• Which branch has the most power? Judicial.
• Which is over all three, including policing itself? Judicial.
• Potentially, where does the biggest problem lie? Judicial.

The Judicial branch is our system of courts. A courtroom is where the common man is likely going to get closest to one of the three branches of the federal government. The top court in the country, the Supreme Court, is potentially as political as the other two branches of the government.

Justices are appointed by the then-sitting president, for life — unless the Legislative branch has a big problem with the president’s appointee. Are they ever required to prove their competency, like years down the road? No. What about genetic conditions that occur later in life? Dementia? Alzheimer’s? Just keep your eyes on the person moving their mouth — you’ll do fine.

I’m one who believes that no one deserves a life-time appointment at anything. Not long ago, we the people, made sure that the president could only hold two terms — eight years. Yet the president does not hold near the power as the Supreme Court.

Case in point — December, 2000. The Supreme Court stepped in during our election process, and in closed session, with no requirement to divulge their reasoning, handed the presidency to G.W. Bush. The following day, everyone continued their lives as usual. Is it just me?

Frankly, I believe the country would have been in much better shape in 2008 — at the end of those two terms — if the Supreme Court had handed the presidency to me. At least we wouldn’t have had a sociopath running the country for eight years.

Closer to Home

I know of one Superior Court Judge (who I’ll refer to as Judge Jones), who I have witnessed on numerous occasions, bring his own disrespect and arrogance, and potentially even racism, out into his open court room. I fully believe that he is so into the power of the bench that it has truly gone to his head. And, potentially worse, he may suffer from NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder; i.e, a sociopath).

That also brings up a question: during our last elections, I noticed that every single incumbent Superior Court Judge ran unopposed. What’s with that? Instinct tells me that’s more than just a coincidence. I would assume that many in Law would aspire to sit on the bench — especially sociopaths.

I was in Judge Jones’ courtroom one morning as the calendar was being called. Two hispanic men stood up, evidently the one involved in the case spoke little English, so the other was there to translate.

In probably less than 20 seconds, the impatient Judge completely lost his temper, and in a very loud voice, began by saying, “You people come to this country …”  and that was enough to stun me. As Judge Jones did not appear to be native American, his own people (i.e., his ancestors) would have come to this country, too.

Judge Jones told him not to return until he had proper representation. To me, that man looked like a farm laborer. How was he to get, let alone afford, proper (i.e., bi-lingual) representation? In this area, a typical civil retainer begins at around $3000.

Where’s the equality in our justice system?

At Home

Julie hated paying child support. Whenever she filed a suit against me regarding child support payments (wanting to stop paying them), or custody (another way of wanting to stop paying them) — three times total — we faced Judge Jones each time. For two kids, Julie was paying $460 total per month ($230 each).

The first two times, Julie had her divorce attorney representing her, and I had my divorce attorney representing me. She lost both times, something that most people would have predicted. But without defending myself, they could have taken advantage of it, and as an example, taken custody.

So, I did what I needed to do, and won — but at a huge cost. Not including the divorce, the first support suit cost me about $4000 to defend, and the second cost me about $6000. That was money I dearly needed.

The third time Julie filed a suit against me was actually for a very different reason — fear of exposure. Yes, fear that her public persona could be exposed. I’ve used the term “offensive revenge” often, and that’s what this was all about. It was 11 years after our divorce, when Julie discovered I knew way more than she thought I did.

In less than a week, Julie had my world turned upside down — a pathological liar with ability to manipulate the Law to be on her side.

I’ve come to believe that if you need to go to court, being a sociopath may play in your favor.

… the story truly begins when this continues …

He’s a cheat and a liar, a CPA with the government, and he was executor of my parents’ Trust. He kept me out of the loop entirely. He never provided me with any of the legal documents required in the trust, and knew because of my health, it would be impossible for me to travel cross country to deal with it.

Phone Etiquette — Trust Legalities

The following call was regarding my parents’ Trust. Just prior to the August 2007 phone call, he had told me that he would no longer communicate via email with me because he knew I was using it just to keep records. Therefore, if I wanted to communicate with him, I’d need to call him.

At that point, all communication stopped since Alan never picked-up, or returned any calls. After more than a week of no communication, I called every hour on that following Sunday until his wife answered at 10PM their time.
 

I find his remark interesting that I should have received something by now, but he’d like to confirm my address because he’s got something else to send. Wouldn’t it have been better to check before sending the first document?

Some background regarding the August 2007 call — My brother, Alan, was the executor of my parents’ Trust. He acted as if being executor meant everything was his to dole out as he pleased. And that’s what he apparently did. He even told me once that if I pissed him off, I wouldn’t get anything. He kept me completely out of the loop, as I received nothing more than a copy of the Trust after ten days of asking.

About a week or two before this call, Alan told me he would no longer reply to my emails, and that he would only communicate with me via phone. At that point, all communication ceased. This call was answered at 10pm Pacific time (1am my time). It was a Sunday, and I had been calling his number all every hour since 8am that morning. I sound surprised when Karen answers because I was. The sound of the fast rewinding tape is there because I was on hold for over a minute, and I cut out the dead time.

At the end of the call, when I referred to “do this right” I was referring to the Trust, and how I was not getting anything to keep me updated as I was legally supposed to. A good example of his arrogance, his grandiose sense of self-worth when he got angry and hung up on me because I told him he was not doing it right.

One of the most humbling, unexpected, and special moments in my life was when you asked me to be your best man. I remember I had feelings of family that I never had before. From out of nowhere, I saw us raising families, sharing times together … just nothing I could have even imagined the day before.

Everything seemed to be going great until you missed your scheduled arrival time. No one knew where you were. No one knew who to call. People were thinking the worst. A lot of time passed. Then I remember looking up and there you were, really late, and looking nothing like the last time I saw you, just the day before. It seemed as if there was a huge weight on you, and I needed to get you away from everyone as fast as I could. I got you into your dressing room, thinking things would get much better, but they didn’t.

I only remember you saying two words to me, the same two words over and over again: “Phuque off!”  That’s all you kept saying. And as I continued to lighten that weight on you, not even knowing what had caused it, I was dreading what my next responsibility would be as best man: getting up in front of the congregation and telling them there’s been a change of plans … sorry, but we need to cancel todays event.

Between you getting up to put on your tux, and all of us climbing into the limo, I have no memory of it. Nothing. I do not remember the ceremony. I do not remember standing at the alter. I remember everything before, and everything after.

And besides saving your wedding, I became the star of your wedding video. Why? Because I was watching those video guys walking all around the room, and how they were constantly being refused by those they approached. People shaking their heads “no” and looking down. What I had dreamt of being the beginning of new lives, left me with a huge hole in my heart.

Weeks, then months past, and never once did you ever even allude to it. And you never thanked me, nor did you apologize.

A few years later, you called and said you’d like to visit us on the East coast. Once again, I was so touched. I felt very far away from family, and you were going to come out of your way, with Karen, to spend some time with us. As they day got closer, I got more excited, and I heard it in your voice, too.

Then I remember seeing you and Karen walking up the driveway, Karen smiling, you just staring at me with that weight on you. You brought that weight into my home, then refused to visit. Julie, Karen and I were all talking about how we were going to get you to come down, and when the vote was tabulated, it would be me going up. Little did I know how that weight was going to detonate.

You looked so hostile when you began yelling, I left the room to avoid any physical confrontation. I was devastated. I went straight down to Karen, who was now standing, and I said, “Karen, is there anything you can do?” I can still see her face when she answered, “No, I can’t do anything when he gets like this.”

“GETS?!” Karen just nodded her head. Before long, you left, and I was sitting alone, once again my heart ripped out. And just like the previous event, you acted as if it never happened. No remorse, no compassion, no reason, no apology.

And lastly, when Kathy began her attack on me in 2003, it wasn’t long before you just joined in.

Now, what did I ever do to you?  Ever?  That is a serious question.
 

TO: Larry
FR: Alan
Fri, Apr 9, 2010 at 20:02 (nine minutes later)

Are you going to be able to call?
 

Yes, he uses red.
 

TO: Alan
FR: Larry
Sun, Apr 11, 2010 at 06:04

I guess it was a trick question since I already knew the answer: I’ve never done anything to hurt you, and even without your apologies, I let your actions slide. Of course, letting them slide did not erase the pain.

How do you explain your actions towards me? For you, I believe that would be difficult to answer, though I’ve drawn my own conclusions, which have passed every litmus test applied. Someday, you may realize the truth, and how you were so gullible to believe the lies of others. One hundred people repeating the same lie is still a lie — especially when they originate from one or two people, the same two people who have a reason to destroy me. I wonder if you’ll even feel remorse when the truth comes out. It will most likely be after I’m gone, if it does.

Since you have information to share with me, then please send it to me. If I need to get back to you with information, I’ll email it back. Are you so oblivious to what you’ve done to me, that you don’t understand why I have no desire to speak with you?
 

TO: Larry
FR: Alan
Sun, Apr 11, 2010 at 11:01

I will be waiting for your call.
 

TO: Alan
FR: Larry
Sun, Apr 11, 2010 at 11:04

You haven’t changed a bit. If you have official business with me, it needs to be in writing.
 

TO: Larry
FR: Alan
Sun, Apr 11, 2010 at 12:12

I will be waiting for your call.
 

TO: Alan
FR: Larry
Sun, Apr 11, 2010 at 12:39

Hey, while you’re waiting, why not hold your breath? You must really just want to shoot the breeze with me … I’m touched.

You lack a sense of guilt or remorse for any harm you may have caused others, instead rationalizing your behavior, blaming someone else, or denying it outright. You also lack empathy towards others in general, resulting in tactlessness, insensitivity, and contemptuousness. All of this belies your tendency to make a good, likable first impression. You have a superficial charm about you, enabled by a willingness to say anything without concern for accuracy or truth.

In General …
• Glibness
• Grandiose sense of self-worth
• Pathological lying
• Cunning/manipulative
• Lack of remorse or guilt
• Emotionally shallow
• Superficial charm
• Callous
• Lack of empathy
• Failure to accept responsibility for your own actions
  and, of course, heavy in denial about all the above.

There’s no reason for you to speak with me, so get over it.  It’s just your grandiose sense of self-worth.

 
###

Editor’s Note :: I came across this article on wikiHow, and found some decent information in it. Be cautious with the details described, though, since they could apply to virtually anyone.

Reprinted from wikiHow under a Creative Commons license
 
Watching facial expressions in order to determine whether a person is lying might just save you from being a victim of fraud, or it could help you figure out when somebody’s being genuine. Jury analysts do this when assisting in jury selection. The police do this during an interrogation. You have to learn the little facial and body expressions that can help you distinguish a lie from the truth.

My name is Charles, and I have been studying lies for a few years now. This is not bogus material, real FBI and TSA agents use it. I have a 97% accuracy in detecting lies and hope this will help you. This is is an edited version from an unknown user.

Steps

1. Learn to recognize deflections. Usually when people are lying, they will tell stories that are true but are deliberately aimed at not answering the question you asked. If a person responds to the question “Did you ever hit your wife?” with an answer such as “I love my wife, why would I do that?”, the suspect is technically telling a truth, but they are avoiding answering your original question, which usually means they’re lying.
   
   
2. Notice the behavior of other body parts. Watch their hands, arms and legs, which tend to be limited, stiff, and self-directed when the person is lying. Their hands may touch their face, ear, or the back of the neck. These are, however, a sign of nervousness, not a sign of deceit. They might not necessarily be nervous because they’re lying.
   
   
3. Look out for microexpressions. Microexpressions are facial expressions that flash on a person’s face for a fraction of a second and reveal the person’s true emotion underneath their facade. Some people may be naturally sensitive to them, but almost anybody can easily train to be able to detect microexpressions. Typically, in a person who is lying, their microexpression will exhibit the emotion of distress, characterized by the eyebrows being drawn upwards towards the middle of the forehead (sometimes causing short lines to appear across the forehead skin).
   
   
4. Check for sweating. People tend to sweat more when they lie. (However, some people may sweat a lot more during nervousness/shyness.)
   
   
5. Mind exaggerated details. See if they are telling you too much, like “My mom is living in France, isn’t it nice there? Don’t you like the Eiffel tower? It’s so clean there.” Too many details may tip you off to their desperation to get you to believe them.
   
   
6. Notice the person’s eye movements. Contrary to popular belief, a liar does not always avoid eye contact. Humans naturally break eye contact and look at non-moving objects to help them focus and remember. Liars may deliberately make eye contact to seem more sincere.
   
   
7. Be aware of their emotional responses
   
   
   • Timing and duration tends to be off when someone is lying. If you ask someone a question and they respond directly after the question, there is a chance that the person is lying. This can be because they have rehearsed the answer, or they’re already thinking about the answer just to get it over with and move forward. A delayed answer can be a sign of lying. To tell the truth takes 2 parts of your brain at most, however to lie takes 6 parts of your brain. If the person has a long story such as “I came home, and opened the refrigerator to load in the groceries. The phone rang, and I answered it. It was my sister. after I hung up, I went to the cookie jar to open it, and the cookies were gone! Then you can ask them to tell it backwards. Liars have trouble telling stories backwards, because in their mind they have rehearsed it forwards, but not backwards. And, as with smiling, facial expressions of a poor liar will be limited to the mouth area.
     
     
   • Pay close attention to the person’s reaction to your questions. A liar will often feel uncomfortable and turn their head or body away, or even subconsciously put an object between the two of you. Also, while an innocent person would go on the offensive (usually responding with anger, which will usually be revealed in a microexpression directly after you say you don’t believe them), a guilty person will often go immediately on the defensive (usually by saying something to reassure their facts, such as deflections).
8. Listen for a subtle delay in responses to questions. An honest answer comes quickly from memory. Lies require a quick mental review of what they have told others to avoid inconsistency and to make up new details as needed. However, when people look up to remember things, it does not necessarily mean that they are lying.
   
   
9. Be conscious of their usage of words. Verbal expression can give many clues as to whether a person is lying, such as:
   
   
   • Using/repeating your own exact words when answering a question
     
     
   • Not using contractions
     
     
   • Avoiding direct statements or answers (deflections)
     
     
   • Speaking excessively in an effort to convince
     
     
   • Speaking in a monotonous tone
     
     
   • Leaving out pronouns (he, she, it, etc.)
     
     
   • Speaking in muddled sentences
     
     
   • Using humor and sarcasm to avoid the subject
10. Allow silence to enter the conversation.
    
    
    • If they’re lying, they will become uncomfortable if you stare at them for a while with a look of disbelief. If they’re telling the truth, they will usually become angry or just frustrated (lips pressed together, brows down, upper eyelid tensed and pulled down to glare).
11. Change the subject quickly. While an innocent person would be confused by the sudden shift in the conversation and may try to return to the previous subject, a liar will be relieved and welcome the change. You may see the person become more relaxed and less defensive.
    
    
12. Watch his or her throat. A person may constantly be either trying to lubricate their throat when he/she lies by swallowing or clearing their throat to relieve the tension built up. A person’s voice can also be a good lie indicator; they may suddenly start talking faster or slower than normal, or their tension may result in a higher-pitched speaking tone.

Tips

• Just because someone exhibits one or more of these signs does not mean they are lying. The above behaviors should be compared to a person’s base (normal) behavior whenever possible.
  
  
• The more you get to know someone, the better you will become at recognizing their thinking style and the better you will become at knowing when they may be straying from the truth. In the ordinary course of events, you will see a consistent pattern of eye movements. If a person breaks their pattern, this may well suggest that they are deviating from the truth, though they may not be lying deliberately. To test the pattern break, ask more questions to try and clarify whether the pattern break was indeed an attempt to tell a lie.
  
  
• Some of the behaviors of a liar listed above also coincide with those of an extremely shy person, who might not be lying at all.
  
  
• Some of the behaviors may also occur when somebody is very concentrated on speaking (for example, when the topic is sophisticated or the person is stressed).
  
  
• Botox or other plastic surgery may also interfere with ‘tells’ and give false positives.
  
  
• Some people may have reputations for lying; keep this in mind, but don’t let it mask your opinions all the time. You have to take it on a case-by-case basis.
  
  
• Some people are extremely experienced or even professional liars. He or she has told their made up story so many times that they are actually believable, getting all their days, dates and times down perfectly! Sometimes, you may need to simply accept that you can’t catch every lie all the time.
  
  
• If it can’t be true, it probably isn’t. For example, if you ask somebody whether they broke your vase, and they say an elephant did it, they probably aren’t telling the truth.
  
  
• Many of the signs that a person is lying are also signs that they are simply nervous. This can especially be the case if they are uncomfortable with the subject they are talking about.
  
  
• If they are being accused of something they, they may be a defensive to convince you otherwise. This may seem like they are lying by they are just shocked to be put at the center of attention unexpectedly.

Warnings

• Be careful of how often you appraise others’ truthfulness. If you are always looking for lies, people may avoid you.
  
  
• Remember that eye contact is considered rude in some cultures, so this may explain why they are reluctant to look at you in the eye consistently.
  
  
• Some people with developmental disabilities like Autism or Asperger’s syndrome are very reluctant to make eye contact or do not make eye contact at all. This is a trait of the Autism spectrum and not a sign of dishonesty. Also, some people like to stare at you eye-to-eye.
  
  
• Forcing a smile is often just an attempt to be polite; don’t take this personally. If someone fakes a smile for you, it can also mean that they want to make a good impression on you because they value you as a person and are showing respect.
  
  
• Someone who is deaf, or hard-of-hearing, may need to watch your mouth instead of your eyes, in order to lipread or better understand what you are saying.

Sources and Citations

• http://www.blifaloo.com/info/lies.php – Original source of article. Used with permission.

Article provided by wikiHow, a wiki how-to manual. Please edit this article and find author credits at the original wikiHow article on How to Detect Lies. All content on wikiHow can be shared under a Creative Commons license.

###

Age: 2-4
Being Grounded

This has nothing to do with being placed on restriction, as that would be a bit odd for a toddler. This is about that other ground, the ground that electricity always looks for. Based on my size and the layout of the house, this has to be one of my earliest memories … which also could have ended my race before I ever got out of the gate.

I was crawling on the floor in our family room, and I happened to squeeze in behind an overstuffed chair. There, in front of me, were two things that seemed to go together, at least based on my limited-life experience.

On the floor was a metal bobby pin and on the wall was a small, rectangular plastic covering with two slots on top, and two on the bottom. I know my mom stuck things in there. So, I recall seeing no reason, whatsoever, that the two sides of the bobby pin should not go in the two little slots on the wall outlet.

Hence, while sitting comfortably at eye-level with the outlet, I proceeded to spread the bobby pin open, and slide it in.

From what I know now, that was my first time cheating death. An electrician once told me that more people die from standard 110 than the higher 220. With 220, the jolt is so powerful that it will literally throw someone across the room, thus breaking the connection. On the other hand, he said, 110 locks you on. He described it just as I remembered it.

I remember how the situation went from just playing to very painful panic.

The entire right side of my body had completely locked up … I was holding on to the pin tighter without the ability to let go, open my hand, move my arm, or make a sound. I cannot even guess how long it was before the connection somehow broke, but the bobby pin was red hot when it hit the floor, and I badly burned two fingers and my thumb.

I figured anything that hurt that bad was not something I should have been messing with, so to avoid the trouble that I would surely get in, I kept this ordeal to myself, as I learned to do with most things that hurt.

Increasing my Pain Threshold

I have suffered with physical pain as long as I can remember. Even before my injuries, I often got headaches, which I just assumed were like everyone else’s headaches. But I realized that other people were able to walk around and complain about their headache, yet I couldn’t even move with mine … unless I became nauseous, which then forced me to move.

They were migraines. The light-sensitive, sound-sensitive, nauseating, with the feeling of a nail-driven-in-just-above-my-eye kind of migraines. I could get them often, too, which I guess were cluster headaches … sometimes 3-4 in one week. Occasionally, I’d go a month without one.

At that early age, I began to question the true knowledge of many medical practitioners, i.e., doctors. For years, I was told I was not getting migraines, because I did not get the aura (don’t ask me, I never got one).

I was told an aura can manifest itself in different ways, and one friend told me she would get a big spot right in the very center of her vision, blocking the majority of her vision. I’ve also heard of tunnel vision, floaters, and all before the pain begins. I just get the pain.

In my mid-20s, I came across a medical research team’s white papers on migraine research that concluded … get this:  not everyone with migraines gets auras first.  Oh, really?

I was fairly young when I accepted that no one would be as tuned-in, aware, or as interested in my health and wellbeing as I was. So, I began studying anything affecting me, even diagnosing what was ailing me, so when I went to the doctor, I would ask for the medicine I determined would be best. Never once was I refused.

I’ve known my migraine triggers, and they’ve changed over the years: bright light, loud noise, certain foods (of course, all my favorites) as well as food additives, such as MSG. And when I was a kid, there was a product — and still may be — in a red shaker, called Accent. Pure, powered MSG to sprinkle on anything, and not knowing anything else at the time, we sprinkled.

But I wonder if my migraines have also been affected by some of the following injuries.

NOTE: it seemed as if I was always recovering from at least one bicycle or skate board crash, resulting in nasty road-rash. Now road-rash wasn’t usually life-threatening, but even so, road-rash hurt like hell. That’s where you slide on the pavement and end up with raw meat where skin used to be.

So, to keep this to a minimum, I’ll avoid the majority of injuries and include only the few which contributed to my skirts with death, and my condition today.

Age: 7-8
First Concussion

I remember being with friends at the top of a long, steep driveway, and waiting for my turn to ride the Flexi down the hill (a Flexi is similar to a snow sled you’d lie on, but with wheels).

The next thing I recall is regaining consciousness, lying on a sofa, in a strange house, with a woman frantically placing ice packs on my head. I was not crying, but I was very confused. I only stayed conscious for what must have been less than a minute.

The next thing I remember is that same woman helping me out of a car, and when I looked up, we were in front of my house. My grandmother was standing on the porch, as if she was expecting us. The lady helped me up to the house, where my grandmother told me just to go lie down in my room, which I did. My folks were on vacation and my grandmother was babysitting. The most pronounced memory of the event was how confused I remained … it was as if I was in a thick fog even at my house.

Days later, I remember asking friends what had happened to me that day. Apparently, I went down the hill on the Flexi, turned sharply uphill, which caused it to flip into the air, with me still holding on.

Our initial impact with the asphalt was completely inverted, meaning the Flexi was on top of me, resulting in the initial blow to my head. I was told I flipped a few times, came to a stop, and didn’t move. And of course, with my grandmother there, I received no medical attention.

Age: 12
Unconscious Again.

My pal, Randy, and I were out riding bikes, as we always did. It was summertime. We had ridden up into Woodland Acres where there was a fairly large, dry creek bed, with a very high and long rope swing. Just to get to it, we would need to climb onto another tree, pull a smaller rope to get the big rope, so as to begin a swing. The velocity was truly exhilarating. And even then, I was drawn to those two words.

For some reason, Randy got bored and wandered away to explore, probably no more than 40-50m. I remember I was able to see him when I was on the tree, and just before stepping off to begin a swing.

There was a piece of wood, a 2-by-4, on the bottom of the rope. I remember grabbing it differently than I had (which provided me the impending crash-course on the importance of thumbs — pun intended). I stepped off the tree, and began another, fast exhilarating decent. But as soon as I got to the bottom of the swing, and began the ascent up the other side, where the G-forces would be greatest, I remember the exact moment when I was no longer holding on to that 2×4.

Time plays strange tricks. First, I felt no fear, and that could have been because I felt as if I was floating, not falling. Thinking back to everything that went through my head, it would seem that I hovered for 5-10 seconds, though it could not have been more than a fraction. Floating was my last memory, as I have no recollection of the impact.

Rejoining the Real World

I was lying on my back when I opened my eyes to see Randy’s red face staring within arm’s reach of mine. His expression hit me as humorous, and I recall that it made me want to laugh. The look on his face was from panic, though, as he knew what I was about to discover — I wasn’t breathing. The beginning of my laugh was replaced instantly with overwhelming panic and intense pain. Nothing like I had ever experienced.

The harder I tried to take in a breath, the more intense my chest pain got, and as the seconds passed, I truly thought I would not be able to get a breath in time. It seemed like an eternity, which makes it very difficult to know how long it was before I got my first very shallow bit of air. But after the first small inhale, they slowly became larger.

From Randy’s Perspective

From what Randy said, it could have been anywhere from 1.25 to 2 minutes before he got to me. He said he heard a dull thud, but not a sound he thought I had made. But he looked over, and couldn’t see me. He said he called out a few times, and with no answer, he decided to get up and walk over — that 40-50m. He, of course, had no idea what he was about to face.

Due to all the oak trees, he did not see me on the ground until he was almost on top of me. He remembered clearly he saw no movement, my eyes were partly open, and then he realized there was no indication I was breathing. Right then, Randy said the panic paralyzed him, since at that point, he thought was I was dead.

My best guess is that this took place before the public awareness of CPR, so additionally, he felt completely helpless. He did the only thing that came natural: he yelled my name but got no response, he yelled it again, and again nothing. And as he was beginning to truly fall apart himself, bordering on shock, he screamed my name with everything he had, almost with anger … and with that, he said my eyes opened, my head slowly turned and looked at him, and with a brief hint of a smile, it disappeared instantly into a struggle for my life.

It was his third yell that I responded to, though I don’t recall hearing him yell anything. As kids, we didn’t think about it — just another day out playing, just another injury with very little loss of blood, hence, another successful day of play — but in hindsight, it was almost my very last.

Randy saved my life that day. I do not recall anything else after we rode our bicycles off to another exploration. By the time I got home that evening, it was probably not even on my mind. So, once again, I received no medical attention.

Age: 14  
2 years after the long-forgotten fall.

My freshman year at a Jesuit prep school. I was on the Judo team. After arriving home from a Judo practice one day, I began experiencing very acute muscle spasms throughout my back.

In a short time, the spasms became so intense that taking anything more than a shallow breath was quite painful. Within the hour, both my mom and dad took me to the hospital.

I easily recall how much I was struggling with the pain, I sort of remember having the x-rays taken. But from the time we were called back by the radiologist to view the x-rays, my memory is very clear.

As we entered the room, the light boxes were mounted on the wall to our right, and there were four or five films on display. But my focus didn’t get past the first film, since on that film, one vertebrae was obviously different than the others. Instead of having that squarish look, this one angled down on one side, so the right face was shorter than the left. It had been crushed. I recall being baffled as to what could have caused that in Judo. I noticed all that in the first couple seconds, before the doctor had even said anything. I did not take my eyes off that vertebrae.

The first thing the doctor did say was “I know you’re looking at that (pointing at the vertebrae we were staring at), and I’ll get to that in a moment, but I need to draw your attention to this.”

“Your son broke his back. Look here and you can see the fracture. But this fracture is not new … it has been healing for some time. None of this was caused by a recent injury.

I still laugh when I think about what happened next. Both my parents, in a simultaneous, choreographic move, rotated and looked down at me almost as if I were to make a statement. I was completely bewildered … as well as speechless, so all I was able to do was smile back.

It must have taken me days, if not longer, to place the rope-swing event, from over two-years earlier, as the cause for the damage to my spine. Two years, for a kid, is a lifetime … that rope-swing event had long become a non-event. But undoubtedly, that was all it could have been

I was referred to a orthopedic surgeon, and was under his care for the next 5-6 years. I try to see something positive in everything, and with this, I saw a 4F status that would keep me from being shipped off to Vietnam.

Teens and Twenties

As a life-long bicyclist, when it was time for us to get a driver’s license and a car, I got my license and a motorcycle. I began racing motorcycles by the time I was 20, and once during a race, I was hit by another competitor, immediately found myself sliding down the asphalt at about 70-80mph, and while I was sliding, I rotated around and saw what was happening behind me.

To my terror, someone else’s motorcycle was cartwheeling — front wheel over rear wheel over front wheel, etc., — in the exact same line I was sliding in, but moving much faster and gaining on me. My attempt to stand-up and simply get out of the way failed miserably since I was likely still sliding along at 40-50 MPH — but I remember feeling as if I would be able to do it. The motorcycle did land on top of me, but I was able to absorb some of the bike’s weight and velocity with my legs. That certainly was not the only time I crashed.

I also joined a speed-skating team, and probably did more damage to my back on skates than bicycles and motorcycles combined. From my teen years, I have never been without back pain, as it only got worse as I got older. No one told me I wasn’t indestructible, but I was told you only live once.

1986

Sitting at a stop light in Los Angeles on a nice sunny Saturday, I was taking my future ex-wife’s car in for a tune-up. I glanced into my rearview mirror just in time to see the car coming up behind me, but unable to see the driver’s face.

He was looking down at something on the passenger seat, and completely unaware that cars were stopped in front of him. He drove into me at around 40mph. To add insult to true injury, he fled the scene. And if I was ever able to focus on a small object disappearing in the distance, it was his tag … and somehow, with nothing to write it on, I remembered it.

Every time I got into my ex-wife’s car as a passenger, I would always have to raise the headrests up, since she said they messed her hair or something. Unfortunately, I did not notice that day from the driver’s side that the headrests were again lowered all the way down, which was at my shoulder level. The way my head snapped back, I thought it was going to rip off. If it were a cartoon, my neck would have been an accordion.

January 2001

Fifteen years had slipped by, when out of nowhere, my 1986 whiplash came back with an extremely dangerous and nasty attitiude …

continued in Part 2 …

2001 Nov 7, Wed

Karan, a woman I had met just a few months earlier, had offered to drive me to the hospital. It was not convenient for her in the least, either.

She had to drive an hour to get to my home from her’s, then travel another hour to get to the hospital. When we pulled up, I told Karan she could just drop me off at the entrance.

Her response was a very firm, “No way, I’m walking in with you.”

Karan won that dispute as she drove right to the parking deck and found a convenient spot. As soon as I checked-in, I was told they were ready for me in pre-op, so Karan gave me a hug, and wished me the best.

Within minutes of arriving in pre-op, they had run an IV, and suddenly, I had not one single care in the world. Shortly thereafter, my life was in the hands of an unnamed anesthesiologist. 

Once again, my hearing woke before my other senses, and to my immediate astonishment, I recognized Karan’s voice talking to the nurses.

Right after that, I listened as Karan called my parents and gave them a great prognosis … once again, be careful with what you say in the presence of a “sleeping” hospital patient. Luckily, I heard nothing but good stuff.

Karan, a widow who lost her husband to skin cancer a decade earlier, waited there for over six hours just so she knew I was OK. A woman I knew for only a short time became one of the champions in my life.

My own siblings never even called.
 

2001 Nov 8, Thu

Waking up this morning was my first real complete consciousness since the beginning of my surgery yesterday morning.

I had little bits of memory in recovery, and being moved to my room when I heard Karan. But then I believe they kept me sedated for the night, which was fine, except for one thing …

A pseudo-umbilical cord?! The first thing I noticed when I awoke was that my catheter was still in, which meant I was going to experience something I was hoping not to: someone yanking my catheter out while I was awake. Big bummer.

Morning Rounds: Dr. Dale R. appears in my room, but seems surprisingly serious. He said, “You bled too much.”  I first thought he must be kidding.

“The surgery took a lot longer than it should have.”  But he wasn’t kidding, as he was angry at me for bleeding too much.

I really wanted to say, “Do you want to do it again, and I’ll try to bleed less? Silly me, but isn’t that why you get paid the Big Bucks?”

Big Bucks :: adj noun :: 1) billing my insurance company $34,000 for a 4-5 hour procedure; 2) insurance company paid him $11,000, which he accepted, and likely wrote off the rest (taxes, what taxes?). He performs about six surgeries per week.

That was a side of him I had not seen, but it would be virtually the only side I’d see going forward.

Just after Dr Dale left, two nurses entered my room. Liz, a middle-aged woman, introduced herself as the head nurse. She then introduced Bridgette as a student nurse. Liz wanted to let me know that Bridgette would be working with the staff nurses that morning.

A short time later, while lying on my left side, my back to the door, I heard Liz’s voice as she was again entering my room. She was explaining the proper way to remove a catheter. I glanced up briefly to see that Bridgette was getting the ten-second training.

Almost immediately, very mixed feelings overwhelmed me, as I recall thinking I wanted to ask Liz to slow down with those instructions … don’t make her nervous.

Since all I was wearing was a hospital gown, I moved it out of the way as they approached … and kept my eyes shut. As I waited for a moment to interject a question, things happened too quickly.

Suddenly, I was lifted, followed immediately by a very strong and uncomfortable tug … sort of like having the catheter attached to a slamming castle door. I emitted an unexpected moan, and folded right in half into the prenatal position.

I was still trying to catch my breath after they were gone. They walked out so quickly and quietly that I wondered if they laughed at my reaction once they got to the hallway.

I have no doubt that I was Bridgette’s first catheter tug. It made me wonder if a nurse with a thousand good tugs to her name would have left me in a different state, something other than a rope-burn in the urinary-tract kind of feeling. Or maybe given me a 1-2-3…tug.

But, I recovered just fine in what seemed like an eternity.

I had my first of two scheduled appointments with a physical therapist that Thursday afternoon. I had no idea what to expect. She told me she just needed to see me walk, and since she couldn’t keep up, she said I was doing great.

2001 Nov 9, Fri

Morning Rounds: Dr. Dale came by to measure the amount of blood in my vacu-something. It’s a spring-loaded pouch, with a tube going into my surgical wound. Its job is to keep the hemorrhaging from filling my torso.

Dr R. once again reminded me that I bled too much, and I certainly would not be going home Saturday, as it was the early-release possibility. I didn’t see this in him before, but he was holding a grudge that I bled too much. What’s with that? I was already getting to where I was not looking forward to his visits, as he just carried an attitude.

I had my second of two scheduled appointments with a physical therapist that Friday afternoon, and this time I was led into the fire escape and asked to climb some stairs. So I walked right up one flight, looked back down at her, and she waved me to come back down. When I got there, she was laughing.

She looked up at me and said, “I meant just three or four steps.” She also said I was doing great and I should expect a fairly quick recovery, as most people do struggle to get up a few steps after the surgery I had. I remember not being surprised, since I was in good shape and expected to recover quickly.

It was Friday evening, and after spending two nights, it was the longest I had ever been confined to a hospital.

2001 Nov 10, Sat

Morning Rounds: Dr. Dale came by to measure the amount of blood in my vacu-something. I asked him if it looked as if I’d be able to go home Sunday … now if I had kept my mouth shut, my foot would have never slipped in so easily.

I recall his reply, steeped in attitude, that if I hadn’t bled so much, maybe … but at this rate, he didn’t think I’d even be going home Monday.

A simple “no” would have sufficed.

Early Saturday Afternoon

As I was rolling over, I felt a sharp pain around my surgical wound area. I immediately envisioned that a staple had come loose. A few minutes later, I got that sharp poke again, so I page the nurse.

When the nurse took a look at my back, she reacted startled, “No, it’s not a staple … your drain tube came out. Here, I’m just going to pull the rest of it out.”

With that, she came around to the front of me, and said, “Look, this much was inside your back”  indicating approximately 24-28 inches. She told me she’d leave a message with the doctor and let me know what he says.

About 30 minutes later, she told me he knew and he would see me in the morning on his morning rounds. Considering his reaction, I assumed it wasn’t that critical.

2001 Nov 11, Sun

Morning Rounds: With a nurse already in my room, Dale R, MD, entered, walked quietly to my bedside, and said, “So I hear you pulled the tube out of your back?”

I half-heartedly chuckled at his attempt at humor, and returned an equally humorous, “Yea.”

After a brief silence, he said it again, “I hear you pulled the tube out of your back?”

RED FLAGS APPEARED EVERYWHERE.

That time, I responded quickly and very directly …

“OK, that’s the second time you said that, so allow me to be perfectly clear about this: I DID NOT pull any tube out of my back. It would appear to me that the tube was not properly connected, and it worked its way out. Any other questions?”

He said nothing else about that.

After examining my back, he said, “Well, since the tube is out, I guess you can go home.”

If a surgeon, as well as the head of the Neuroscience Department, smiles and says I can go home, then it must be safe for me to go home.

At the time, little did I know that he had more than enough experience to be well aware that he was likely sending me off to my death … with a smile.

I bled too much.
 
to be continued … soon
 

Critical Events to Remember from Part 3:

1) Both physical therapists, from Thursday and Friday, told me I was doing great and I should expect a fully successful recovery.

2) Dr Dale kept reminding me that I bled too much — frankly, I think he was angry too much.

3) Saturday morning, Dr Dale stated that I may not even go home Monday, based on the amount I was still bleeding internally. That also factored in having the vacu-something fully-functional and completing its job until I stopped hemorrhaging — at least through Monday.

4) A few hours later, the tube came out. From that moment, the vacu-something ceased to provide any more of its critical functionality — something emphasized repeatedly by Dr Dale.

5) When informed, Dr Dale stated he’d check it when he saw me the next morning, Sunday.

6) Sunday morning he immediately appeared to be attempting to audio-record an admission from me, as if I were deliberately responsible for the tube coming free.

7) Dr Dale states that since the tube came out, I can go home (re-read #3 above).

Additionally, Dr Dale released me without a bandage covering my surgical wound, nor with any antibiotics. My understanding is that he was 75 years old when he operated on me.

The Accidental Discovery :: A Sociopath in the Family
PART 5: When Plans Backfire on a Sociopath

 
… con’t from Part 4

On the morning of Kathy’s and Marlin’s departure, Kathy told me that they would have a stop-over in Salt Lake City, and that if I needed to get in touch with her, just leave a message on her cell, and she’d check it when they landed.

I remember that hit me as odd, since that would be only two hours after their flight left, and I didn’t plan to speak with them for the week they’d be gone. While driving them to the airport, she said it again, so that time it raised a flag. I didn’t ask anything, but I wondered what she was expecting me to call about.

“Surprise … I lied.”

After dropping them off at the airport, I headed right back to their house so I could get to work. When I turned on their computer, I realized why Kathy would be expecting a call. For the first time ever, their computer required a password to log-in … a password I was deliberately not told about.

Kathy knew I needed the computer to work. I called her cell, and left that message she was expecting. When she called back, she stated she had private stuff on the Mac, things that she didn’t want me to see, “such as email” and was not going to give me the password. I was shocked.

1) She deliberately deceived me about using the computer, knowing I had work to do, and avoided telling me until they were gone.

2) I’ve never been nosy, and I found her allegation insulting. I was cleared and trusted to support over 100 corporate computers, including full access to support the PCs of two vice presidents, as well as the company servers. Never, as in never, was I ever even interested in looking at someone’s personal files. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m honest that snooping would never even cross my mind.

3) Is Kathy downright stupid? I already had credible information from multiple sources that Kathy, and my ex-wife Julie, had been maintaining a clandestine relationship. I questioned Kathy three times, and she lied each time. Considering there was never restriction on using her computer, now she specifically had email that was private.

Kathy finished the call by refusing to give me access to the computer, knowing full-well she was restricting me from working.

Or, so she thought.

Kathy forgot one thing: I’m considered a computer expert … getting around a password is fairly simple.

I’ve done consulting work for Fortune 500 companies and the Federal Government. She should have known that. She definitely knew I was a certified Mac consultant, and I would always diagnose and fix her computer problems.

Even for that trip, she was aware that I brought all my diagnostic and maintenance disks. Getting access to a computer that is password-protected is a typical task for someone like me, and a fairly simple one. I just didn’t want to back-door their computer if I didn’t need to, but Kathy wouldn’t give me any other option.

When Kathy’s daughter, TK, arrived home after school that afternoon, I asked her about the required password. She told me that she didn’t know why her mom had “just recently added the passwords” but if I needed access, I could use her’s. So from then on, I used TK’s password. I thought it was very odd that Kathy would have set up a limited-use password for TK, but not for me.

The Meeting with DK’s Counselor

As much as I resented Kathy’s method of control by telling me I had a meeting with my son’s counselor, I was over that by the day of the meeting, and showed-up timely, with an inquisitive attitude as to the agenda. It wasn’t my meeting, so I had planned to simply answer every question with detail and substantiation, and see where it went.

The counselor, Jane (not her real name), met me in the reception area, was very cordial, and we began the meeting in her closed office. No more than 5-10 minutes into our discussion, she asked me about DK’s mom. I remember she apologized, saying, “… sorry, please don’t take this wrong, but why doesn’t their mom have custody?” I told her she didn’t need to apologize, as it was a simple and obvious question, but it had a long and complex answer. Jane said she had the time. She asked a lot of questions, and of course, she got nothing but the absolute truth.

At least 40-minutes into the meeting, Jane seemed a bit puzzled, and asked how long Kathy had known my son. I told her, “Kathy just met DK.” Jane repeated it back to me in a question, and I confirmed it. After a brief pause, Jane asked me how close Kathy and I are. I explained the answer in much more detail than just saying, “Not very.”

Over an hour after we began talking, Jane expressed her appreciation to me for coming in, and followed that by stating, “I want you to know that your son is very lucky to have you as his father … and if he were my son, I would do nothing differently. I wish you the best.”

I was truly humbled, and I let her know. I believe only a parent, especially a single parent, would understand how touching that is. For those of us raising kids as a top priority, hearing that is the most gratifying compliment.

Jane did not share anything with me that Kathy had told her, but I certainly could tell it was a different story, and whatever it was, Jane was certainly not buying Kathy’s story now, if ever. That allowed me to theorize why I met with Jane: potentially, Kathy had not planned it, but instead, she met with Jane when DK enrolled, and took the opportunity to undermine me as a bad father.

In other words, already chipping away at my character. Then when Jane was told I was coming out, she asked to meet with me. Kathy probably thought, or was made to think, Jane would take what she told her, and Jane would lay into me, simply supporting Kathy. Kathy is not very sharp.

I remember as I was walking out of the school building, I realized something very strongly: in that meeting of just over an hour, Jane now knew more about DK and our family than Kathy did, because Jane knew the questions to ask. Kathy never expressed interest or concern with my kids or me, nor had she ever asked, even though I was parenting them alone. Obviously, Kathy was getting her information elsewhere.

The Return Flight

Two days had passed since meeting with DK’s counselor. I had originally planned to stay a couple extra days after Kathy returned, just to visit, but due to the most recent events, all I could think of at that point, was how could I take DK home with me. But I had to let that idea go, since school would be out in four weeks, making it a terrible time to transition … especially back to where he had previously been.

In any event, I decided to leave, and take the first flight out after they arrived. Unfortunately, their return flight came in at 22:00 that night, and the first available return flight for me departed at 07:00 the following morning. I wasn’t about to ask Kathy to get up early and drive me back to the airport, so I decided that when I picked them up, I’d simply stay at the airport overnight.

When I spotted them at the curb, they ran over, both jumped in the back seat, and seemed extraordinarily happy. Marlin told me that I could go ahead and drive on home. At that point, while still stopped, I turned around and told them that I needed to get back to my home, that I’d drive over to my departing terminal, and I’d get out there to catch the next flight.

By then, they both went from happy, smiling faces, to looks of being stunned … something I remember confused me. The very next comment came from Kathy, in the form of a question …

“Oh, did everything go OK at the meeting with Jane?”

Then I probably had a stunned look, “Yea, it went fine.”

And with Kathy’s usual anxious demeanor, she replied, “Oh! Good!”

That’s not what Kathy meant, though, and why would that be the question as to why I was leaving early? I don’t recall anything else being said during the two-minute drive to my terminal, where I attempted to sleep on the floor that night, with little success. But, I was on the first flight home.

I believe it was my second day back, when my phone rang. I remember hearing the caller yelling before I even got the phone to my ear. It was Kathy. She was extremely angry and yelling at me for bringing up Julie, DK’s mom, with Jane.

I think Kathy got busted. I just let her yell, as it only added to my certainty. After denying three times of having any communication with Julie, saying that she couldn’t even remember when she last spoke with her, why would she be so adamant about defending Julie over things she didn’t even know?

Busted.
 
to be continued soon …
 
 

ADDENDUM:

Some of my friends find it very odd that I’m writing this … they’ve expressed, in a variety of ways, that I should let it go and just move on. Other friends of mine pretend it does not exist, and simply ignore it. I believe in some ways they think I’ll be happier by forgetting it, but this is what I need to do to forget it. I need to put it all down, piece the puzzle together, and for now, that works for me.

Some wonder why I put it on the Web. Because hopefully it will help others … and judging by the number of visitors worldwide, I believe it has in some little way. And if not the Web, where? A notebook? That would still be helpful to me, but not as gratifying as knowing I could help others. And when I’m gone, that notebook would end up in some landfill.

But there’s something else I get. When I pull those pieces of the puzzle together, occasionally I see things from a different perspective, which can often have an effect on another part of the puzzle.

While writing this part, a couple points surfaced more clearly than I expected…

1) It would still be a long time before I had enough experience and evidence to clearly label my sister, Kathy, a sociopath. She has a history of being very brutally mean to me since childhood, and at the time that Part 5 covers, all I was thinking was that she was lying to me, and being very hurtful as she had been earlier in our lives.

I never knew why she had always been mean to me, as far back as I can remember, but that I’ve since figured out, too. She is very evil, but for virtually everyone who associates with her, they’ve been sold on her public persona. As of now, I don’t know anyone else other than me, who has seen the ugly truth behind it. Her husband is either blind, an enabler, or her most loyal disciple.

2) If my theory is correct about the counselor, and that she was led to believe that I was a very different person than I am, then the puzzle just changed a lot. I have to accept that Kathy was assassinating my character long before my previous proof had defined a time period UPDATE: since I was a child*.

*UPDATE: Number 2 has its own ADDENDUM …

 
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Well, of course not, he’s a senator. Isn’t that clout enough? [sic]

This next one — a true favorite — I’m stating entirely from memory. I do not recall the details, but the rest will be difficult to ever forget.

I believe it was during the summer of 2008, when White House-sitter, George W. Bush [R] was asked (or subpoenaed) to testify before a Senate sub-committee. In his formal reply, Bush agreed to testify as long as he was not required to be under oath.

Ironically, he was honest about intending to be dishonest. Maybe it’s my own naivety, but why do people need to take an oath just to tell the truth?

One of my pet peeves is when I’m intently listening to someone — whatever the topic may be — when out of nowhere, they state …

      “… OK, I’ll be honest with you …”

“WHAT!?  What about everything you just said?”

SOUND FX: GLASS BREAKING

This would be considered a wild thought by many, but it would seem that our justice system is severely broken.

I have witnessed, first-hand, how those with limited financial means, and even minorities, are treated much differently than those who do not need to worry (as much) about legal costs. And I also saw first-hand, how “truth” takes a distant second place behind the courtroom-version of the two-foot shuffle.

But since the Justice system is the only branch of our government that police’s itself, I don’t think I’ll hold my breath for any change. An argument for a major overhaul would certainly be placed in the judicial circular file. A request to consider even a minor tune-up would probably also be dismissed as unneeded, and an “unnecessary expense of tax-payers’ dollars.”

That’s always a good one … it’s a very simple formula to go to WAR (spending billions and billions of dollars), and that’s accomplished by simply creating fear, uncertainty and doubt — such as the Homeland Security Advisory System that never drops below yellow — and calling on patriotism (i.e., not real patriotism), but just the appearance of it, which is intended to incite guilt. If you’re not for the war, then you must not be patriotic. [sic]

By the way, the threat level has never been lowered to Low (Green) or Guarded (Blue).

Then consider the Patriot Act. Now, if you are against the Patriot Act, obviously you are not patriotic … there’s that guilt thing again, right. It’s just a marketing ploy.

Name the “Act” without using misleading Marketing Glitz

Imagine if they were required to summarize the major points of the book and how those issues would effect the public. That summary would then be shortened into a title and sub-title.

“The Big Book of Losing of our Constitutional Right to Privacy, and other gotchas” … other “gotchas” because no one read it before they signed it into law late one night.

And, not to forget how the US Supreme Court — a very political group to begin with — decided to give the presidency to Bush in 2000, all behind closed doors. Who told them to get involved? No one, because they’re accountable only to themselves. Their say is final.

Right or wrong, the Judicial Branch answers to no one, unlike the other branches of our government.

And remember, as much as we hear the value of a Democracy: the US is not a Democracy.

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