“I’m telling you something. Something about me. What you should be doing is listening.” —Junot Díaz
Identical to your alleged mass shooter, the Asian male patient in Blackfoot exhibited facial twitches, hand tremors, and an overall physical discomfort, as if suffering within his own skin, more side effects described by people under the influence of antipsychotic meds, similar again to side effects I observed in patient after patient, both incoming and outgoing, at both the state hospital and the state’s privately subcontracted facility in Boise. Neither location offered individual psychotherapeutic care, let alone life drawing lessons, nor even seemed to employ professionals capable of psychoanalytic caregiving. Visual literacy to better communicate their internal distress to an external audience? Forget it. Patients in both institutions perpetually sought my one-to-one empathetic listening labor, or talking therapy, as substitute for the lack of care they received from the paid professionals. Group pedagogy at both facilities demonstrated to me yet again that our K–12 No Child Left Behind bipartisan education system had badly failed our nation’s children; that failure continues through Idaho’s higher education schools for social work, both public and private, where the faculty need better education in psychoanalytic theory, education pedagogy, and visual literacy, all three of the above. Psychiatrists and their support staff at both establishments insisted that psychopharmacology is the treatment for a variety of emotional stressors, rather than more logically recognize behavior ranging from neurotic to psychotic as symptomatic of trauma, the focus of my graduate art research at your campus in Moscow.
Staff at Idaho’s Skittles Schools further ignore over a decade of research from our Centers for Disease Control connecting labels for various forms of “mental illness” to their underlying trauma, as well as strong warnings about the hazards of psychopharmacology coming from psychiatric experts at the top of their field on both sides of the Atlantic. In addition to Dr. Frances, Saving Normal; see also Dr. Peter Gøtzsche, Deadly Medicines and Organised Crime: How Big Pharma Has Corrupted Healthcare, awarded a British Medical Association’s prize in 2014; and Dr. David Healy’s writings, with such titles as Pharmaggedon and Let Them Eat Prozac presumably referencing Marie Antoinette’s centuries’ old solution for her impoverished peasants, more psychiatric research spanning over a decade prior to my experience in lockup with your alleged mass shooter. Much as I’d like to reach another conclusion, I can see no underlying motive for Moscow’s redundant homicide problem other than the usual suspects: ignorance and narcissistic greed.
With both the University of Idaho and IDHW’s systems so visibly failing to teach that essential combination of trauma recovery and healthy communication skills, a job challenging enough in my former position of relative leadership as poverty-level-stipend-paid instructor in a drawing studio classroom, what little could I do to help this young man from my position as incarcerated peer, and where my first priority must necessarily be to carve self-care out of an environment openly hostile to autonomy and rudimentary care?
Staff at State Hospital South regularly disrupted my psychologically healthy practice of writing with their demands to eat unappetizing “food” slop when I wasn’t hungry, patronizingly dismissed my writing as not “that important” or that my notes on my conversations with your alleged mass shooter “could wait” while I met their demands to ker-plop their clients in chairs in groups for me to observe still more of their incompetent pedagogy, under threat of losing access to “privileges” like sunshine and fresh air, or I placed and reinforced boundaries on the emotionally needy demands of their juvenile interns from the region’s schools for social work seeking unscheduled conversation, in more of their sing-songy little-girl voices indicative of repressed early childhood trauma, disrupting my meditative writing practice prior to even my first Styrofoam cup of morning tea. Thus, much of my expert testimony is based on memory, which is always faulty, and should be compared alongside other sources.
Turning to my journal notes from my experiences of Idaho’s violation of my Constitutional rights, I see there was a John, but he appeared to be a white male, the son of a dean at another of Idaho’s institutions of higher learning.
Unfortunately, I see now that I failed to note most of my interactions with the patient matching the description of your 2015 triple homicide suspect. I meant to write more. His psychology fascinated me. I wanted to write more of his narrative, and I would have liked to have offered him potentially life-saving life drawing sessions, at least weekly. He was so visibly reaching out for help. To anyone capable of listening.
I remember working to establish safety in my conversations with more than one male patient who exhibited severe distress in their relationships with women. I distinctly remember a conversation wherein an Asian male introduced himself to me as “John Lee,” those two aspects of his identity memorable because most patients did not identify themselves by their surnames, and I responded ironically, “You mean like Bruce Lee?”
To which he responded, “More like his son, Brandon Bruce Lee.”
That significance meant nothing to me then, because, as I explained to him, I do not keep up with Hollywood celebrities, but now that I have regained access to the internet, I see from Wikipedia that Brandon Bruce Lee died of an accidental gunshot wound on a movie set on 31 March 1993, coincidentally, remember, the same calendar year when federal agents were in the midst of their standoff against the Branch Davidian complex near Waco, Texas, and more recently the same calendar day that Moscow’s 2015 alleged mass shooter was appointed his defense attorneys while the Supreme Court coincidentally published its 5-4 slip opinion in Armstrong v. Exceptional Child.
Incidentally, according to the Internet Movie Database, the plot of the film The Crow starring Bruce Lee’s son, Brandon, “a man brutally murdered comes back to life as an undead avenger of his and his fiancée’s murder,” grossed a worldwide box office of $94 million from an initial budget investment of only $23 million, just in case you are still looking for still more clues why a mind infused with psychopharmacology would choose gunfire for resolving conflicts within a culture that glorifies delusion, vengeance, and murderous violence as entertainment-?
Later in that conversation or during another, that same Asian male patient changed his name to Kane, which I misheard as “Cain.”
I believe I asked, “You mean like in the Bible, Cain and Abel?”
While I searched my memory of Old Testament mythology, whether it was Cain who killed Abel or Abel who killed Cain, just in case you have read this far and are still trying to find rationale for homicide as global-historic solution for family conflict, he may have responded, “Like that, only spelled different.”
Or he may have merely giggled and quickly changed the subject.
I may have only wondered to myself whether he identified with the killer or his victim, or I may have queried aloud.
By then, without receiving a paycheck on par with my global expertise in the psychology of serial killers, I may have wearied of listening to Elliot Rodger-like qualifiers that psychotropic med-infused masculine rages were just a “misunderstanding” while Idaho’s mental juridical health professionals ground my job-seeking to a halt; forced me to take those same psychotropic meds; dictated my diet to nauseating, gelatinous slop; severely limited my access to sunshine, fresh air, and exercise; forced me to endure radio popular in rural Idaho; choose between watching aggressively masculine or passively feminine television or isolating myself in my hard-tiled cell; limited my reading material to either aggressively masculine horror or passively feminine romance genre fiction or literature I had already read as a teenager – albeit even Salinger could not have written a more apropos setting for rereading The Catcher in the Rye – and refused to better investigate my reports of trafficking and homicide, so I may have instead chosen to discourage still more trauma monologue coming from their Asian male patient John/Kane.
“Oops. Except I’m not supposed to say that in here,” he hastily changed his identity yet again during one of our conversations, while I tried to keep up with the ever-changing names and faces amid the continuously revolving door of patients and staff, who sometimes worked 16-hour shifts or sometimes shifted their assignments to other wards, never to be seen again, with your 2015 mass shooting suspect further challenging my facial recognition skills by sometimes wearing spectacles, sometimes going without, “In here, my name is Jason.”
Again, I missed the significance of that pseudonym, despite referencing Moscow’s 2007 mass shooting in my 2008 thesis research on identity, trauma, and the taboo, but Latah County Public Defender Charles Kovis should be able to remember the name of his former client, Jason Hamilton, as well as perhaps his history of psychopharmacological abuses and working out his unresolved difficulties in relation to his mother by first beating on a prior girlfriend before murdering his wife? His name is likely indelibly etched in your own memory.
Coincidentally, those Moscow shootings that began seven years to the date that Meridian Police Department placed me in handcuffs for the scary “crime” of being a destitute woman better educated in psychoanalytic theory than an IDHW clerk paid to recognize the difference between psychosis and the federal crime of labor trafficking, ended 20 May 2007 on what would have been the seventh anniversary of my “delusional” wedding – according to Idaho’s mental juridical health professionals – to that state prosecutor son of ex-FBI parents if his domineering mother hadn’t insisted that we change our plans to better accommodate the class schedule of one of his sisters, who ended up dropping out of her graduate program at Notre Dame and returning to Utah prior to the end of the semester anyway.
No reciprocating respect for our schedules after we moved from Utah to Oregon, and it was that sister’s turn to try her hand at tying the knot.
The reason I wanted to set that date for our wedding was because precisely one year earlier, 20 May 1999, while struggling through a premarital breakup, we had gone out for Chinese food. The fortune I pulled from my cookie coincident to his renewed commitment to our relationship was that we would be married within a year.
You see what happens when you defy ancient Chinese wisdom rather than placing healthy boundaries on an abusive mother?
According to my journals from my second year of graduate school, on the weekend of March–April 2007, when another of the University of Idaho’s former students, John Joseph Delling, was wreaking his havoc in first Tucson, Arizona, then Moscow, then Boise, I was coincidentally driving north on Idaho’s remote highways as he drove south through first eastern Washington and Oregon to return to southern Idaho, and I headed the opposite direction, returning to Moscow from a one-way flight out of Spokane to Salt Lake City, where I borrowed a car from my family to see me through the end of grad school after my 1977 Ford F150 broke down for the umpteenth time. Coincidentally, 29 March 2007, noting my plans to reunite with my distant family, my journal begins, “So I purchase a one-way ticket to hell…” paraphrasing a cohort’s description of returning to Seattle to visit her family the previous Thanksgiving, coincidentally the same day a high school boy across the nation in Mentor, Ohio, successfully completed suicide with a gunshot wound to his head, but I do not begin knitting those narrative threads together until 03 October 2010, coincidentally the day that would have been Officer Newbill’s 52nd birthday had he lived to celebrate it with his family, the same month and day that coincidentally marks the calendar when the University of Idaho first opened its doors in 1892.
You can maybe see my movements as the opposite stitch pattern as the movements of Mr. Delling, alternating knit and purl in a 1×1 rib, in complementary colors? I can remember thinking, at that time, what coincidence, the surname of his Moscow victim Boss, and his Boise victim Morse, like my former boss in science and the surname of one of the postdoctoral associates in her research laboratory, like a code for me to further interpret or unravel, but I dismissed that as “just” coincidence then, and redirected my attention to my teaching and scholarship activities instead of writing it down. Now I notice the surname of his shooting victim in Arizona coincidentally matches Latah County Prosecutor Bill Thompson, and Lee Newbill’s first name with coincidentally John Lee’s chosen last, while reminding you, in highlighting the simultaneity and meaning between coincidental relationships, I by no means imply causal connections.
With your small agricultural college community’s mass shootings from 2007 replicated in 2015, what direction would you say the University of Idaho decided to go since your conservation librarian said the design and hand-bound production of my thesis was the direction he would like to head?
Coincidentally, on another 03 October, in 1897, five years to the date after the University of Idaho first opened its doors, the “father of human psychology,” Sigmund Freud, penned a letter to his then-friend and colleague Wilhelm Fleiss, wherein he abandoned his seduction theory, which would have forced both men to acknowledge in their research the staggering quantity of children sexually abused by their fathers. Coincidentally, it may have been this observation that prompted my brother-in-law to label me “psychotic” and “wrong” after I described the sheer quantity of abusive childhoods that I have encountered in my adult job-seeking experiences, impeding my ability to find colleagues, clients, or employers healthy enough to respect my educated expertise with a living wage, before going to great lengths to force his patriarchal authority over me, so far as to deny child abuse, elder abuse, labor trafficking, rape, homicide, and our shared genealogy to mental juridical health authorities. Almost as if to punish me for speaking the unspeakable, wouldn’t you say? Further proving the unerring accuracy of my MFA thesis research, all the while raging at me about how WRONG a senior electrical engineer at Micron thinks I am about human psychology.
Coincidentally, on 03 October 1995, the same year that the Grzebielskis coincidentally moved to Moscow and the nation was coincidentally devastated by the Oklahoma City bombing, O.J. Simpson was found not guilty for murdering his former wife and her male companion at their condominium on, coincidentally, Bundy Drive in Brentwood, California, coincidentally the same defendant later successfully prosecuted, on coincidentally yet another 03 October, precisely 13 years to the date later, by the same lawyer coincidentally responsible for supervising the office that had plea bargained a sentence for one perpetrator allegedly solely responsible for murdering my first husband’s third wife, or exactly as I explained the situation to the detectives in Meridian – matters of historic fact – regardless whether the narcissistic or professional biographies of Idaho’s mental juridical health employees correspond with mine.
Do you think it is unreasonable for me to expect homicide detectives in Idaho to rationally recognize that any crime that occurs in Clark County, Nevada, would be logically prosecuted by the Clark County, Nevada, prosecutor, assuming homicide investigators have amassed enough evidence to lead to prosecution, rather than arrive at their irrational conclusion of “delusion” in the midst of my victim witness testimony because my brother-in-law had called them first, making no attempt to even Google let alone checking court records to jog their personal memories of historic facts? If not, maybe long overdue for your colleague Meridian Police Chief Jeff Lavey to clean house? I shudder to think of the harm his incompetent special victims team members current as of this writing continue to cause sexual abuse victims.
What do Detectives Chris McGilvery and Jim Miller do while receiving taxpayer funded paychecks to not do their jobs? How do they know when they have solved a case? When they are done titillating themselves with evidence? As I can attest from practical experience working with the branches of young plum trees that a Micron engineer clipped and left for trash in his own backyard, basket-weaving is challenging enough, without adding the complication of holding their breath while trying to develop that skill underwater:
Maybe Chief Lavey could require his employees to bone up on Listening 101: It’s Not All About Me or Database 202: Tools for the 21st Century before unleashing their raw talents on homicide, trafficking, or sexual assault criminal investigations? Good if the Chief might also teach his sex crimes investigators the difference between dating and raping, gauging from listening to another of his staff paid taxpayer dollars to chauffeur me across the fat southern width of the state from Boise to Blackfoot, who described confusing the pleasures of consensual sex with the tools of his policing trade. And if the Chief himself is a bit unclear on the difference between enthusiastic participation versus force or coercion, then maybe his entire department, after paying tuition, could next time come prepared to my classroom to at least sit down, shut up, and take notes, if they’re not capable of doing their readings in advance?
By our second session, I will expect them to come prepared, having done their homework, ready to offer thoughtful self-reflective comments to add to our mutually respectful dialogue.
Do you think my expectations are still too high?
Many post-carceral trafficking experiences later, minus a decade’s worth of work, once I regained access to telephone, still struggling for day-to-day brute survival, in July 2016 Arizona’s Pinal County Sheriff’s Office very professionally and respectfully confirmed the cold case homicide I reported to Idaho authorities in May 2014. The Associated Press stringer assigned to Arizona sounds a bit confused on his dates and years, and communications between a grand jury in Carson City and southern Nevada either remain so poor that Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department (Metro) still lists that “delusion” as a cold case homicide current as of this writing, or there is still a third body and not just a second in addition to the body of my first husband’s third wife, but Arizona’s Maricopa County Superior Court records confirm, on 14 October 2014, not until nearly five months after Idaho authorities locked me up without access to competent counsel or fair trial for reporting information relevant to the cold case homicide in Las Vegas or Arizona, and coincidentally the anniversary of John Lee’s birth, when a grand jury in Carson City, Nevada, decided there was enough evidence of homicide to prosecute, and one suspect was extradited to Arizona, though he did not make his first court appearance there until coincidentally my birthday in 2015, coincident again to Lee’s preliminary hearing in Latah County, Idaho.
Pinal County readily identified the second body as Christine Marie Martinez, as investigated by Phoenix Police Department. Conflicting reports confuse names, decades, and even quantity of bodies, with Metro still indicating a Jane Doe Number Seven, identifying one victim as possibly a Mary Stoddard:
Just like I set in lead in Palouse in the autumn of 2006. Never had a chance to letterpress print that text before surrendering the space to yet another abusive old man who thought I might make an excellent substitute for his deceased wife and refused to hear no for an answer, redistributing the type, hitching the team to the wagon, and heading to the big city of Seattle in search of employers, clients, or colleagues healthy enough to respect my educated expertise with a living wage.
With Phoenix Police Department’s suspect rendered unintelligible by Nevada’s treatment for suicidal inmates, maybe he acted alone, or maybe Metro needs to reinvestigate the comings and goings of their first suspect, what with his lengthy history common to both – or all three? – homicides of serially sexually assaulting his wives with ever-increasing brutality, in 1997 deliberately lying to police about my whereabouts, and befriending the primary investigating detective, who neglected to take a statement from me?
Again, this information is available to the lay public, from any computer installed with a readily available web browser and access to the internet, anywhere in the world.
More work ahead of me yet before prosecutors throughout the American West persuade me that my first husband was not intimately involved in one or both or more of those interrelated sexual assault homicides across their jurisdictions. From where I point and click after experiencing Idaho’s psychiatric abuses, their alleged suspect reads to me like another victim of early childhood sexual abuse and another state force-feeding psychopharmacology to its incarcerated class.
Dr. Frances, writing in 2013, outlines the perils of the state that abuses psychiatric labels and psychopharmacology to subdue and infringe upon the rights of its citizens:
“My concern does not arise from any sympathy for rapists. Instead my fear is that treating them unfairly greases that slippery slope to a more general degradation of the Constitution, lessening respect for the sacred values of due process and protection of civil liberties. The frightening experience of other countries should counsel caution in ours. Psychiatry has elsewhere been dangerously abused by the penal system to stifle political dissent, economic complaints, or individual difference. A legal system willing to compromise its constitutional principles to deal with inconvenient rapists may in the future stretch further to use psychiatry against those with inconvenient political goals, religious beliefs, or sexual preferences.”
And here’s what Dr. Keppel published about Idaho’s homicide detectives after speaking to my adopted eighth cousin twice removed on the eve of his January 1989 execution in Florida:
“I really pushed Ted to the limits by suggesting that he and his advisors planned poorly because they invited Idaho authorities, who had no idea to which murders Ted was referring. So I asked, ‘What are you going to tell the guy from Idaho that comes in? He wasn’t even aware that there was a murder…
“When I called him first to tell him to come, I said, you know this might be a surprise to you, but he wants you down there. The guy from Idaho was totally unaware. You’re going to have to tell him. He doesn’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
Is it a technology problem? Has Idaho simply not kept pace with the computing revolution? Or is it a communications problem, predominantly male detectives with severely unresolved issues in relation to their mothers, their synapses not fully firing across the gaps, unprepared to respect predominantly female victims and witnesses?
In that case, Joe and Jim and Chris and Justin and the rest of Idaho’s taxpayer-funded, private militia men also need to keep their weapons someplace far outside my classroom as well as separated again from their ammunition while I explain sex and gender and how all that stuff works. In one of my undergraduate courses, the only student who left the classroom in tears one evening was one of the brawny football players too afraid to tackle the concept of his father’s emotionally unavailable, alcoholic role modeling. Learning about sexuality and power and intercommunication doesn’t have to be scary though. I promise not to start with Judith Butler or Jacques Derrida or Judith Herman next time, m’kay? We can dip our toes in the inflatable kiddie pool before we take a deeper dive to increase their knowledge of sexuality and power.
My first husband and my adopted eighth cousin twice removed Ted both liked to handcuff their dates too.
More Jungian coincidences relevant to my experiences and my assessment of Moscow’s masculine rage problem:
On 03 October 1975, according to Dr. Keppel’s version, a victim selected out of a Utah police lineup a man who looks like every man, any average white, brunette man of medium height and build, a changeling notorious for his ability to look like 10 different men, as the man who posed as a police officer, lured her to his Volkswagen Beetle, and hand-cuffed her before she escaped that traumatic experience. According to Wikipedia, citing Ann Rule’s true crime genre account, that lineup occurred the day before, 02 October.
During the Florida trial that eventually led to Ted Bundy’s execution, on 03 October 1979 the court heard the defense team’s motion to suppress testimony of an alleged eyewitness to a middle-school girl’s kidnapping, a witness who had not come forward until months after her disappearance, and then only after seeing television coverage of Ted’s arrest for other crimes. The testimony further depended on the use of then-fashionable, forensically unreliable method of hypnosis. Or 287 years to the day precisely after Increase Mather cautioned against the use of spectral evidence because the devil might take on various appearances in dreams in Salem, Massachusetts, American courts were still debating between Blackstone’s Formulation versus Matthew 18:6, or Derrida’s necessity and im-possibility of forgiveness, while the defense team cleverly failed to disclose one so-called expert witness to the prosecutors until one day previous, 02 October.
And we still today are debating the differences between victims and abusers, while the pharmaceutical industry pitches its profitable witch cake both directions.
According to the 21st century’s global crowd-sourced encyclopedia, remarkably similar events coincide on 03 October at least as far back in Western history as 52 B.C., when the emperor of the Gauls surrendered to Roman emperor Julius Caesar.
More recently, Dafydd ap Gruffydd, the last independent ruler of Wales, became the first prominent person in recorded history to be dragged through the street’s attached to a horse’s tail, then hanged, revived, disemboweled with his entrails burned before him, finally drawn and quartered, for committing the crime of high treason against the King in the same week as Christ’s passion. Sometime between 2012 and 2016, Wikipedia historians must have resolved their conflict whether or not that incident occurred on 02 or 03 October 1283, as that source used to cite various authorities wavering across midnight between the two days.
Remember, with coincidence, Dr. Jung and his followers search for simultaneity and meaning, unlike causal relationships, but maybe you begin to see where your search for cause-and-effect relationships, or motive, begins to entwine with my empirical study of coincidence?
From my perspective, John/Kane/Jason was in June 2014 clearly telling anyone capable of hearing him – even if his perspective differs from the perspective of Idaho’s mental juridical health professionals – that his unresolved conflicts, without gradually tapering off state-mandated harmful psychopharmacology and obtaining a healthier set of communication tools, would result in your mass shootings in Moscow by January 2015.
How much differently might the events of that day have unraveled had the FBI returned the call that I placed to their Boise office at 8:45 on the morning of 27 May 2014, the date that really was the 14th anniversary of my real wedding to my real prosecutor ex-husband, son of real ex-FBI parents, yes, really, or at least that’s what they claimed the entire time I was dating, marrying, and divorcing their son, and immediately opened an investigation into our nationwide Skittles Schools? Would 10 January 2015 have knit together in a new way if the U.S. Attorney assigned to the District of Idaho had returned the call that I placed to that office 10 minutes later?
Or did they call, and CEO Alan Miller’s staff failed to patch those calls through to one of their psychopharmacological test subjects incarcerated without access to competent counsel or fair trial?
Or what if the Ada County public defender assigned to my case had arrived with a professionally designed and printed business card, prepared to respect his client’s educated expertise, or, bare minimum, maintain his own calendar, instead of wasting precious minutes yappity-yap-yapping at me simplistic courtroom procedure as he entered the holding tank maintained by Ada County Sheriff’s Office? What will it take before Idaho adequately funds its public defense system, integral to civil rights or the rule of law, without which you cut only a cartoon figure in a demockracy?
Would David Trail, Belinda Niebuhr, and Terri Grzebielski still be alive, with maybe the Grzebielski family enrolled in life drawing workshops learning trauma recovery and healthy communication skills at Nadine if Detectives Miller, McGilvery, and Officer Root had been emotionally intelligent enough to respect rather than fear educated women, and performed their taxpayer-funded jobs by investigating the crimes I reported, leading to perhaps a broader and deeper investigation of the under-education of Idaho’s mental health “professionals” and administratively unadministrable legislation-?
When will Idaho begin providing an adequate quality of care for its exceptional children?