Sunday, June 10, 2007
Call of the Wild Child Update Part 2
6/2/07 – 7:09 PM – I was on the phone when call waiting kicked in; I chose to let voice mail take it and it turned out to be Kristy again. She mumbled a lot about my daughter (oh, goody -- not just off her meds now, but drunk, too!), and she knew I had tried to forward her calls to the local police. She said something to the effect that my daughter is trying to forward her phone calls like I tried to do to the police department so they could get a warrant for her. She is getting inside information somehow, and I suspect she must be getting it from the police department some kind of way. Yes, I did try to do that, but since it didn’t work, how else could she know that I had even tried to forward her calls? (This is exactly why I won’t just change my phone number and be done with it. She has too many resources, and it would probably only be an hour and a half after I changed my number that she would be back on me like ugly on an Osborne.) Once again I called the local police, and once again, Officer A. arrived soon thereafter. As soon as I answered the door and saw that it was him, I told him, “We really have to quit meeting like this – people are starting to talk.” He asked another officer to meet him here to listen to her call and get some background on the case, in hopes that he might have an idea we hadn’t tried. Officer D. joined us, and so far, he is the only person I have spoken to in law enforcement who hasn’t suggested I change my phone number. I offered him a chance to hear the full, extended dance version of the Kristy tapes, and he declined, asking instead for the condensed version. They discussed it and decided they can get all this case information over to the new CID guy (Sgt H), and have him send it up to the police in the Chattanooga area, have them go around to make a call on her and tell her to stop; if she doesn’t, they can arrest her. (It seems that Sgt B has been transferred to the traffic department, which several of us agree doesn’t exactly sound like a lateral move. Hmmmmmm….)
Once again (third time now) Officer A. tried to call Kristy via the police department (he calls them, they patch him through to her number), and this time, she answered! He got her address (which may or may not be valid), and she said she had two or three TPOs (restraining orders) on me. He asked if she had those, why is SHE calling ME?? He told her to stop calling me, and her phone beeped and they were cut off. (My first thought when he told me this was, yeah, right – she hung up on him.) He came in the house to report this conversation to Officer D. and me. He asked me if anybody in my family lived in this house before I did, and I told him no, that I bought the house in October 2004, moved in in November of 2004, and was visited by my mother for a week two different times – April 2005 and December 2005. Other than that, no one in my family has been within ten miles of the place. Right after this, Kristy called back to the police department and they patched her back through to Officer A. This time, he got her date of birth (I suspect they aren’t planning on sending her a birthday card, but she probably thinks they are) and her mother’s phone number (the mother lives in a little town in north Georgia). No telling how much of this information is valid, but it’s a start. He said to her, “Now you aren’t going to call her (me) any more, right? I’m putting in my report that you aren’t going to call her again.” She expressed some fear that I (or somebody – “they”) would make recordings and run them through a voice box to make them sound like her. He told her no one was going to do that, and she’s “not going to call here any more, right? The game is over now, right?” She said, “This is not a game! I’ll see you in court!” and hung up on him.
Run recordings through a voice box to make them sound like her??? Yeah, right! Either she is more paranoid than the law allows (which is extremely likely) or she is trying to come up with some defense for my having ten recordings of her calling and leaving me crazy voice mails. It could be a combination of both. Either way, it’s just way too out there for me to even deal with!
In between the last two go-rounds of calls, my friend Shirley came up with a bit of trivia that I hadn’t even considered – because this is INTERSTATE calling, which is a FEDERAL crime, I can conceivably (and may be forced to) get the FBI involved in it. Wouldn’t that be a kicker?! Granted, she supposedly lives in north Georgia, but her phone number has a Tennessee area code, so that counts, from what I could find out. Wonder what J. Edgar is doing this weekend? (Does anybody out there even remember who that is?) If this latest visit from the local gendarmerie doesn’t generate some inaction on her part, I may well pursue this action. Imagine – me calling the Eff-Bee-Eye! Mama will be so proud! (Mama would bust a gut if she knew about any of this, but she doesn’t, and I plan to keep it that way!)
On a side note, a couple of other issues surfaced in an odd way when the officers were at my place. After both of the officers first came in, I was almost moved to apologize for the clutter, because my two couches, which are configured in an “L” shape, were both covered up with papers and catalogues that I hadn’t gotten around to picking up yet and there was no place for them to sit, but before I could say anything, Officer D., the “newbie”, said, “This is the cleanest one of these places I’ve ever been in.” I was blown away and very pleased at the compliment, because I do take pride in my house and keep a reasonably clean place, but you can only eat out of the toilet if someone gets me really mad and I take my anger out in housekeeping, and that hasn’t happened in a long time, so right now it’s just what I consider passably clean, although the place always needs to be dusted. But my pleasure at his compliment waned later when I began to think, “Oh, my God, what kind of housekeepers are my neighbors?” and immediately began to envision slovenly trash mongers keeping their houses laden with empty pizza boxes, dirty dishes, beer or booze bottles and fast-food containers and bugs and roaches everywhere.
As the officers were leaving, Officer D. remarked that Kristy obviously has a few screws loose (actually, I think her whole hardware department has been raided and depleted), and he noted that oddly enough, this subdivision and another one nearby seem to be overly populated with schizophrenics and people suffering from (or enjoying) myriad other mental ailments. So now I had a new worry – they’re not only slobs, but they’re all nuts! Geez – don’t neighborhoods come with warning labels?
My friend Terrie advised that his assessment is probably unreliable, because perhaps he usually only has reason to go into houses of people who are “not of our ilk” (shades of Aunt Anne!) and who might be fraught with mental illness or other troubling mind alterations. My mind definitely warmed to this idea, so that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
Once again (third time now) Officer A. tried to call Kristy via the police department (he calls them, they patch him through to her number), and this time, she answered! He got her address (which may or may not be valid), and she said she had two or three TPOs (restraining orders) on me. He asked if she had those, why is SHE calling ME?? He told her to stop calling me, and her phone beeped and they were cut off. (My first thought when he told me this was, yeah, right – she hung up on him.) He came in the house to report this conversation to Officer D. and me. He asked me if anybody in my family lived in this house before I did, and I told him no, that I bought the house in October 2004, moved in in November of 2004, and was visited by my mother for a week two different times – April 2005 and December 2005. Other than that, no one in my family has been within ten miles of the place. Right after this, Kristy called back to the police department and they patched her back through to Officer A. This time, he got her date of birth (I suspect they aren’t planning on sending her a birthday card, but she probably thinks they are) and her mother’s phone number (the mother lives in a little town in north Georgia). No telling how much of this information is valid, but it’s a start. He said to her, “Now you aren’t going to call her (me) any more, right? I’m putting in my report that you aren’t going to call her again.” She expressed some fear that I (or somebody – “they”) would make recordings and run them through a voice box to make them sound like her. He told her no one was going to do that, and she’s “not going to call here any more, right? The game is over now, right?” She said, “This is not a game! I’ll see you in court!” and hung up on him.
Run recordings through a voice box to make them sound like her??? Yeah, right! Either she is more paranoid than the law allows (which is extremely likely) or she is trying to come up with some defense for my having ten recordings of her calling and leaving me crazy voice mails. It could be a combination of both. Either way, it’s just way too out there for me to even deal with!
In between the last two go-rounds of calls, my friend Shirley came up with a bit of trivia that I hadn’t even considered – because this is INTERSTATE calling, which is a FEDERAL crime, I can conceivably (and may be forced to) get the FBI involved in it. Wouldn’t that be a kicker?! Granted, she supposedly lives in north Georgia, but her phone number has a Tennessee area code, so that counts, from what I could find out. Wonder what J. Edgar is doing this weekend? (Does anybody out there even remember who that is?) If this latest visit from the local gendarmerie doesn’t generate some inaction on her part, I may well pursue this action. Imagine – me calling the Eff-Bee-Eye! Mama will be so proud! (Mama would bust a gut if she knew about any of this, but she doesn’t, and I plan to keep it that way!)
On a side note, a couple of other issues surfaced in an odd way when the officers were at my place. After both of the officers first came in, I was almost moved to apologize for the clutter, because my two couches, which are configured in an “L” shape, were both covered up with papers and catalogues that I hadn’t gotten around to picking up yet and there was no place for them to sit, but before I could say anything, Officer D., the “newbie”, said, “This is the cleanest one of these places I’ve ever been in.” I was blown away and very pleased at the compliment, because I do take pride in my house and keep a reasonably clean place, but you can only eat out of the toilet if someone gets me really mad and I take my anger out in housekeeping, and that hasn’t happened in a long time, so right now it’s just what I consider passably clean, although the place always needs to be dusted. But my pleasure at his compliment waned later when I began to think, “Oh, my God, what kind of housekeepers are my neighbors?” and immediately began to envision slovenly trash mongers keeping their houses laden with empty pizza boxes, dirty dishes, beer or booze bottles and fast-food containers and bugs and roaches everywhere.
As the officers were leaving, Officer D. remarked that Kristy obviously has a few screws loose (actually, I think her whole hardware department has been raided and depleted), and he noted that oddly enough, this subdivision and another one nearby seem to be overly populated with schizophrenics and people suffering from (or enjoying) myriad other mental ailments. So now I had a new worry – they’re not only slobs, but they’re all nuts! Geez – don’t neighborhoods come with warning labels?
My friend Terrie advised that his assessment is probably unreliable, because perhaps he usually only has reason to go into houses of people who are “not of our ilk” (shades of Aunt Anne!) and who might be fraught with mental illness or other troubling mind alterations. My mind definitely warmed to this idea, so that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
Labels: Nutty Neighbors
Call of the Wild Child -- Updated
5/15/07 – I got two calls from Kristy today – one at 2:08 PM and one at 2:11 PM. She called to tell me more of the same, that I need to get my daughter Tonya or Trina (before, she said Trina, now she said either/or) away from her family, and that she has finally contacted John Latham from Gainesville, and he can help me with my daughter’s drug problem, since I am her mother or family member. She called back three minutes later with, again, more of the same. I have no earthly idea who John Latham from Gainesville is, if he’s really someone or just another one of her imaginary friends like my daughter Tonya/Trina and her friend Tammy Gowan/Gruen. (John Latham of Gainesville, if you are reading this, help! Save me!) [Shades of Olive Oyl!]
Meanwhile, later on that same day – 9:00 PM – I welcomed Officer A. from the local police department back as he made a return visit to my house (he is the one who came in answer to my call in February), and this entry is almost a duplicate of the February visit. He asked me if I had filed a TPO on her yet, and I updated him on the case. He took a report, listened to the most recent phone calls, tried her phone number to tell her to leave me alone, and he got voice mail, but could not leave a message, said he will file this report. He listened as I expressed my frustrations, but basically did nothing. I told him the same thing I had told Sergeant B. – that she is obviously a danger to the community because she is so far out of touch with reality and something should be done about her, and that I don’t want to be under her when she falls through the cracks because the system isn’t doing anything. I told him I don’t want to live in an armed encampment, and I don’t want to be lying on my living room floor with my head in a pool of blood and a bullet shot through it, looking up to greet the police with “I told you so.” After he left, I called Sergeant B.’s number (I knew he was not on duty those hours) to leave him a message, and his voice mail told me that he is out of the office until 30 May. I didn’t bother leaving a message.
5/16/07 – 8:45 AM – I called the local Police Department and asked to speak to someone in the Detectives Division and got Detective S.’s voice mail, then called back and was transferred to Detective J. I started telling him what was going on, and he said he could transfer me to Sergeant B., and I told him there was no need, since he is gone until 30 May; he then told me he (Detective J) is going on extended leave starting tomorrow, because his wife is going to have a baby. Goody! After I gave him the whole story, he said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing we can do. I know it sucks, but our hands are tied.” (Yes, he really said that – that is not my colorful paraphrasing.) I told him to repeat that phrase – he will need to say it a lot. Then he told me that unless I had called the police every time she called me, all of my RECORDINGS of her are just “hearsay”. Well, hell, yes, they’re hearsay, but I can’t get anybody to listen to them to hearsay them! No, he means they can’t be used. Yet everyone I have talked to previously said hang on to them for dear life and keep recording them. What a load of hogwash. I hung up after thanking him for being so helpful – NOT.
Meanwhile, later on that same day – 9:00 PM – I welcomed Officer A. from the local police department back as he made a return visit to my house (he is the one who came in answer to my call in February), and this entry is almost a duplicate of the February visit. He asked me if I had filed a TPO on her yet, and I updated him on the case. He took a report, listened to the most recent phone calls, tried her phone number to tell her to leave me alone, and he got voice mail, but could not leave a message, said he will file this report. He listened as I expressed my frustrations, but basically did nothing. I told him the same thing I had told Sergeant B. – that she is obviously a danger to the community because she is so far out of touch with reality and something should be done about her, and that I don’t want to be under her when she falls through the cracks because the system isn’t doing anything. I told him I don’t want to live in an armed encampment, and I don’t want to be lying on my living room floor with my head in a pool of blood and a bullet shot through it, looking up to greet the police with “I told you so.” After he left, I called Sergeant B.’s number (I knew he was not on duty those hours) to leave him a message, and his voice mail told me that he is out of the office until 30 May. I didn’t bother leaving a message.
5/16/07 – 8:45 AM – I called the local Police Department and asked to speak to someone in the Detectives Division and got Detective S.’s voice mail, then called back and was transferred to Detective J. I started telling him what was going on, and he said he could transfer me to Sergeant B., and I told him there was no need, since he is gone until 30 May; he then told me he (Detective J) is going on extended leave starting tomorrow, because his wife is going to have a baby. Goody! After I gave him the whole story, he said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing we can do. I know it sucks, but our hands are tied.” (Yes, he really said that – that is not my colorful paraphrasing.) I told him to repeat that phrase – he will need to say it a lot. Then he told me that unless I had called the police every time she called me, all of my RECORDINGS of her are just “hearsay”. Well, hell, yes, they’re hearsay, but I can’t get anybody to listen to them to hearsay them! No, he means they can’t be used. Yet everyone I have talked to previously said hang on to them for dear life and keep recording them. What a load of hogwash. I hung up after thanking him for being so helpful – NOT.
Labels: Nutty Neighbors
