Canyonville Chronology - March 12, 1999 - March 25, 1999
3-12-99 2am. Receive incredibly vicious and incoherent phone call. Voice says I have been found guilty of a crime, but NOT YET SENTENCED. Doesn't matter what I do now, I am guilty! Because I couldn't prove the cars were not inoperative for 72 hours. It's the same as if I'd been found guilty of smoking marijuana: it wouldn't matter if I stopped smoking, I'd still have to go to jail. Nothing I can do will prevent it. The minute I leave the house they're going to grab me and take me to jail until the judge gets around to sentencing me to seventy years in jail, and a $250,000 fine. (A $300.00 fine for each day the cars are “inoperative, and 30 days in jail for each day the cars are “inoperative.) The voice gleefully tells I'm going to lose everything I have. And, while I'm in jail they're going to come in and kill every one of my pets and send the hides to me in jail. But if I'm a good girl this won't happen. But they're going to make an example out of me so that no one will ever give them any trouble ever again. No matter what I do, they're going to see me in jail. The voice is incoherent - maniacal - vicious - crazed. Later, I realize this person is a text-book psychopath.
I wonder at what point this freak is going to finally go berserk, stop threatening, and break in and try to kill me. Almost, I wish he would. Then, one way or the other, it would be over with. This constant harassment is wearing me down. But, like a weed, I keep popping back up.
3-13-99 A friend urges me to call the police. I start laughing. She grins, says, “Yeah, I guess that was a pretty stupid thing to say.”
I learn (a) the judge CAN send me to jail for as long as she likes, and can levy an enormous fine, (b) the police need a warrant to break down my door, but they can pick me up outside my house, and take me to jail for an indefinite period until the judge sentences me.
One person tells me, “They can't do this, but they are doing it, and you'll play heck doing anything about it in jail.”
Suddenly I realize everyone on my block - and probably 98% of everyone in the city - is guilty of having an inoperative vehicle at one time or the other. Everyone in this small town is either working on one of their cars, planning to work on it, or just finished working on it.
I was going to leave the house and talk with people about moving the trucks, but now I'm afraid to leave.
3-15-99 Leave the house. Mindful of the threat to grab me and take me to jail until the judge gets around to sentencing me, I am hyper vigilant as I look out for police cars.
Go to the court. No record - not even a tape recording - is kept of court proceeding. The only “records” are the judge's notes. I obtain a certified copy of the piece of paper that says I am guilty, and copies of her notes, which are:
1970 Challenger in back yard
73 Ford P.U. large
78 T-Bird running lic & tags
63 Box van
62 flat bed on property for 6 years plus
by 2-3-99 5pm(?) Box van and flat bed
ford p.u.
Judge gives me one more day to get trucks moved.
I hide for awhile, in case the court has called the police to pick me up for sentencing. Good grief! I didn't know we had so many back alleys and drive ways in this little town!
Obtain copies of Minutes of City Council meeting. December 21, 1998: . . . Administrator Andrew stated that he intended to follow-up with another inspection to verify the situation. “If the vehicles have not been removed he will ask a Deputy to cite Mrs. Smith to court.” The City Administrator has just told the council that he will try to send me to jail, and fine me heavily - if the vehicles are still on the property, running or not.
A friend tells me that the city administrator had been given blanket authority to handle this matter. Next they will give him blanket authority to handle these abandoned vehicle things and NO ONE will know who is losing vehicles or property - or what liens the city will be placing on property. The city council has recently demoted the Superintendent of Public Works - who had equal authority with the city administrator - so there is no one to question him.
After getting the minutes, I hide, in case City Hall has called the police to pick me up.
Talk with several people trying to find someone to tow the trucks, and store them. One person says Canyonville is no place to live, and people are bailing out. I suddenly realize I have seen a lot of For Sale signs recently.
Tow truck owner will tow my trucks!!! He has no place to put them, but, if I can find a place to put them, he will tow them there!!! And suddenly, maybe I have a place to store the trucks! Will know tomorrow!!
One of the people who will be helping me was horrified when I told him what was happening. He said that if someone showed up to threaten his mother she's likely to not only give them the titles to all her cars, but the title to the house too. She simply cannot stand stress and she'd cave in at once, he said, in spite of the fact she could run next door and ask him to help!
Friends offer to help unload van.
Net friend sends me copy of Oregon Statute 813 which seems to limit what the city can do about abandoned vehicles. The City's ordinance holds the property owner responsible for abandoned vehicles, the State Statue holds only the vehicle owner responsible.
Out-of-state attorney calls. He used to practice in Oregon. Says city ordinance is in violation of Oregon Statutes. I have a cause of action against the city because this non-complying ordinance has been used to terrorize me. He is leaving town for two weeks, but will attempt to find an Oregon attorney to help me when he comes back.
Try to find out how to appeal whatever happened to me in court. Talked with district(?)/circuit(?) court and others. Court has to accept anything that anyone files. But the filing would just sit there!!!!!! I have to demand a hearing - or something - but no one knows how to file an appeal from Justice or Municipal court. If I filed the wrong thing, it would just sit there!!!!! I'd never know! The papers would just sit there!
Everyone is still saying, “They can't do that!” I am going to get a T-shirt that says:
Yes, they can, and yes, they have.
People don't realize what is happening right under their nose, in their own town, until their nose is rubbed in it. Numerous times. They will still be saying, “They can't do this!” as their property is taken, and they are taken off to jail.
I creep home the back way, looking out for police. As I get out of the car, I realize I am shaking and my stomach is trying to turn itself inside out again. How in the world do crooks stand the stress? They have to be totally crazy!! Hey!! Wait a minute!! I'M A CROOK!! After more than half a century of a drab, dull, law abiding life, where did I go wrong? I wonder if the Jews asked themselves the same question as they were hauled off to concentration camps.
Enough philosophizing. I look around, see no lurking police, and dash inside and lock the doors. Now I realize I am cold, but not shivering. I wrap blankets around me, but am still cold. Hard to breath. This has happened before. I pull my little electric heater under the blankets with me, making a sort of hot tent.
I have two very nasty diseases, and they make me a perfect victim. I have narcolepsy and a chronic fatigue syndrome variant. Narcolepsy is the “funny disease that's no laughing matter.” Narcoleptics are the people who suddenly fall asleep and dive forward into the mashed potatoes and gravy. fortunately, my condition is not severe. My body gives me 30- 45 minutes warning, then I HAVE to take a nap. Amphetamines are prescribed to keep us awake so we can function in society. However, narcoleptics can't get a normal night's sleep. Our bodies wake up after 2-6 hours sleep, full of energy and ready to put in a full day's work - for several hours. Most of us could live very nicely, thank you, if we could only sleep when our bodies wanted to sleep, and wake when our bodies want to wake. But we can't function in society if our sleep/wake patterns are totally different from everyone else. Sleeping medication, gives me a foggy, disorientated “hang-over” that lasts for days. So I take a drug holiday several days a week so I can sleep 4 hours, wake 2, sleep 3, wake 9, sleep 6, wake 2 or whatever pattern my body wants that day. Or night. However, I haven't had the luxury of letting my body sleep when it wants to, so I go into sleep deprivation, which is very unpleasant.
Narcoleptics also often experience catalepsy. When we are startled, we fall down in a boneless mass, and cannot move for seconds or minutes. In my case, again, it is very mild, almost unnoticeable. In a stressful, unusual situation, the ignition wires in my brain start cutting out. I sit, or stand, with a stupid look on my face, missing much of the conversation around me. I hear isolated, unrelated bits and pieces of conversations, and cannot even try to process what is being said or done. I have become very good at concealing this with non- committal remarks and an apparent interested expression. Since most people pay more attention to what they're saying than to what others are hearing, most people never notice I have no idea what's happening. Someday someone is going to come up to me when I'm in a meeting where two people are talking at me, a third is demonstrating how to milk poisonous snakes, and say to me, very calmly, “The building is on fire, and the lower floors are total involved.” And I will say, “Oh, really? How interesting.”
This is what happened to me at the “trial.” And probably afterwards as well, since I had a very hard time believing that I'd been found guilty of “possessing an abandoned vehicle.”
Not content with a rare disorder, my body had to acquire a second rare disorder - chronic fatigue syndrome variant. Most people know chronic fatigue is a periodically painful disease with bouts of lassitude and exhaustion. I have bouts of the above, plus incredible weakness. Also, I will become chilled, and cannot raise my body temperature on my own. I have to use a heating pad, or small heater. After much denial, resistance, and counseling by my doctor, (Darn it! You can't walk on a broken leg! So don't try to walk on a broken brain!!!) I've learned to avoid getting too cold, to carry in three bags of groceries, wait hours, and then carry in three more. But sometimes I don't have the luxury of pacing my activities. This was one of those days.
Finally, I get warm. But I am still incredibly weak and in pain. I crawl into the kitchen to feed the pets. I sprawl on the floor again, watching them eat. I'm realize I'm spending an awful lot of time on the kitchen floor. Victoria looks up, apprises my condition, and tell me to buy a big button phone - her paws are too big for a regular phone - and program it with the number of the person who will take care of them in case any thing happens to me. I tell her I'll think about it.
3-16-99 Friend refers me to one of his friends who has acreage in country. Called him, he unhesitatingly said, “Sure. I m sorry, I don't have any place to put them out of the weather, is that OK? And I want to make certain my neighbor doesn't object. I'll check with him as soon as possible.”
I want to cry. Some people are so very decent, they help so willingly.
Neighbor DROVE Red Challenger onto his property! He said he changed the spark plugs and it fired right up. Made me feel good to hear her rumbling again . . .
Learn associate in major criminal law firm sometimes does pro bono work. Leave message explaining my situation.
Weak, tired, hurting, I sprawl on the kitchen floor, again. At least I got the pets fed. Victoria asks if I have that big button phone yet, and if not, when am I going to get it?
3-17-99 2AM Neighborhood watch dog barks. My neighbor goes out to check, sees no one. Early morning he goes out, checks both cars, the Red Challenger is still running.
I have to call the person with the property, see if they have contacted the neighbor. And I have to unload the van. Moved a few boxes out of van.
Hours later, I am paying bitterly for my activity. Again, I m sprawled on the kitchen floor, too weak to move. Probably going to spend another night here. Victoria wants to know about that big button phone. I tell her I'll just wave her outside the window every day. If no one sees her waving, they will come over and get her. She doesn't think that's funny.
3-18-99 My neighbor, who DROVE one of the Challengers onto his property receives a phone call from city hall. There will be “consequences” if he has them on his property.
I MUST unload the van. Somehow I unload a few boxes. Suddenly the ground moves. I fall. I wonder if we're having an earthquake. I try to get up, fall, then sit up, braced against a tire. I realize the water in the mud puddles isn't moving. This is not an earth quake. I am dizzy. This has never happened before. The dizziness comes and goes. I get inside, walking into a few walls in the process. I will rest.
Later. Once more I'm on the kitchen floor, watching the pets eat. I am alternately enraged and despondent at my weakness. Victoria finishes eating, looks at me, comes over, pulls up the scruff of my neck. “Yep. Dehydrated,” she says. I can't see the scruff of my neck, so I pull up the skin on the back of my hand. It stays up. I live in a country so wet fish drown here. Yet I m dehydrated!!! When I'm in pain, I don't feel hunger or thirst. I have been in pain lately. The pain medication makes me very dopey and spacey. I've been unable to take it because I have had to unload boxes and find temporary homes for my vehicles.
I struggle to my feet. After dropping a few glasses (plastic) I manage to drink several glasses of water. After several hours and several quarts, I'm feeling much better. Victoria still wants to know about that big button phone.
3-19-99 -Friend loans me $26.00 to join Legal Club of America. Then I move a few boxes. Rest. Move a few more. The criminal attorney calls me, I explain the situation, he says he will call the judge, and call me back. I move a few more boxes.
Now, I can hardly move. I am becoming all too familiar with the kitchen floor. I have fed the pets, but I stay here because it's simply too much trouble to stagger into the bedroom and go to bed. The pets curl up around me. Loyal beasties! They never say they'd rather be curled up on the bed with me - instead of the cold hard kitchen floor. Except Victoria. She says the floor isn't helping her arthritis. “What arthritis?!” I exclaim. “The arthritis I'm going to get from sleeping on this floor,” she mutters.
3-20-99 I try to move more boxes out of the van. I simply cannot lift them!! Again I am weak and dizzy. Suddenly I see a strange white car. I dive under the van, into the mud and water I peer around a tire and realize the car belongs to a friend of my neighbor. I wobble to my feet, and to the door. “EEKKK! A monster,” Victoria screams. “Hey - it's me,” I say. “Well, you're all muddy and you stink. You can't come in until you clean up,” she says.
3-20-99 Neighbor puts new fuel pump in Orange Challenger. It runs!!!
3-21-99 Have names and number of four attorneys from Legal Club of America. I send faxes to three. Number four doesn't have a working fax. Time to move a few more boxes out of the van.
I open the garage to start putting away more boxes from the van. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone in blue. Police!! I scream, jump, hit my head on the garage door, fall. There is no one there. I have seen my own reflection in a piece of chrome. Suddenly I am emptying my stomach in the ditch. There is nothing in my stomach. I suddenly realize that I have not been able to hold anything down for three or four days. I stagger back to my feet, try to open the garage door, which I have knocked closed. I can't. I simply am not strong enough to lift it. I swear. Somehow I get inside.
I feel very close to breaking. I am getting tired of living in terror, dashing inside when ever I hear a car in case it's the sheriff, coming to take me to jail. I am tired of eating something because I must, then losing it a few minutes later. A Sunday School teacher once told us that we are all flowers, and should bloom wherever we are. I realize I am a weed - no matter what they do, I keep popping back up! I'm no pretty flower, just a tough old nettle. A stinging nettle, I hope.
But I realize I cannot unload the van. Finally, I call my friends. They come over and shoe horn boxes and boxes into the garage. They amaze me. They manage to put two objects in the same place at the same time. In several hours they do more than I have in several days.
Friend who has the Challengers comes over. Both are running, purring! The only problem is that they need the big batteries. They can only start once or twice on the small battery from one of his cars. So, he starts them once or twice, then charges the batteries!.
3-22-99 7:00am-friends arrive to finish unloading the truck. They've hired someone to help them with the lifting! It makes me feel so good to have such friends. There's no room in the garage for the last fifty boxes of books. They put them outside, covered with a tarp. I want to cry when see my books sitting out in the weather.
The person who will be storing the trucks still hasn't been able to contact their neighbor. I call the judge, she gives me one more day. She has been giving me one more day all week, while we have been trying to get things organized and coordinated. I cannot understand what is happening. I walk into a trial I didn't expect, where I'm found guilty of a crime with a life sentence penalty, then she patiently gives me one day after another as I try to find places for the trucks, as person after person suddenly decides they can't help me.
The criminal attorney calls. He says that the judge says that, if I get rid of the cars and trucks, nothing further will happen. I ask if we can get something in writing. He says no, but, if she puts me in jail, call him, and he will call her and remind her of what she told him. He says I don't have to get an attorney, I don't have to get on the internet, I just have to get those cars out of Canyonville. (Now how does he know I'm on the internet?)
Called Oregonians in Action; they will look at the material and call me back. Suggested I call the ACLU. The ACLU has only an answering machine.
Call Legal Club of American attorney. He can't get back to me for 3-4 weeks
I learn a neighbor got a tap on their phone when they were receiving phone calls where the caller would hang up as soon as she answered.
“Of course they'd put a tap on her line, but not on yours,” my caustic friend said, “They're not worried about someone too chicken even to voice threats. But they sure don't want to risk finding out who your psychopath is.”
3-23-99 3:00am-Threatening phone call. Voice is woman(?) man(?) trying to sound like a child trying to be sexy. These people are really sick. Can't remember exact words, but similar to: “Oh! Thank you for getting those nasty old trucks off our property! As soon as they re gone, we'll move in. Cause you'll be gone! You did the crime, you're gonna do the time. (Sorta sing song) But don't bother with the pets, we'll kill them ourselves. We rather enjoy it.”
3-23-99 The complainer files a complaint against my neighbor who has the running Challengers. My neighbor calls the city, says he didn't want a tow truck suddenly showing up in his yard. The city administrator said that could happen.
My neighbor calls the judge. The judge tells him to have a letter on her desk, by Friday, telling her exactly what he is going to do with the cars. That may take care of the criminal matter, but the city can still send out a tow truck without notice. No, they can't do that, the judge says. If the two Challengers are running, and licensed, they can sit in my drive way forever. But the city has told my friend that he can't have them. Period. Nor can I. No one is allowed to “store” a vehicle on their property. Since I can only drive one car at a time, any other is “stored.” Not allowed.
My friend rearranges his yard so he can put the Orange Challenger in the locking garage. This will take several days. He puts up a “No Trespassing” sign.
Another neighbor who was going to park one of the running Challengers on their property, and talk to anyone about what happens to them, decides they do not want to do this. They have suddenly realized the ordinance allows the city “agent” to issue a citation without any warning. A citation that endangers their home.
Another friend tells me that he cannot keep the Red Challenger on his property and wait for something to happen. He's been told he will receive a citation, without warning, if he does so. Anyone parking any of my cars on their property will get a citation, without warning. I am suddenly losing friends very rapidly. This is much more serious than they thought.
TWO deputy sheriff are seen at property where the Challengers are parked.. The newspaper reports a citation issued for “theft of services” in this block. Reportedly, they are accusing my neighbor of having one water meter for the two residences on his property. Probably half the homes in this town are sharing water meters. We're not certain there is any ordinance against this, but that isn't stopping them from citing him. He certainly didn't know it was illegal. According to a friend, he's honest as a church pole . . . and he'd admit connecting the water, even if it meant a $100,000 fine and 10 years in jail.
People can't remember anything like this happening before. “They NEVER do anything like this!” one person exclaims indignantly, “If it IS against some city ordinance, they'd just say so, and he would hook up a meter.” The only time the previous administration even considered having anyone cited for theft of services was when a squatter kept turning the water on after the city turned it off for non payment of a 4-month water bill. Then the city was told they couldn't cite him because he was a squatter.
Now people are starting to get worried. “Why are they doing this?” several people ask.
Then someone points out that two sheriffs are sent out for this questionable citation, but not even one sheriff was sent to investigate the thefts and vandalism happening to me. “What is happening here?” he snarls.
My friend says, “Hey, this ordinance was originally intended to seize property. Someone got greedy, and went after her cars. She screamed bloody murder, now they have to get rid of her - and all her friends - before they can go after the property.”
“Well, something is sure happening here, and it isn't right,” he says.
“I told you they were after me,” I proclaim triumphantly.
“Well, if you're not careful, you're going to end up like that guy machine gunned down in the street,” my friend says, “When they did the autopsy, they found “I told you they were after me,” written on his chest with a magic marker.”
I wonder where my magic markers are.
3-25-99 2:30am. I turn off my bedroom light. The neighbor watchdog barks. Vandals are throwing my books onto the muddy ground. The next morning I find them. They are wet from the rain. I am despondent. This is such a small matter after everything they have done to me, but it hurts me all out of proportion. I am not strong enough to lift any of these boxes. I am incredibly tired and discouraged.
Then I get mad. I call the police, and tell them that I know they are not going to do anything about this, but they are going to take a report. They take a telephone report of the vandalism and the theft of the tow chains from John Henry and Lenny.
The phone rings. The last of the Legal Club of American attorneys calls with his excuse as to why he can't even give me telephone advice.
I have reached the end of my rope, tied a knot in it. The knot unraveled. I tied another knot. It was cut off. I try to tie another knot, but I'm not doing such a good job. Suddenly a friend ties a good knot in the end. Now I have to hold on one more week.
Because there are people who don't have friends to help them stick it out one more day. So we all have to stick it out, and fight for all the lonely people who can't fight for themselves.