many people are dying. But the people in the area are tribal and they stay in their “homeland”. I am certain that they now know why these things are happening to their people. Are they upset with America? I would say so, and justifiably so. But the mainstream media will never tell you about this type of evil doings done by the United States. Heck, that might actually start to wake up more Americans, and they don’t want that to happen!

I did some more educational activity with my P.A. system in front of the White House. I had spoken with the Secret Service officers earlier and told them I had looked up their law and it did not apply to me. I then reminded them that 42 U.S.C. 1983 did apply to them. Guess what? They actually left me alone. Another victory! Thank you Heavenly Father!

Thursday, September 12, 2013

This was the day I decided to find the Government Office of Accountability (GOA) to report the corruption being done in my TSA case. I was misguided by an officer and was not sent to the correct building. I went into a bar so I could do some work on my computer. While I was inside the rain started. It started to come down in buckets. I later found out that the same weather was happening in Colorado. Severe flooding and deaths occurred. I ate in Chinatown and then went back to the hotel in Fairfax.

Friday, September 13, 2013

So I celebrated 9-11 in front of the White House and Friday the 13^th in DC. I’m still here…thank goodness I am not superstitious.

I had gone to the DC9-11truth.org website and misread it. I thought there was a meeting at the coordinators home, so I drove out there. I later discovered that the meeting had been the week before. Oh well, it was a nice drive.

I decided to swing by the Sheraton Hotel in Arlington, VA; this is the hotel where the 9-11 conference was going to be held. I discovered that they had shown a movie that evening as a kick-off to the convention; unfortunately I had missed that. But I did get an OK to come to the conference, even if I had to stand, since the tickets were sold out. I still paid the registration fee.

Saturday and Sunday, September 14-15, 2013

The conference was awesome. I connected with lots of people. My feelings were validated that 9-11 was indeed an inside job.

Just prior to me leaving on this trip I had received a link to a YouTube video about the War On Terror. Once again the dots connected and the picture became even clearer to me. Take a look at the video below and hopefully you will see what I saw.

I want to get to my arrest in NYC, so I’m just going to jot some quick notes for the next few days.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

After the conference I headed towards NYC. I thought I might hook up with my friend, Nadine Pellegrino, in Philadelphia, but she had a very busy schedule. I passed Philadelphia and drove until I could not drive any further; it was approximately 3 a.m. when I pulled into a rest stop and crawled into the back of the van for a few hours of sleep.

Monday, September 16, 2013

I was on the turnpike, so when I woke up I went into the rest room, washed my face, put on fresh make-up, and then curled my hair in the car. Off I went to NYC.

I found Donna, Lou, and Janet, good friends I had met through Occupy. They managed to find a parking place for the Occupy The Roads motorhome. We went to a presentation that evening at a Catholic Church. Some individuals are trying to get a debit card system going for Occupy. They did not share enough of the details so we are a little skeptical of the concept right now. I do, however, believe that if people ran their lifestyle based on a debit card, rather than a credit card, that they would definitely learn faster how to live within their means.

The father at the church shared a touching story with me. Their church had been set on fire after the Occupiers had used it to help the locals after Hurricane Sandy. It reminded me of the fire that had been set at Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles. I don’t think it was an accident.

The father described how they had just received their occupancy clearance just before Christmas. They did a candle-lit service so the destruction in the church was not as visible. The spirit was allowed to be there, even though the physical building was in ruins. It truly was an example on how joy can be experienced even though the temporal surroundings had been destroyed. Oh, how I love the optimists!

Donna and I decided to room together again, so we headed for the hotel about 35 minutes out of town in New Jersey. We only got about 4 hours of sleep, as we wanted to get to Zuccotti Park by 8 a.m., when the first march was scheduled to happen.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I dropped Donna off at Zuccotti and I told her we’d catch up after I found a place to park the car. I drove about a block further and then had a panic attack. I could not believe the number of officers on the street…the buses lableled police…the vans labeled police. I decided to take a Xanax. I pulled behind one of the police buses, got out and decided to talk with the 3 officers that were in it. I tried to share with them the fact that we are peaceful and that I hoped they would be nice to “my kids”. I gave them an Oath Keepers card. I showed them my 9-11 bills. I just keep planting seeds and prayed that some of them would take root. I asked where I could park my car and they were very helpful in describing where a nearby garage was.

I parked the car, pulled out my speaker and microphone, and headed off to find the march. The officers I talked to were nice and even game me their location, which I was not used to. I was having a difficult time with the heavy speaker; my shoulders were starting to hurt, so I started to carry it in front of me with 2 hands. I had an officer say to me that it would be easier for me to use a bullhorn rather than to drag the heavy speaker around. I told him I had one last year but I loaned it to someone at the DNC in Charlotte, North Carolina and I never got it back. At least I felt amplified sound was not going to be an issue this year.

I finally caught eye of “my kids” on their return to Zuccotti. They actually were singing some songs, which was a new spin on the prior year’s marches. I turned on my speaker and cheered them on as they passed me. We high-fived each other. This was going to be a great day.

After the group passed me, I decided to head back to the car and put together my road show on the metal dolly. I’m getting too old for some of this activism…it’s hard work…but I feel so strongly that it has to be done.

I reached the parking garage, had the attendant show me where my car was, and I started pulling out my supplies. Everytime I assemble a new road show, I feel a little bit as God must have felt as he created the world. I start with all the pieces and then end up with a new creation. My audio and video were indeed awesome. The parking attendants could not believe that a little old lady like me could create such a masterpiece. They were impressed.

I loaded up my CD which had the Bill of Rights put to music and I started my trek to Zuccotti. I basically marched solo on the sidewalk. People were impressed with my set-up.

Someone did a brief video interview with me and then I excused myself, as I needed to capture a few YouTube videos for my presentation. I then headed back to Zuccotti.

A young man approached me and wanted to do an interview for his school. I told him sure, but first I needed to make a restroom stop at McDonalds and get a quick bite to eat.

I was happy I was not going to be harrassed by the NYPD.. Last year I had been threatened by Captain Petti because of my amplified sound. I did not push the issue with him because my husband and I had plans to go to Hawaii the next week and I did not want to ruin our vacation plans. I simply found other places to perform and not get in trouble.

Check out this web address for my performance last year:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WvnJzwCLTo

Back to my story...

I was gone for about 30 minutes. When I returned to Zuccotti I turned on my presentation program. It always draws the crowd and I started to have fun with the people as they gathered. I was really fired up after having gone to the 9-11 Truth conference, and that was the story I decided to focus on, since I was just blocks away from where the towers fell.

Then I started to get harassed by the police. An officer asked me if I had a permit for the amplified sound. I told him the same thing I had told the Secret Service at the White House…yes, it is called the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. The crowd cheered with my response.

I felt the tension increasing, but I refuse to have anyone silence the voice of the people. They have been doing that to us ever since Occupy got started. It simply is not right.

Right now there are two ways we are being silenced. Number one: all they have to do is label you as a terrorist and they can lock you away without the right to a trial and throw away the key (thank you NDAA 2012!). Number two: they can have you evaluated at a mental institution and if a psychiatrist feels you are not safe and could be a danger to either yourself or others, you can be committed and lose all rights to control your life and what happens to you. I call both of these tactics ABUSE OF PROCESS and it has to stop. If I have to establish new case law to see these corrupt maneuvers go away, I will, so help me God! I will always fight for what is right…the only way they can stop me is to shot me.

Sorry…got tangential again!

Many of the people were recording what I was saying. I was prompted to say my name, where I was from, my husband’s name and his phone number. Thank God I did that, as two of the photographers sent my husband, John, the footage of the arrest that was about to happen.

Below is one recording of what happened.

A better quality recording can be found at this web address:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olJ-plcFnfk

I was surrounded by officers. I told them they did not have my permission to take my property. They then proceeded to cinch the plastic zip ties to my hands behind my back and lifted me by the zip ties, backwards, into the paddy-wagon. I was screaming in pain, as the arthritis is really bad in my wrists and the tension put on the zip ties felt like a knife being twisted between the joints. You would think they would ask what was wrong…what was causing me to scream so loud. But no, they simply could care less.

The driver of the paddy-wagon then proceeded to go on the roughest roads possible, accellerting quickly, hitting the brake hard, veering hard right, then hard left. If I had driven on the New York City street the way he had, I would have been arrested for reckless driving.

I yelled to the driver to drive slower, to take better streets, and to stop jerking the vehicle, as I was having a very tough time staying on the bench and keeping my head from banking against the side walls of the vehicle. I think my outcry satisfied the officer’s ego, as the motions intensified. This was just the beginning of my trip to HELL.

We reached the precinct, which had an outdoor courthard. I stood there for a few minutes and then was ushered to a holding cell by the doorway. An officer did find the device to cut the zip-tie cuffs off. He told me to behave like a lady….I told him, "I will when you behave like a gentleman".

I said “Thank You…thank God!” when the cuffs were removed. I kept telling myself to BREATH…as my emotions were taking over and I could not stop crying.

I was then transferred down a hallway to another cell. From now on, whenever released from the cell metal handcuffs were applied.

I was placed in a cell with a plastic pad, a sink that did not function, and a toilet. I believe I was told to not drink the water.

I pulled the mat off the bench and layed it on the ground, as the woman next to me kept kicking her feet on her bench or the wall of her cell and it vibrated through to my wall. I tried to fall asleep…anything that could take me away from the reality that I could not believe was real.

One of the women told me that if I needed a good attorney to look up Rose_Weber@juno.com. The other woman offered me a piece of red gum, which I gladly accepted; it played a role later on. Although we could not see each other’s faces, we connected. We talked politics. I knew that at least one of the other women was an Occupier, as she had been arrested for wearing a mask.

I would have guessed several hours had passed before I was processed out of the precinct. I was loaded up, solo, into the paddy-wagon once again, to head for what has been nicknamed as “the tombs,” part of the Manhattan Detention complex at 125 White Street. It is right next to the Courthouse on Centre Street.

I believe it was here that they took my mug shot, digital fingerprints, and then took me before a medical examiner, who was actually part of the New York Fire Department. I love the firemen wherever I go. I thanked him for his service and apologized for the loss of his brothers when the towers fell. I gave him information on the 911truth.org website. I was pleased when I saw him write the information down. More seeds to sow…

BYRNES, my arresting officer, then took me into a large courtroom. I was not there long. When we went out he told me we had to go to the hospital for a medical clearance. I later found out that the jail had a policy that if a prisoner, going into the general population, had been taking certain types of drugs (ie. anti-depressants, etc.) that they needed to have the clearance of a psychiatrist. This was not necessary for me…I could have gone before the judge and have been processed out immediately. As it turned out, even after going to the hospital for the clearance, I still was never placed in with the general population (and for that I am grateful). They really wanted to make me suffer. I was now scared to the point of wondering if I would ever see my family again.

I was placed into the paddy-wagon again. My heart was racing. BREATH Nadine…BREATH.

We entered the hospital. There were at least 5-6 police officers around us dealing with other “patients”. My blood pressure was taken. It was around 145/91, which was high for me. I generally have been running 120/65. We then moved up to the psych ward. Once again the number of police officers alarmed me.

It took hours before I saw the doctor. I asked another prisoner if he lived in New York City; he said he did. I asked, “If you had your choice of what hospital you wanted to go to, where would that be?” He told me Lenox Hill. I told BYRNES that I wanted to go to Lenox Hill. I told him I would pay for the transportation to get there. I told BYRNES that I would pay for the hospital visit. BYRNES refused to take me to the hospital of my choice. I had a real uncomfortable feeling as I sat in the psych ward. I felt that there could be collusion between the doctors and the police force.

Later I found out that Bellevue was a government owned hospital. Could there be a reason why activists have been tortured in a government owned hospital? I later found out that Julian Heicklen, an activist that promoted jury nullification, had been tortured 7 times in 3 different New York hospitals; Bellevue was one of them.

BYRNES actually showed a little bit of softening of spirit. He asked me what I would think if he told me that his wife was black. I asked him if he loved her and his response was affirmative. I told him to keep that love alive.

BYRNES then showed me a picture of her on his phone. She was a very pretty woman, but her clothing was a bit revealing. I commented that her well-endowed body was special and should just be enjoyed by him, not the general public. I think he actually blushed at that statement.

Then BYRNES showed me a picture of his son. I guessed that he might be 10 years old…he told me he was 12. He had a great picture of himself in civilian casual attire and his son…it was a picture to be proud of. He could see the confused look on my face, because his son was white. He told me that he had been married once before, they had his son, and then his wife told him that she was a lesbian. The relationship went downhill from there.

Unfortunately the young boy now bounces back and forth between the two parents; that always saddens me. I finally told BYRNES that I hoped he treated his wife and son better than he had treated me. He ignored that statement.

While waiting to see the doctor a black woman was brought in wearing a muzzle. I had never seen that before. When the officers removed the muzzle the woman spat. The officers asked her if she was going to behave herself and she agreed to do so (I am assuming that the muzzle is placed on individuals that spit at the officers...when the arms are retained and the feet are retained and the person is very upset at the treatment they are getting, spitting is about the last resort they have to fight back against the forced restraint that has been placed on them.) I then saw a man approach the woman with a syringe. The woman said she did not need anything. I shouted to the man, "Did you hear the lady, she said she did not need anything!" She was injected with a syringe anyway. I was horrified at what I was witnessing.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013 (I'm guessing, as I could not see a clock.)

After what seemed like 6-8 hours, I was finally called in to talk with the evaluator. I explained how I felt it was my patriotic duty to go after corruption when I saw it. I never realized that this type of action would be looked upon negatively by the government…boy did I wake up fast regarding that!

Then the superior doctor evaluated me. She asked how I afforded all of my activism. She asked if I ran up a big debt with the credit cards. I told her no, I pay cash and I am pretty good at shopping for the bargains in car rentals, hotels, and airline flights.

She then asked me what motivated me to do what I did. I told her I had a spiritual prompting that I needed to take action. She then asked, “Do you hear voices?” Oh boy, I knew where she wanted to go with that question; I responded “no”.

I passed the psych evaluation, so we left the hospital and went back to the courthouse. We were in the hallway and BYRNES made a comment that we needed to have some more pictures taken.

We arrived at a new room where a man sat at a desk facing me; there were two cameras on the back wall that I noticed. He took a face shot. Then he asked me to turn to my left. He said I needed to remove my gold earrings and put my hair behind my ears. BYRNES removed the cuffs so I could remove my earrings and put my hair behind my ears as asked.

I have never had this done to me before. Suddenly a thought came to my mind and I asked the photographer if he was doing biometrics. I was actually surprised to see that he told me the truth when he said “yes”. I told him I did not consent to biometric pictures to be taken of me. I was told if I refused that they would not release me. Consequently I did the side shots.

The next incident is what really freaked me out. The man picked up a device and came towards my head with it. I immediately knew that it was an iris scanner. I pointed at the device and exclaimed, “Absolutely not!” I then, in a very firm voice, said to him, “What do you want me to do…spread my legs and let you do it to me?” The man backed down.

BYRNES, however, for some reason got triggered. Up until now he had been fairly civil with me. All of a sudden he threw one cuff on my left wrist and threw me up against a wall. “This is the end”, were my thoughts. My bladder emptied on me and my pants became saturated with urine. BYRNES then got the other handcuff on my right wrist, grabbed the chain between the two cuffs, and yanked me back and forth, backwards, in the room. I started to scream in excruciating pain. Nobody spoke up for me.

Then BYRNES started dragging me backwards out of the room. We ended up going through one of the large courtrooms, in session, with Judge Johnson at the bench. Nothing was said as I was pulled backwards by the cuffs and screaming in pain. Oh how I wished they had just taken a gun and shot me dead…I know I would have gone to a place far better than where I was. But I guess that as far as my Heavenly Father was concerned, my work was still not done and I was allowed to live.

We ended up in the hallway. When it was time to go back into a courtroom, it was the other courtroom across the hallway from the one Judge Johnson was in. I sat on a bench towards the front right side, where I could see the judge looking at her monitor as each case was called. I was finally approached by Jonathan Stonbely, staff attorney with the Legal Aid Society. I did not qualify for representation from him, so when we approached the desk he told the judge that I would proceed pro se unless I could find an attorney that would represent me. The judge, seeing my distress, challenged my ability and did not recommend that I do so. She asked what sort of education I had. I told her I had a Master’s degree from Cornell University. I also told her that I had 2 active cases in the California Central District Federal court that I was doing as a pro se litigant. I also told her that the one case I had been arguing for over 2 ½ years and I felt it was ripe for a Federal Grand Jury investigation (after all, Magistrate Judge Patrick J. Walsh told me 2 years ago that if I could survive Motions to Dismiss and Summary Judgment, investigations would happen and heads would fall…oh, how I am just waiting for that to happen. I can’t wait to see Andre Birotte, the U.S. Attorney for Central District and Tom Buck, the Asst. U.S. Attorney arguing against me, disbarred for their fraudulent and unlawful practices!)

I think the judge was impressed, to say the least.

The district attorney asked for time served. I did not accept. We will go to trial on this one, no questions about that. I have given up on the President of the United States. I have given up on the Senate and Congress. My only hope, right now, is that there are still enough righteous judges in the courts that are not afraid to make rulings against the political entities that are just downright criminal. Heck, case law ruined the Constitution…maybe we can use it to restore the Constitution. That’s what my goal is going to be. I hope I can find some legal help that can work with me to accomplish that goal.

The judge did not arraign me, which was unusual according to other New York attorneys that I have spoken to. An arraignment date was set for October 30, 2013, which means I will have to go to New York again, something that I am not looking forward to. I can only pray that time will help make the anxiety go away. I have a panic attack just thinking about it.

When the scheduling was set for the arraignment, I was dismissed to go. BYRNES ran out the door so fast I could not catch him. Now I was left with a piece of paper, called a property receipt, and I was clueless as to what to do next. I had no phone, no computer, no ID, no money…I now knew how a homeless person feels. I found a corner where I sat on the ground and just cried my eyes out. No one inquired what was wrong. I was truly on my own. I looked for my friends, but no one was around. Mr. Stonbely had been kind enough to get me a 1 trip Metro pass, but I was clueless as to where to go.

BREATH, NADINE…be proactive, not reactive…you know how to play this game.

I said a prayer for guidance. I stopped crying. I pondered. I decided to see if I could locate the address where my driver’s license was. I needed to have identification. Maybe I would get my money back too. I got the address for the 1^st Precinct (that, of course, could not be on the property receipt…that would make it too easy. I can’t even remember who gave me the address…I think it was from someone at 1 Police Plaza.

I found the precinct. Everyone I encountered was rude to me…perhaps it was the way I smelled??? I finally got an officer to take my receipt. After a short wait, she brought me a piece of cardboard that had all of my credit cards taped to it, as well as my driver’s license. My small black coin purse was also included. All of my cash, however, was gone.

The woman then printed out some additional property receipts for more of my property, which was scattered at locations all over the city. The receipts were not very accurate; they should have taken pictures of everything they took. From what I can tell thus far, items missing from the receipts and their approximate value are: my Galaxy S3 cell phone ($600), My Anchor speaker and microphone ($600), a deep cycle battery ($100), and an inverter00).

Below are links to the receipts that I do have:

http://www.docstoc.com/docs/161329857/1-Property-Receipt--281-Wallet-and-credit-cards

http://www.docstoc.com/docs/161329864/2-Property-Receipt--257-all-cash

http://www.docstoc.com/docs/161329880/3-Property-Receipt--317-handtruck_-papers_-wires_-american-flag_-lipstick_-dvd

http://www.docstoc.com/docs/161329895/5-Property-Receipt--303-Dynex-TV_-Viewsonic-projector_-Fujitsu-laptop

http://www.docstoc.com/docs/161329896/6-DA-Release-information

I went back to the Courthouse to use the pay phones. I made a few calls with my credit card, which then went inactive. I later found out from my husband that the credit card company had frozen the account because of the phone call charges that were being made from a New York jail; that certainly did not fit my profile with the credit card company.

Although the announcement made on the pay phone stated that a service charge may apply to each call I made, it ended up that the calls cost something like $9/minute and a $10 service charge on top of that. We will get to the bottom of that eventually as well.

I decided to go down to Chase Bank and use the ATM machine. I drew out $200, which was, of course, 10 twenty-dollar bills. I was not thinking very clearly, as I should have gone to the teller to get quarters. By the time I arrived back at the Courthouse, the snack stand was closed, so I could not get change. I went outside the Courthouse and asked one of the food street venders if he could give me change for a 20 dollar bill. He said no.

I turned and found a couple of woman, nicely dressed, on the stairs of the Courthouse. I went up to them and said, “Would you have change…” I was going to say “...for a 20 dollar bill” but they cut me off with the wave and the “no, no, no” response that you typically see individuals give to the homeless as they beg for money. After all, I looked like I had been wrung through the wringer and I smelled like urine. I have never felt so humiliated before in my life.

I turned to them, with the twenty dollar bill in front of me, and said, with tears pouring down my face, “NO, you don’t understand. I have plenty of money. I’ve just been tortured by the New York Police Department and I need to call my husband. The police have taken everything from me, including my cell phone.” Their mouths dropped open and their eyes opened wide. They dumped all of the change they had in my hand without even taking the 20 dollar bill. I said “thank you so much” and went into the Courthouse.

My first call was to the National Lawyer’s Guild. I believe I spoke with Susan Howard. She knew who I was and I guess they were trying to follow my processing. I was so hysterical she could not understand me. I had to get a grip on this. “The worse is over” I kept reassuring myself. I still did not feel safe. I was still talking with Susan when 3 of the volunteers showed up. They were my angels that day. They hugged me. They comforted me. They bought me a soda and let me call my husband and Donna from their cell phone.

Donna had finally gone back to the motel. She has some health issues with her back and the walking had really taken a toll on her. She and many others had paced the floor for 24-hours worrying about me.

She gave me the address of the motel and I said I would figure out how to get there. I was praying that the car was still in the parking garage. One of the volunteers walked with me for about 4 blocks until I got my bearings. We then parted, I gritted my teeth, and kept telling myself that I could do this.

I found the parking garage, paid the bill, and took possession of the car. I parked it on the street while I walked with a gentleman to the internet café on the next block. He used to work there. He did a mapquest to the hotel for me and then found a way to print it out. Another angel. I thanked him for his help and set off to find the hotel.

It took me 3 ½ hours to do what would have been a 35-minute trip. I kept getting on the wrong highways and was clueless as to where I was. I kept stopping and asking directions, but I finally made it back. Donna was talking with my husband when I knocked on the door. She started to cry…I started to cry…she swung the door open and we hugged.

We did not get to sleep in, as Donna had her flight out of LaGuardia at 11 a.m. I drove her in, parked in the parking structure, went to the auto rental booths and collected some local maps so that I could get my bearings.

I then spent the afternoon trying to get my property back once again. I was not successful. Everyone I tried to talk to was so rude. Once again I cried.

I became VERY upset when they told me how they handled the situation with CASH in New York City. They totaled all of money, sent it to the bank, got a receipt, and then told me they would cut me a check for the total dollar amount. I had 5 irreplaceable bills…one $5 bill, one $10 bill, one $20 bill, one $50 bill, and one $100 bill…which had traveled with me over the past 2 years. I used them to wake up hundreds of people regarding the wicked people behind the destruction of the World Trade Center towers on 9-11-2001 in New York City. I told the property clerk I needed to get those bills back, even if they had punched holes in them. She said they should still be at the bank and she would see what she could do.

All the rest of my property was spread out at different locations in New York City. The police had labeled it all “ARREST EVIDENCE” and the District Attorney’s office refused to sign a release. They could, according to what I have read, keep all of my property until the case, AND all appeals, are over. That could be years.

The PTSD from this arrest has really scrambled my brain. The police have once again stolen my property, “legally” as they would say, by labeling it “arrest evidence”. All I have to say to that is “Bull!” The only thing semi-related to the bogus charges they gave me would have been my speaker and microphone. I should have been given everything else back.

I needed my hand truck to handle my luggage at the airport due to my bad back, hips, and knees. They kept that as evidence. I needed my laptop computer, as it not only had all of my trip information in it regarding my flight back home, but it was a critical piece of equipment for me to handle the demands of my every-day life (personal, family, and business information). They kept that as evidence too. I have become very dysfunctional with the theft of my property and I have been treated so rudely by the police. I can’t believe this is still America. It certainly is not the America I thought I had.

I was walking under the arch at 1 Police Plaza with tears in my eyes once again. Once again I was sent another angel…a gentleman from Africa that had the sweetest spirit. He calmed me down and let me use his cell phone. I called John and voiced my frustrations. John asked me if there was anything that I could not replace. I told him my computer, not because of the computer itself, but for the information that was on it.

John told me to head towards Washington D.C. so I could catch my flight out of Reagan National Airport the next afternoon, so that is what I did.

I was about 1 ½ hours outside of D.C. It was about midnight and I was falling asleep at the wheel. I finally saw a Motel 6, got a room, and boy, did I sleep! I really needed that, as my body was just about ready to fall apart.

I made it to Reagan about 3 hours before take-off. I dropped my baggage off with the skycaps, as I did not have my cart to carry the heavy luggage. I had parked my car in the handicap stall along the curb so it would be eassy for the skycap to access my luggage.

As I approached the car an airport police officer was just about ready to write a ticket. I explained to him that I had lost my handicap placard, but I did have a copy of my placard receipt in the window. He argued with me that my car was from Maryland….I told him it was a rental. Then he argued with me that my placard receipt was for California and that I was now in D.C.

I was about to have another nervous breakdown. I have never dealt with such cold, rude people before in my life. The officer commanded me to move up to the next space, which was not for the handicapped; I did as he asked me to and he left me alone. I could not wait to get back to California.

By the grace of God I made it back to LAX with no incident. John was there when I arrived.

I will reiterate an old saying…

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!

Hays For President 2012

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

My Schedule In Los Angeles

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

There's No Place Like Home