Story Archives 2010

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        José dándose  cuenta que la sagrada familia corría peligro realiza un
plan de escape, reuniendo sus pocas cosas de valor hacen una lista de
lo necesario, y con su esposa María  preparan el pequeño equipaje.
Cubiertos por el manto de la noche salen de su casa, deben de dejar la
cuna que José fabrico con tanto cuidado y amor para el bello niño.

     Deben conformarse con algunos utensilios de cocina, sabanas para
protegerse del frio, pampers  y una silla y una meza portátil de
Redwood que pueden ser útiles en su trayecto, también un poco de
incienso y mira que son un obsequio qué dieron unos caminantes de
oriente. Antes de partir a un nuevo lugar, a una nueva aventura hacen
una oración miran al cielo, el cielo los mira, la luna se llena de luz
para iluminar su camino y los  ángeles disfrazados de estrellas canta
en coro un himno de bendición y libertad.
       Las lagrimas ruedan por la mejías de la joven madre, el niño duerme
en sus brazos, José la abraza diciéndole “todo saldrá bien no te
preocupes pues la leche puede enfermara al niño, iremos a otra ciudad
segura donde el niño pueda desarrollarse y transformarse en  un
carpintero, un pescador, un gran maestro o un doctor reconocido en
todo el mundo”.

      La noche es fría como el hielo (ICE) José también
siente su corazón como un gran tambor acelerando  su ritmo, su paso se
acelera, no hay tiempo que perder esta comunidad no es segura pues los
soldados del rey pueden aparecer en cualquier momento y llevarlos
presos, la migra puede separarlos o  quitarles al niño acusándolos de
criminales. María mescla sus lágrimas con una pequeña sonrisa y
emprenden el viaje con fe y esperanza. En esta ocasión no usarán el
burro pues el viaje es largo por la inter estatal Highiway 80. Sin ver
atrás suben en su viejo auto que los llevara  desde Arizona a alguna
ciudad santuario lejos del odio y racismo concentrado en SB-1070.

     Atraviesan montes, el inmenso valle de san Joaquín bajo el
incandescente sol que golpea como un martillo silencioso el cuerpo que
parece derretirse,  atravesando  un gran desierto verde que como una
serpiente a la orilla del camino es regado por un gran rio. Nilo puedo
creer aquí trabajan muchos de nuestros hermanos.
       Autos van autos vienen, grandes y relucientes camiones que
transportan mercancías y productos algunas caravanas de jinetes que en
sus brillantes corceles negros, vestidos de negro y con un a dibujo de
una clavera blanca en su espalda cual ráfaga de viento manejan sus
motocicletas, dicen  que se dirigen a  un festival en un lugar llamado
el Golgota (lugar de la calavera).

    Por fin en la madrugada del
séptimo día con los primeros rayos del el sol que pintan el cielo
color rojo  brillante, frente a los ojos de José y María  el Puente
Golden Gate imponente, rojo, sobre el mar rojo y allí imponente se
divisa la ciudad con enormes siluetas, semejando pirámide es la ciudad
de San Francisco.

     Una fiesta de bienvenida preparan familiares y
amigos llevando pan, trajeron vino, pupusas, tamales, gorditas,
burritos, y  algunos peces, La tía  Magdalena, brincando de alegría
ordena todo en la meza, todo es música, alegría el niño enérgicamente
mueve sus brazos y pies como saltando en el cielos de sabanas que lo
rodean .  Todos compaten y suman su comun  felicidad, compartiendo la
idea que  felicidad no es un lugar a donde ir.  Felicidad es una forma
de vivir en este viaje llamado vida.

Ingles sigue

     Jose realizing that his family was in danger came up with an escape
plan. He collects the few belongings of value, creating a list of
necessities and with his wife Maria they prepared the small luggage.

    Covered beneath the cloak of the night they leave their home.  They
must leave crib that Jose finely crafted with care and love for the
beautiful baby.

     They must make do with just a few kitchen utencils, blankets to
protect them from the cold, diapers, and one chair and portable table
made of Redwood that will be used throughout their travels.  They also
brought a little bit of insense that was gifted to them by paserbys
walking from the east.

     Before leaving for a new place, a new adventure they pray, and look up
to heaven, heaven looks down on them, the moon shines full to shade
light on their path, and the angels disguised as stars sing the courus
of a hymn of blessing and liberty.

     Tears roll down the cheeks of the young mother, and in her arms the
son sleeps, Jose hugs her and tells her “everything is going to be
okay, don’t worry, listen the milk will make the baby sick so we are
going to another city secure where the baby can grow and become a
carpenter, a fisherman, or a great professor, or a doctor known around
the world."

     The night is cold as ICE.  Jose feels his heart accelerating and it
beat like a drum to his rythm, bound to beat even harder throughout
his journey.  There is no time to lose, this community is no longer
safe, the kings soldiers can appear at any moment and take them
prisoner, the immigration officers can seperate them or take the baby
accusing them of being criminals.

     Maria wipes her tears with a small smile and they embark on their
journey with faith and hope.  This time they will not use the donkey
to travel because it is very far following the highway interstate 80.
Without looking back they get in their old car that will bring them
from Arizona to a sanctuary city faraway from the hate and racism
concentrated in SB-1070.

      They climb mountains, the imense San Joaquin Valley below the
incandescent sun that hits the body like a silent hammer, giving the
feeling that you are melting.  Crossing a great green desert and like
a snake the road moves along the bank and is watered by a grand river.
 Nilo, I can imagine that many of our brothers work here.

     Automobiles come and go, huge shiny semi's that carry goods and
products,  caravans of riders pass  on their vivid black horses,
dressed in black with white skulls on thier backs that gusts in the
wind, they ride their motorcycles.  They say they are going to a
festival in a place called Golgota (the place of the skull).

     Finally in the twilight of morning on the seventh day with the first
rays of the sun that paint the sky bright red.  In front of Jose and
Maria's eyes, the golden gate bridge is red, and streches above the
red sea.  From there the city with its many silluetes, looking like a
pyramid it the city of San Francisco.    A big fiesta is prepared by
family and friends bring bread, wine, pupusas, tamales, gorditas,
burritos, and fish.  Aunt Magdalena bursting with excitement orders
the table to be set, everything is music, the baby moves his arms and
legs energetically as if jumping in a sky of blankets that surround
him.
     Everyone shares and adds to the common happiness, sharing the idea
that happiness is not a place you can go, but rather happiness is a
way of living during this journey we call life.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010, I left my home at 8 a.m., got to Berkeley 9-ish to meet other people going to Sacramento—and the Food Not Bombs vehicle, a rescued ex-AC Transit bus.  On the way to Schwarzeneggertown we picked up 12 more passengers, all Wheelchair Skolahs.  Joe Bolden, “Tell Joe” of POORmagazine, got to Sacto by other means. 

In Sacto by Noon, this poverty skolah helped perform street theater, pushing three gurneys (with patients aboard) down the street with some single mamaz, a 10-foot-tall effigy of Ahnold, and several tents.  The Wheelchair Skolahs led the way, with Ahnold looming overhead with an axe in one hand and a cigar in the other.  We went up K Street, turned onto N Street to the Capitol.

Wearing doctors’ smocks, we barricaded the street across from the Capitol building.  A Po’Lice officer on a bicycle tried to get us to leave.  He called for back up and got six more bicycle-ridin’ officers.  The media was watching—Channels 4, 5, and 11.  Newspaper reporters were there too.

Joe (our photographer) and I were willing to do civil disobedience.  Thirty Po’Lice officers were there, one for each of us!  Some wore SWAT gear.  My cellphone rang.  My fairy godmother, who shall go unnamed, had other ideas.  Joe and I decided to, as we say at POOR, “report and support”, but stay out of jail.

We performed a live report of the protest on KPFA FM radio station.  A Po’Lice Captain, or some other highly ranked cop, announced that they might be spraying chemical agents and if anyone was allergic they should leave immediately.  The Press was encouraged to move back, yellow Po’Lice tape was put up.  People from the Calfornia Federation of Labor were present, chanting slogans.

People inside the yellow tape were asked for identification.  The Wheelchair Skolahs presented the Po’Lice with a challenge, none of them present had any experience of arresting physically disabled people.  They had more fun with the effigy of Ahnold, and the gurneys, grabbing them like they were Blue Light Specials from K-Mart.

One of the single mamaz got her foot stepped on by a Po’Lice officer.  She pushed him off her foot and was charged with attempting to escape—with her hands bound behind her with plastic ties.  The mama, on Welfare, was worried about benefits getting cut and her child put at risk.

The Po’Lice set up a processing station on the spot, citing and releasing people there.  The strangest sight of the day’s action--a petite blind woman was surrounded by five SWAT officers, escorting her to the fingerprint area as if she were one of Jackie Chan’s long lost cousins ready to start some trouble.  None of the officers looked older than 25.  Note to Sacramento Po’Lice:  please give your officers better training in dealing with Wheelchair and other Differently Abled Skolahs!

Who do they have training them to A.D.A. (Americans With Disabilities Act) standards?  It was 90 degrees that day.  The processing was quick, but not quick enough.  The protesters were also Elder Skolahs who needed water.  Sun-stroke is no joke.  It can kill.  The Sacto Po’Lice Department looked like the Keystone Kops. 

The Lawyers Guild had representatives there, interviewing everyone who was arrested, especially the mama who got her foot stepped on.  She said they stepped on her toes, so she stepped on theirs.  The Po’Lice treated her as if she was the leader of the protest, which was run by consensus.  She was the only protester not immediately released--a few of the officers on-scene said they were keeping her for a while longer.

We lost Joe Bolden.  His ride couldn’t wait.  The “Arniemobile”, the Food Not Bombs bus, was enlisted in the hunt, but No Joe.  We headed back to the Bay Area.  Joe walked to Vallejo.  He made it back to San Francisco from there, knowing the area and having enough money to pay his own way.  This poverty skolah fell asleep on the floor of the bus.

I woke up smelling burning rubber and diesel.  The bus dropped an axle, which we saw behind us in the fast lane.  Ever try to get 12 Wheelchair Skolahs van rides in the middle of nowhere at 6 p.m.?  Eight people who weren’t skolah helpers were rescued 3 hours later, riding a van that carried the Ahnold effigy.  Everyone else got moving again several hours after that. No good deed goes unpunished…

Culture war collateral damage:

Mexican-American gang member from nowhere

northern California, released from prison

to San Francisco half-way house

sketches her;

long-gone from nowhere northern Texas,

you can take the boy from the country

but some of the country stays in the boy

from divorced smashed-atom

whitebread nuclear family

connects one or two of my dots

Watching that black hair twitch to the rhythm of her

 take me as I am or eff off walking body language

was an education in the school of desire

and long odds;

one day, walking through the Goodwill warehouse

after a break, she said “Stop not talking to me or

I’m gonna throw a candy bar at you!”

I was glad she wasn’t tempted by the

heavier things surrounding us

The warehouse was a video game:

avoid the forklift and the man pushing

thAe palletjack,

what comes in always goes out in a

daily dance of muscle and fossil fuels;

detour, detour, all Goodwill’s children

must detour

We sniffed the edges of heterosexuality,

but it didn’t fit as well as we wanted it to;

age, culture, maybe class differences too—

well, shall we say that enough

hard-core gangsta rap

and bloody violent movies

can make me feel

like Samson with short hair

One day at a time actually meant something to me,

until she got fired and vanished like a fantasy

Mind and love are things of the spirit, unclassifiable

Area 51 UFOs,

or microvoltages of electricity and feel-good

kickapoo joy-juice brewed by the brain whenever 

we connect, hug, kiss, whatever:

my nowhere northern cali girl was gone and

I finally understand what cold turkey really means

More about us:  she was and is three gang-banger brothers,

drug addict, single mother, fragile grandmother, aunt

and mother raising her daughter, loves

Jimmy Santiago Baca; I met the woman she fell for

at the half-way house once, my gang-banger girl’s

eye for female flesh and spirit is pretty good

I’m a child of divorce, the sister I’ve seen once in 20 years

married three times, father remarried once, mother

never remarried, I haven’t hitched yet;

I almost had a Black step-father and brother,

but nowhere northern Texas would have

punished that crime

I borrowed a 6-foot-tall sister named Debra,

too well acquainted with 2004 drive-by death;

one day I said, “Sometimes you look like

a wolf prowling your territory in the warehouse”

after I asked her opinion on the chasing of younger

trying-to-be-ex-gang-banger women,

the word “fag” vanished from her vocabulary

From client of Goodwill to employee was a twisty

roller coaster ride, addiction to Debra and the

Filipino women, younger and older, seemed

going-going-gone; I was mood-swinging in the

tree-tops, thinking cold turkey might just

be my middle name

I said to one of the Filipino women, “If I ever

learn to speak Tagalog it will be your fault,

you make it sound so much fun to talk like that”

Give me I’ve-seen-it-all-and-it-can’t-hurt-me,

strange sense of humor, stainless steel much less

than 6 degrees of connection to large extended family,

I might run for the hills or get a grip

and ride that tiger—

I don’t think he’ll bite

His name was Celso Cabanero, classic 70 year old

tough old Filipino man, smoked too much, went from

hospital to retirement to dead after we worked together

for over a year;

my own maternal grandfather’s death

bothered me far less than Celso’s;

asking the supervisor about him didn’t get results,

retirement means gone means learning the truth

from a random work conversation

Management knows all about love and paychecks,

sexual harassment, the bottom line,

they talk about some of that in new client,

new employee orientation classes;

loving your co-workers,

losing them

and the desire to be part of the Non-Profit

Industrial Complex—the employee handbook

doesn’t cover that

I miss you.  They spat at you, called you ugly, said you were dark and dreary and needed to be torn down.  They called for your removal, your death.  Just the other day a guy was quoted in the Chronicle saying you were dirty and needed to be replaced by something new, something that would shuttle us into the current millennium.  The guy who said those words was an accountant—a commuter, as we all are—passing through this life that is so short and precious.  He spoke with an accountant’s mouth, saw with an accountant’s eyes, smelled with an accountant’s nose.  Someone once said, “it isn’t what you look at, it’s what you see”.  Dark and dreary—is that what the accountant saw when he looked at your face?

When I look at you I see beauty.  I see a kid running on your platform pulling away from his Grandma on the way to the circus.  We would board the AC transit bus, which was like a magic bus.  It would rattle and slam like a box of candy colored lights.  I remember the smoke rising from the tail pipe and the steam that seemed to come from under the ground, waiting to escape like laughter and tears kept inside too long.  I remember your eyes that were windows that could never be broken.  I remember your voice when you said, “Mind your Grandmother, boy”.  I remember your dark hands--hard hands.  Hands that said more than poets could, hands that reached into a pocket and pulled out a nickel or candy that kissed the palm of my hand. I squeezed my hands and eyes shut and never stopped dreaming of your face, your face of tears, of poems, of laughter, of jazz, of rhythm, of heartbreak, of community.

You are beautiful.  Your benches creak with stories carved with the marrow of our bones--strong enough to hold us, and sometimes cradle us when our fellow citizens, fellow human beings couldn’t.  Your benches gave our backs a rest; gave us a bit of warmth, a bit of time for us to dream, to connect with who we really were, and to see our mother’s face, our grandmother’s face again before being jolted awake and told to move on.  We steadied ourselves going up and down your staircases and when we fell, your banisters were within reach, pulling us back up.  On your walls were the poems that rise and fall like waves—travelling back and forth, ringing and echoing night and day, deep inside your belly of a million sounds. You are beautiful, a place when there was no place.

They are going to tear you down and replace you with a monstrosity that will resemble the federal building on 7^th street.  The accountants of the world are banking on it.  But I hear a rumbling; it’s coming from beneath. The lights are coming through the unbroken windows that are your eyes.  The trees that provided your benches have sprouted into a new forest.  The wind is stirring.  Your eyes are open and they are still beautiful and I am that kid again, following my Grandmother’s spirit as I walk across your platform for the first time.  I see you; your face is covered with the beautiful dirt of your life, the dirt of a poet’s hands.  They can’t wash it away—no matter how hard they try.

POOR columnist and police brutality survivor, Marlon Crump tells about his legal battle against the SFPD.

Marlon Crump

PNN Tuesday, November 20, 2007;

"There is nothing more frightening, more scary, more terrifying than someone opening and coming through your door..........unannounced."

Last year the San Francisco Chronicle ran a month long series entitled "Use of Force" in which they chronicled past events of misconduct by the San Francisco Police Department. At the time, my case was still being investigated by the police oversight agency, the Office of Citizens Complaints (O.C.C) so nothing was written regarding my own brutal encounter with S.F.P.D members.

Just last month, the two-year anniversary of my worst police encounter occurred. On October 7th 2005 a dozen members of the S.F.P.D. stormed the AllStar Hotel, single room occupancy on 16th/Folsom Streets, where I still live. It was almost midnight. I was in my room, preparing to leave to pick up some food from the store with my food stamp card when suddenly my door lock clicked opened.

The next thing I knew, I was staring down the barrels of numerous guns carried by a squad of officers yelling obscenities at me. This is an image that will be forever seared into my memory and one that still haunts me to this day. One of the officers was a young short Filipino man, with a receding hairline named Officer Angel G. Lozano, I would later learn he had falsely prompted his assisting fellow officers and their commanding personnel of his "possible location of a black male armed robbery suspect, wearing a long black leather coat" at the AllStar.

Prior to his "capture" of me, he was with another fellow officer, a short Chinese man with a dark crew-cut named Raymond Lee.

Both officers swore to the AllStar Hotel Resident Manager, Robert Williams that I was a suspect in a robbery and that they needed a spare room key for my unit. By this time, nearly a dozen officers had arrived onto the premises. Despite the protests by Mr. Williams, he finally relented and relinquished my spare room key to the officers.

All of this was occurring as I sat inside my room preparing to go to the supermarket, unaware of the near-death experience that awaited me and forever changed my life. After a negative identification by the witnesses and victims of the armed robbery incident that took place in the area, Officer Angel Lozano was ordered on his walkie-talkie to let me go, and he gave me back my spare room key.

The very moment the police stormed my SRO, I knew that every single police procedural protocol was shattered--civil and privacy rights. Everything in my life was torn apart in that instant, just like the rip inside of my long leather black trench coat. I needed to seek retribution from a legal perspective, as I wasn't the type to always march with a picket sign, or violently fight back.

Justice doesn't ultimately mean having to resort to illegal or violent means. I would speak out against the injustices I endured by speaking truth, even if it meant a long hard struggle. After making a complaint with the Office of Citizen's Complaints, I filed a California Government Tort Claim against the City and County of San Francisco, on October 14th, 2005.

An investigator named Sandra Garcia was assigned to my claim and about two months after the initial filing and the incident, it was denied. "I spoke to a sergeant of the Mission District Station and they stated there was probable cause to detain you and no officer did any damage to your coat. He recommended that your claim be denied, Mr. Crump." I really wasn't surprised by this initial denial.

Throughout my ordeal, I've learned that just about any city government agency and police department will go through any lengths, even if it's a violation of state or even federal law to conceal any of its member's wrong doings, and ultimately, to discourage a complainant from demanding accountability.

I began attending a weekly meeting at San Francisco City Hall held every Wednesday by seven members of the Board of San Francisco Police Commissioners, which governs the SFPD and the Office of Citizen's Complaints. I also learned that unwarranted intrusions into an S.R.O tenant's room happened frequently and I decided to raise this issue to the police commissioners.

During the next two years I frequently attended, my case of unwarranted action by S.F.P.D members was sustained last year, and I pursued a civil action against San Francisco as a pro se litigant this year. I was also anticipating some sort of disciplinary action to be brought towards Lozano, Lee, and the rest of the officers of the Mission District Station that took part in that course of action.

Unfortunately, because of last year's right-wing/patriotic U.S. Supreme Court ruling of Copley Press in San Diego, a ruling that prevents a citizen from accessing a police officer's complaint history, or being present at a police review hearing during an intended disciplinary action upon an officer accused of misconduct; I may never know what discipline, if any was ever imposed upon Officer Lozano and his assisting personnel officers. This very ruling still causes a great controversy. I did, however, discover that Officer Angel G. Lozano has a past history of misconduct.

After viewing an old archive last year on S.F.GOV website, I found out that there was possibly disciplinary action against him in May and December of 2001, but of course, with Copley Press and certain provisions in State Law and the Peace Officer's Bill of Rights, I was able to access very little.

It took me nearly seven months to even obtain a police report regarding the officer's conduct upon me. I received the practiced responses over and over again. "Oh it's a slow process", or it might be "privileged information" or "your case is still being investigated". It was only after constant complaining at the police commission hearings that I finally received a copy of the original from Hall of Justice.

After examining the document, I was even more certain of Officers Lozano and Lee's lying. A huge paragraph in the "Narrative" section of the report, regarding the dialog between Lee, Lozano, and resident manager Robert Williams was blackened out. Why? Because there was something of an improper procedural protocol and of an incriminatory nature they tried to desperately conceal, and this was confirmed after I received another copy of the same police incident report before the year 2006 ended.

This particular report showed the paragraph in which the "sworn" statements by Lozano and Lee were that the suspect was wearing a brown jacket, tan pants, he stood about 5'7-5'8 tall with a baseball cap, which was completely different of my description as I stand 6'3 wore a long black leather coat, white dress shirt and black slacks.

The report also failed to mention that the key was demanded repeatedly from Mr. Robert Williams. The common denominator between myself, and this robbery suspect was only the color of our skin. Officer Angel G. Lozano apparently has a history of brutality and misconduct according to insider sources. Lozano's lack of proper procedural protocols is a potentially dangerous threat towards every citizen, but particularly for those living in an S.R.O Hotel, or in a community that is considered "poor" or of "color."

The brutality I endured at the hands of a poorly trained, highly unprofessional, and possibly violent police officer could have happened to anybody and with fatal results. That is why I continue to fight against this injustice by representing myself. I cannot risk turning over my case and my humiliation to the City, state or some unconcerned lawyer. I urge all of those who have suffered a similar fate in our criminal injustice system to speak out and fight their own battle. We cannot continue to allow our safety, humanity and well-being to be threatened at the hands of law enforcement officials.

A family in poverty, Larry, Bessie and Charlie, vs. the System and Poli-tricks

Marlon Crump/Poverty Scholar/POOR Magazine
Tuesday, October 24, 2006;

The walls are covered by a collage of pictures of people who have fallen as a result of San Francisco Police Department (SFPD) violence; mostly black youth and youth of color whose lives were stolen and cut short. Set within the walls is a feeling of revolution and liberation and also a deep sadness.

The Idriss Stelley Foundation (ISF) is a safe haven as well as an underground railroad for people who have been brutalized by the SFPD.

Idriss Stelley was shot and killed by SFPD at the Sony Metreon on June 13 2001, "48 shots, 9 officers, as he stood alone in an empty theater." A shrine to Idriss is set in one part of the room. Mesha Monge-Irizarry, mother of Idriss Stelley started the Foundation. Mesha is a phenomenal woman. She is truly a privilege to be around.

For the past month Mesha, myself, and many others have been meeting to plan the march on October 22nd against police brutality. It was at these meetings that I first met Bessie Berger and her two sons, Larry and Charlie Wilkerson. Bessie is 94 years old, Charlie is 59, and Larry is 57. They are living homeless in San Francisco. Bessie and her sons had come to the meetings to voice their concerns and tell their stories of harassment by the SFPD.

Like Bessie and her family, I have dealt directly with police brutality. This past Saturday marks the one-year anniversary of a traumatizing assault committed against me by the SFPD in my own home. On October 7th 2005 twelve armed police officers broke into my room at the All Star Hotel. The All Star Hotel failed to protect my rights as their tenant, which is a part of the long legal battle that I am currently caught up in. The SFPD wrongly accused me of a crime I did not commit and entered my room in the early hours of the morning. This is only one example of the kinds of police brutality that I, and many others, living in Single Room Occupancies (SRO's) have had to endure. The stories Bessie and her sons tell are all too familiar.

Mesha and Myself met with Bessie, Larry, and Charlie at the Idriss Stelley Foundation to hear their story.

Bessie is in a wheelchair and is in dire need of a new one. She has trouble seeing and hearing. Both of Bessie's legs are severely swollen. Bessie is a small, gentle woman of incredible spirit and she does not let her age slow her down. Bessie was well respected by the motorcycle gang, The Hell’s Angels, who referred to her as "mama." Bessie's family tree extends from a nineteenth century U.S. Navy Admiral named Allen Schley to Edgar Allen Poe.

Larry and Charlie are both silver haired men. Larry speaks from the heart and he has a stern voice. Charles has a more joking character and ads a comic sense here and there. Their voices contain anger and frustration. They are both tired.

Larry and Charlie are true examples of one of The Ten Commandments "Honor thy mother and thy father." Larry and Charlie's great concern is the well being of their mom. Bessie is bathed daily by her sons either from The City's resource facilities for the homeless or from a one night hotel room that they obtain from the little money they have. They continue to care for her even while under the pressure of the harshest of times economically, socially, and politically.

Larry and Charlie are both strong, capable men. They are able to care for their mom but they too are having health problems of their own. They are unable to care for themselves because most of their money goes towards the care of their mom. Bessie only receives a combined total of $800 a month, half of which goes towards her Medicare, she is left with only $400 a month.

Larry, Charlie, and Bessie have only been back in San Francisco four months. They briefly lived here in 2001 during the administration of Mayor Willie Brown.

Four months ago they lived in Palm Springs, California. Both Larry and Charlie worked industrial jobs to support their mom, each making $6.25 an hour. They worked opposite schedules so that while one was working the other one was taking care of their mom.

They lived in Palm Springs and faithfully paid their rent on time. They paid the standard cost of first and last months rent, and the security deposit that totaled over $1200. The building attendant took their move-in deposit and rent, never submitted a receipt, and never turned the money into the management. As a result of the building attendant's criminal conduct they were evicted by the property management. Bessie and her sons immediately brought a legal action upon the management, but they were unsuccessful and the case was mysteriously ruled out.

The All Star Hotel's handling of my situation on that fateful night last year was similar in its complete disregard for my wellbeing. Being evicted from your own home or having twelve unannounced police officers with guns burst into your room are experiences no one should ever have to endure.

Losing practically everything they had Bessie and her sons sought food and lodging from relatives. Bessie in the past had always welcomed family into her home and cared for them in their times of need. Now in need herself, Bessie asked her relatives for help. The same relatives she had always housed and fed would not take her and her sons in. Larry recalled their situation with anger.

"They did not care for one of their very own who had cared for them when they all had nothing! It really breaks our hearts but we've managed to survive this long. Someone will help us, I hope," Larry concluded sadly.

The family also endured a heart shattering loss of a loved one. In 2001 while staying in Lake County, Bessie's great grandchild, eight year old Tyler James was killed by a drunk driver, named Mark Shifflet. Shifflet struck down Tyler while driving at 70 mph. A California Highway Patrol (CHP) officer arrived at the scene and astonishingly allowed Shifflet to leave the scene of the accident. The accident occurred on Highway 175 in Middletown. It was later discovered that Mark Shifflet had previous D.U.I arrests. But on this tragic night Shifflet was never given a sobriety test. The release of Shifflet was criminal negligence on the part of the CHP officer. The family lost the case in court and Mark Shifflet and the CHP officer walked away unscathed and unpunished.

I am also waiting for the day in court where I will see legal action taken on my behalf for the criminal conduct that was committed against me by the SFPD at the All Star Hotel.

Bessie, Larry, and Charlie have had to endure much harassment and abuse. In 2001, Bessie and her two sons approached Mayor Willie Brown, to seek his help in obtaining services. According to Larry and Charlie "We did nothing wrong, we didn't provoke him, we weren't aggressive. We just wanted him to direct us to the right facility to care for our mom because we were all homeless. He says he didn't like the way we looked and he immediately called security to escort us out. That really hurt us a lot, because we felt he could really help us."

Shortly thereafter, the family caught sight of Mayor Brown at an event in front of City Hall. They again asked for his help and Mayor Brown showed the same discourtesy towards them as he had done before. They have not received any different treatment from the current administration.

They recently tried to seek refuge at the Salvation Army but the director refused them entry because of Bessie and her age. Larry and Charlie told the director, "Look, she's 94 years old, ma'am. We'll be damned if we have to separate and put her in some nursing home. We know all about the evils of neglect in those kinds of places. She is our mother and we are not leaving her to be mistreated!" The director looked at all of them, with a cold and scornful glare, then replied, "I don't care, ok? She's not our damn problem or fault. She should be in a nursing home and not with her sons."

The response by the director of the Salvation Army towards Larry and Charlie is a prime example of the "Western" notion and belief in individuation. Dr. Wade Nobles, a tenured professor in the Black Studies Department at San Francisco State explains individuation in POOR's fourth issue, "MOTHERS" in the article "The Nature of Mama."

Dr. Wade Nobles says,

"I believe that capitalism and much of the construct in Western psychology emerge out of the same philosophical grounding, and that philosophical grounding is based on the idea of separateness, distinctness, domination, fear, and exploitation. So, capitalism is just the economic system that parallels individuation as a psychological system. It's not that it promotes it, it certainly does reinforce it and allows for it to exist, because individuation would never challenge some of the precepts of capitalism. Capitalism says I've maximized my profits, minimized my loss; in order to do that, I have to exploit others. I won't exploit others if I believe that others and I are the same. So if I believe in individuation, then I certainly have a free license to exploit others."

Larry and Charlie are committed to staying with their mom and caring for her themselves despite what the dominant response is,a committment which like my editor Tiny says, is supported and practiced in POOR Magazine's indigenous family organizing model for poor, and/or homeless families trying to survive and thrive in the US.

Bessie and her sons have been living out of their car. Their car has countless miles on it and they dread the day that it will no longer work. If their car breaks they would be forced to find storage for all of their personal belongings or lose everything.

Since our meeting an unfortunate event occurred. On Sunday October 15 their car was broken into, the registration, all their ID papers, and social security information is gone. This is an unusual theft and they are devastated.

They have continually been harassed in Golden Gate Park by the SFPD. The SFPD have intimidated, verbally assaulted, and insulted them. On one occasion an officer yelled, "No you are not suppose to know or do anything, but be like you people already are, poor and uneducated!"

Bessie, Charlie, and Larry have had to struggle to be triumphant against the criminalization of poverty. As Tiny Gray-Garcia at POOR magazine said, they are Poverty Heroes.

In closing the interview Mesha and I asked what they wanted San Francisco to do to aid them in their needs. Bessie replied, "I only want the city to please help me and my sons out. I also want the city and the mayor to order the police to leave us alone, because we are not hurting anyone. We just want to be helped and not disrespected."

Since the time of our meeting with Bessie, Larry, and Charlie on September 30th at the Idriss Stelley Foundation a short video was created of their situation, and can be viewed at

http://www.current. tv/studio/media/13670557?

You can view Mesha's article about Bessie and her sons at the Idriss Stelley Foundation's website:

http://mysite.verizon.net/vzeo9ewi/idrissstelleyfoundation/

The Idriss Stelley Foundation (ISF) will be hosting a benefit, after the November elections, for Bessie and her sons, which will help to purchase Bessie a new wheel chair.

You can make donations to Bessie and her sons by sending a check to:

ISF, 4921 3rd Street, SF,CA, 94124, attn:Justice4Bessie

ISF also donated a cell phone to the family. You can call Larry Wilkerson at (415) 368-2261 (415-DOT-CAMI). You can also log on to Justice 4 Bessie Berger, set up by ISF, to show your support, by emailing

Justice4Bessie-subscribe@yahoogroups.com,

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Justice4Bessie.

Marlon Crump/PoorNewsNetwork
Wednesday, February 17, 2010;

"Its going to adversely affect a lot of folks who depend on St. Luke's right now for their health care." This was a statement of concern from Emily Lee, staff of Chinese Progressive Association, a respected community grass-roots organization during a recent POOR interview regarding the hospital's future.

Race, class, and segregation, privatization and displacement of health care services were the major subjects, in my recent interview. The future of St. Luke's Hospital, a health facility unprejudiced to people in poverty is subject for changes.

The fight for its survival continues, consequently so are plans for a new hospital by C P M C (California Pacific Medical Center) and Sutter Health Corporation. In 2008-09, a Blue Ribbon Panel took place by the S.F. Board of Supervisors to decide the fate of St. Luke's Hospital. Testimonies took place by community members of how much this hospital meant to them.

The area for this planned project is Geary/Van Ness. Last year, my POOR family learned that a favorite cafe of late poverty hero Mama Dee Gray would be one of the latest victims for displacement by developers through demolition: The Van Ness Bakery & Cafe.

Misinformation was distributed to the employees. This would lead to discouragement for their options in opposing these actions to the S.F. Planning Commission. Angered by this, a series of re-porting and su-pporting from my family of POOR took place.

"If they came in and tore it down, where are we going to go?" Ruthy, an employee of the Van Ness Cafe stated in last year's POOR Magazine/PNN radio interview titled, "Mama Dee is Mad!"

Many small business people, including the Vietnamese and other South-east Asian women who run the 24/7 doughnut shop that Tiny and Mama Dee loved and still loves, will see their dreams shattered and lose the source of their income. Bruce Allison, Elder Scholar of POOR explained in the follow up article, Mama Dee is mad part 2.

"How can you build hospitals on homes?" I said during public comment before the S.F. Planning Commission last year. Me, and my POOR comrades attended this meeting to oppose the draft plans for this project.

C P M C (California Pacific Medical Center) parents Sutter Health and manages St. Luke's Hospital. This proposed new "hospital" is a 1.7 billion$ project by Sutter Health architecture-d in areas of the poor, to be built on their backs.

She (Mama Dee) is mad....really mad.

We shared in her fury on February 2nd during community newsroom. Youth members of the Chinese Progressive Association shared their knowledge of the current status of Saint Luke's Hospital, and the effortless battle by communities to save it. It was exciting to meet with the Chinese Progressive Association, and for me to learn their history of tackling environmental racism, and justice in Southeast San Francisco.

They've recently gotten involved with this issue. I met with Emily Lee ten days later to learn more.

St. Luke's Hospital is one hospital, but its one of two hospitals that's located in Southeast San Francisco that serves the primary low income immigrant and people of color community in that area. Emily said. C P M C got what it wanted, they're going to contain all of their patients who don't have insurance. St. Luke's provides a huge amount of free health care service for the poor.

Emily's explanations for these transitions appeared to be prejudiced processes of elimination by C P M C against patients who lack insurance, and depend on St. Luke's Hospital services. She pointed out that the intentions from C P M C were to reduce acute services at St. Luke's Hospital, and attract those who're insured to the newly proposed hospital in the Cathedral Hill area.

The motivations for this move, it seems according to Emily is "separation of health care" and "profit motives." Although Sutter and C P M C are non-profit, curiosity comes to mind on whether or not this would benefit salaries, equipment, etc, etc.

The communities expected to be affected from this project are in the Mission, Excelsior, Portola, and the Bay view District. S.F. General Hospital a hospital already overburdened with staff and service shortages (courtesy of Governor Schwarzenegger) will be overwhelmed. With this new project development, I wondered if other hospitals in that area, such as S.t. Francis Hospital (who once helped me) would be affected.

Transportation will be a turbulent transition for seniors with mobility issues, and people with disabilities. It just means that it will be another barrier to get health care. Emily said. Distances from doctors, inadequate access to the nearest health facility is not only inconvenient, but life threatening.

"I think about all of the lives that had been saved at St. Luke's, because it is located in a strategic location, which is truly a lifeline for many in the Mission." Vivian Hain, Welfare Queen, Super baby mama explained in her April 2008 POOR article, "St. Luke's saved my life". She expressed her gratitude for St. Luke's and displeasure of Sutter Health.

An issue of the history of "environmental racism" was brought up concerning the southeast of S.F. from toxic, industrialized sites and heavy traffics. This development poses a serious problem for people with health problems, such as diabetes, asthma, and other respiratory-related problems.

"Right now the city is doing a draft, an environmental impact review for the Cathedral Hill Project." According to Emily.

Existence of employments, are also major concerns. C N A (California Nurses Association) represents St. Luke's Hospital. They've been at odds over numerous issues with C P M C for a while, concerning labor, strikes, and other grievances. Nato Green, Labor Rep for the California Nurses Association presented a very detailed overview regarding the motives of C P M C in a brief interview.

C P M C makes record profits in San Francisco ($157 million in 2008) but spends a lower proportion of its budget on caring for Medi-Cal, Medicare, and uninsured patients than other local private hospitals.Green explained. The master plan involves reducing by 82% the skilled nursing beds that treat Medicare and disabled patients, (despite a City projection of a 30% shortage of those very beds) over the next ten years.

Green's additional insight is equally congruent with Emily's statement earlier on regarding a separation of health care.

Also, C P M C's plan is for St. Luke's to be the smaller hospital for Medi-Cal patients while insured patients will go to Cathedral Hill for the very same services. Green says."But with more specialists and other fancy services and gimmicks. When C P M C says that St. Luke's must be small to "serve the community,"community" means poor people and people of color. This is explicit segregation of healthcare based on ability to pay.

The NLRB (National Labor Relations Board) is seeking a federal indictment against Sutter and C P M C, accusing them of creating an illegal health plan towards its nurses and other workers.

We as poor people, families, and communities of color have human rights and freedom to health care services, unsubsidized from interests. Mama Dee's fury will never subside, unless this ceases and desists. She will continue to be mad......and so will we at POOR.

To read more about the past and present situations regarding St. Luke's Hospital, Sutter Health, and C P M C, please refer to the following links:

http://www.fogcityjournal.com/news_in_brief/jh_cna_071004.shtml

http://www.sfbg.com/blogs/politics/2009/03/nurses_union_sues_sutters_cpc...

http://articles.sfgate.com/2008-07-04/bay-area/17171495_1_full-service-h...

www.savestlukes.org

www.poormagazine.org under the hellthcare section.

"Western concepts of ownership and privatization came in and clashed with that. So land began to be exchanged." Neil Abercrombie, democratic member of the U.S. House of Representatives.

ELECTRONIC HARASSMENT

Marlon Crump/PNN
Sunday, March 29, 2009;

"I'm scared, I don't know what else to do, or who to talk to!"

"Why me, what have I done? What do these people want from ME?!"

"Can somebody do something about this?!"

"All of this because I submitted a piece of paper, in telling the truth of what's been going on?!"

"When will it stop? My body is in so much unexplainable pain........ALL BECAUSE I SPOKE OUT!"

Before 2008 ended, I wrote a story called "Digital Apartheid" which presented a detailed summary of the impact that the D.T.V (Digital Television) transition would have on people particularly in poverty, seniors, and people with disabilities now that U.S Congress were forcing everyone to watch their television sets by the means of digital broadcast after purchasing a digital converter box. (Which is similar to a cable television box.)

I started off the story, stating that "Technology has arrived to a new age: The Age of D.T.V. I also stated in "Digital Apartheid" that "the digital divide and conquest is literally just around the corner."

Unfortunately, I have to start this particular story off by stating that technology has arrived to another age in an era of terror, through the voices of its victims: The Age of Technology Terror!

And this has apparently been happening for quite sometime, by person or persons, unknown.

The above outcries and pleas are from victims who've experienced multiple harassments/stalkers and unexplained physical technological trauma as a result. Shockingly, these problems are seemingly invisible to doctors, law enforcement officials and members of the public.

These victim's voices are seldom taken seriously due to the ignorance, disbelieving, scrutiny, and even ridicule resulting from such acts actually taking place, leading many governmental authorities and their counterparts to conclude that such mysterious acts are "absurd" or "preposterous."

(Much to the delight of those responsible, as denial, ignorance, and disinterest are their greatest covert cover from exposure.)

Through my own extensive research, credited to an anonymous source who wishes to raise universal awareness about this terrifying, untold issue in media by sharing her own ongoing experience, I've discovered that this technological terror is not a myth, a lie, a fairy tale, or a script from a modern day science fiction movie. It is very real............

And it is called Electronic Harassment via Organized Stalking!

Imagine the terrifying thought of your own body organs burning, the breaches of unseen rays to your human nervous system disrupted for no explained reason(s), leading to dirahea, chronic fatigue, and other mysterious life-threatening symptoms as a result for either speaking out against a certain injustice, making someone very angry, or just simply being yourself.

Even worse, just imagine experiencing such bizarre incidents, yet no one is willing to believe you and they immediately conclude that you're crazy. This falls alongside of the "Why are they targeting me?" and "Why no one will listen to me?" question............ bearing little or no answer.

Just think of people purposely playing their television or stereo a little too loud, constant phone calls just to annoy someone they despise, disrupting a person's human nervous system, preventing them from functioning properly. An old trick to attack someone in the jungle is drumbeating: an old fashioned tactic used to confuse and intimidate the enemy, to throw them off their concentration.

A woman by the name of Eleanor White, a retired engineer, presented a thirty-six page, six chapter booklet which provided a thorough, indepth, detailed and eloquent overview of the extremely bizarre occurences regarding victims of "electronic harassment" and "organized stalking" as well as her own conclusive investigations and findings.

Her booklet is called "Organized Stalking: A Target's View."

(Eleanor White, herself, has experienced bizarre incidents of these sophisticated occurrences, motivating her to investigate these covert tactics by her unknown attackers.)

"In 1980, I was living and working in Toronto, Ontario Canada, in my late 30s. I was contentedly single, and thought I had no enemies," said Miss White.

Or so she thought, unaware that she was targeted and stalked.

"Things started to just go wrong. My clothing seams started to give out very quickly, sometimes on nearly new items, and I tend to have less clothes but purchase high quality items for durability. Pockets in winter coats. Crotches and armpits. Often the crotches would develop a pattern of many small holes that looked like someone had been pushing a pencil through the cloth. Each time I picked up the clothing, the holes would get larger then merge into two large holes either side of the crotch center or seam. I wrote it off as 'poor quality goods these days.'"

She then began to encounter men unknown to her who glared at her with hostile intentions, and unfriendly neighbors who played extremely loud radio noises, and slammed their doors. "Oh well, must have a screw loose," Eleanor said to herself. Unknown men buzzed her apartment for long periods of time, and very loud, but Eleanor refused to allow them into her apartment.

These incidents kept on for two years until a recession hit in her town in 1982. To keep herself distracted from this weird situation, Eleanor took a fifteen month government-sponsored training program for computer programming and related skills. Needless to say, these incidents even followed her there.

Whenever she would use a computer lab, her computer never seemed to work properly, while her 30 fellow classmates didn't have the same problem.

Some of the computers were tied to a mainframe. At the end of each programming session, they all needed to print their work on a network printer to take home for "desk checking." Unlike her classmates, Eleanor's print jobs kept getting moved to the rear of the printing queue, meaning she had to wait from a half to a full hour longer than her classmates to leave.

It was crystal clear to Eleanor White that someone was hacking into her print jobs.

From 1980 and even after the year 2003 when she retired from her job as an engineer, the "organized stalkers" refused to show her any mercy, and continued. In 1996, Eleanor came in contact with other victims of "electronic harassment" and "organized stalking."

Such covert operations and tactics are strikingly similar to the ones performed by secret law enforcement operations, primarily ones directed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (F.B.I) and its infamous counterintelligence program, COINTELPRO, which was highly known for its harassments, illegal operations, and terroristic tactics against many civil rights activists, particularly the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense in the 1960s.

Eleanor White further defines "organized stalking" as "surveillance and harassment of a designated target by stalkers who are members of groups, which are networked throughout the industrialized nations of the world." There are three primary elements to this term:

.Harassment by a large number of people, and not by a single obsessed stalker, nor by helpers recruited by that single stalker.

.Group members are given targets' names and/or have the target identified for them. They do not usually know the target beforehand.

.These groups are tightly networked, within state or province, and internationally.

"Once a group of stalkers starts 'working over' a target, deniability increases dramatically," Miss White explains. She further categorizes the tools that allow organized stalking to remain effective towards its targets, by means of electronic harassment:

.Electronic assault

.Directed energy weapons ("DEWs")

.Non-lethal weapons

.Mind control (the through-wall electronics can affect the mind)

.Voice to skull (U.S. Army designation "V2K")

According to Miss White, "the majority of targets are not high profile people, or people with very sensitive knowledge of government secrets or corporate misdeeds."She also categorizes the physical trauma endured by targeted victims, as a result of these actions, by means of "through wall electronic attacks."

.Bee sting sensations, particularly on the feet, particularly while trying to sleep.

.Arms and/or legs jerking wildly when trying to sleep.

.Extremely powerful, unquenchable, itching, no rash, no explanation from doctors.

.Sudden extremely fast and heavy heartbeat, when fully relaxed.

.Suddenly extreme high body heat, fully relaxed, not after exercise.

.Vibration of body parts and/or bed.

(Miss White's detailed explanations, statistics, and stories of targeted victims of these frightening incidents involving "organized stalking" and "electronic harassment" can be further viewed online at www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Eleanor%20White)

Shannon Herbert, a San Francisco resident, artist, and writer, who posted her story online is another victim of "organized stalking" and "electronic harassment." In her story, Miss Herbert says the stalking and harassment involves members of the San Francisco Police Department and even the San Francisco Fire Department. This stalking and harassment has been ongoing for eleven months.

She's reported that she has even been kidnapped, tortured, and falsely admitted at the San Francisco General Hospital for "psychiatric treatment." Her phone calls have been tapped, rerouted, and intercepted. Her mail has been tampered with, her friends and family have been threatend.

"I also have strong reason to believe there is a foreign object of some sort implanted in my body, causing me a great deal of pain. Fear of this constant assault, that primarily stems from my cranium, causes permanent and irreversible damage that consumes me. (I think some tools that have been implanted are similar to what is known as a clicker used in zoo animals for behavior shaping and submission.) I don't know exactly what instrument may have been used on me but the link below lends one possibility":

http://www.illuminati-news.com/micro-implants.htm

"I believe works written by me in my home and on my pcs have been made public and plagiarized, and that the primary reason for the covert harassment is to intimate and extort me. It is also my belief that many across this country are aware of my exploitation and the hate crimes that have be committed against me, Shannon Herbert of San Francisco, yet nothing has been done nor even acknowledged. For the last 9 months, I have been moving from one friend's house to another, after realizing my own house was no longer safe to live in."

Shannon Herbert has desperatedly sought out help. She's made complaints to the Office of Citizens Complaints, the Management Control Division of the S.F.P.D, other city agencies, and even to the F.B.I to hear her cries for help. To no avail, no action seemed to have been taken.

"I am not delusional nor am I a liar. I have been to the FBI (twice), Police Dept., I.A. (Internal Affairs) and the Office of Citizens Complaints, where I made a tape recorded statement. Almost every single hour of every day I feel an electric current in my skull, ranging from vibrations to jolts that jerk me out of sleep.

At times this torture is more than I can bear. I constantly wear a pot on my head when alone and when I'm with friends (who can't possibly understand) but it doesn't help."

Miss Herbert is appealing to anyone with the necessary resources to help her recover from this extremely difficult time.

"My main purpose for writing is for closure and justice. I hope to obtain an attorney who is familiar with such cases and can refer me to a specialist where I can receive care for I fear the medical institutions in San Francisco. The stalkers never had a problem finding me so hopefully the good guys won't either."

The latest victim (who wishes to remain anonymous for the absolute fear of her safety) has been physically and psychologically tortured, as a result of the similar mysterious occurrences of Shannon Herbert and Eleanor White.

The trauma, terror, and torment due to the covert "electronic harassment" and "organized stalking as she's experienced and tells it:

"I sent a Notice of Complaint to the Attorney General. (I do not know who the president of our board is, I have never met her). The day after we both received the letter, a bleach blonde women with bangs, walked as close as she could to me on 19th Street, while I was talking with a friend, and she glared at me as hard as she could. I have never seen this person, and I do not know who she is. The next day, coincidentally, something happened again. There was a very strange incident that took place where I live.

My husband saw two men, both with mustaches, one with gray hair (I recently saw him with dark hair), the other with shaggy brown hair, (I have recently seen him with a shaved head) driving around the area. About 8:45 A.M. I went into the lobby, and the guy with the shaggy brown hair was in the lobby, overweight, kneeling down on the floor by the sliding door, fiddling with the combination lock for quite some time.

As I walked by him, he stared at me intently, and a strange feeling came over me, as if I was being watched and stalked. I have never had this feeling before. I forgot something in my home, so I went back to retrieve something, and when I came back he was still fiddling with the lock, never to open or close the door or the lock, and was whistling the entire time.

If he was trying to look like a janitor, it was strange, because our contracted janitors visit our building on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Around 3:00 p.m, I came back home through the front door, and another man with a mustache, with gray hair, blue shirt, khaki pants, about 5" 10" ish was carrying a brief case, but it looked as if he never carried one in his life. He came into the building right after me, and than started walking in front of me, walking ever so slowly, whistling.

As I entered into my unit, I watched him enter the other door, staircase, to go upstairs. What is so odd about this is that if someone new is entering the building to go upstairs, you would enter the building from the FRONT as he did, and then go to the upstairs THROUGH THE STAIR CASE IN THE FRONT of the building, you would not go through the front door, to goTHROUGH THE BACK SIDEWALK AREA, to go to the upstairs units."

She further states that, "This incident coincidentally happened after a letter (Notice of Complaint was sent to the Attorney General, and I and the president received the letter." The purpose of her complaint was to inform him of unusual activities taking place with the property management.

In the aftermath of this bizarre situation, she awoke one night to investigate why a red light ray was aimed at her window. She peeped out her window to discover a mysterious man outside her house was the source. In the days, weeks, and months thats followed, her body has experienced intense pain, nausea, organs burning, and diarrhea.

Despite every hospital she's gone to, no doctor could provide a medical explanation to what was going on with her body.

This is something that she has never experienced her entire life, and it has taken a significant emotional toll on her life. She totally believes that this stalking is related to her letter submission to the Attorney General.

After making countless police reports, doctor visits, and efforts to raise public awareness, she conducted her own investigations to find out why these strange things were happening to her. What she found was that she was not alone. There were other victims, a support group, and even a pending legal action against covert stalking harassment, by holding the U.S Government for its failure to address this rarely-discussed issue, and lack of accountability.

Unfortunately, her stalkers know that information is power, and are somehow aware of her efforts to expose their "covert operations." Recently, they boldly broke into the trunk of her car in a highly observed area of witnesses, and stole important documents she had obtained that explained what was happening to her.

As a witness, I can personally testify to this theft, because I was with her having coffee when this crime took place.

The biggest fears of all three women is that very few or no one believes their story, and labeled them crazy, delusional, or both, although they have keen awareness of these events in their lives. Most people are not interested because it does not affect them. Then, there are also the many that refuse to get involve for the absolute fear of retaliation by the culprits.

In the end, it must be the many that exposes this semi-hidden, tactically covert evil by consistent exposure with their own voice. People's voices can be silenced from the lack of ears, but it doesn't mean they have to shut up, especially when their lives on the line. Most people know about Satan's greatest trick to the world. Those responsible for these actions feel that it is "the perfect crime."

However, it is not a "perfect crime" if they're caught......................or at least exposed.

Below are the following weblinks that give references and more information regarding "organized stalking" and "electronic harassment":

www.freedomfchs.com/attorneylettertoleahy.pdf
www.raven1.net.
www.multistalkervictims.org/ewhite.htm
www.mindcontrolforums.com/victm-hm.htm www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Eleanor%20White www.freedomfchs.com/attorneylettertoleahy.pdf
http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/pub/pdf/svus.pdf

"Every move you make, every breath you take, I'll be watching you!"

Lyrics from the 1983 hit single "Every Breath You Take" by the rock music band, "The Police."

Marlon Crump reports for PNN on Victims of Covert and Electronic Terror Rally at City Hall for the first time.

Marlon Crump
Thursday, October 22, 2009;

“Stop Group Stalking!”

“Stop Electromagnetic Weapons!”

“Stop Defamation of Character!”

“Stop Electronic Torture!”

“Restore Human Liberties!”

The voices of victims resisting the above covert acts of terror took to the front entrance of San Francisco City Hall on a humid October 14th, 2009 afternoon. Their voices finally began to penetrate the voluntary deaf ears, from the above said protest signs, handmade.

One of the signs given to me by a fellow protestor spoke its own voice, in big black bold letters: “STOP ORGANIZED TERROR!” I was also given a button that said, “Freedom from Covert Harassment & Surveillance.”

There was a visibility from fear, anxiety, and isolation of resistance in the air towards the acts of terror; covertly occurring upon them by the steps of the very city officials, who have the authority to aid them.

“This event means to expose crime committed against humans, by U.S. Government Agencies.” A protestor stated to me. He later told me that he produced a documentary film regarding “brain implants.”

My presence at this rally was my duty, without question. Being a reporter for my family of POOR Magazine/POOR News Network, I’m committed like my comrades to re-port and sup-port for the unheard voices intentionally silenced by corporate mainstream media, locally and globally.

I’ve been on numerous marches and protests since living in the Bay Area of San Francisco, for the past five years. Many of them pertained to the issues of poverty, racism, oppression, police brutality, budget cuts, etc, etc. These issues are always at the root core for the resistance within our work at POOR.

Today’s protest rally, “International Alliance Against Covert Electronic Abuse Global Human Rights Protest” was the first of its kind that I’ve ever re-ported on, and sup-ported for, to date.

This was not just a local crisis call to end an injustice for T.I (Targeted Individual) victims in cities, such as New York, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, and here in San Francisco. This was also global crisis call to action from victims to end the terrorism that appeared to be “too far-fetched” for “media coverage.”

T.I victims currently have a movement to end this crisis in the United Kingdom, India, and three cities in Canada.

“We protested in front of the Legislative Assembly Building and near Medical Science Building of University of Toronto on the 14th of October. We started at 10.30 A.M. There were 5 people in front of the Legislative Assembly, and I, Galina Kurdina.” Galina, a T.I. said to me via email, in detailing “People approached us and we distributed about 10 fliers.”

Unfortunately, Galina also stated that a women attempted tactics to implement a scanda upon them. Eventually she was scared off when one of the protestors offered to take her picture, and she fled the scene. The rally continued on.

“One student of University of Toronto, sweet boy, said to us that, in his opinion, these experiments were disgusting, another person wished us to continue our struggle.”

In front of S.F City Hall, a C.B.S 5 News crew of two bypassed us, as we were numbered neared twenty. An undisclosed source later told me that they were told to ignore us. No corporate mainstream media coverage of covert terrorism intended to capture this event. “That doesn’t surprise me, everybody.” I yelled to them.

“That’s why we do what we do at POOR Magzaine because of them!”

In “Electronic Harassment” and “Targeted Individuals” (featured on www.poormagazine.org) many of the voices heard in both stories have often been covertly covered, ridiculed, discredited, harassed, with the end result leading them into fearful, faithless isolation.

An “Enough is Enough” stance from everyone at today’s rally was an awareness to the public regarding the categorical use of advanced deadly technology, organized stalking, microwave, directed energy, electromagnetic and mind control weapons often used against them.

This action was to be the first of many in the future. This one was the beginning to the demise of a bizarre seemingly invisible means of covert terror meant to control, harass, intimidate, and even experiment from persons or persons unknown. It didn’t matter to all of us who, what or where they were on this October 14th, 2009 Day.

It wouldn’t matter to everyone on whether or not any of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors and Mayor Gavin Newsom would listen from the inside. I didn’t even matter if the organized perpetrators, themselves would appear to intimidate everyone in covert fashion, and “support” the cause.

The unheard voices of the International Alliance Against Covert Electronic Abuse needed to finally be heard on the outside.

After I was picked up by Anti-Organized Stalking Activist, T.I Organizer, Christine Lynn Harris a T.I, (Targeted Individual) and director of ISARC (Idriss Stelley Action Resource Center) mesha Monge-Irizarry, my comrade we soon found ourselves across the street from S.F City Hall before we knew it.

The three of us stood alongside of each other, as we awaited the arrival of the other unheard voices, victims of covert terror. For Christine, this event was nearly a year dragged into the making.

Hit with strange severe sophisticated technology. Stalked by suspicious individuals (some possibly S.F.P.D Officers) during her daily activities. Emergency hospital admission on numerous occasions for severe radiation damages to her organs. Individuals appearing at her home costumed as phone technicians.

Ignorant and disbelief from people questioning the level of her sanity, despite documented proof supporting her claims. Consumed with constant physical and mental torture, while being forced to be attentive to her surroundings anywhere she goes. (Tactical component covert acts used by what some are calling, “The Crazy Makers.”)

Not to say the least, her very life threatened with a marked C.D, and even her car illegally towed in retaliation for speaking out.

“All of this over a f!@## piece of paper!” Christine often exclaimed to me. She previously sent the attorney general's office a letter concerning misdeeds of the president of the homeowners association. A short time later, Christine received an ongoing onslaught of electronic attacks, and covert stalking after voicing her concerns.

The sun scorched us. It pushed away rainy clouds, but it failed to prevent T.I (Targeted Individuals) voices from joining the rally.

They arrived a short time later, eager to get their unheard voices underway. Some of them were from California cities, such as Modesto, Fresno, Marin County, Oakland, and Berkeley.

“This makes me feel that I am not the only one going through this.” A T.I protestor said to me. She began to explain to me, (while fighting back tears and showing expressions of hopelessness) the horrors of harassments by S.F.P.D Officers, false accusations made towards her, and the removal of her driver’s license and car. “My father died when I was eighteen from electromagnetic weapons.”

After some pleasant verbal exchanges with onlookers, passer bys, an S.F.P.D Officer, a media crew from S.F. VID (who interviewed Christine) and a couple of S.F Sheriff Deputies, during the first few hours, we all went to the side of the street curb, and waved our signs to oncoming motorists.

To our surprise, many of them cheerfully honked their horns in support. For four straight hours in the heat, some of us (including myself) wearing black, we received horn honking praises from the oncoming drivers.

“Today feels very exciting because this is groundbreaking from victimization of T.I.s, towards a proactive grassroots effort all over the world.” mesha explained to me.

“I think it was a mission accomplished because we had about twenty people show up for the protest, a reporter from S.F Vid, and the rain cleared up for us today.” Christine said to me. “I think that we got the acknowledgment we received.

"God sees everything!"
Revelations 18:21