Hello counselors, my name is James T. Westrook, I'm the guy who e-mailed and or phoned you regarding what I believe are the merits of the case from which I intended take various forms of legal action, including the setting aside of fraudulent deeds and recission of contracts under provisions of California State Law, in addition to other legal remedies I contend I that I am entitled to damages to pursuant to under Title 18 Section 1964 of the United States Criminal Code, a copy of which I have posted on this page directly below.
In addition to pictures of Judge Byrne, a couple of shots of myself, there in the photo montage at the top of this page above, there are also photos of the real estate located in parcel in Los Angeles County, upon which I subdivided developed and built upon back in the mid-1980's.
As time is money with Real Estate and Contract Attornies, and other legal specialists I contacted in regard to this matter which I have brought to your attention, I have designed this Introduction and Index page in order to faciltate you in your viewing and reading of the evidence and arguments I assembled there in support of my claims for relief and now present before you online there at my website: 1979westbrook.com
I believe this will give all of the prospective attornies I have contacted, ample opportunity to scan through these documents at their discretion, and thus afford them time to consider the rather serious political implications which I contend were and thereby are the underlying motives behind these acts of fraud, concelament and theft perpetrated against me there in the Los Angeles County Superior Courts and at virtually every level of the Federal Courts, from the U.S. District Court in Los Angeles, and the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, all the way to U.S. Supreme Court.
It's all very simple really whereas all you have to do, is click on the photo-image links below, which lead to other webpages there in turn in order to view the evidence and arguments is support of my claims for Civil Remedies under California State Law and the afforementioned Federal RICO Statutes.
As you are all attornies skilled in your respective fields of law, it shouldn't be too terribly difficult for you to ascertain as to whether or not I have any actionable legal causes of action or not, and thereby act in accordance with your findings one way or the other, and thereby decide as to whether or not you and your law firm would be interested in having me there as client.
After the gross misconduct by my former attorney back in 1987, which resulted in his disbarment, at least in considerable part back in September 1990, I have been somewhat reluctant to seek counsel from other attornies because of this, and for a number of other reasons which I will now go into very briefly.
Whereas I was the intended victim of a June of 1987 firebombing which resulted in the rather agonizing death of another individual, which was carried out by LAPD informants consisting of one former Navy Seal, an Army demolition specialist turned pyrotechnic performer and a patsy all set to take the 'wrap' when the proper time came, and another individual who I had some months before in January '87 --- by February of 1988 had decided to start handle the matter of the real estate matter there in which I found myself defrauded and made financially destitute from as the result back in mid-1986.
In April 2009, I wrote up a brief summarized account of the circumstances and events leading up to this June 1987 firebombing and inserted it there as an addendum to the photocopies of the documentary evidence I compiled in support of my case, which you may view by simply clicking on the hyper text page link directly below.
****** April 2009 Webpage Addendum ******
Although it is said; "That only a fool represents himself in court", in February 1988 it was then just over two and half years earlier that I had actually won my first case.
This was back on May 13, 1985, therein Department 2, on the second floor of the Los Angeles County Superior Court House located at 111 North Hill St. in downtown Los Angeles.
If you are a fan of the old 'Perry Mason' television series which ran from the late 1950's on through the mid-1960's, you may have seen film sequences shot in the front of this L.A. Courthouse built in 1958, as it was used in a number of various episodes of that now classic TV show.
Coincidentally enough, or quite very possibly otherwise May 13,1985, was also the date of my ex-wife, 30th birthday, whereas she was born in Portland, Oregon on May 13,1955 there under the name, Karen Marie Cushman.
According to my day planner agenda book from 1985, it was there in the aftermath of an earlier court hearing on this same child support matter, held at another court room thereat 513 North Main St. back on February 27, 1985 that I had decided to fire the public defender appointed to me by Los Angeles County, whereas the this court appointed attorney had told me that I the extenuating circumstances which I claimed exempted from my child support obligations were not valid and thus I virtually had no defense.
As I strongly disagreed with the Public Defender, a disapated middle-aged gent, who struck me as weak willed and a trifle too complacent for my taste, I informed him that I no longer needed his services and that I would seek legal advice elsewhere, lest I be led off to some L.A. County prison whereat I had strong reason to believe that I would not live to see the end of my sentence therein light of the circumstances and events which transpired at the Portland Hilton back in March 1979, involving one of two former police science instructors I had at a back in college in 1971. --- If you are interested in these past events from 1971 and 1979 simply click on the photo-image link directly below.
Having fired my the attorney from the L.A. County Public Defender's office back in late February '85 but still much in need of legal counsel, I decided to make an appointment with an attorney that worked for an legal firm that advertised themselves as "Do It Yourself Law" or something very much like it, In any event I drove on out from San Gabriel to an office located somewhere in the San Fernando Valley, Van Nuys or thereabouts where I told the attorney there my legal situation, carefully omitting any referrences to the events in Portland, Oregon back in March 1979, whereas I never breathed a word of what happened up there to anyone throughout the entire decade of the 1980's whereas I still had a son who I then hoped to see alive some day.
Besides all this, I didn't think that anyone would believed me even if I had told them about my misadventures in Portland back in 1979, at least during that entire decade of the 1980's, as is much the same case today in 2009, nonetheless I have decided to write about it anyway because of what I believe to be it's intrinsic historical and political value, as well as the potential for commercial expolitation thereof those same murderous circumstances and events which have so cruelly exploited me and those near and dear to me all these years.
After I laid my case out for the attorney at "Do It Yourself Law", the lawyer then went pulled some books off his shelf, California Reports and such I suppose, and read quietly as I sat there patiently, whereby he informed me that I was right the extenuating circumstances, which I will not go into at this time, that exempted me therefrom back child support payments. The lawyer did not give me any case precedent in support to cite or any paper work whatsover, he just told me to back to court and argue the merits of my in a clear and concise manner before the judge.
When I returned to courtroom located at Department 2, on the second floor of the Los Angeles County Superior Court House located at 111 North Hill St. in downtown Los Angeles, the same attorney from the L.A. County District Office appeared and pled her case against me.
She struck me thereas a rather physically attractive woman, with light colored hair, who spent too much time out in the sun thereat Malibu or possibly Newport Beach before finishing college and going on to law school.It must have been all those television episodes of 'Perry Mason' that I watched as kid, and or possibly Paul Newman's inspired performance there in the 1983 movie "The Verdict" that brought out the more eloquent and articulate legal aspects of my nature, or maybe it was just the fact that I this blonde elitist bitch, who I regard as something of subversively fascist control freak who didn't give a fuck about the law, or justice and comon decency for that matter either.
In fact I would go so far as to say that man hating bitch of an attorney from L.A. District Attorney's office most definitly had some political agenda which motivated her, that was to make sure I that I was saddled with child support payments I was unable to make at that time, and sabotage my plans to profit from the very real estate subdivision I bring to your attention, whereas I had just started construction back on March 9,1985 and notified my ex-wife by phone there of my plans and how I intended to pay her all the back child support she was legally entitled to, some months earlier, back in mid-1984.
This was in spite of all of the evil mischief and in some cases murder which my ex-wife was at least indirectly involved in to some degree or another. Only one example of this being the Satancally inverted use of my last name Westbrook, thereas her porn actress name 'Brooke West' thereas attempt to smear my family name, not to mention the host of other misdeeds and deeds she performed during our time together and later afterwards as well, which you can also read about should you care to read my synopsis to "1979", therein 13 parts plus the Epilogue there to by simply clicking on the photo-image page link above and scroll down the Index page of my website at 1979westbrook.com.
As for the lady lawyer from the L.A. Deputy District Attorney's office, I suspect that her politically mission objective back on May 13, 1985 was to make sure that L.A. County would have some kind of hold over me should I financially trip and fall, whereby the L.A. Sheriff's would have me locked up there in one of their county prisons or jails where it would be relatively easier to silence in death, whereby I would never be able to divulge what happened to me up the there in Portland back in March 1979, and all the related conspiratorial machinations since December 1970, all throughout the 1970's leading up to that point in time in March '79.
In support of this claim I would once again direct your attention to the photo-image some eight paragraphs above and click on it in order to view the web page in which I lay these factual allegations and presumptive conclusions, with regard to the alleged conspiracy in the L.A. District Attorney's office to falsely imprison me in order to carry out my assassination under of color of law, abuse of discretion and abuse of process in the courts.
Apparently some people had actually believed what very little I had actually said upon my return to L.A. back in March '79, about what occurred only days before thereat the Portland Hilton, however I did mention a word about the show at Portland International and the bomb threat standoff there in the tailsection of the Western DC-10, the diversion of the to SFO San Francisco, before finally arriving at LAX Los Angeles at about 2:00 AM on March 31st.
It was there in the wake of the Western Airllines DC-10 flight which originated in Los Angeles and later crashed at Mexico City precisely seven months later on October 31, 1979, even more rumors swirled about me and prompted some of the locals to refer to me as some paranoid, freaked out, anti-nuker who had simply imagined things up in Portland back in March '79. I suspect that many if not most of these individuals were police informants of some kind or another that were instructed to spread rumors about me upon my return to L.A. and Covina on March 31st. In support of this allegation I now cite the episodically timed pre-dawn raids by Federal agents and the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department only the day before that back on March 30, 1979 only hours before my flight which left Portland at about 10:00 that night.
Click on the photo-image page link directly below to view evidence and arguments in support of this claim.
Upon my return to Covina back in March 1979, it seemed that whenever I went to party or local bar with friends of mine, mostly dopers, bikers, along with some surfers, and working class rock & roller 'pot heads' like myself --- that the tension was so thick you cut in the air that you could cut it with a knife, and that all hell could break loose at any second therein the taverns and old haunts of my nearby surrounding communities of West Covina, Baldwin Park and San Dimas.
The fish-eyed looks and stares I would sometimes was truly unnerving at times, whereas it made it seem that I could never escape the unrelenting consequences for the sometimes rather deadly games I felt compelled to play in Portland, Vancouver Washington and Northern California since my move up north from Covina back in Sepetember 1977.
What with my one and a half year old son still up there in Portland with his mother who did damn everything she could do to aid those bent on destroying me as well as my reputation, and then suffering from a serious bout of post traumatic stress as the continuous, marathon like barrage of press reports, television and radio broadcasts churned out reports of impending disaster and possibly even a 'China Syndrome' like meltdown or Nagasaki sized explosion complete which might occur at any given moment --- I actually said very little to anyone about events in Portland upon my return to Covina back in March 1979.
It wasn't until April 9th before the crippled reactor was brought under control, yet another reason to keep my mouth shut, what with my then role as a part time anti-nuclear powee protestor and my the live incineration of mom's family at Nagasaki and all, compliments of my Army Captain father's side of my family and the U. S. Army Air Corps back in August 1945, I actually feared that the CIA 'spooks' responsible for setting me up as an assassination patsy at the Portland Hilton back in February and March 1979, might completely fucking loose their cool and blow up the bad actor-reactor at Three Mile there as the ultimate media diversion, should I spill what I knew to freinds of mine or follow through with my plans for a series of debriefings at the U.S. Secret Service offices at the Federal Building in West Los Angeles, which informed agent Robinson there of during my March 27th interview at U.S. Secret Secret in Portland, only hours before the start of the Three Mile nuclear disaster thereat the Portland General Electric building complex.
The only thing that I ever told my freinds when they asked what made me so paranoid upon my return backhome, was that there was plot to assassinate President Carter thereat the Presidential Suite of the Portland Hilton where I was just then employed and that the CIA was behind it, --- being carefull to omit any and all references to such elaborate measures had been taken to make that my fingerprints were all over the inside interior of the living room like reception area of the Presidential Suite at the Portland Hilton only days after my starting work there back in February 1979 or any other details of the circumstances and events there in the weeks and months leading up to it, and my March '79 flight for my life back to L.A.
Returning now to the events of May 13th 1985 and my court hearing for back child support at the Hill Street Courthouse in L.A. --- The hearing must have lasted a good 45 minutes or so if not longer, whereas the lady Deputy D.A. and I went around and around, to such an extent and with such a ferocity at times that tempers flared, the adenaline flowed and our eyes flash at each other like a couple cage fighters going at it.
It would have made the legendary American trial lawyer Clarence Darrow proud, had he been there to watchDuring this May '85 courtroom battle, I simply stuck to my guns and argued the merits of my case, that being as I was unemployed, largely as the result of two separate on the job injuries in July 1979, and another one some two years later in November 1981. The first 'accident' back in July was actually a veiled attempt on my life in near 17th just south of Montana in Santa Monica, Calfornia, and the second in November '81 was when I was sucker punched in there in my eye as I worked on a job in Davis, California.
Following the advice from the attorney I hired at the "Do It Yourself Law" firm in Van Nuys, weeks earlier, I went on to explain before the judge that as I hadn't worked a steady job since the on-the-job injuries from 1979 and 1981, that my income then was mostly from the State Workers Compensation Fund by the early 1980's, and that to put me in jail over this would be something akin to putting me in debtor's prison as was the case in 19th Century England.
During the case these preceedings, I'm pretty sure that I must have also mentioned the real estate project in San Gabriel I was then working on, and how it was my intention to pay off all my back child support and keep up on my payments once I received payment from that project and how I intended to get my contractor's license there in the then near future.
I knew if I lost this case that this would give the L.A. DA's office a hold over me that could very well set me up for a stint in an L.A. County prison were it would be easy to have me killed, which made me argue all the more whereas my not only the possible loss of my freedom was on the line but also the very likelyhood of my death. By 1985 there had already been several attempts on my life since March 1979.
By the time the judge had decided that he had heard enough the female prosecuting attorney was literally frothing at the mouth so much that one might thought that this fascist, she devil bitch from the D.A.'s office was in fact my ex-wife. This lady was so fucking sorry that she couldn't fuck me over in court that she had virtually become enraged, and lost her snobby, bullshit 'better than thou' demeanor. Losing one's cool is a bad thing to do in a court fight, or argument or any fight for that matter.
To this day I am honestly not a hundred percent not positive as to whether or not the judge had briefly recessed the court before he ruled in my favor, but I suspect that the judge most likely did so, if for no other reason in order to clear the air that was still hot from all the heated arguments, and bitter acrimony between myself and this she devil bitch of Deputy D.A. and the all the ooohs and ahhs from those other litigants in the courtroom that day.
When the he did, this lady prosecutor then looked at me in a still raging and malevolently evil manner to say; "That's all right, we'll make sure that you never have anything." I just looked at the sorry cunt and shook my head, but inwardly I feared her words to some degree as I knew that she was plugged into the powers at be, and the people who wanted my named scandalized and me dead in order to silence me permanently in death over the events in Portland in March 1979.
But then I thought to myself; "Hell if I can make it back to L.A. from Portland in March 1979, I can do anything."
I can only imagine how this high class attorney, with her university and law degrees there on the wall of office must have felt to have lost in court to a lowly construction worker. A bum who she was supposed to lay the track for his eventual railroading to county prison. Someone who she hated almost as much as she must have hated herself, whereas contempt, self-loathing and hatred for most everyone else is mental disease not uncommon to those of her particular breeding, and class, as this kind of psycho-social indoctrination brainwashing is standard proceedure, in order to make that individuals who present a threat to her or the social hierarchy to which which she was a part must be destroyed. This accounts for the incessant need for our corporate sponsored elected officials to continually find new and more expensive wars, and ever more lethal plaugues and economic disasters on a regular basis.
When I left the courthouse I walked over to my work truck in a nearby parking lot and jumped on the Interstate 10 east, back to San Gabriel, when I lit up a 'joint' and got high as Isavored the taste of my court victory, when as I listened to the news flash on the radio informing me of the police firebombing of Philadelphia, by the local police there. Philadelphia "The City of Brotherly Love" and one of the birthplaces of the American Revolution. It was quite a revolting development to say the least.
I found out later that the police bombing of unarmed civillians was carried there upon orders from Mayor Goode, officially at the behest of the pollice comimisioners and chief of police less than an hour before which sort of put a damper on my own newly won court victory of less than an hour before.
This meant the bombing must have taken place at precisely the same time I was in that L.A. courthouse sucessfully pleading my case. The rationale behaind the Phillie bombing being that the cops there felt a sudden urge to storm an urban commune compound belonging a group called 'MOVE' but in order to do so it was deemed necesary to fire-bomb the men, women and children there first.
The police firebombing also resulted the total destruction of some 40 or 50 square blocks of homes and residences law biding, taxpaying citizens who had the misfortune to live near the targeted bombing site, the MOVE commune's housing compound in Philadelphia.
This immediately brought to my mind my interview with the then living agent Donald Robinson at the U.S. Secret Service field offices therein the ultra-modern Porltand General Electric office complex in downtown Portland, Oregon sometime after 11:00 AM of March 27, 1979, and how thereon the following morning March 28, 1979 I turned on the car radio during another trip back into Portland from my home in nearby Westslope to hear that there was an accident there at one of the nuclear reactors located at a place I never heard of before called Three Mile Island earlier that very morning.
Portland General Electric were the owners of what was then the Trojan Nuclear Power Plant 40 miles away up the Columbia River, and weirder yet it was during my March 27, 1979 interview with agent Robinson, that because of the weather I wore my leather bombers jacket, a style then popular in the seventies, which had actually an anti-nuclear arm patch insignia on on sleeve which dipicted the cooling tower at this very same Trojan nuclear power plant with an anti slash across it thereas kind of politically fashionable, but nonetheless sincere visual statement about my opposition to the Trojan Nuke plant.
The following year in mid-1986 only weeks after I passed final inspection back in March thereon the two story townhouse which I designed and built from scatch, my partner in the real estate joint venture decided to rip me off, breach her fiduciary responsibilities to me and sell the whole subdivided real estate parcel to a gang of real estate agents, one of which intiated the sale of the land parceI to us in the first place.
The partner was my own mother, who my done it for any number of reasons ranging from the fact that she been intimidated in to doing so, or for some other reasons which she took to the grave when she died in 2006.To be honest I just a little bit ambivilent about her death whereas I was never really too fond of her anyway, so when she called me long distance at my home in Davis, California from Monterey Park back in June of 1982 crying and begging me to move down there and help her finish fixing up the tri-plex her then partner was unable to complete the job because of his ineptness and incompetence, I told her no fucking way, however after about an hour or more of her pleading I finally decide to move down there help her out and leave L.A. as soon as I could having had enough of the place growing up.
In light of the circumstances therein that Los Angeles Superior Court on May 13, 1985, the ominously chilling comments made by the female Deputy D.A. only moments over my victory over her and the County of Los Angeles this bitch's attorney's crack about how; "...we'll make sure that you never have anything.", it seemed like this Deputy D.A. was the 'Princess of Fucking Darkenss' and that the forces of evil weren't wasting any time in meting out retribution as an expression of their wrath, therewith the bombing of Philadelphia which had percisely timed to coincided with my court victory only minutes before that very day.
This May 13, 1985 court victory, which was historically punctuated by the bombing of Philadelphia at the precisely the same time also confirmed my suspicions that these legal machinations behind the whole child support court case was indeed politically contrived and motivated therein an attempt to falsely imprison me in some L.A. Jail or facility where it would be much easier to murder me thereas prisoner, as opposed to killing me outright as free man there at my home, or on the streets, and that this was all connected to the shocking discovery I made at the :Portland Hilton back on March 22, 1979.
These events led to the nuclear chain reaction of circumstances and events which follwed there in the hours and days leading up to my interview with agent Robinson at U.S. Secret Service in Portland March 27, the start of the Three Mile nuclear disaster only hours later on March 28, the series of showdowns at the Western Airlines terminal at Portland International, complete with a 45 minute bomb threat standoff there in the flight cabin of my Western DC-10 flight bound for LAX Los Angeles on March 30, before finally reaching it's intended destination in the pre-dawn hours of March 31, 1979.
The Lucifarian like the pre-dawn Halloween 'Trick-or -Truck' on the runway crash of the Western Airlines DC-10 flight out of LAX at Juarez International at Mexico City precisely seven months later there on October 31, 1979, served as retaliation for the March 30-31, '79 flight that flew me out of Portland to and back to L.A. --- and also served as cover to murder the pilot and members flight crew from that March '79 flight.
As to how I got involved with my mother there in her project in Monterrey Park in 1982, which eventually led to my becoming her real estate partner therein the develpement of a real estate parcel situated there in an slice of unincorporated slice of L.A. County sandwiched in between the cities of San Gabriel, Rosemead and Temple City by September 1983.
I complied with her request partly out of a sense of sense of guilt to some degree, mixed in with a sense of moral obligation in spite of the fact that 'Mommie Dearest' was something of a control freak, a bitch, and a fucking vampire to boot.
All this bought me back to the events of March 25th through March 30th 1979, whereby it became necesary for me to fabricate a cover story about how dear old mom had suddenly taken ill and lay dying in a hospitaI bed somewhere in Los Angeles, California knowing just how much most people in Portland, and perhaps most other places I suppose as well, were all 'mama's boy's at heart, and that this was an argument that even the most vehement bitch in the accounting department at the Portland Hilton could not refute.
It was necessary for me to do this in order better facilitate things at that time whereas I couldn't very well tell everyone except my government informant girlfreind and agent Robinson of U.S. Secret Service the real reasons for my hasty departure from Portland, it would be not only be impolite to tell them the truth, it would also place there life in possible jeopardy as well. Besides all this most all of the people I then knew up there and had any association with at that were already in on the fact that I was somehow or other being set-up for a fall at the Portland Hilton, but to what extent I could not tell, nor did I much care at point in time. I just needed to get out of Portland and there on a jet back to L.A. by no later that Friday March 30, 1979.
Because of the fact that I used my mother's purported illness as a cover story to help get me out of Portland alive, I surmised that there was the actual possibility that the same fucking maniacs behind the plot to assassinate President Carter at the Portland Hilton where I worked in March 1979 and now had just had somehow or other created a hydrogen bubble there in the core of the crippled reactor at Three Mile Island, apparently in response to my interview at U.S. Secret Service the day before, --- were also quite capable, if not somewhat predisposed to kill off my mother if for no other reasons than to retaliate and possibly demoralize me.
Lucky for mom the six-foot stack of dossiers on me by the CIA, DIA, FBI, NSA, MI-6 etc. must have indicated that I really didn't give a fuck whether or not they murdered the bitch lest they would have taken her ass out.
Back in those last days of March 1979, the ledger in my showed that 'Mommie Fucking Dearest' owed me one, for the marathon 15-round two hour argument she gave me there in the office of the attorney in Covina, who then handled the small trust fund my late father, thereon my 19th birthday back on March 8, 1972, and so now, there in the then present March 1979, it seemed like a good time to get something I could really use out of her in order to save my, even though it might endanger hers. And besides all thuis it seemed like this might be my very last opportunity to exercise this option thereat the close of this first quarter in 1979, or at other time for that matter.
It must have been all the pleading and crying on the telephone from dear old mom, that helped wear me down during those several or more long drawn out, long distance phone calls from her to me in Davis, California back in June of 1982 where I had been living since mid-October 1981.
Before that I has temporarily lived with my then ex-wife in Portland since June 21, 1980, less that period of time from September 1980 until the early November 1980 when had I to return to Los Angeles County by myself to settle a Worker's Compensation case then pending, whereby I arrived to Portland the day after the November '80 Presidential Election.
It wasn't that I actually loved my then ex-wife back in June 1980, I had broken up with her back in October 1976, but when the manipualtive bitch came to my apartment a month later in November '76 I married her so as to give the kid a name and have some kind of legal claim to the kid as I knew I she was not the person I would want spend my life with, even if I wanted to get to married in the first place back in 1976 and which still applies now more than ever to me, now presently in 2009.
Should you care to read the 13 Part Synopsis to my book, "1979" which I have posted thereon the homepage of this very website you can read all about it and just how loving and devoted the lady was not only to me, but anybody who wore pants and had a dick between their legs, and maybe some drugs and a bit of money to throw around as well.
Before returning to the matter regarding the series of June 1982 long distance phone calls from my mother in Monterey Park and other members of my family which she had conscripted to cause --- thereto my home, in a condo on Bermuda Ave in Davis, near Sacramento Calfor from my mother in Monterey Park and how it eventually led to my becoming her partner in the real estate venture, a word or two about Monterey Park.
In addition to being the place where my mother lived back in 1982, Monterey Park is the location of the headquarters for the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department, as well as Biscailuz Center, a minimum security county prison where I was an inmate back in March and April 1971 during my senior year at Gladstone High which was then designated as being located in Covina, as opposed to the City of Azusa to which it has now been annexed to.
Before it's closure therein the mid-1990's Bicailuz was located adjacent to the L.A. County Sheriff's Academy which was staffed by my then recently former fellow Biscailuz inmates, many of which I recognized --- and who in turn recognized me two days after my release from Biscailuz, back in mid-April '71 --- when I returned with my fellow classmates from my police science class, and the L.A. Sheriff's Detective Sergeant that taught the "Introduction To Public Service" which I signed up for at my high school, during Christmas break in December 1970 for both high-school and non-transferable college credits at Citrus College, a local community college then located in Glendora, but which has now been annexed to Azusa as well.
Needless to say my then recently former fellow inmates at Biscailuz were just a little more than suspicious there of sudden reappearance two days after my April 1971 release --- thereas a freed inmate turned academic tourist, during the April '71 guided tour of the Sheriff's Academy, whereas I was treated as their 'mascot' during my stint in Biscailuz, where I not only learned respect for law and order, but also respect for criminals and deeper underlying causes and societal barriers and preconditions of their cultures, class and upbringing which forced them to persue lives of crime. I loved those guys for the most part, and some the cops there were pretty cool as well.
As for our L.A. Sheriff Detective-Segeant instructor Alden Ostman, who conducted this mind-blowing April '71 tour of the Sheriff's Academy, he was to up some eight years later in March 1979, and a thousand miles away in Oregon, there in a guest elevator at the Portland Hilton where I was employed. Should one care to read more about this March '79 incident simply click on the photo-image page link below.
The point I make here is that by June 1982 when my mother called me long distance at my home in Davis, Yolo County California from her home in Monterey Park, near L.A. and asked me to move there to help her out and move down to Monterey Park, I already had a bit history with Montery Park and the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department headquarters located there --- and then thought about the incredibly bizarre incident at the Portland Hilton where I worked on March 22, 1979, and what was to follow therein days, weeks, and months to follow.
After almost two hours of haggling with my then attorney in West Los Angeles then handing my case regarding mom's breach of contract and breaches of fiduciary, back in mid-December 1987, that the attorney Robert Dolard finally acquiesced to my demands for a letter thereon the status of the case, regarding the case which I then already knew he had already been bribed to derail months earlier that year, whereby Dolard had the letter drawn up by a secretary thereat the Mackey Rozanski Law firm thereon December 17, 1987, but rather suspiciously, if not incriminatingly as well left the letter undated in order in a pathethic attempt at subterfuge and concealment.
I delivered a copy of this letter shown above to the Garcia brothers only days later sometime around Christmas '87. When I drove out from the L.A. Westside and back to the old neighborhood to visit the brothers some weeks later in January 1988, I found out that one of the brothers was injured in a motorcyle crash. I was then informed that this had occurred when a West Covina police cruiser ran him and his motorcycle off the road thereat the Vincent Avenue of San Bernadino Freeway-Interstate 10 underpass, afterwhich the cop then opened the back door or the patrol car in order to allow German Shepard police dog to chew on my freind and former co-worker as he lay there broken and bleeding from the spill on his motorcycle.
In the wake of this event in December '87, by February 1988 I started performing legal research there at the UCLA Law Library in West L.A. and eventually the L.A. County Law Library in downtown Los Angeles, and later filed what I have to admit was a less than adequate civil complaint against some of individuals and partnerships that had defrauded me in court. I intentionally left out my mother thereas a defendant where as I feared that it would only prejudice any judges and magistates reviewing the case against me for being a 'mother hater' and not a 'mama's boy'.
About another month later there on my 35th birthday which took place on March 8, 1988, another incident took place which I find hard to believe was the result of mere coincidence, as was the case of the U.S. Presidential Primaries which did in fact take place there on March 8, 1988. This was the reportedly accidental mid-air collision between two U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopters from the 101st Airborne unit stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky which killed 17 soldiers from the 101st Airborne Stationed there.
This so called accident was reported there on the front page of local newspaper; "The Kentucky New Era" for March 9, 1988.
Insert front page of the Kentucky New Era March 9 88 ///////////////////////////////////
In light of all of the other little coincindences in life since March of 1979 I don't believe that the mid-air collision of the two 'Blackhawk' helicopters from Fort Campbell, Kentucky there on March 8, 1988, my 35th birthday, was no accident therein light of the fact that Fort Campbell, Kentucky was also the place of my birth back on March 8, 1953.
Insert photo of birthcertificate, Dad, and the March 9 88 edition of the Kentucky New Era front page
By February and March 1989, I working part time as a waiter in a Middle Eastern restaurant in Culver City, and was living in a self contained motorhome which in rented therein Venice, when I decided to go to what was then the Los Angeles County Hall of Records whereby I researched and purchased copies thereof.
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The May 2, 1989 LAPD chokehold incident at the Boys Market in Venice, the series of showdowns I had with cops on the Venice Boardwalk after that, my acts of retaliatory vandelism during my one man riot throughout Venice whereby noone showed up, and not one cop ever came out to stop me. Was it the U.S. Military C-130's with their cargo doors open for paratroopers that I saw that night that may have had something to do with that.
Ma's workling at the Japanese Restaurant at the Century Plaza Hotel in Century from 1980 to 1990 or so --- where Ptresident Reagan sometimes stayed. Opposing forces there in the U.S. Secret Service could have contacted her there at work and no one the wiser.
She was working there in March 1983 when the Three U.S. Secret Service agents were kidnapped at Reagans Ranch during the Queen's March '83 royal visit before their multilated bodies were pulled from the wreckage of a car on closed stretch of road leading into Yosemite.
Dear old Mom could have been coerced into setting me up for the real estate scam in San Gabriel at that time, and it was six-months before we made the deal to become joint venturers tp
just about the same time she was almost killed on the Santa Monica freeway returning home to Monterey Park.
I
wish I could say that I give a fuck, but I don't for some reason or other there in light of what later happened as the result of the breachincluding .
Put the photo Reagan getting shot and the text how the Secret Service set him up
Click on the li
