I have just returned from Europe, where I am safe and free, and the fear is starting up again. It’s not an irrational fear. Not feeling fear would be irrational under the circumstances.
Law abiding citizens are entitled to the presumption of liberty and protection from assault and violence from employees of the State.
That presumption must exist in a democracy, otherwise the term democracy is an oxymoron.
Roosevelt Island is not a democracy. It is a feudal state run by a Corporation. The structure of a Corporation can reflect that of a feudal state, except that the serfs, ie, lowest paid employees, are free to live, if they can live with consequent losses.
The Roosevelt Island Operating Corporation (RIOC,) board includes the Commissioner for the Department of Housing and Community Renewal (DHCR) and token tenant representatives appointed to destroy the growing movement toward self representation.
DHCR’s role is questionable. DHCR employees move into apartments coercively vacated by DHCR and Housing Management pressure tactics after the Mitchell Lama buyout. These tactics include repeated loss of documents, eviction hearings at Housing Court. Elected representatives express concern, acknowledge the problem but do nothing to address it. Housing is a morass, a quagmire, a quicksand into which careers may sink.
Fear comes into the picture when violence and the threat of death or loss of liberty intrude on every day life.
Terror comes in when the perpetrators are NY State employees, in uniform, known for corruption, known for shake downs of local merchants, known for allowing drug dealing, known for false arrests, known for harassment of white and Jewish tenants, known for colluding with dangerous tenants, suspected of sexually abusing teenagers, and so on.
Fear and terror escalate when the NYPD, DA, State Attorney General and the State Inspector General refuse to take appropriate action.
The assault: I took a break from writing my novel and went for a brief walk. This was customary. My sister’s ex, Neil Jordan had just broken set of Brave One and left, but I continued in that direction. It was hot and I was tired, so my walk was briefer than usual. On my return to Westview a small female “Peace” Officer come from behind and told me I “was having a stroke and had to talk to the “PO” in front as he was an EMT. I said I’m not having a stroke and continued. The PO, an odiferous, filthy man, blocked me and said “you’re having a stroke, you can’t go home alone. You have to come with me.”
I said I wasn’t and he could call my daughter if he was concerned. He said he couldn’t. I said why. He said because he couldn’t make phone calls from his radio. I said call the office and have them call my daughter. I continued home with him tailing me but feeling oppressed sat briefly outside the chapel. Woodie came along and said he’d call my daughter. At that point I should have gone with him but I was becoming paralysed with fear.
I tried to walk away, but the creep grabbed me and a third PSD “Peace” Officer grabbed my hand and applied handcuffs. He leered into my face and smirked as he tightened them to a dangerous level of arterial occlusion. I was holding orange juice and it went up and over his uniform. Boo hoo.
These men were taking my liberty; they had further criminal intent and yet pervert Toro was upset about his uniform.
He was with two EMTs, Fellaria and a psycho named Ruger. He was hyper as if on something. He kept shouting for the benefit of passers by that I was
“having a stroke…
None of the above were true but they couldn’t have done more to induce a stroke than they did that day.
My daughter had arrived and called the NYPD. In the meantime they placed me in the hot sun on the road side of the glass and concrete screen separating pedestrians from traffic. I was standing in the hot sun with tight handcuffs occluding my circulation, my head pulled back, compressing my heart and spinal cord.
My BP was going up to 185/120.
The police came. As they did, a large number of PSD employees flooded out of the office. There were so many, who should have been off duty – it was a quiet day in August, after all, that I must assume this was the planned “entertainment.”
The vicious PSD PO Michelle Evans who tried to steal my camera on a previous occasion lied to the police saying I assaulted a child and was “a danger to myself and others.” Anyone who knows me knows I am incapable of hurting a child.
She was not even officially on duty that day according to reliable sources so this was a complete set up, possibly arranged by her malicious,”spite on white” racist, friend from the Lenox Hill Democrat Club.
The home wrecking female “lieutenant” refused to remove the cuffs. The two initial perpetrators, Toro and the odiferous one, dragged me into the ambulance in violation of City regulations. Odiferous contaminated the gurney by sitting on it with his filthy uniform.
Only a certified EMT can transfer a patient into an official NYFD ambulance.
While dragging me in to the ambulance by my bare ankles, the perv, Toro, ran his hands lasciviously down my body, shivering in the process.
So that’s sexual battery, compounded by unlawful imprisonment, unlawful arrest, kidnapping, abrogation of civil and human rights, etc.
An EMS supervisor arrived, and being clueless as to the history of assault and battery by PSD against my family, and determined to protect EMS, she insisted that I go to hospital, threatening to take me to a psych ward at Elmhurst if I didn’t.
She was totally out of order and deserves to lose her job. If she believed I were an “EDP,” or “Emotionally Disturbed Person,” another useful term for getting rid of political enemies in the far left repertory, she was obliged to get a doctor’s scrip.
Handcuffs should not be used on EDPs. There are cloth restraints, and I was remarkably calm under the circumstances. I was calm because I knew I had to conserve energy.
Despite the fact that I was standing in baking sun for almost an hour, she refused to give me water. There was no pretense of patient care, eg., pulse and blood pressure.
The NYPD 114th PO – Bouraises, I believe, was intelligent and calm and civil and encouraged me to go to the dreaded Elmhurst Emergency Room to obtain evidence of non alcohol use, non drug use, non suicidal ideation, etc.
As the hospital clerk was taking my info, Ruger and “silent partner” Fellaria walked out. Fellaria had not participated, but by not helping me, he was also complicit. Ruger stood at the end of the gurney (trolley bed) and stared malevolently down at me.
The ER doctor, a fine young man, from a country also known for political oppression, was very understanding, but we still went through the “walk a straight line,” check for dentures procedures. Labs came back clear, but I was requested to wait until my blood pressure started to go down. He did understand that the ER environment wasn’t helping.
It is astonishing to me that two years after the perpetration of the crimes, with subsequent near fatal crash in health, and loss of income, that there has been no investigation into this extraordinary violation of my civil and human rights.
Life changed after that. There was no follow up by the NYPD, no report number, no records. The DA refused to investigate and played nasty games in Manhattan. The Inspector General did not respond to my complaint, neither did the Attorney General, Andrew Cuomo. The local Komsomol, Roosevelt Island Operating Corp, (RIOC) also played ‘working on a report, will give you when completed,” games. The President of RIOC, Stephen Shane, denied to my face that the aforesaid crimes even took place. Assemblyman Michael Kellner said he would look into it, but did nothing. City Councilwoman Jessica Lappin said ‘there was nothing she could do” after ignoring my letter. Mayor Bloomberg said to me that “he’d look into it,” and assigned a flunkie to the matter, so that, too, has been buried. The Fire Department started an investigation, but so far I have received no reports.
After all, the perpetrators were employees of New York State and took place on New York City ground. Why would they enable a massive lawsuit against themselves.
The crime was followed by an assault on my apartment Nov 2, 2006 following a request for action at the 114th Precinct. Once they dumped me onto the Community Police officer Katonay, I knew that was the end. However, Sgt Tommasaro, a noble man, didn’t allow PSD and EMT – yes Ruger showed up again – to drag me out of my home and – kill? gang rape? drug me or make me disappear?
Life has changed completely for me since then. PSD stalked and followed me for two years after that, and may still be so doing. I couldn’t go to a cafe or deli, or take a walk without one of them at my shoulder. They camped out in my courtyard, and threatened to “arrest me as an EDP” when I went in with my grand baby. I stay away from my apartment as much as possible or ask a friend to “buddyguard.” Until this matter is addressed officially and honestly, the risk to my life continues. The presence of a rogue outfit with unlimited powers and zero accountability puts everyone at risk and is anomalous to democracy. I am fearful every time I leave my apartment. Until I reach Manhattan I leave my phone open, ready to dial for help.
The novel has not been completed. It has taken two years to return to it. I cross the street every time I seen an ambulance, now, and would die rather than go inside one. The assault set in motion a concatenation of endocrinal events that almost cost me my life and I have continuous neurological damage, flashbacks and nightmares about the assault. That the perpetrators walk freely is an outrage.
If they can try to make me disappear, how many others have they hurt, or killed. Every time I see a “missing person” poster on Roosevelt Island, I am reminded of the crimes of Public “Safety” officers. end.