I just have a message.

Some people aren't going to like it.

AND NOT EVEN A CORK WILL HELP.

In the fall of the year 2000 my life took an abrupt downward turn when I matriculated at Louisiana State University Law School, a.k.a, the Paul Hebert Law Center. Until that point my life had been a slowly expanding upward spiral, as is the case with many productive citizens. The reason that my life took an abrupt downward turn is that I did not desire a sexual relationship with a woman named Victoria McDaniel. I did not desire a sexual relationship with Victoria McDaniel because, as I told her, I was married. Further, as I did tell her, I was not even interested in discussing sex with her. Furthermore, as of this day, August 18, 2006, I have never committed adultery. Adultery: a married person having sex with any person other than with his or her spouse.

Everything I will relate within this blog will be the truth. In its entirety it may paint a disturbing picture [ I know, how cliche'] of judicial politics. Within this post you will come across the names of persons, and these names may be familiar to you, such as Supreme Court Justice Scalia*, an acquaintance of John Baker, a law professor at LSU Law whose name will appear. You will read about John J. Costonis, the chancellor of LSU Law, who did, and I have a document indicating so given to me by a police officer, give my name, for reasons unknown and unknowable to me, to a representative of a task force investigating a series of murders in the Baton Rouge area. You will read about Howard L'Enfant, the Dean of Student Affairs at Louisiana State University Law School, that did, in front of a class full of law students, indicate that he had knowledge of what was transpiring, and when questioned by me, had denied any knowledge. You will read about Marlene Allgood, a legal writing professor at LSU Law school, who did get caught up in whatever con Ms. McDaniel had begun, and did use her sex as a weapon against me.

You will read about my experiences at Loyola Law School, New Orleans. You will read about Dean Klebba, the Dean of Loyola Law School New Orleans at the time I was told to leave. You will read about Lawrence Moore, S.J., the assistant Dean of Loyola Law School New Orleans at the time that I was told to leave. You will also read about the Reverend Bernard P. Knoth, the President of Loyola University New Orleans, who left to answer allegations about a sexual incident with a student at another school he had been in charge of. You will read about Stephanie Jumonville, Dean of Student Affairs of Loyola University New Orleans at the time I was told to leave. You will read about Camille Buras, a judge at the time, and about Professor Derbigny, who became a judge. You will read about Professor Medina and what she did in front of a class full of students.

You will read about Federal Judge Sarah Vance, and Louisiana District Court Judges Piper Griffin, Sassone, Morvant, Timothy Kelley, Madeline Jasmine, and Snowdy. You will read about my letter to the clerk of court of the Louisiana State Supreme Court and his return phone call to me at my home. (The thing I like about the people that phoned me is that it is so provable, that is, if they called me from a telephone generally accessible to them and limited in its' use by others.)

*Actually, Scalia is okay. I only mention his name: a) for the potential for more traffic, and, b) because, he is actually a verifiable {right on the net} acquaintance of John Baker. Scalia is okay because of a recent comment he made concerning his perception of the intelligence of those persons that regarded the United States Constitution as a 'living' document. Professor Medina had stood in front of the class and effusively [crow-like flutterings and smiles] expressed the idea that the United States Constitution was a 'living' document. However, this is not my complaint about her.

Further, you will read about many people who are not culpable in any way that I am aware of. These include Pam Occhipinti, the career counselor at Loyola Law School New Orleans, whom I never recall treating me in any other manner than professional. You will read about Sarah Whalen, a professor of law that both my wife and I became acquainted with. Professor Whalen did call me some time after I filed my Federal civil action and state to me that she had been fired after calling campus security on Dean Klebba. I had no reason to disbelieve her. According to Professor Whalen, she had been working late in her office with the door locked and someone let themselves in with a key. She called campus security and the intruder turned out to be Dean Klebba. [Actually, he was no longer the Dean, I can only presume he just still had the keys, or access to them.] Professor Whalen did not infer in any way to me that she felt endangered by Klebba. Professor Whalen did state to me that the stated reason for her termination was that she was too old. I found this hard to believe, that a law school would do this. However, given my own experiences, this is not so far fetched.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541445)

The Paul Hebert Law Center

The Beginning

This website will chronicle what happened to me at two successive law schools, Louisiana State University School of Law, aka, the Paul Hebert Law Center, and Loyola School of Law, New Orleans.

It is my intent that all dates shall be read as 'on or about,' whether the specific language is included. This chronicle is a legal document in the sense that I am stating, as a fact, that the events I will describe did happen. That is, this chronicle is testimony no court cared to hear. You, the reader, will have to draw your own conclusions as to why.

Information within the text of which I was not aware when the described event took place will be italicized. Also italicized will be 'things' that I do not know for a fact, not having lived it or being able to read minds. I will include, to the best of my ability to do so without failure, the appropriate language such as: I suspect, I believe, and other terms commonly recognizable as being the precursor to a conjecture.

Finally, it is my intent to publish on this site various legal documents. These will include my lawsuits, evidence, memorandums from myself and opposing counsels, and any other documentation I believe necessary to confirm what I am stating. It shall be some time before I am prepared to do so, as I am only now beginning to learn website publishing.

To begin reading about what law school can be like, click here: http://www.judicialmalfeasance.blogspot.com

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541451)

Within this sub group I am in the category 40 something.

Within this category I am in the subcategory married.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541454)

I do hope that you can answer this question negatively:

1) Would admitting I have knowledge about this adversely effect my life or career?

I do hope that you can answer this question positively.

2) Would admitting I have knowledge serve to right a wrong?

I do hope that if you have answered question number 1 negatively and question number 2 positively that you will contact me. You do not have to name yourself. I would need just enough information that I could identify you should I ever find a non-corrupt forum. A non-corrupt forum by my definition is a forum that does not have a prejudicial perception of litigants as naturally behaving in one manner or another.

freespeechma@yahoo.com

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541455)

This blog will recount the story of what happened to me at successive law schools. The first was LSU Law in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the second was Loyola School of Law, New Orleans.

It is my intent to write all dates as 'on or about.' This blog is not meant to be a legal document, except perhaps for the evidentiary reasons that the assertion is being made that the following events actually happenend, so, absolute accuracy of the dates is not critical. What is or could be important is the when of the events, that is, what occurred when and in relation to what.

Information contained within the text that I was not aware of when the event happened but did learn later will be italicized.

It is my intent to publish online various document's. These document's will include my lawsuits, other official documentation and evidence. When I establish a website with the documents, I will insert the appropriate hyperlink.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541457)

On or about August 11, 2000, I matriculated at LSU Law. This day was given to orientation. I shared the school sponsored luncheon with two men, both named Bart. Then and after I referred to them as Bart squared. After this luncheon we had a brief period of free time. I decided to walk a short distance and survey the Student Union. On my return walk, after I had crossed Highland Road, which the 'old' law school faces, I proceeded a short distance up the sidewalk. I turned about and looked at the student union building and the large grassy quadrangle the building faced. At that moment I was as happy as I had ever been in my life.

I turned to resume my walk back to the law school. I saw a black woman approaching. There was a low tree branch which crossed the sidewalk and encroached on the road. I stopped to allow this woman to pass. As she passed me I touched the tree branch and remarked that someone needed to cut this. We exchanged smiles and I resumed my return to the law school. After another brief round of orientation meetings we were dismissed and invited to partake of refreshments being served outside, in front of the school entry doors. Beer was one of the refreshments, but I had a soft drink. I leaned against one of the columns and observed the people. Two people skipped up to me. I do mean SKIPPED. These people introduced themselves as Vicki and Chris. I later came to learn that Chris's name was Miguel Aguillard and the woman was Victoria Monier. I decided to go home. I drove home floating on contentment. I had a good day and met a few friendly people.

http://www.judicialmalfeasance.blogspot.com/2006/07/lsu-law-school-victoria-mcdaniel-2.html

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541461)

On or about Monday, August 14, 2000, I returned to the LSU campus to begin classes. The first class of that day was contracts [I actually need to go back and dig through my notes, journals, and other evidence to be positive of this, but for now I'll leave it at that.] This class was held in that building referred to hereinafter as the 'old' law school. The first floor of this building is about at an elevation of 10 feet. There is an approximately 20 foot wide concrete staircase that ascends to this level. On either side of this staircase there is a concrete wall that is horizontally level from the landing at the top of the staircase. So, a nice seat is created starting at about the third step down.

At the completion of the class I exited the front doors of the 'old' law school. Nearly everyone else in the class went in another direction which I later learned was a labyrinthine route to the 'new' law school. I took a seat on the concrete wall at the side of the staircase, approximately facing the faculty club and about 8 steps down. I opened a textbook and began to read. Within a few moments the doors that I had just exited opened and the young woman, Vicki, that I had met on the prior Friday, August 11, was standing there. I glanced at her. When I did she tucked her elbows to her side, slightly crouched, and began walking down the stairs towards me. As she did, she stated: "I know what all you boy's are thinking, you want to have sex with that girl." I held up my left hand towards her face and stated: "I don't want to have this conversation." Victoria Monier/McDaniel has since admitted this. She immediately stood upright and walked down the last couple of steps towards me and sat next to me on the wall. We began a 'normal' conversation. I learned her full name was Victoria Monier. Victoria Monier was actually her married name. At this time she had been divorced for four months from Toby Kyle Monier of Mamou, Louisiana. She entered school under her married name, Monier, graduated under her maiden name, McDaniel, and then got a clerk position with Judge Timothy Kelley of the 19th JDC, BRLA, a few months after graduation under her married name, Monier. This conversation lasted about 5 minutes. At the end of this 5 minutes I had decided that she was okay and that her behavior was just an aberration, a kidding around. (I have encountered this often in the field in which I was employed, construction.) I asked if she would like to get a hamburger. She agreed and we walked down to the student union and went into the McDonalds therein. When we sat down with our burgers I tried, as subtlety as possible, to convey to her that her earlier display was not an acceptable behavior. I thought she got it. We left Mcdonald's and walked back to the law school for our next class that day, Criminal Law with Mr. John Baker.

We entered the class and all the seats were taken save for one. Ms. Monier headed for that seat and I was instructed by Mr. Baker to take a seat by him on the raised dais. I elected to sit on the carpeted edge of the dais. I believe the lesson was not lost on me, and I believe this lesson was 'be on time to my class.' Although I believe I actually had a number of seconds to spare [maybe not.] I presume I was supposed to be embarrassed by this, but I wasn't. I did determine at that moment I would not be late, or even shave it close, again. I did not realize at the time how highly demonstration's of respect are expected in the legal profession. So, in hindsight, and unfortunately, John Baker can kiss my butt for failing to apprise me of whatever rumor eventually ended up going around about myself and Ms. Monier.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541466)

That night, after I had arrived at home, I thought about the events of the day. I put together that given Ms. McDaniel's exaggerated display of sexual aggressiveness, and, given how quickly she had ceased the display when I had reacted adversely, and, that nearly all the other students had gone in a direction other than the obvious easiest way out of the building , that this had been some kind of a hazing.

Over the next few weeks there ensued a pattern of behavior instigated by Ms. McDaniel where she would become very sexually suggestive and I would respond either by speaking about my wife, telling her I did not care to have a conversation along those lines, and in some instances, I was so flabbergasted by what came out of her mouth that I did not know what to say. These instances of sexual aggressiveness were spaced out [I mean temporally.] It did never occur to me until it was far too late that this woman, for whatever reason, actually did want me to have sex with her. I say 'for whatever reason' as I had entered law school as a 42 year old 300 pound fat guy. [Although I did have a lot of muscle, most of the 300 was fat.]

During the first couple of weeks I became more convinced that this was some kind of a hazing that would eventually end. There were a number of 'things' that gave me this idea. Among these were:

A) At or near the beginning of the second week I was sitting on the wall alongside the steps of the old law building [I had picked this spot as a great place to sit and read] and Ms. McDaniel was perched alongside me and in front of me were arranged, sitting on the steps in three rows of three, nine female law students. Among these student's was Kendra McCune and a female that had graduated from Princeton, I believe. I recall Kendra's name for a number of reason's. Among these was that I found her to be genuinely pleasant at all times. I believe two student's, one named Nu Le, and the other named Mary Drabnis may have been among them.

The following note and events described therein is out of sequence of the way the events happened.

[Oh, and Kendra, if you ever do read this, I think that it was unnecessary to get that slight alteration. I have wondered if you were surprised that I recognized you when I came up to the law school in the spring of the year 2003. I have also wondered whether Eve Blanchard was surprised I recognized her with her hair dyed black. It wasn't hard, she cocked her right eyebrow up in just such a way that she knew was recognizable. I asked her where the stairwell had been moved to. Oh yeah, when I was approaching the building Miguel Aguillard was walking with that skinny twerp that had been Levassuer's 'aide', the same skinny twerp that went to work for that company that sells bar preparedness courses. Miguel Aguillard sure got a sick look on his face when he saw me. I have wondered if this was because he had presumed that I was something I am not, and, the day after I had a meeting with L'Enfant and was in the computer lab, and, over an approximate 30 minute period, he was the lone male among more than 30 women that took the empty seat beside me, looked at me, and then got up and left. He may have been successful sitting next to Patrick Wood, who did take a tissue out of his pocket, display to me that my name and telephone number were written on it, and then state he had been thinking about calling me the prior weekend.]

B) The student Nu Le, {pronounced New Lay} did, when I was sitting on a low concrete bench near the front of the school, squat down about three feet in front of me with her knees spread quite far apart. I did not think too much of it at that moment as Ms. Le was asian, and, I have been to Korea and have observed men and women squatting like this. However, given that Ms. Le spoke English extremely well, and, given that she was apparently educated, and that educated women do not squat down in front of males with their legs spread, I believe it is more likely than not that this was a sexually suggestive posture.

C) During the classes, the professors began paying more attention to me. Now, the reasonable person could ask, how could the amount of attention being paid to any particular student be assessed? Well, given that the classes were comprised of about 70 students, and, given that my name is alphabetically in the middle, and given that I could reasonably be described as average, I thought it odd that some professors were attempting to engage me in platonic style educational discourse within the first two weeks of school.

D) There were other instances of less than appropriate behavior from other female law students during this time that led me to believe I was being hazed. An instance that comes to mind at this moment is I was sitting up in the third floor of the library with three other students at a table. I believe among these three students were Lori DuTrielle (there was some kind of legal writing assignment that required cooperation) and Mary Drabnis or Cara Raymond. So, I am sitting there with a book open in front of me. I look to my right and notice this blond haired girl with a guy right behind her. She approached me rapidly up the aisle and introduced herself. The guy behind her had quite a sour look on his face. I remember this girl because although she was naturally pretty she had too much make-up on [kinda whorish looking], and she was missing an upper tooth on the side. Now, what is odd about this is that I was a 300 pound 42 year old guy. I recall that the other people at the table expressed no surprise at the manner in which this girl approached me. This meant to me then, and now, that whatever was going on, the other people at this table knew about it. And then, I still thought it was a hazing. Now, what I think is that Victoria McDaniel had a reputation for going after men in a sexually aggressive manner, and, these people had been observing me and knew that I had done nothing to warrant her attention, and, was not a sexually suggestive person as a matter of course, and, this woman, Victoria McDaniel, was going around inferring that I desired her greatly and was very suggestive about this desire.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541467)

Hi ich bin Chriswab aus Bottrop. Viele Grüsse !!

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541469)

Ms. McDaniel had an interest in me, and it seemed other people had an interest in what Ms. McDaniel was doing. Among these people was Steve Lafluer. Steve LaFluer is from Ville Platte, Louisiana, not far, although I did not know it at the time, from where Victoria McDaniel claimed residency, Mamou. Ted Richard was another, who for some reason I could not put my finger on, struck me as being more like a cop or bodyguard than a law student. Which is not to say police officers cannot be law students, or that police officers enrolled in law school act in a different way than law students. Ted Richard had a very subtle air, disguised with bon aimee, of being on duty rather than being a student.

The following is all out of sync, but for some reason I am compelled to state it now. When I filed suit No. 505,621 against Ms. McDaniel at the 19th JDC in Baton Rouge, Louisiana I knew very little about her. Prior to filing the suit I discovered she had been divorced four months before entering LSU Law and that her maiden name was McDaniel. I was spurred to investigate who this woman was as I had called LSU Law school during the week of, around or about, March 12, 2003, and spoke to, I believe, Michele Forbes. I was informed that no student with the name Monier was enrolled or had been enrolled. I told my wife this and she called the law school and asked the same question. The person told my wife that they would check again and call her back. Within a few minutes the phone rang and my wife answered it. According to my wife the call was from the law school confirming that no student named Monier had been enrolled. So off I went to where she claimed to be from, Mamou, Louisiana. I went to the elementary school there and asked to look at yearbooks. Ms. McDaniel had told me she had been a teacher so I determined that the elementary school may be a good place to start to find out who she was. I had no luck. So I went to the Mamou library, and again had no luck, although I first heard the names Cecil and Janice Monier here, which turned out to be her ex-in-laws. So, it finally dawned on me to go to the Evangeline parish courthouse and look up her marriage license. This is when I found out her maiden name of McDaniel. I again called the law school and asked about whether a student named McDaniel was enrolled. The response I received was that they could not give out information about students. Which is of course BS, as directory information is public information, as a matter of Federal Law. I still did not have enough information on this woman to serve suit on her, so I found out her address with a web search. To be sure it was her, on Saturday morning I drove to Port Allen, in West Baton Rouge parish, to see for myself. I drove down the street and lo and behold there was the car she had been driving the last time I had ever seen her, about 2 and 1/2 years before. To achieve near absolute certainty I wanted a look inside it to see if there were any legal texts within, so I walked into the driveway and looked in the windows of the vehicle. There were no legal texts. As I was only 99.99% sure about whether the person directory information listed as living here was the same Victoria McDaniel that I needed to sue, I took down the license plate number. I drove to the LSU campus police department and asked the duty police officer if he would check the plate to ensure whether it had ever been registered on campus to Victoria McDaniel. The police officer referred to a computer on the desktop and appeared to be checking. The response was no, the plate or vehicle had never been registered on campus. So I asked whether the plate had ever been registered on campus to Victoria Monier, and again the response was no. I had been in this woman's car and had seen the hanging tag that indicated that the operator had a vehicle registered on campus. So, Ms. McDaniel either had another vehicle registered which she never drove, or had borrowed or stolen the hanging tag that I had seen.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541472)

I have previously posted a few events that gave rise and support to my theory that I was being hazed during the first few weeks of law school. I had related an incident that occurred in the library. The following incident transpired within a few days of the first. I was sitting at a table on the third floor of the library, again working on that legal writing assignment that required cooperation. At the table with me were three other students. I believe these were Jon Kuni, Lori DuTrielle, and Cara Raymond. Someone mentioned Ms. Allgood, our legal writing professor. I did not have much to say except I thought she was hot. [I meant she was very attractive, I just had a poor choice of words.]

During our next legal writing class session Ms. Allgood discussed strict and absolute liability in the State of Louisiana and asked for examples of what constituted either. I raised my hand and suggested blasting. Ms. Allgood faced me, from about 8 feet away, cocked her body back, pointed directly at her crotch, I MEAN POINTED AT IT, and stated, "Pile Driving." She hesitated a moment and then stated, "You asked for it, buddy." I was momentarily shocked.

At the conclusion of this legal writing class session Jon Kuni and I were still in our seats while nearly all other students were about out the door. Ms. Allgood remained in the classroom. I was going to wait until everybody had left and attempt to ascertain what had compelled this display. Ms. Allgood stated that she had heard a {risque} joke [I cannot remember the exact word. ] but was hesitant to share it as she feared being sued for sexual harassment. I did not really understand what sexual harassment was at the time, I do now, in spades. I said I was okay with it and looked over my shoulder at Jon Kuni, and he indicated he was okay with it also. Ms. Allgood then stated the question 'Why is sex like a crime?' Both Jon Kuni and I had no ready answer. Ms. Allgood approached the seats and climbed up on the first seat and leaned forward until her face was within inches of mine, and I was leaning way back. She stated: "Because the more I miss it, de meaner I get." Now I was in shock. The following day, or the day thereafter, I went to her office and asked if I had offended her. She stated no, and inquired why did I ask. I told her about the incident in the library and explained that I had not meant that I thought she was "hot to trot" but merely that she was attractive. I did not mention her objectionable displays in the classroom. She knew what she had done, and so did I.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541476)

I've been feeling pretty mean lately if you know what I'm saying... I sure could use a man like you in my "jury box."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541477)

There came a time, starting around the fourth week of school, when other students with whom I had become acquainted had a subtle change in attitude, to the negative, toward me. I had put Ms. McDaniel on my AOL buddy list early on in the semester. We had chatted a couple of times. One evening during this time I was on AOL and I was notified that Ms. McDaniel was online. I greeted her. Within moments I realized that whoever was at the other end of this conversation was not Ms. McDaniel. At that moment I became perturbed. I had already determined that the change in attitude towards me was a result of me 'not going for it' with Ms. McDaniel or any of the other female law students that had expressed an interest, and thereby had spoiled their fun. After a few sentences speaking with this person I decided I would find out who it was. Although Ms. McDaniel and I had never had an online conversation that was off color [everything off color came out of her mouth] I figured the person on the other end would not know this. So, I typed in: "No porno tonight." The person on the other end immediately said that they had to go, goodbye.

The next morning I arrived early, as was my habit, and took a seat on the concrete wall adjacent to the steps of the old law school, and waited. I was looking for a definite change in attitude. That morning a few students gave me extremely dirty looks as they passed. I thought, "Bingo." Among these students that exhibited a definite and outward negative change in attitude towards me were Phil "Philo" Constantin, and Jim Letham.

The first class of this day was contracts. I sat in the uppermost row, away from the podium, slightly to the left of the podium as viewed from the podium. During this class, Mr. Bowers, whom Ms. McDaniel has admitted going to with some complaint about me, stood in front of his podium, slightly crouched like an umpire, swung his hands crisscross in front of him at about waist level and exclaimed, "You're a scumbag, you surf porno on the net and everybody in the section knows it." At the time I did believe that he was addressing me. However, a long time afterward, I remembered he had been looking at Ms. McDaniel when he stated this. That is all I remember from that class on this day. Except, maybe, this was the day Bowers talked about the Lucy case, where I believe a court upheld a contract for the sale of land that was written on a napkin. [I have long since deep sixed the text I used in Bowers class, this nitwit really believed, or at least acted like he did, that the outcome of Peeveyhouse v.

Garland Coal Mining Co. was a good decision. Maybe it was good for setting a precedent of diminished value, I do not recall whether the diminished value theory of recovery was extant prior to this case. In any event, most of the judges that heard this case as it wound its way through the courts were eventually imprisoned, as should be nearly every judge I have appeared before regarding the suits that have arisen from the events that I am relating. I will explain why, now that I have finally figured it all out, near the end of this blog.]

I had an intent to no longer speak with Ms. McDaniel after this day. I felt immeasurably better having come to this decision.

Two days later the contracts class again met. At the end of the session I remained in my seat after everyone, including Mr. Bowers, had left the room. A few moments after the last student had left the room Mr. Bowers re-entered the room through the door on my right. He walked in about two steps, faced more or less the upper corner of the room to my right, and asked: "Did you do it on purpose?" I shook my head no, and he turned and left the room. I thought that the unspoken question was, more or less: 'Did you intend to make me look like a jackass?' My intent had been to find out who the person was that had falsely represented theirself as Ms. McDaniel a few nights before.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541481)

There are a few incidents that occurred after the last incident that I have related thus-far that the exact order of escapes me at the moment. I am writing this blog from memory. Various members of Loyola Law school New Orleans are in possession of a copy of the chronicle of these events that I brought to Professor Derbigny within the first couple of weeks of my enrollment at Loyola. So, any deviation from that chronicle will surely be exploited one day. But, I say, so what. The events I am describing should be contained within it. And, the details of the incidents should never be inconsistent, as far as I can recall.

However, there may be one inconsistency of which I am already aware. On or about November 11, 2000, I delivered to Cheney Joseph a copy of the chronicle which included events up to that date. In front of me Mr. Joseph placed a yellowish sheet of paper on the front and back of the chronicle, stapled it, wrote something on it, and stated that he did not care to read this now, but when I graduated he would read it should I still want him to. He did tell me he would forthwith send it to be placed in my student record. After I left LSU Law I went and retrieved this document from the office in which Ms. Forbes works. I took it home and never took the staples out until 2004, when I wanted just to see what I had given to Cheney Joseph four years before. [I believe he is the most 'legit' administrator there.] I flipped through it and I came to the place where she mentions her gun. It now read something like this (I am truly writing all this from memory) "I keep a gun under my bed, well here, but not at my father's house." THAT AIN'T WHAT SHE SAID. Not only is that not what she said, but it doesn't make any sense for her to have said this. The reason is that when she stated she had a gun under her bed she was pissed. A moment later she tried to be placatory. She wouldn't try to be placatory and state that she had a gun under her bed ''here." [Wherever "here" was, she had told me she stayed in Denham Springs with her father in a small, dirty trailer with her dog she wasn't supposed to have there because her father's landlord did not allow pets. When I started researching this woman I found out her father had a trailer in Denham Springs that had been seized for property taxes. I think it probably was just junk that he had abandoned, so this was a way to get rid of it, free.]

In hindsight, I suspect she stayed on campus somewhere. I suspect other female law students stayed in the same place. I suspect this is why my request for discovery of where and with whom she lived during that semester was not allowed. Of course, I could be wrong about what I suspect about where she actually resided, and why my reasonable discovery requests were not allowed.

THE FOLLOWING INCIDENT IS GOING TO SOUND BIZARRE IN THE EXTREME, BUT IT REALLY HAPPENED JUST THE WAY I AM ABOUT TO RELATE IT.

After this incident wherein Ms. McDaniel had inferred she was mad enough at me to shoot me, I had a few days of peace at LSU Law. Not only had I not spoken to Ms. McDaniel, the regular crew that sat outside on the wall aside the steps of the old law school had not been around either. I figured that they were pissed off with me for what I had done to Victoria McDaniel a few days before. But, as I had not meant to be cruel, I did not care. I was able to sleep again, and felt better than I had in a couple of weeks. The peace ended the day that I, as with other students, was scheduled for an individual conference with Marlene Allgood concerning our first independent legal writing assignment. [ The assignment had a sexual aspect to it; in hindsight, what else could be expected from a female lawyer?]

I arrived on time for the conference. Cara Raymond was sitting on an institutional style couch (I think it was green) across from the short hall that served Ms. Allgood's and another legal writing professor's office's. In the center of this couch was placed an object, it was some type of furniture. It was out of place but I figured a maintenance person had set it there to make cleaning the corridor easier. I sat down on the couch on the other side of this piece of furniture.

Cara spoke to me and stated that she was late for her scheduled meeting and wondered, if it were okay with Ms. Allgood, could she go ahead. I said sure, no problem, or something along those lines. [In hindsight I should have snarled and said: no, you twit, this is law school. But, since I did not have any pressing engagements for the next few months I thought it was okay.]

As I sat there on the couch reading, I noticed a plastic soda bottle in the doorway. I got up, picked it up, and went and threw it in the trash. As I returned to the couch, Ms. Allgood exited her office, entered the common hall, stuck her head out the door, looked down at where the soda bottle had been, looked down the hall, looked at me, and then returned into her office. I thought this just slightly odd. But, this woman had no problem pointing straight at her crotch in front of the class, and no problem delivering the punchline to a risque joke directly in my face, so who knows what the hell she was thinking about the soda bottle.

Cara eventually exited Ms. Allgood's office and I stood up to enter. Ms. Allgood excused herself to use the restroom and asked if I would mind waiting. I, of course, did not. [Nothing that I had to do that was pressing had occurred to me in the past fifteen minutes.]

Ms. Allgood returned from the restroom. As she passed by me, she swung a white piece of cotton on a string under my nose. I think it was a tampon. We entered her office. There were two padded wood frame chairs, about a foot apart, placed against the wall opposite her desk, less than three feet away. [She had a small office.] Ms. Allgood took the chair farthest from the door and sat, tucking her legs under her. I sat upright. We started discussing my assignment. Ms. Allgood leaned over closer to me and stated the words: sex, sex, sex. While she did this she fluttered her fingers fingers in my face. She then puckered up her lips, closed her eyes and leaned even closer. I just sat there looking directly into her face while her eyes were closed and her lips were puckered up wondering what the hell was going on now. There had been something fake about the whole ordeal. It was an act, and she was a bad actor, like something out of a 'B' movie from the 1910's {not that I have actually ever watched one}, exaggeratedly batting her eyelashes and so forth. I decided to play along. I recall the assignment was about where to find liability for a sexually transmitted disease in a hospital setting between two employee's, a doctor and a nurse. I said: We could whack the doctor. I think Ms. Allgood said no, the doctor was dead. I said: We could whack the hospital. She had some negative comment about that, so I think I suggested whacking the widow. Well, the conference was over. Ms. Allgood got up, walked around to the other side of her desk, pulled on the top of her blouse opening it slightly, made a whoosh sound, and then stated she'd e-mail me. I said okay and walked out the door. I actually smiled as I walked away, even given the underlying malevolence I had detected in Ms. Allgood's bad acting, as at that moment I thought it had been kind of fun. I was a sane person surrounded by numerous sexually malevolent insane people. I finally understood it, and everything was going to be alright now that I had a handle on it. This feeling that maybe everything was going to be alright dissipated within an hour.

Butwhat happened within the next hour is going to have to be put on hold. I have to tell in my next post a few filler's that are in and out of synch or chronology, but, that all have bearing, and, may shed light on some other things. I have to include in my next post many 'things' which I merely suspect.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541487)

Ever wonder why everyone you ever met is a nut? That's because you are a psychopath suffering from paranoid schizophrenia experiencing delusions of grandeur. Please seek professional counseling, or kill self.

Vicki

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541489)

TITCR

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541492)

http://www.xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=480903&mc=96&forum_id=2

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541495)

A few days had passed after I had shaken my head no to the unspoken question posed by Mr. Bowers and I had not spoken again to Ms. McDaniel. I was very tired as I was neither sleeping nor eating well. I had begun to lose weight, without any conscious effort on my part.

I exited the doors of the old law school and sat on the concrete wall. I laid back to catch a snooze before my next class. After a few minutes Ms. McDaniel exited the doors and came and sat on the wall beside me, a couple of feet away and closer to the landing. I do not believe that I even greeted her. She laid back and put her book sack over her face so that it covered most of her face except for her mouth. She stated: 'I would like to lay naked under a window air conditioner wearing pink fuzzy slippers while Arnold Scharwznegger, Chuck Norris and {maybe Mel Gibson} feed me grapes.' I leaned my head back over the edge of the wall and stated: 'I would like to have a 40 x 60 workshop and { I rattled off a list of stationary tools.} That was the end of this conversation with Ms. McDaniel.

I went home that evening and again was unable to sleep. The how, what or why of my thoughts that evening I am unable to remember. However, the conclusion I came to was this: That whatever was going on at the law school was not going to end unless I agreed to be intimate with this slut. One of the 'what's' I remember is that she was never going to quit.

[With the benefit of hindsight what was going on was this: Students and faculty were aware that Ms. McDaniel was a sexually aggressive young woman. Some other students, whether unknown to either the faculty or students, were goading Ms. McDaniel on. The reason that I was being sexually assaulted (as opposed to battered, which would mean hands being laid on me) was to compel me to make a complaint about her. However, Ms. McDaniel did lay her hand on my left thigh some time earlier in the second floor atrium. {the second floor atrium no longer exists, the building was remodeled} Her hand did rest too close to my crotch and I did get tense. But what was I supposed to do about it. She is a woman, and men do not generally complain about sexual harassment when the harasser is a female. It is a cultural thing. And further, it never even entered my mind that I could complain about a female sexually harassing me. Furthermore, it would have been my word against hers.]

The next day I again exited the doors of the old law school and took a seat. Ms. McDaniel came out of the doors. She once again sat near me. We exchanged a few unpleasantries. She got up to leave. She got most of the way down the steps and I got up to follow. We walked around the building towards the front parking lot. At that point where there is a building corner which having passed it the front parking lot becomes more visible I stated: "I'd like to entertain your fantasy."

She responded, and not too nicely: "I keep a gun under my bed, well, not here, but I do at my father's house." Well, that was that. I had put up with this slut's crap for nearly five weeks. I had never committed adultery. I had told her about the plans that my wife and I had. I had told her I was not interested in even discussing sex with her. I had gotten demonstrably angry about it a few days before [prior to the day of Mr. Bowers demonstration] when speaking to her. A student named John Stamps had witnessed my display of anger, although he could not have known what it was about. I had been subject to subtle and overt malevolent communications from multiple people, students and faculty, at this school. I was not going to speak to her again.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541497)

At the conclusion of my last post I did state how I was going to dedicate this post to other than chronologically ordered events. I will pick up the chronology on the next post, and some of what follows may be repeated. Well, here goes. [Please bear in mind that I did believe, for quite some time, that I was being hazed.]

I suspect Ms. McDaniel had been under psychiatric care for a long time and I believe at some point she started slipping me her med's via my soft drinks. If Ms. McDaniel had not been under psychiatric care for some time then I suspect she began slipping something other than her med's into my soft drinks at first because she wanted me to get interested and then later because she was one vicious and malicious female that would stop at nothing to destroy someone that could get in her way. Ms. McDaniel had threatened me. I did speak to her again, on a couple of occasions after the day that I think of as the day the shit hit the fan. I was trying to find out what, if anything, she had said about me. [Any number of women could have accused me of something, I had been 'alone' in the library with Mary Drabnis, for one. I had been alone with Marlene Allgood in her office for another. And, whatever I may have been accused of was not serious enough to get me booted out of school or any kind of hearing called, or even me being apprised by people that had a responsibility to do so to tell me.] During a telephone conversation in which I was attempting to ascertain cwhat, if anything, she had said about me, she wouldn't answer any question I posed, but she did state: "You had better do something, or else." I did not ask what the something was, I figured it was have sex with her, which had been absolutely and positively out of the question for all time on the day she had inferred she would like to shoot me. And as far as the "or else" part, what could she do? I had not even touched her. All I did was not have sex with her. I have found out what the or "else part" is now. I have been living it for six years. And in hindsight, I believe that when she did make this threat, there were other people listening in on the conversation from her end, which is why I could not get an answer out of her. And, in hindsight, given that other people may have been listening, I suspect she had to come up with something immediately as a reason for this threat, and I suspect the first thing she could think of was to infer she was pregnant, which would explain a lot of what happened at Loyola Law School the following year. If what I have just stated is true, then this woman conned a multitude of lawyers and judges. Further, the con would have fell apart at any time any person that had a duty to do so had apprised me of what the rumors were [like the Dean of Student Affairs, Howard l'Enfant], or had asked me about my relationship with any female other than my wife. I had begun asking people what was going on, and the most common response I received was: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Moving along to other 'things' out of sych or chronology:

A student, Laura Hart, while sitting at a table along with me and Kristy Boxenberger (how's that for a name for a female - Box and Burger) looked at me and stated the word Bipolar. The first possibility is that I think she may have been telling me that Victoria McDaniel was bipolar. The second possibility is that Victoria McDaniel was slipping me her med's, hoping for a negative reaction, and inferring or telling people that I was crazy to cover up for her sexual aggressiveness and penchant for trying to start sexually deviant conversations. That is, as she had failed to get me interested, and she had stated some sexual improprieties, laid her hands on me, and inferred she wanted to shoot me, if I started talking about it she could have wanted people to assume that it was possible that I was crazy. This second possibility, in hindsight, is far more likely.

On one particular day, after that day that I have not related yet that I think of as the day the shit hit the fan, I was standing on the steps of the old law school. I was speaking with Phil Constantin. Victoria McDaniel exited the doors of the old law school and approached us down the steps, stopping a few steps above us. She looked down on us, and, as she slid her eyes across me and over to Phil she stated the word 'insane.' I did not say anything. I have never been a very quick retorter. It has something to do with a lack of wit.

Further, I had not said anything about what had transpired between us. What had transpired between us also transpired at the same time as it was transpiring between me and several other female law students, except none of them was as deviant. If I was going to start talking about what Ms. McDaniel had done, I would have started talking about what all of them had done. And one of them was a fairly obviously malicious female lawyer. Another possibility was that she was saying I was insane because I turned her down. This occurred to me at the time, and was supported by an incident that occurred at Loyola Law school when a couple of female law students walked behind my back and stated, deprecatingly, what kind of a guy would turn it down? There had been no one else around at the moment these two females walked behind my back, and the hazing I have described continued at Loyola Law School.

This incident I have just described transpired at about the same time that another female law student started up. This particular female law student was very attractive. This was Eve Blanchard. Eve was nowhere near as aggressive as anybody thus far had been. [Please bear in mind that I realize, with the benefit of hindsight, that the actions of some of these females was to get me to complain about Victoria McDaniel.] Eve merely stood behind me, about 6 feet away and to my right, in front of the doors to our criminal law class and whispered my name. When I turned to look she was looking at me and had this big smile on her face. This was one pretty woman. She did this on two separate occasions. After the second time I did get pissed off. I was really, really tired of this hazing. While passing down a corridor on the second floor of the law school I noticed Eve, Bradley Luminais, and a couple of other people of their clique, which included Katie Gendusa, sitting at a table approximately in front of a small cafeteria located there. I stopped and stood in front of Eve and stated that people whispering my name drove me nuts. It really didn't, but I wanted it to stop. Now, this was insane. This woman was fine, and if I had not of already been hazed so thoroughly, and had ever committed adultery, I would have went for it. Later, while in class, I whispered Eve's name. I sat behind her about three rows up. Lori Dutrielle, I believe, said, we can hear you. Irrespective of all that was going on, I had to smile. (I have to tell it all, the good, the bad, the otherwise, and no court has been inclined to hear it.)

I suspect that after I ceased associating with Ms. McDaniel, person's sympathetic to whatever yarn she was spinning followed suit; that is, slipping something into my soft drinks. I did begin suffering some effects from something. I was perceiving everything with near absolute clarity, but I became paranoid, fidgety, lost my appetite again and lost about 30 more pounds in about 30 days. My hearing seemed to be more acute and I was able to read in good light without my reading glasses. I did go to Howard L'Enfant and state to him I thought that I was suffering adverse effects from an OTC sleeping medication that I had taken for a few days. I did state to him that I could never be a druggie. Howard L'Enfant did suggest that maybe I needed to try a different drug. After a while the symptoms became worse. I spoke to professor John Church at the end of one class session. I described to him the sensation I was feeling, it was as if a wad of steel wool had been applied to the base of my brain and an electric current applied that was causing an arcing in the steel wool. Another description of the sensation, and at the time I thought of it this way also, was as if a very dark storm cloud had risen directly under my brain and it was emitting lightning. These symptoms had me up in the middle of the night in my garage screaming out the Doors "Light my fire." I know this sounds crazy, but it happened. [the good, the bad, the otherwise] I went to see my physician, Dr. Dominc Arcuri, and told him what was happening, and he prescribed Zoloft for me. (I incorrectly identified it as Lofton somewhen along the line.) I took the Zoloft for a few days and I really started feeling ill, so I discontinued it. When I say ill I mean a totally different 'sensation' from a different part of my head. The two different 'sensations' were just far too much.

I had remarked to one student, while sitting on the concrete wall, that I had come into school one day feeling like I owned the place. I do not know with absolute certainty that the pressure that was being exerted on me on a daily basis did not cause the symptoms I have described. I do know before I met Ms. McDaniel, and after I left LSU Law school I never had these symptoms. I do know that in the spring of the year 2003 I was having a conversation with a friend. This friend has a local judge as an acquaintance. For some reason this friend started talking about some woman that had poisoned some guy. This got me to thinking. I went home and did a web search on Viagra and strychnine. The symptoms I had felt in the fall of the year 2000 were similar to the effects of strychnine poisoning. By the end of the fall semester at LSU Law school my weight had fluctuated about 70 pounds, as my weight had risen back up to 300 and I was very weak.

Within a week or so after I had left LSU Law school a friend, Larry McClain, came by my home. We sat in the garage. He stated that I looked really bad. I did not have anything to say to this, as I knew it. I knew I was weak also. I went out within a few days and bought a set of weights. I had not routinely lifted weights before {there is a photograph of me hanging on a wall somewhere in my home of me doing reverse curls on a universal when I was about twenty. I have to smile when I see it because I had never touched the machine prior to, or again after, the day the photograph was taken. I just happened to walk up to, try reverse curls, and the squadron 'photographer' just happened to be there.}

When I look back and compare what happened to me at Loyola Law School New Orleans, which was, from my point of view, psychologically far worse than what occurred at LSU, and I did not suffer the same mental effects, I believe it is more likely then not that I had been poisoned at LSU.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541500)

I am now getting to the day that the shit hits the fan. This may have been the same day that Steve Lafluer had related his story about getting rid of someone with 88 shots.

I entered John Church's tort's class. It seemed as if all the other students were already there. The time at which the class begun was still a few minutes away yet. The room was silent. Generally, there was quite a bit of chattering going on. On this day, a pen dropping would have been audible, actually startling, given the intensity of the silence. On this day I learned the meaning of palpable to describe something otherwise unmeasurable. The tension in the room was palpable. I went to my seat quietly. Something was going on that I was sure Professor Church would announce. I recall thinking that someone known to these people must have died.

Professor Church started speaking. I forget what Professor Church said but somebody responded: "The doctor did it." There was nervous laughter in the classroom. {No, I cannot define or describe that quality of the laughter that made me identify the laughter as nervous.} Somebody up and over to my left grunted some question. I turned to look and Bradley Luminais was speaking to one of his buddies, a heavyset guy. {I do not know why I am polite about it, he was fat.} Bradley reiterated: 'The doctor did it.' This other guy, in the same row, stated that someone ought to punch him in the nose. [I forget this guy's name, but he drove a black Camaro, late eighties or early nineties, with Mississippi plates.] When this guy uttered this, I internally freaked out. For some reason I thought it was about me. Of course I could have wrong. I could have been overly sensitive because of the ongoing malevolence I was being subjected to. After a few moments the lesson proceeded.

I left the school on this day somewhat shaken.

I returned to school the next day, which was a Friday, and I believe the schedule had been changed to accommodate CLEP (Continuing Legal Education Program) courses in the old law school. I think on this day Mr. Bowers contract class had been moved to the new law building. [During this meeting he described having bought a new vehicle for his son, a pickup truck.] If I recall correctly we had this class first.

I discovered that I had left my criminal law book at home, so I left school, and hurriedly returned home and back. As I recall, on my return trip as I drove on I-10 through Gonzales, it was pouring.

I entered my criminal law class and took my seat. I sat next to Ms. McDaniel in this class as well as Professor Church's Tort's class. Although I had already determined that I did not want to speak to Ms. McDaniel again, I remained seated where I had been seated. There was a seating chart, and these professor's had told us early on that we needed to pick a spot and stay there as that was how they learned who we were. [Some of them, as Bowers did, pasted our photographs on a chart.] Earlier, I had not seen anything wrong with this seating arrangement. When Victoria McDaniel was not being a sexually aggressive malicious slut, she was okay. Now I was stuck with it.

Mr. Baker almost immediately passed out a photocopy of a criminal law article. This article was about a man who had spent ten years in prison for rape. The man was released after the woman recanted her testimony and admitted she had lied about the rape. After commenting on the story for a few moments, Mr. Baker waved his hand in my direction, actually pointing it at me, and stated: "The court was wrong, she lied." I looked at Ms. McDaniel beside me. She had her arms folded across her chest. I wondered if she had accused me of something. I dismissed this, as if she had, and some 'court' that I had not been made aware of had decided she had lied, she would not be sitting here. So either somebody else had accused me of something, or nobody did, and I was just reading way too much into what was transpiring in this class on this day.

When the class concluded everybody started filing out. I remained in my seat for a few moments longer than I normally did, I do not know why. When I left the class and was on my way out I was subjected to the greatest malevolence that I had yet been subjected to, by three students. The malevolence was in their voice and demeanor. These were Jim Leatham, Phil Constantin, and Cara Raymond. Jim Leatham stated to me: "Have fun going back to work."

Phil Constantin actually snarled the word: "Later." Cara Raymond walked by me with her arms folded, looked up at me, and with the second ugliest look I have ever seen on the face of a woman in my life, stated something, I forget what at this moment. I walked out to the front of the law school and my temper started rising. I turned around and stalked back towards the building. I needed to kick someones ass for what I had been going through. What I saw when I started walking back was quite a few extremely unfriendly faces, but, the majority of people had a look on their face that said: what the hell is going on. Which is exactly what I wanted to know. The number of people that had the look of what the hell is going on brought my temper down quickly. As I walked away I saw Jon Kuni sitting on one of the concrete benches. I passed him and then turned to ask him if he needed a ride home. Jon rode a Harley, and it had been raining this day. He told me he was going to take the bus.

I went home.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541506)

Returning to the sequence of events that spur this blog.

I had left the bizarre conference with Marlene Allgood and was smiling. I walked around the outside of the old law building to the new and entered the area in front of the two first floor classrooms wherein our torts and criminal law classes were held. This area was basically a very wide hallway. It was large enough to accommodate padded chairs around its perimeter and a few small tables. Periodically, on these tables various student organizations would set up literature.

I encountered Lori DuTrielle accompanied by another female student named Tori. One of them asked me about my conference with Ms. Allgood. I related how she had sat in the chair next to me with her legs tucked under her, but did not mention any of the rest. One of them stated when she had her conference with Ms. Allgood, Ms. Allgood had sat at her desk with her feet up on her desk. I had nothing to say to this. This ended this conversation.

I saw Steve LaFluer sitting in one of the chairs so I decided to go over to him and pass the time to our next class meeting. Steve Lafluer was one of the people that more or less regularly sat alongside the steps of the law building. As I was approaching him the light came on over one of the tables that was positioned alongside one of the columns. Cara Raymond was standing there. She was wearing a white dress. She stated to me something about being sorry for being late for her appointment with Ms. Allgood, thereby causing my own to be delayed. I smiled at her and stated that it was okay but don't let it happen again. I delivered this statement jovially. She repeated herself, and I repeated myself, again jovially. However, on the second time I stated this I wondered what was the deal with this.

I turned away from Cara Raymond and took a seat next to Steve LaFluer. Steve related a story about his hunting club and how they got rid of somebody they did not like. The story involved rifles and 88 shots. I just smiled and nodded my head. This whole situation was now becoming bizarre. This was one of the 'regulars' that I had not seen alongside the steps of the old law school for a few days, and this was the second time within a week that someone in my presence was speaking about a firearm.

I got up and left Steve uneasy. I was surrounded by some deviant sexually malevolent people [Steve had never been sexually suggestive] that not only some of whom assaulted me routinely, but that discussed the use of firearms, inferred they had them and would use them. You would have had to see Cara Raymond in this white dress. At the time Cara Raymond was an early twenty something female that morphologically looked like a twelve year old with some remaining baby fat. She was short, about 5 feet, had long blond hair, small breasts and a slightly saggy looking butt. If Cara Raymond had been a prostitute, the type of men that would have been attracted to her would be looking for the fantasy of having sex with a minor without the risk. As for me, although I have never on a single occasion been unfaithful to my wife, I like the tall, leggy ones.

In hindsight, it is like this: Among Victoria McDaniel's attempts at enjoining me in deviant conversations of a sexual nature was an instance in which she asked me of what I thought about sex with children. Victoria McDaniel has admitted this. My immediate response was: "I don't." The reasonable person could ask why did I not go speak to someone in authority about this, and, why did I not immediately cease all communications with Ms. McDaniel. The first is easy, we were in law school, and someone has to discuss these issues. If I had went and made a stink about her deviant question Ms. McDaniel could have merely, and likely believably, said that she was merely making a reference to something in our criminal law book and I took it wrong. This occurred a day or so before the time I became demonstrably angry with her and John Stamps witnessed it. The second is harder to answer. I did believe at this time that although I had been being hazed, this woman had decided she actually wanted me, or was desperate to have me go for it, and was merely becoming extremely pissed that not only wasn't I going for it, I really did not have any interest in having sex with her, and, many people had demonstrated other acts of sexual malevolence towards me already. And, I was determined that these people were just going to have to get over it, that I was not going to react in some fashion that they desired to what I perceived as a hazing. I had become embroiled in a fight with a bunch of sexually malevolent people, mostly females.

As I have earlier stated in this blog, in hindsight I do understand that these people were attempting to compel me to complain about Ms. McDaniel. Their methods were crazy. This was law school, there existed a system of rules to address such things. It is not my problem or fault that none of these administrators, faculty members or students had the balls to address head on an issue that was bothering them. And, as I earlier stated, I began asking.

I have this thought that Ms. McDaniel was trying to pledge a sorority. [I do not know much about fraternities or sororities, and it may be that females of Ms. McDaniels age and educational level at the time would not even consider attempting to become part of one. ] I aslo have this thought that some other females that attended the law school were in this sorority and that their careers could be adversely effected if it ever came to light that Ms. McDaniel was operating under their sugestions. It is just a suspicion.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541507)

I awoke after dawn the next morning, Saturday, and went outside to smoke. I leaned against the drivers side of my car, by the rear fender, smoking, thinking, and looking westward. I glanced across the trunk lid and noticed a couple of dents in the top of it on the passenger side. The last time I had checked the car these dents had not been there. I checked fairly often as this was the first brand new car I had ever bought in my life. The dents were in the approximate shape of an infinity symbol. I got my wife up and had her look at them. We briefly discussed it.

A couple of weeks prior to this Saturday morning my dogs had gotten loose and a nervous meter reader had jumped on the trunk lid. On the day this happened with the meter reader when I arrived home my wife told me about it and we inspected the trunk lid together. I had surveyed it from all angles. There were a few scratches on the top of the trunk lid starting above the lock and angling off to the left, towards the drivers side, at about a thirty degree angle, but there had been no dents. On this morning when we discussed it she had agreed.

I thought back to the day before and the malevolence I had been subjected to. I thought Phil Constantin or Jim Leathem may have damaged my car. However, I had seen neither of them do it. All I had was some malevolently stated comments. I needed to find out, first, what if anything had been communicated about me and by whom before I went tossing any accusations around. This weekend was the last weekend that I have ever been able to entertain the idea that the plans and dreams my wife and I made and daydreamed about aloud together when we were planning on putting me through law school could ever actually come to pass.

It has occured to me, given enough time to mull it over now, that Victoria McDaniel may have damaged my vehicle on the day she inferred she would like to shoot me. Victoria McDaniel has now admitted knowledge of who did damage my vehicle. Until well after I filed my suit against Victoria McDaniel in 2003 I still thought that either Phil Constantin or Jim Leatham had damaged my vehicle. (When I filed my suit against Victoria McDaniel it was not prescribed because I allege, based on my statements of fact, that she began and continued to defame me from the time I had met her until November of 2002.) I suspect that someone saw her do it and mentioned it to some other people, which included Phil Constantin, Jim Leatham and Cara Raymond. I suspect that the reason I was ostracized [I did not know I was being ostracized, I have always felt perfectly fine going about my life without other people involved] in the days following Victoria McDaniel damaging my vehicle, if that is what happened, is that these nitwits thought I would find the damage immediately and know it was her. These same nitwits probably presumed that I had done something of such an egregious nature that I had the damage 'coming to me,' and so would automatically know it was Victoria McDaniel, if it was she that had damaged my vehicle. Unfortunately for these nitwits, it would never have occurred to me, at that time in my life, that someone would damage my property merely because I did not have any desire to be sexually intimate with them. Now I know it. The same malicious events that occurred to me on the LSU campus, and on the Loyola campus, have occurred to me in the town in which I live. So, I have decided to move out of the state of Louisiana. I would have never known, were it not for the events at these two law schools, how many women are willing to commit adultery. Four women and two males in the neighborhood surrounding my home have let me know, and not exactly subtlely, that they considered me desirable as a partner for sex. This is an EXACT quote: "------, you wouldn't have to chase me to get me down." Another female, in the presence of her husband, stated to me that they were experimenters and the bedroom was ready. Later on, her husband, on the front lawn and between our houses, while pointedly looking at my crotch, stated to me that he took an AIDS and a drug test every six months. This kind of extremely overt crap never happened to me before I went to these successive law schools.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541512)

I returned to school the following Monday. I arrived early and sat on the wall adjacent to the steps of the old law school. After a while, a male student with whom I had not previously spoken arrived and sat near me. We spoke briefly and the guy invited me to go have a coffee with him down the street. I declined and told this guy I was going home. I went home. This was the first day that I had been absent from classes.

I returned the following day, Tuesday. I was in a pretty bad psychological state. Over the weekend I had been dwelling on what had been occurring to me at this law school and could come up with no answers that made any sense. I cannot recall who did or said what if anything on this particular morning. I recall a number of students passing me enroute to entering the old law school in which this class was held. I recall sullen expressions. I entered Prof. Levessuer's civil law class. I sat in there the entire time still, but on the edge of my seat, mentally. The psychological pressure was building within me the entire time. At the end of the class I arose from my seat, practically ran down the aisle, turned to my left to face the class and exclaimed: "I'm sorry if I offended anybody." I am quite sure this looked like a crazy act. In hindsight, although quite a few of these students, as well as one female law professor, had been nasty to me in the extreme, most of them did not know what was going on.

I returned to my seat. The guy to my left asked me whether he had to worry that I would come to school with a gun. I responded no, but if I came to school with a hammer strapped on, watch out. I did attempt to deliver this jovially, but given the inner turmoil I was experiencing, I probably failed.

My memory of the remainder of the semester is just kind of a blur of non-ending actions, statements, and communications from students and professors that made little sense at the time, but in hindsight, make sense.

Earlier I stated I was going to tell it all, the good, the bad, the otherwise. I have changed my mind about that. There are some things that happened that I want to force out into the open, and the only way to do that is to let some other party come up with the explanation. For example:

Mary Drabnis was a female student with whom I had become acquainted with early on, and with whom I started associating after this day in Levessuer's class. Mary was a quiet person. She was not given to nasty comments that made little sense to me. This did change, eventually she became nasty. Mary and I went to the student union. Mary preferred tea. [During this time the prior symptoms about the steel wool I have stated began, although I do not believe Mary had anything to do with it.] While we were sitting at one of the picnic tables on the open concrete deck adjacent to the student union building Mary started speaking about her and her husband's bathing habits. She described to me how her husband was extremely anal about the time it took to do things, including bathing. Mary then described to me how she cleaned herself thoroughly, and everywhere.

I believe this conversation took place sometime after a party at Prof. Bowers' home, this party having taken place on or about Oct. 6, 2000. At this party I did encounter Mary and a person that she identified as her husband. This man was an Indian (as in from India) looking fellow. When I met him we shook hands and I said something like: 'So, you're Mary's husband.' This guy responds something like this: 'I can be anything.' At this, Mary gave him what I perceived as a dirty look. Well, some might ask how I could possibly remember something like this. I have no answer for that. I do also remember from this party Professor Church knocking a beer bottle off of what I recall was an upright piano located within a few feet of the Bowers' entryway.

I also recall Bart squared telling me about a hunting trip they had been on that day in which they had managed to shoot some birds and which they had prepared and brought to this party. As I have never been hunting in my life, I suppose it was possible. When my wife and I left this party, Ms. Bowers saw us to the door and beyond. She had a conversation with my wife which included some dialogue about the peace corps. [In hindsight, what I brought to this party, hamburgers or something, was gauche in the extreme given the pretensions that groups of lawyers affect, but I would the do the same thing again :) .]

Prior to the day that the 'shit hit the fan,' I had asked Ms. McDaniel if she was going to Professor Bowers home for this party. She had responded no, they were not her type of people. I disagree. If Marlene Allgood had been there, the type of person in attendance that represented the qualities of Ms. McDaniel would have been complete.

[I have in mind doing a sculpture. Not that I have ever attempted other than a cast sculpture. I think I am going to represent Marlene Allgood and Victoria McDaniel standing side by side with fists raised. Somehow I will have to evoke the sense that this sculpture represents the fight of woman against male domination by whatever lying or deceitful means necessary. What occurred in Marlene Allgoods office was deceitful. Should I ever get the opportunity to question Marlene Allgood, and have her tell the truth, then I suppose I would have to eliminate her from the scuplture. However, the raised dias upon which this sculpture would rest, said dais being supported by robed females, reminiscent of females judges, holding a variety of sexual aids, would have to remain.]

Until I receive an explanation for Marlene Allgoods actions, my opinion of her will not change. She did what she did, and some of it in front of witnesses. I have related how I went to her office and asked if I offended her. When she responded, she glanced towards the telephone on her desk. I had the distinct sense that someone was listening in. This sense of someone listening in occurred to me twice more in the next two years. It happened within the office of Lawrence Moore, Assistant Dean of Loyola Law school, New Orleans and in Fat Harry's bar on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans.

Jumping way forward in time, if I recall the season or semester correctly, to the fall of the year 2002, just to explain the prior statement:

I was at Fat Harry's with, as I can recall his name at this moment, Martin Lang. [Martin had just returned to school after sitting out a semester, as did Aurelio.] I was preparing him to be my witness for a moot court competition. As we sat at the bar and spoke, Martin excused himself to use the restroom frequently and regularly, time wise. Like every 15 minutes. I had the distinct impression that Martin was going to the restroom to reset, in some fashion, a tape recorder. So, I let him have an earful. I suspected that if Martin was recording me, it would have been for Dane Ciolino, a professor at Loyola Law school. I determined that I would watch for a reaction the next day when I arrived at Loyola Law, and I got it, BIG TIME. The professors that expressed the most apparent grimness at the sight of me the next morning were Professor's Viator and Ciolono.

About this moot court competition. As I recall, 29 people tried out. As I recall, 28 people were selected. I was not selected. And I had done a magnificent job. [I had planned to.] The number of people selected vice those that tried out could possibly be verified by Maurice or Tanzinika Ruffin. This married couple were involved in the politics of the law school, were involved in the moot court competitive program, remain politically active in the judiciary, and had been to my home for a Sunday dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. [I had to go to some expense to prepare this meal, because at the time, as they told me at least, there were some meats they did not eat. This did change later in the semester when Maurice did tell me he and his wife both now would eat any meat.] Others that might remember what happened with this competition are Jesse Beasely or Kimone Paley. The person that acted as judge might also remember, as, after Jesse and I had walked out of the courtroom in which this competition was held, the person that had been acting as the judge walked out the door and just looked at me, for a prolonged period of time.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541517)

After this day in which I suppose it could be said I flipped out in Professor Levassuer's class I did start dwelling on what was going on. In nearly every class I was receiving communications from professors indicating that they had knowledge. The question that the reasonable person would ask is: How do you know that they were communicating anything to you, or about you? This is hard to answer. However, if it is true that Victoria McDaniel did communicate something about me that led to Marlene Allgood's action's, and, Professor Baker's statement and actions, and, the actions of these other students, then, I am probably correct in my assessment that these professors were trying to communicate something to me without telling me. I had gone to Professor Church's office on a couple of occasion's. On one occasion I tried to broach the subject. Professor Church's immediate response was: "I don't know what you're talking about." My response to this was: "I could force an answer." His response was: "Do what you have to do." That was that. I did not know what I had to do to get an answer. It was an empty threat.

Howard L'Enfant was not only one of my professor's, but the Dean of Student Affairs. Howard L'Enfant had been at this school in excess of 20 years. Howard L'Enfant had seen students come, students go, had a large fourth floor office that was often busy with students and other people coming in and out, and so forth. What I am attempting to convey here is the idea that if any rumors were going around, this guy would or should know. Get it? I had gone to the office of Howard L'Enfant and asked the specific question: "Have I been defamed or my character disparaged in any way?" His response was: "Not to my knowledge, no." I put these statements in quotes as I do remember them, and will never forget. In front of the class one day, which was one or two days to either side of the day that I asked this question of Howard L'Enfant he did step directly in front of Ms. McDaniel and state the word: "Scabrous." Ms. McDaniel sat in the first or second row. There could have been no doubt to anyone perceiving this who the communication was aimed at. I sat in the second or third row back in this class, several seats to the right of Ms. McDaniel. Immediately after stepping in front of Ms. McDaniel and stating the word scabrous, Howard L'Enfant walked back to his podium and looked directly at me. He stated the words, with a slight emphasis: "We're straining." As he stated this he slightly bulged his eyes out and tilted his head back. [Anybody that has ever taken a course with Howard L'Enfant will know that he is prone to theatrics in front of the class. The guy gestures, gets excited, and then his voice breaks and goes an octave or two higher.]

O.K. Here is where I was at: EITHER A) This woman had communicated something about me of a seriousness enough nature that I was subjected to incredible malevolence, but, not of a serious enough nature that she or I were booted out of school or questioned in the least about it. B) I was supposed to do something about it. C) I was supposed to guess what the communication was. D) I was supposed to guess what I had to do about it. THESE PEOPLE WERE INSANE. OR A) This woman had not communicated anything about me, and, B) I was supposed to communicate something about her, and, C) It was not of a sexual nature, because,

a) multiple woman had done and were continuing to do the same thing she had done, and, one of these women was a professor of law. As I have stated prior in this post, with the benefit of hindsight, I understand that these women were merely attempting to get me to complain about the apparent sexual aggressiveness of Victoria McDaniel, and their methods were crazy.

The word "scabrous" was particularly apropos for Ms. McDaniel at this time in her life. As with many people, she had a severe outbreak of acne, and more unfortunately, during the first few weeks of law school. These acne craters were confined to the sides of her eyes, and she caked make-up into the craters to disguise them. [Many people do this, and most people, including me, are never so impolite as to comment on it.] At the time I did not know what this was as I had never seen acne like this. At the time I did think it was some kind of a disease, like herpes or something.

It is around or about this time that Kristy Boxberger [I earlier have misspelled her name as Boxenberger] started hanging around the break room on the first floor where I would pass some time between classes. This was also the around the time that the black cloud arose directly under the center of my brain, although I do not mean to infer Kristy had anything to do with it. I say that she started hanging around because I believe she lived in the area around the campus and most students went home during the long breaks between classes. I did not, as home was too far away. She also showed up a couple of times alongside the steps of the old law school, where I liked to pass some time. Along with Kristy, Laura Hart would often show up, as well as another girl whose name I forget. I had some pretty odd conversations with Kristy. On one occasion she stated, out of the blue: 'I would be offended if someone stated that Louisiana was a banana republic.' I stated: 'I think it is in history books.' Then another time she stated she had watched David Letterman the night before and learned a seven word definition for irony, and this was: "You could have any woman you wanted." I did not know what to say to this, it was another senseless statement. I did not watch David Letterman, and, I never did want any of them. I was married; the one I had was fine by me. Kristy also became somewhat nasty. I would sit at the table in this room, reading and drinking a diet coke. Frequently I would get up and go outside to smoke. She stated to me, in a nasty tone, that I ought to just take a chair and go sit outside.

Laura Hart was another funny one. Laura was okay. She struck me as the kind of person that would never intentionally harm anyone. However, one Sunday she called me at my house. My wife and I were watching television. She started to ask me about study guides. I started to respond and she started saying things like "Oh, I would never." This made no sense. The next day when I arrived at school I was telling Phil Constantin about it when Laura walked out the door. I said something to her about it and she got a little flustered and said something like never-mind. In hindsight, given the oddity of the conversation, I wonder if it is possible that Victoria McDaniel was carrying on pretend conversations on the phone and telling people around her that it was me. I know it sounds far-fetched, but nothing else makes any sense to me about this.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541524)

I think you might have a mental disorder... Please go get it checked out. Maybe get a prescription or something. Schizophrenia is the possible culprit. Not everything is how it seems, at least to you.

Not everybody is out to get you..

Nobody is lying to you.

And law students can be weird..

I believe there is a fine line between genius and insanity, dont cross it... many lawschool students do though...

Hope you take my advice, because that is what all of your LS buddies are saying about you..

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541528)

MAN...you obviously are just pissed about your grade in professor allgood's course because your posts make no friggin sense! Please tell me you didn't pass the bar exam. and do all of us a favor and GET A LIFE you loser.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541531)

Sometime in October, 2000, near the end as I recall, I went to see an attorney, Fred Defrancesh. This attorney had advertised locally as a general practitioner. I entered his office and Mr. Defrancesh was seated behind his desk. I took the seat opposite him on the other side of his desk.

I briefly described the situation. What exactly I told him about it I have totally forgotten. Mr. Defrancesh appeared to be mulling it over. He leaned back in his chair and may have put his feet up on his desk. As he was mulling it over he looked at me. This guy has a nervous tic. It consists of his tongue rapidly darting in and out of his mouth like some crazed geckle. This, combined with his red patent leather shoes and his pointy, Elton John-like eyeglasses hung from a chain around his neck is probably what drove everything I had told him from my memory. All I can remember is his advice: "Whatever you do, don't fuck the girl." [I actually hate to say this, but somebody told me the guy buys cheap watches in different colors so he can match whatever suit he is wearing on any particular day. Whether he does is not relevant. ]

This did not seem like any great bit of wisdom to me as I had already arrived at that conclusion. However, as he did not charge me for it, I got my money's worth. So, I'm not complaining.

I have to jump forward in time here:

After I resigned from LSU Law after Thanksgiving, 2000, I went back to see Mr. Defrancesh. If you want to know what transpired on the second time I went to see him, you will just have to read my federal civil action #03-2199, New Orleans. I intend to publish this along with every other legal document that has been generated from this six year mess on a website that I am in the process of building: www.lsu-law-less.com. I should be safe from a lawsuit from LSULaw. Although they did sue Douglas Dorhauer, a student, for opening a website named lsulaw.com. Part of the law schools' arguement was that LSU spends a lot of money promoting itself and that people could be confused that Mr. Dorhauer's website was an official LSU site. I do not think that arguement would fly given the name of my website. And if John J. Costonis does not like it, he can go rectally insert a fire hydrant. If he calls me first, I will stand by with a wrench to turn it on.

Approximately three days after I saw Mr. Defrancesh, I had gone to the store in the evening. This was now early December, and the sun had set. On my way back from the store a car followed me. I found nothing unusual about this as I live in a subdivision. However, when I pulled into the driveway, the car that had been behind me pulled up at the end of my short driveway. I looked at this car while I walked to the trash can to dispose of a soda can I had. I remember thinking that the driver in the car was looking for somewhere and might ask me for directions. As I turned to go back to the house I was aware that the vehicle was still standing at the end of my drive. I turned to the left to face the vehicle. My front porch lights were on, so I could see the drivers face. It had been no one I had ever seen before. The driver stated: "That's a good boy." He looked at me for another second or two and then faced forwards and drove away. So, I had looked at this guy for a total of maybe 20 seconds counting from the time I got out of my car. The car the guy was driving was a white four-door Chrysler product. I think it was a Chrysler LeBaron, around a 1980 model. I thought it was a mid-line of whatever nameplate it wore because there were these badges just behind the rear passenger doors on the pillars that support the roof. The badges were shaped like backwards S's, and were cocked 45 degrees towards the front of the vehicle. I recall that at least in the area of these badges, the vehicle seemed to have a white vinyl top. There had been a passenger in this car, although all I could discern was this persons outline.

Nine months later I began using the gym at Loyola University New Orleans. Within a few days a guy started coming there in the morning. He was about my age or somewhat younger. He introduced himself as Jim Sutherland, and gave me some weightlifting advice. The guy seemed friendly, and familiar. He told me that he lived in the same town in which I did, and that one of the guys that worked with him at the University was a neighbor. He also told me that he had operated a martial arts studio for quite some time in this town. After the third or fourth time I spoke to him, it dawned on me that he bore a resemblance to the person that had pulled up in front of my house the previous December.

John Baker, a LSU Law professor, had at one time, after the shit hit the fan, stood in front of the class and practically bellowed: 'Being a lawyer means having power.' I was really beginning to understand this.

visit my website @

www.lsu-law-less.com

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541535)

I had a post that I was saving as a draft. It is out of order. It is the third prior post, counting this one.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541538)

I have earlier described the impression I had of a fellow named Ted Richard and how I had sensed something about him that made him seem less like a student and more like a person on duty. This fellow named Don Warren exuded a similar 'presence,' although there was something slightly slimy about it.

Don had told me that he came from Las Vegas, that he had been a reporter, and, that he had on occasion ridden along with police officers in his capacity as a reporter or as a representative of some kind of citizens group. He also mentioned something about the brewing of beer, but I cannot remember what.

Well, after the shit hit the fan, and about in the middle of October, I believe October 17, I had an appointment to see a psychologist. I had mentioned this to Professor Church. He told me I should keep an open mind. Aside from my wife, I do not believe that I had mentioned it to anyone else, although I may have. The 'dark clouds' that I have spoken about had risen [they were going to become much worse]. I had begin thinking about seeing someone after the second time I had spoken to Ms. McDaniel after the day that I think of as the day the shit hit the fan. I was still trying to find out what she may have communicated about me. She stated: "You'd better get some help." Help with what I did not know. I was becoming unsure about what I had theretofore considered right and wrong. I had attempted to speak with my wife about what was happening; however, she insisted on continually making general accusations of some behavior on my part that was causing this. I had attempted to find out what was going on or may have been communicated about me at LSU Law school, but the most common answer I was receiving was: "I don't know what you're talking about."

I decided that speaking to someone that was neutral and disconnected and getting their input could help me understand what was going on. [Like someone neutral that would say : either, Look jackass, you are a screwball, everybody screws around, what're you, dense? [Ms. McDaniel had stated essentially the same thing to me.], or, This is an unbelievable situation you are describing Mr.______, this is what you should do about it.] This psychologist was Jeanine F. Hinton, BCSW. I entered the office for a 5:30 p.m. appointment. There was a small waiting area in the front. I was the only person in this waiting area at this time. After a short period of time I was directed by Ms. Hinton to follow her. Ms. Hinton was a tall woman, about 6'2." Ms. Hinton had brown hair, cut very short. Ms. Hinton had a small bust, and her hips were slightly too narrow. Nonetheless, I knew Ms. Hinton was female. And she was on the pretty side.

We walked down a short hall. As we approached the only door, on the left, I noticed an open area ahead. Prior to following Ms. Hinton through this door and into the small office beyond, I saw a man sitting at a table in this open area, but I could discern none of his features. When we entered the office Ms. Hinton motioned me to sit and she proceeded to a small desk. She turned on a tape recorder and asked me a couple of questions, my name and so forth. Thereafter, she said nothing else. Ms. Hinton just sat there looking at me with a grim expression on her face. For whatever reason, my alarm bells went off.

I told Ms. Hinton about what had transpired at LSU Law school. I told her about this slut, Victoria Monier [McDaniel.] I told her all about what Marelene Allgood had done. I told her about the nine women in front of me on the steps, and about a few other things. The entire time I was telling it I purposefully stated the word 'bizarre' on multiple occasions. When I am telling you I stated it multiple times, I mean in excess of 30 times in the 20 minutes I was there.

I left the consultation with Ms. Hinton and went home. This woman had said very few things the entire time; she had just sat there looking at me grim faced. I panicked. [the good, the bad, the otherwise] I had the overwhelming urge to go back and tell this woman to forget about it. I was scared. I haven't the space in this blog to put down everything that happened, but I had reasons. Among these was that suddenly in my life I was in an absolute social vacuum, devoid of friends or friendly acquaintances. One of the people that had written me a letter of recommendation for law school was treating me like a pariah. [They may have had cause, I have earlier stated I believe I was poisoned, and this poison did affect my outward 'presence.' There was nothing I could about it because I did not know what was happening, just that it was happening. I had never been poisoned before, either. Earlier I had stated it was more likely than not that I had been poisoned. Screw that; I was poisoned, I will just never be able to prove it.]

The next morning I arrived at school. The first person I saw was Don Warren. He was exiting the front doors of the building as I was entering. I said to him: "I had a meeting last night." His exact response was: "I know, bizarre." This could have been a coincidence.

visit my website:

www.lsu-law-less.com

[10 months later I saw Ms. Hinton walk in the door during Loyola Law School orientation. I went to re-introduce myself to her, and ask her to lunch. She told me her name was Noami Nichols, so I guess I just made a mistake, and it was not Ms. Hinton.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541542)

Around or about November 15, 2000 my wife decided to leave. I could say that I blame her, as these were among the darkest hours of my life. However, given the magnitude of my apparent distress, and the depth at which I was dwelling on it, and the problems she was experiencing at work, everything had suddenly become overwhelming. [Amazingly, one of the people in her chain of command was a Dr. John Church. We won that case in the first go-round.]

When she left she took every dime we had. This was only about $12,000. [We had attempted to get ourselves as debt free as possible before I entered law school.] She returned about 4 days later with my younger sister, and minus $4,600 +/-. My younger sister was loud and garrolous. My younger sister stayed a few days, through Thanksgiving. When she left, I was another $3,200 down. I asked my wife what she did with this money, and she said she had paid bills. Right now, $7,800 would pay my bills for a few months. As at that time we had few bills other than the mortgage, utilities, and one low car payment (I had put a good chunk down.) I could have paid bills for several months. We had a slight arguement about this. I say slight as I was in no physical or pscyhological shape to do otherwise. I absolutely did not believe that she had paid bills with this money, and there was nothing I could do about it. [Among my interrogatories to Ms. McDaniel I asked whether she or someone acting on her behalf had asked my wife for money. This question went unanswered. I also asked whether she had been pregnant while at LSU Law school in the fall of the year 2000. This question also went unanswered.]

Thanksgiving was a nightmare. We spent it, as we usually had, at a sister-in-laws house. I was treated terribly, except by the sister-in-law whose house it was. The reasonable person could ask, well, how could these people possibly know of anything that was transpiring on the LSU campus that had to do with you? Well, for starters, I believed at the time that my wife was in contact with someone at the law school. Unfortunately, were I merely paranoid, I would believe this. Another possible route of information could have been my brother-in-law, who lives not far from the campus, and moves in the six figure and up circles. He had moved from Ascension Parish to East Baton Rouge Parish a few years before I went to LSU Law.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541543)

This is merely a hypothesis, a supposition, of what could have happened:

I believe that this is not far from the truth; however, I could be wrong.

-Victoria McDaniel wanted money.

-One of the ways in which a woman can get extra money without having a job is through sex.

-She picked me as a target, I was a forty something male entering law school, which meant I

could afford to leave work for a while, so, likely I had extra money.

-When she determined that she had actually wasted time with me, she became enraged.

-She communicated this rage to other students and at least one administrative person.

-These other students, who I say include Phil Constantin, Jim Leatham, and Cara Raymond,

shared her rage.

-Ms. McDaniel did communicate 'something' about me that indicated to these people that I had

caused her emotional distress.

-Ms. McDaniel, a good con artist, let these people come up with the answer that she should sue

me.

-Ms. McDaniel declined, saying she did not want to ruin my life, her being a good citizen and all.

-With the aid of this administrative member, a deal was brokered where Ms. McDaniel got paid.

-The money came from this administrative member.

-My wife was contacted and told to 'lose' a large sum of money, but told not to worry because

once her husband [me] realized the money was gone he [me] would take legal steps to recover

it, as he either knew what he had done or what he had to do. [Wrong]

-My wife gave the money to my sister, and told me that she had paid bills with it.

-Ms. McDaniel came into an amount of money, in the thousands, in late November or early

December of 2000.

If this is what happened, or even close to the truth, [even in the ballpark of truth] if lawyers had not been involved, it could be called 'extortion by proxy.' If this is what happened, or even close to the truth, [even in the ballpark of truth] if lawyers were involved, it could be called 'legal extortion by proxy.' Either way, if Ms. McDaniel got paid, it was extortion.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541544)

This sounds like a sordid and intriguing tale of white girls with asian guys

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541546)

It sounds like Victoria turned you down and your psychotic fat ass went all psycho on her. I mean, this was three years ago. You have not explained why you have not moved on with your life instead of allowing this supposedly crazy woman control your life.

Therefore, I am forced to conclude you are a crazy.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541547)

I have this website I started at www.lsu-law-less.com and with the service I purchased comes this neat program that gives the IP address of from where my page is accessed. As far as I can tell, being a novice, the results are limited to the ISP of the IP. On many of these IP's that I traced, the page that I access makes it appear [the word 'abuse' appears on these pages] as if someone was complaining about my website. Given the number of different ISP's this person or these people have apparently attempted to use to report me as an abuser, I must be bugging somebody.

Among the IP's I traced back, [just using whois] one number 208.27.203.124, yielded this name and address:

Admin of U.S. Courts

1 Columbus Circle NE

Washington, DC 20544

Now why on earth could the organization that administers Minijustice (Ministry of Justice) possibly be interested in my website?

I am not sure that this is any longer any of any courts business. This is freedom of speech. This is the airing of grievances that the courts refused to hear. I attempted to use the courts in proper manner. [One judge, Piper Griffin, stuck her tongue out at me.]

I do not believe that I can be shut down. The site is my property, bought and paid for. What I am publishing on it is my intellectual property. Everything I am stating on it is the truth. And if it is the truth, it is not libel. So, what's the problem? The problem is that these law schools absolutely, positively, irreparably and irretrievably screwed with the wrong person.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541550)

"The problem is that these law schools absolutely, positively, irreparably and irretrievably screwed with the wrong person."

No. The problem is that your mom absolutely, positively, irreparably and irretrievably screwed with the wrong person. She should not have slept with the homeless psychopath on the bench. But abortion was illegal and here you are.

Track this IP. I'm stealing someone's wireless.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541554)

I decided to try again at law school. I thought about Loyola School of Law. I dismissed Tulane [which in hindsight was a mistake as I probably would have been accepted.] I went there, to Loyola, and spoke to someone and got an application. I did tell them I had left LSU Law. I was told that I would have to have LSU Law send them a document stating that I had not had any disciplinary problems when I was there. As I had no disciplinary problems of which I had been apprised, I did this immediately. I did not trust the administration of LSU Law school as far as I could throw the building.

I completed the application and took all the necessary documentary steps and waited. Sometime in March I received a letter from Loyola Law school, RSVP enclosed, inviting me to an open house on or about, I believe, March 23, 2001. I ignored it. All I wanted to do was go to law school, go to classes, take the tests, etc... In April I received another letter from Loyola Law School, RSVP enclosed, inviting me to an open house on or about April 23, 2001. I figured that these people wanted to lay an eyeball on me, so I accepted the invitation. A couple of weeks after the open house I received my acceptance letter.

I believe that it was after this acceptance letter that I got my spark back. I started my own business and advertised in the Times Picayune. The starting of this business was actually foolish as I realized I could not possibly make back what it cost me to start it up in the few months before I again attempted law school. However, I just had to get my mind off of what my wife and I had lost, without cause or explanation.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541551)

In December, after I left LSU Law school I attempted to go back to work. The first person I spoke to was one of the persons that had written me a letter of recommendation for LSU Law school. I had known this person for about 10 years at this time. For quite some time I had been close to his family. I had met his extended family and so forth. My wife and I had babysat his son. I had worked with him and for him for the majority of the past ten years. He was willing to put me to work, but in the course of the conversation made some comments about me and women at LSU. He made some other comments about how I might be better off going to the University of New Orleans. I had nothing to say to this and I got up and left.

I next went to the person for whom I had most recently worked prior to entering LSU Law school. In the summer before I entered he and I had sat in chairs in his warehouse near the open garage door discussing my upcoming attempt at a career change. I do not know how else to put it, but there was goodwill; these were goodtimes. I was excited and this fellow was excited for me. I also had known this fellow about 10 years. In fact, he had been to my home.

I went into his office. There was no happiness in his face when he saw me. His guardedness was apparent. I asked about doing some work for him. He exited his office and I followed. We stood in front of his secretary's desk and he stated: "I'll do anything I can for you." When he stated this he started shaking his head from side to side, vigorously. He backed up towards the door and a few more times repeated that he would do anything he could for me. He walked out the door and got into his pick-up truck. He had looked at me and shook his head from side to side the whole time from the time he started backing up until the time he got into his pick-up truck. He backed out of his parking spot and turned to drive up the street. When he had the vehicle pointing in the direction that he was going to travel he turned to look at me and began shaking his head from side to side again. He continued shaking his head while looking at me while driving off, until he was out of sight past a nearby fence, about 40 feet from the office door.

I did not go back to work for a few months, and then it was for myself.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541552)

I do not recall the date on which I matriculated at Loyola School of Law New Orleans. This is not a date which will live in my mind, in infamy, in perpetuity. As was the case at LSU Law I and other beginning students underwent an orientation program. During this orientation program we were at some point split up into smaller groups. At one point the group I was in was comprised of about six people. This group of six was lead to a fourth floor open area which was surrounded by faculty offices. Among the persons that addressed this small group was Maurice Ruffin. I also believe that Mike Collins may have been in this group.

At some other point we were assembled into groups of 30 or so people and directed to classrooms where we were addressed by alumni. The alumnus that addressed the group that I was in was Camille Buras, then a judge in New Orleans. She was accompanied by a pretty, tall, slender black haired female with short hair. Generally, an alumnus addressing such a group would restrict comments and questions to the law, the school, and the potential. However, in the midst of her presentation, Camille Buras looked me straight in the face and stated: "We investigate explosions like the type that occurred because of something that you didn't want to be exposed to." What this had to do with her presentation was zero, nothing, nada. The woman was referring to my prior experience at LSU Law school, period. From my point of view, this should have been the end of it. I was married and did not commit adultery and a number of Louisiana State University Law School people had gotten upset about it and there was nothing I could do about it and this judge was letting me know it.

During the orientation period (which might have lasted more than one day) I also met Mike Collins, John Hagan, Dean Klebba, and Noami Nichols.See bottom of this page

Mike and I were aboard the elevator when John Hagan boarded. John was wearing a torn T-shirt and looked emaciated. I commented that I wish I had the chutzpah to come to orientation dressed so casually. I decided that if I got any more work from the estimates I had given, I would ask this guy if he wanted to work. He appeared as if he was starving. Then Dean Klebba boarded the elevator. I commented that he looked like somebody I had seen at orientation. Mike smiled and said: "_____, that's the Dean."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541559)

Soon after classes began after orientation I began being subjected to many of the behaviors I had been subjected to the prior year at LSU Law school, with some differences. However, these behaviors, in my perception, remained similar to my experience at LSU as the behaviors were apparently sexually based. A complete recitation of every incident is not only beyond my ability to recall without some intense retrospection, but would cause this blog to take years to complete. However, I can recall quite a few easily.

For example, soon after orientation, wherein Camille Buras had made her remark, a couple of female students walked behind my back and one of them stated: "You have to." Reasonably, you could ask how did I know this was directed at me? This female did not state my name. However, her voice was aimed directly at me.

Another student, Ava DeMontaine, whom I did become friendly with, and I regret beyond belief the necessity of having to mention her name, did state to me: 'You could have a dozen kids while you are here.' [Later, after I had gone to Professor Derbigny with my chronicle of events at LSU, Ava did stand in front of me and recite a list of things she liked. She finished up with, while shaking her fist in the air before my face, "And good sex." I responded: "Learn to swim underwater." She took this extremely well. I decided at that moment that I liked this woman. That was the last sexual reference or innuendo Ava made in my presence.]

Another student, Angela, whom I believed had graduated from LSU the prior year, took a great interest in my views on abortion, this occurred before I went to Derbigny.

Another female student Aubrey, who had interned somewhere in Washington, D.C. the prior year, was an extremely nice person. I was pleasant to her, and maybe the opportunity presented itself, I was not expecting it, and I backed off, as best I could. I felt bad about this and a few others. [the good, the bad, the otherwise] I really liked some of these people. Aubrey told me she liked Tequila. I went and bought the most expensive bottle I could find, Reserva de Familia or something like that. I gave it to her and she returned it, saying it was inappropriate, and of course she was correct. Well, that was the best that I could do. I thought that highly of her. We did not speak much in the next year and a half. Except one time at a TGIF. I think I am in debt to Noami Nichols for leading me out of a situation on that occasion.

Another female student, whose name I never knew, on two occasions approached me as I sat on the concrete wall in front of the law school and told me she was a spitter. That was it. No other context. {This actually occurred sometime after I was summoned to the offices of Stephanie Jumonville.} The first time I did not know what to say, I think on the second I said: 'That's nice.' What the hell else was I supposed to say? This was some kind of a joke carried over from LSU Law school and it was becoming tiresome.

After about two weeks of putting up with this, I went to see Professor Derbigny at the Law Clinic. From my point of view, if I did not want to be exposed to this at LSU, and these people were aware of it, I did not want to be exposed to it here either. I brought him a chronicle of the events that had occurred at LSU Law the prior year. I forget what I stated about it, but the gist was I was looking for advice. I went back about a week later and entered his office. He just handed me back the floppy disk on which I had the chronicle of events recorded and shook his head, which I took to be 'no help here.' Well, that was that, I had no recourse that I knew of. {In hindsight, perhaps every law student should have pre-law because he or she could become embroiled in such a situation where every last person that could be of assistance refuses to give the least.}

About three days later I was summoned to the offices of Stephanie Jumonville. I was told that Loyola University desired that I undertake psychological counseling. Her manner and demeanor indicated that this was not optional. I realized that I had made a major mistake in even beginning to relate what had happened the prior year at LSU Law school. This feeling of this realization was very intense. She scheduled the appointment with Dr. Flynn right then, in my presence.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541561)

I hear ya, buddy. I hear, ya. That sort of behavior is all-too-common in law school.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541562)

"I was told that Loyola University desired that I undertake psychological counseling."

They must be insane to demand that of you, the paragon of sanity. I think you should kill them all.

Of course, you could move on with your life. I doubt anyone you have mentioned is wasting their time with you. Take that as a hint as to which party is obsessed with the other.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541563)

Ernest C. Menard, this is God. Please cease and desist before phone calls are made. We know where you live.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541565)

This post is going to be long. I need to totally finish some incidents with two people, Denneane Hetzel and Adele Dauphin. I hold no animosity towards either, and actually hope I get to meet Adele again one day.

During the first semester at Loyola, during the first month, I was standing across the street from Loyola Law school by the Pine Street Cafe,' which is or was a cafeteria that occupied most of the first floor of the building . The Pine Street Cafe' was owned by Loyola University and operated by a food service contractor.

Deneanne Hetzel passed me in the company of a friend of hers, a female. She told me that they were going to study and asked if I cared to join them. I said okay. She then stated that they were going to take a nap first. I then told her I would pass on the invitation as I needed to study. [I did not need a nap.] A nasty look came across her face. She and her friend left. I did not think much of it. Later, I came to understand that this person disliked me intensely.

Later, after 9-11, when restrictions on civil liberties seemed imminent with the debate about the Patriot Act, Deneanne and I happened to be sitting at the same table in the Pine Street Cafe.' The subject of the negative effect on civil liberties that the Patriot Act would have came up. I, who perceive myself as somewhat of a civil libertarian, had reservations about the consequences of regulations that effectively negated U.S. Constitutional rights that I had. In the course of the discussion I cited a few examples of civil rights that were or could be effectively negated and the procedure that was implemented, or could be be implemented, to negate these rights. Ms. Hetzel's response to each example was "I have no problem with that." I thought she may have just been playing the Devil's Advocate.

After the conversation ended I went over to the law school and stood in front of the elevator. {Sometimes I took the steps, sometimes I took the elevator.} Ms. Hetzel entered the front doors of the law school. It dawned on me that she was a Jew. I had thought, being from Hollywood Beach Florida and of a dark complexion, that she was Cuban. As she approached me, I held myself erect. When she was about three feet from me, I snapped my head to face her, in my best imitation militaristic fashion and stated: "Show me your papers." "I want to see your papers." I tried to sound German. The clouds came across her face and body. I thought she was going to explode. She turned and actually stomped out the front doors. I figured I had made my point about civil liberties.

Lest anyone think I am an anti-Semite, this is not the case. My objective was to frame in a historical context, that a person of Jewish descent would understand, my perspective of the dangers of failing to be aware of the potential that something like the Patriot Act had for eroding civil liberties. It has since dawned on me that Ms. Hetzel may have visited Israel and underwent the strict airport screening policies. Well, Israel had more actual cause to do this than we did. Now we have cause, but it appears that vigilance on the part of the various law enforcement intelligence gathering agencies has thus far been successful in preventing any more 9-11 style of attacks.

Moving along, I met a female law student named Adele Dauphin. The first time I actually remember meeting her was in the second semester. She sat down next to me in a class, and she stunk. She smelled like beer and cigarettes and maybe feces. I got the message immediately; so I was friendly to her. I saw her in the next class, a couple of hours later, and she was all cleaned up. I commented that this was much better. I spoke to her a few more times this semester. I liked her. [Although the people that sat down next to me at LSU Law school and stated that it smelled like a bathroom around here can burn in hell.] At the end of this second semester as we were preparing for exam's, Adele walked in the door to a classroom with Deneanne Hetzel. I asked her where she was going after the exam and she stated the name of a bar, the Balcony, on Magazine Street, in New Orleans. I intended to go there after the exam and have a couple of beers with Adele, even if I had to put up with Deneanne Hetzel.

{Adele Dauphin is cool. There are people that think they are cool, people that wish they were cool, and then there are those that do not know that they are cool; Adele is one that does not know that she is. Adele graduated and is using her legal knowledge to help her promote bands, and she did something with Hurricane relief. I looked this up after I started this blog. I bet myself I would find plenty on her, and I did. I had this list once. (yeah, so I'm a dork) I fudged it. She was tied for first place.}

I went to the Balcony after the exam. It was early afternoon. When I arrived the place looked deserted. I walked up to the doors of the bar and the sign stated that it did not open until 5 p.m.

This was truly a bummer, sickening.

However, in the summer session I ran into Adele again. We spoke often. I found her to be friendly. She, I, Dan Noelke, and a couple of others, Jeremy Diamond at least once, had gone to St. Joe's bar on Magazine street at least a couple of times after the summer night classes we had. One evening after class I saw her walking away from the school and then crossing St. Charles Avenue. I was not too far away, so I hailed her, and walked across St. Charles Avenue to where her Volvo was parked. As I approached the vehicle she rolled the window down about three inches and asked what did I want. I stated: "I'm sorry if I startled you, Adele." She did look frightened. I could not understand how I had possibly frightened her. My voice is distinctive and I had been about 50 feet away when I hailed her. This reaction from her was so totally unexpected it was stunning.

This also was truly a bummer, worse than sickening: absolute good will towards a person being met with fear.

In my first semester as a 2L Adele and I spoke again. The events of the summer were obviously forgotten. We actually did correspond for some time after I was told to leave Loyola Law School. Her behaviors never did add up to me.

However, in hindsight, I think that Victoria McDaniel was going around LSU inferring to some people that she and I had a continuing relationship that did not end with me leaving LSU. I think she was also going around inferring to some other people that I was stalking her.* Many of these Loyola students and faculty members are close, socially, to people at LSU. The truth is that after I left LSU not only did I never attempt to contact her by any means, (except for the civil action) I rarely thought about her again. Furthermore, after I left LSU I never got closer to Baton Rouge than Grammercy, Louisiana which is about 40 miles from Baton Rouge, until around or about October 15, 2002. As far as I was concerend, Victoria McDaniel had just been a sexually aggressive malicious slut that may have accused me of something and I counted myself fortunate to not be in the same city she was in and was happy to totally forget about her.

*In the previous semester John Hagan had stepped out of the shadows near a stairwell door and stated the word "stalker" into my ear and then walked rapidly away. I looked at his receding back and wondered what that had been about. I went home and thought about it that night to determine what I may have done. The only thing I could think of as having done that someone could have taken this kind of offense to was having sat outside the glass walled office on the first floor waiting for Jeneane F. Hinton (Noami Nichols) to finish her conversation with someone in this office so that I could reintroduce myself to her. After this night when I arrived at this conclusion I tried to avoid going where I thought she might be. These law students were far too strange and found the most innocuous acts suspicious.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541568)

"I looked this up after I started this blog. I bet myself I would find plenty on her, and I did. I had this list once. (yeah, so I'm a dork) I fudged it. She was tied for first place.}"

Do you seriously question why you are called a stalker by your peers?

Ironically, you claim to be a civil libertarian, but you have repeatedly tried to use the legal system to get the personal information of the target of your psychotic obsession. Wake up. Seek medical help. You are literally crazy.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541572)

Hahahahaha. Your blog is hillarious because you seem to truly be insane. Did you know that you're famous? Yes indeed. Pls consider the following: http://www.xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=480903

It is an entire thread devoted to your mental problems. Blog on pscyhopath, blog on!!!!

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541576)

I have gotten a lot of hits from Plano, Texas.

I suggest that you print this page.

I suggest that you next click on this link: www.arin.net/whois/

I suggest that you check out these IP's

* 69.222.112.0.1 PPPoX Pool-rback9.chcgil

* 69.222.86.0.1 PPPoX Pool-rback9.chcgil, 2701 W. 15th St., Plano, Texas

* 71.133.96.97 LeBoeuf, Lamb, Lieby

* 65.70.162.0.1 Thompson & Knight

Bearing in mind that these people have a great interest in my site:

What you will find:

1. is a connection between Chicago, Illinois and Plano, Texas.

2. is two named businesses that I cannot find in Plano, Texas

3. these business names are:

# LeBoeuf, Lamb, Leiby &

# Thompson & Knight

You will find the address:

2701 W. 15th Street, Plano, Texas.

You will find a private address in Chicago.

You will find that there are three listed person's at 2701 W. 15th St., Plano, Texas and three person's unlisted.

You will find no Leiby's in Plano.

You could find one LeBoeuf.

You could find a slew of McDaniel's.

All this may mean nothing, I am aware of that. I just have been keeping track of things.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541582)

Dear Mr menard:

why are you besmirching my name??

Why are you soiling the name that your loving father bore proudly through his life, and then graciously, passed on to you??

Your father, who for over 25 years helped build houses throughout Rhode Island, bore the name ernest C Menard with quiet dingity and great honor.

But now thanks to Ernest C Menard of Laplace Louisiana, his name is soiled with the stench of insanity.

Redeem yourself.

seek psychiatric help, and stop libeling people on this blog and on your sorry excuse of a website.

Do it for yourself.

Do it for the memory of your father.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541585)

Vicki McDaniel is not aware that you are alive. If she is reading your blog, it is only in preparation for a lawsuit against you. This blog is being innundated with hits because you've been linked to a popular Internet bulletin board and its denizens are visiting your blog and openly deriding your idiocy and psychosis.

Stop being so psycho, even if the voices in your head cousel you otherwise.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541586)

you NEED to see what victoria McDaniel is saying about you,

http://victoriamcdaniel.blogspot.com/

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541589)

I have been avoiding writing this post. This post is going to be a total good bad otherwise snafu.

I asked Noami Nichols to lunch. We walked away from the school and I asked in whose car she preferred to ride. I explained to her that the car that I was driving was my wife's, and had a lot of dog hair in it. She made a face and said we would take hers. We walked a bit up St. Charles Avenue and we arrived at a white 1972 or 73 Camaro that she drove, but she wasn't a Donna. I took her to a place on Canal Boulevard in New Orleans. [The oddest thing happened at this restaurant, I was talking about armadillo's and a television program with armadillo's came up on the restaurant's big screen television. She pointed this out to me.] This restaurant was right across the street from the Greenwood Cemetery. I showed her a number of brick columns that I had built at this cemetery. I was kind of proud of my work. [She had played some kind of a game with the car door locks that I later came to learn was a game that guy's played on women; I was totally oblivious to this, I was already enamored of her. She may have a habit of trying to dominate males by such antics; unfortunately for her, due to my denseness I am indomitable.] On the way back to the law school she asked where she could buy tires for her car. Although I had noticed that the tires on her car were in good shape, I told her Sears. I told her Michelins were good tires. I also mentioned a couple of other tire places.

On one occasion during the first semester after the first class of the day she told me she had to go buy a book. I asked if she would mind if I went with her. I needed to go to the bookstore. She told me she had to stop by her apartment first. I told her I would wait outside. What I could not tell her is I had to wait outside because I had never been unfaithful to my wife and if I went into her apartment and she had given me the slightest opportunity the faithfulness would have been out of the window. And maybe the opportunity had already presented itself a few times. On the way back to the law school she was pissed. Oh well. I still figured it was some kind of carry over game from LSU Law school; it was sexual, it was malevolent, and I was not biting.

A few weeks later, in the afternoon, she and I were leaving the school at about the same time. I asked if she would like to go across the street to the Pine St. Cafe' and get a Coke. She said she had to go somewhere, but that she would be back at about 4:30. I sat on the wall in front of the school and waited, more than an hour. What a dork.

She arrived at about 4:30 p.m. I saw her walking up the sidewalk from St. Charles Ave. under the shade of some trees. She had her books clasped to her chest with both arms. She emerged into the sunlight. I never saw whether she noticed that I was there, but she bowed her head slightly. This huge smile came across her face. It went almost from ear to ear. That was more than I could take. At that moment, if she had asked me to, I think I would have licked the sidewalk clean in front of her so her feet would not get dirty. I think I actually trotted across the street to approach her. I asked if she cared to go get a beer or shoot a game of pool or something. {Beer is big in law school, I rarely drink it.} She declined. I asked her what was I, the bully on the block or something?

{I was still having women walking behind my back and saying the nastiest things that made no sense. I finally do have some of this part of my experiences at these two law schools figured out. When I became angry with Victoria McDaniel for her continued malicious sexual aggressiveness she must have gone around inferring that she was afraid of me. I would not have known this because she was right back at it within a couple of days. This woman, Victoria McDaniel is or was a pit bull when she wants to get laid and this is more than a theory. Either that, or, as I have previously hypothesized, she had big plans on getting a sugar daddy and I blew the plans out of the water.}

Noami and I entered the Pine St. Cafe.' We took a seat at a table with Martin Lang. Martin told us about his prior work for some attorneys that were class action specialists. Noami told us that she had been a legal secretary in Miami. After a while the conversation ended and we went our separate ways.

The next morning, prior to classes, I was sitting in the Pine St. Cafe'. Noami walked in the door. She was wearing almost camel toe tight light brown or tan corduroy hot pants. She stretched her legs out as she strode into the building. She stopped in my direct line of sight and just looked at me. She looked good. She is a tall woman that, when around some males, attempts to appear shorter by slightly squatting. The whole effect with this particular woman is extremely, overwhelmingly, sensual. I smiled at her and then looked back down at my book. She stomped away.

My Federal civil action alleges that these two law schools had an unwritten policy that to complete the Juris Doctorate program, students had to have sex with somebody from the school. This does sound crazy, but, you would have had to live the 2-1/2 years of sexual harassment that I endured to understand how I came to this conclusion.

Another theory

I hypothesize that back at LSU, Victoria McDaniel was being ostracized. I hypothesize that she made up some false tale about how I had wanted her and had gotten angry when she would not give it up. This could explain the number of women at LSU that had been overtly sexually suggestive, trying to ease my burden, so to speak. [Any burden that I was manifesting was because I had been poisoned.] Given that there are social and professional connections between LSU Law and Loyola Law, the fact that she was being ostracized would have spread. Therefore, I further hypothesize that these women at Loyola that were sexually suggestive were trying to satisfy some sexual desire of mine that Victoria McDaniel falsely stated she would not, in order to bring some relief to Ms. McDaniel's ostracization back at LSU. I further hypothesize that those women that walked behind my back and made malevolent statements were just pissed with me because I must know what I had done to Victoria McDaniel's law school social life because she would not have sex with me. Actually, this explanation does not make complete sense either. Ms. McDaniel must have been inferring different things about what had happened depending on her audience.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541592)

You may care to skip this.

After I published my last post I went to the kitchen sink and leaned over to look out the window at the yard. I attempted to visualize numerous black robed monkeys running around, screeching and beating their chests. {Scratching their butts and then sniffing their fingers, also.}

I was wishing my dad was here to assist me in visualizing this. He was always able to convey information or knowledge with extremely few words.

Somebody posted a comment about my use of second-level profanities. Well, I will change that.

Cowabunga, MF's.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541594)

Rock on!

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541601)

I knew your father Ernest the Bricklayer. He was a scum bag. You have turned out just like him. Victoria is a beautiful, talented, exquisite woman, an angel amongst women, and you have besmirched her with your sick son-of-a-bricklayerish ramblings. Well, Jambalaya Jim knows the truth and now that truth will be heard. Ernest Menard, you son of a filthy bricklaying frog, you are not worthy to kiss the ground on which Victoria walks.

Jambalaya Jim

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541604)

Also, I would add that your post that your father was "always able to convey information or knowledge with extremely few words" is a lie. Your father was considered at his most eloquent when he was able to grunt, as opposed to his ordinary bellows. Sadly for you and your exercise in creative visualization, not even a grunt could capture the complexity of black monkeys since "mon-key" contains more than one syllable.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541605)

Here are some simple words: YOU ARE NUTS!

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6545970)

xoxohth, don't talk that way to my man!!

Ernie, baby, don't listen to this guy. Give me a call sometime, I want to see you soon.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6545972)

I had criminal law with Professor Harges. Professor Harges had been on television and everything. This guy knew his stuff. I believe that he played soccer, also. Brady, a student that sat next to me in Professor Harges criminal law class often spoke about playing soccer. He told me that Professor Harges was a player.

I generally kicked back in my seat in Professor Harges class and just listened to him. The guy was obviously a scholar. We had a practice mid-term. It was short; nonetheless, I missed two questions. Given that the bulk of the class missed more than four, based on a hand raising tally, I did not feel all that bad.

I entered class on one occasion and sat in my seat. I was leaning back, as was my habit in trying to totally immerse myself in what this guy had to say. He did not go into any of that rubbish like strict construction vice strict interpretation as John Baker had. Concepts like strict interpretation and strict construction are what criminals worry about when they are planning to commit a crime. We would have none of that foolishness in this class, no indeed.

As I have stated, I sat in my seat. I was leaning back. The back of the seat, which was supported by a single steel flat post connected to the seat bottom by a threaded fastener, fell off. I started to fall backwards, but did manage to maintain my balance. As I came upright, Brady, who sat to my left, held up the threaded fastener that had held the back of the seat on. I immediately presumed that he had picked it up off of the floor.

In the next moment I looked up at Professor Harges. He did have a look of surprise on his face. This was manifest by his right index finger being placed on the lower eyelid of his right eye. He was slightly pulling downward on this eyelid. At this moment I am doing the same thing, just as an aid to ensure that I am describing the action correctly.

At the conclusion of the class I approached the podium to apologize to Professor Harges for disrupting his class. He did express that he was concerned for my well being. As have so many others.

I determined at that moment that I was going to study extra hard for this guy's exam. Really, I mean that. He did point out how many law students confused quash with squash. I went to his office seeking guidance in my endeavor to better understand criminals. I asked him a question or two. He must have detected puzzlement on my face. He did state, and this is an exact quote: "I'm jes trying to hep ya." I left his office relieved that such a scholar deigned to give me a few moments of his time and totally understood my level of intelligence.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6541598)

sex, sex, sex

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6545967)

Someone posted a comment to my site, about claims that I have made concerning evidence.

The person that made this comment was more likely than not connected to Loyola University Law School, New Orleans.

I was waiting for this.

This person used a tone or style that was soothing, and 'camaraderiesh'. This person attempted to convey the feeling that he or she was on my side. The person proposed that I go ahead and start uploading my evidence. Maybe this person was legitimate. Until I have solid answers, I will presume otherwise, and think accordingly.

This person mentioned a number of things I should upload, among which were e-mails. In the now deleted but saved post I used to cull this comment, I did not mention e-mails.

Gather round, let me tell you now, about e-mails.

When I was at LSU school, I wrote a quite a few. (Quick quiz: what was the famous statement attributed to General Blackjack Pershing.) Although I am not a particularly good writer, it is an easy form of expression.* I have stated that I am convinced that I was poisoned at LSU. I did not realize it at the time. Basically, any e-mail that I wrote at LSU can be thrown out a window or into court, for all I care about it. I am dead serious about that. And frankly, LSU more likely than not would not want the e-mails that I wrote in the record either. But maybe they would; it doesn't matter. They are fairly indicative of a person who did not know what was going on and was asking. To the absolute best of my ability to recall, I never, on any occasion, wrote any e-mail to Victoria Monier; I had her on the buddy list, period. I wrote one to Professor John Church, right near the end, and I can just vaguely recall it. It was so weird, I could not believe that I had written it.

*If you have ever spoken to me, you would be aware that I am not a great verbal articulator. Perhaps grunts and bellows are not that far off. I generally keep it short around people that are not familiar with my speech. You ought to hear one of my younger brothers. If you are not a member of our family, you would be unlikely to understand him. You would never know that at times my speech is unintelligible if you were to judge the way I speak solely by looking at the record of what I said in Judge Morvant's court in the 19th JDC, Baton Rouge, La. The way I apparently speak, as per the record, is so unlike the way I normally speak, that on those days that I did speak in Judge Morvant's court, I was having really, really good days. For the moot court competition, I had to practice speaking. Thankfully, opposing counsel sent me the transcripts.

Now, moving along to Loyola University Law School, New Orleans.

As soon as Stephanie Jumonville made her demand, I knew I was in enemy territory. Dwell on this, please. I laid down some rules, not in writing, but just generally. I never wrote an e-mail to someone that I had not been seen in public with, and away from the school, or, had a non-personal reason, as in business, for doing so.

Here is to whom I wrote e-mails using the Loyola Law School system:

Noami Nichols (3 or 4) One of them was about her carburetor.

Maggie Parker (2) One about Oreo cookies. I hope she is still with the guy she was with the last

time I ever saw her. He and his friends were on my okay list.

Heather Borst (3 or 4)

Pamela Occhinpinti (unknown- career service counselor-her dad and I had a nice long

conversation recently)

Sarah Whalen (unknown)

Adele Dauphin (unknown, we switched our correspondence medium to other than the Loyola

Law School system)

Something Broussard (1 or 2 about a function my that wife and I attended)

Arlene Wiltz, chaplain (1 or 2 about school functions, a Halloween function was one of them)

If Loyola Law School New Orleans purports to have any more than this, then anything they have is likely to be fabricated. I was hoping to get all this into court 3 years ago. I wonder what the person that wrote me that 'helpful' post is going to think when he hears Heather Borsts' testimony, if it is ever taken. I would absolutely love it, I am convinced of that. Heather should have been on the list. I can almost hear the sound of a contracting sphincter coming all the way from New Orleans, Louisiana.

What will be an extremely interesting fact that a proper investigation will uncover is that all of a sudden, in October or November of 2002, people at the law school stopped using the law school e-mail system. At this point I was setting them up. I had suspected for some time that the e-mail system was not as secure as most people thought. I further believed that Larry Moore, et. al., were voyeurs and I fairly described the technician in my civil action. I wrote about my suspicions to someone [in the above list] in an e-mail. I checked very soon thereafter. All the e-mail traffic had switched to the main Loyola University server. There should be some remaining non-corruptible record of this abrupt change.

If you are an undergrad and thinking about going to Loyola University Law School New Orleans, unless you actually see in the media that a mess has been straightened out there, please think a little longer.

J'aime. Anybody remember?

I wrote one to myself, from my home, from my AOL account to my Loyola Law school account. I do not believe that I even opened it. I just went to school the next day looking for a reaction, saw it, and then went straight into the computer lab and deleted the e-mail. This means that nobody but me knows what it contained. I wished I had a camera so that I could have caught the expression on Larry Moore's face, as he looked over his shoulder at me as I walked into the library.

vote

That I MAY not be just a raving lunatic.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6545980)

Another aside: Kind of to do with Loyola Law

Wen ['cause a pimple is coming] I was doing my research I was limited to using the texts, Reporters, and so forth. I came across this case that was heard in the 40th JDC, St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana, I believe.

The defendant in this case was a local supermarket, Winn-Dixie. It was a slip and fall case. The defendant failed to appear on the day the plaintiff gave testimony. I do not recall whether a judgment was rendered on that day. The judge in the case allowed the defendant to give testimony on another occasion; another date. Ultimately, at this District Court, judgment was rendered in favor of the defendant. For some screw ball reason, the plaintiff appealed. I believe the basis for appeal was that the judgment should have been rendered on the day testimony was taken. I don't know how any of that works, not being educated in the law and all. The appellate court upheld the District Courts decision in allowing the testimony of the defendant to be allowed in after the day scheduled for testimony. I just could have read it all wrong. It is in the Reporters. I will have to go back and check it out one day; unless I can find the photocopy I made.

The reason this bothered me was that what if I had managed to get into court and the defendants failed to show up? Not being educated and all, I would have gone along, all fat, dumb and happy, and testified. They, the defendant's, would then have time to read my sworn testimony and then have time to regroup and invent something else. Among people testifying for the defendants would be numerous lawyers that would know that they would have this opportunity, and it just did not seem fair.

I know that life is just a bitch, and it is not fair. Good things happen to bad people and all that. Or vice versa, I'm having a hard time figuring that out, not being educated very well and all. This is not a whining post. This is a post asking the question: How can I tell if I have found an attorney that would know enough to request a stay of proceedings, continuance, should this happen to me?

I would not know because obviously I have no grasp of civil procedure. My actions went no where, is this not correct? Somebody mentioned my complaint about my getting a C+ in Larry's Civ. Pro. course. Hmmm. Well, I recall studying extremely hard, for a number of hours only a really serious law student would believe. I recall writing page after page of answers to hypothetical questions. I remember the look of surprise on Reynold Blankenship's face when I started listing the various ways that Larry had thrown twists into his previous exams that seemed minor but effected the answer.

I hope Loyola Law School saved the exams.

BECAUSE IT WAS EVIDENCE.

THEY WERE NOTIFIED.

And of course, even a non legally trained person would know that since there are no names on any of the exams, nobody's privacy rights could be violated, could they? And even if it were necessary to compare the signatures of students to the exams, to set at ease the minds of counsel's for both the plaintiff and defendant that no chicanery was being attempted, would not the court trust these attorney's at law to not publish the information? Really, imagine the embarrassment that a person could have if a number of years later it was learned that they had received (oh my gawd how terrible) less than an A on an exam.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755308)

Loyola University New Orleans #8

A post that I labeled as number 7 has been removed. I suppose it has been placed elsewhere. Does anybody know how I could find it? It was an illuminating post.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755310)

Loyola University New Orleans #9

I completed the first semester at Loyola Law School. I did not do very well. I failed one course, Contracts. I had contracts with Professor Crandall. This guy was actually a very good teacher, as I recall. It was from his book that I later came to realize that if you could give judges enough rope they would hang themselves. Peeveyhouse v. Garland Coal Mining Company. [Although these judges did not go to jail for the decision in this case.] I further realized from this book that you could get a lot of them. I recall the Williston four corners rule and what constituted parole evidence.

I failed Crandall's course as I had approached the exam with grinding teeth, figuratively speaking. In this first semester, during the course of one class, Crandall had soured me on him.

Professor Crandall was standing at the front of the class, behind a short lectern set on top of a table. He left his location and proceeded to approach me. This was a distance of not less than thirty feet. He stood next to me and raised his arms over me like Moses trying to part the Red Sea. He stated, and loudly: ' one day you are going to say' "I remember that guy." I looked to see whether any other students were turning to look. None were; not a one. Fortunately for him, as I was being singled out enough already that any excessive attention was unwelcome. After that day I dreaded going to his class. I could never be sure that I would not be subjected to another outrageous display. If the guy was trying to help me out by ensuring that somebody would recall that I existed and think about what they may have heard in any rumor mill, he needn't have bothered. I had already had enough bad experiences that would ensure that anybody reading them that had witnessed or been a part of any of these experiences would remember me.

I saw Professor Crandall over by the Pine Street Cafe' at some point after exams.. He informed me that he had reviewed the exams and had found that I actually made a 'D.' I had not asked for this consideration, but I did appreciate it. The following semester I had Professor Crandall again. There were no further incidents with Professor Crandall. Overall, most students seemed to think very highly of the guy. He was a gregarious fellow, and knew his subject backwards and forwards. I could appreciate that.

The only reason that I must dedicate a post to Professor Crandall is because the grade that I earned in his course put me into academic probation. All of my grades were low. The only explanation that have been ever able to figure out that made any sense was that the non-academic stress that I was being subjected to adversely me affected to that extent. I had thought I had prepared thoroughly, and I can become one intensely focused person in the extreme, as can we all.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755311)

LSU Fallout Flashback details

As I think about what I have thus far written, I can see that it actually may not amount to a hill of tort beans. I have not even touched on some egregious events or details that would be indicative of some negative rumor about my character that was emanating from LSU Law school.

[As I was investigating Victoria McDaniel, et. al., in the various repositories of public documentation I did come across multiple real estate transactions in diverse localities, over a range of in excess of one hundred miles. For some reason, although ultimately I did not have time to pursue it, many of these transactions piqued my interest. There were multiple instances of people having their property purchased by persons in this thread, and there was something odd about each purchase. Doing this from memory, I forget which facts raised my red flags. Maybe it was that although the signatures seemed extremely similar, matching to my eye, across multiple documents, the names were different. There is nothing sinister in and of itself about that or about the processes of the purchases. However, what did occur to me that what if any of these people wanted someones' property, and knew that all they had to do to get it was start up some rumors about the person that would be of significant negative import that the person's finances worsened and they would become pariah's in their own communities, they could easily do the same to someone they did not like, whether they wanted the person's property or not. Such a person subjected to such an attack may just give up the fight. I delivered enough of this thread to the FBI, three years ago, that if there had been anything to it, I am sure something would have been done about it.]

Holy guacamole, Batman! My 'puter is hiccuping.

In October or November of 2000 I needed a final lawn mowing for the season, more or less. On occasion while I had been in law school I had paid a couple of neighbors to mow the grass. On this last occasion the teenager across the street, then about 17 or 18, cut my grass. On the strip of grass, about 5' X 125,' that parallels the sidewalk on the northern side of my house, this teenager scalped the grass. At that time I did not think much of it. In hindsight, I think he may have been directed to do this.

The following spring, within this strip, grew a variety of pernicious low lying ground covers. These ground covers stopped at approximately the property line to my east. When I cut and pulled many of the weeds up, and had used herbicides St. Augustine was supposed to be tolerant of, the underlying St. Augustine {I believed it was, or a kin} grass was killed and in its place grew Bermuda grass, a tough grass to get rid of. Now, six years later, I have finally gotten rid of much of the Bermuda grass and the original grass is once again near thriving.

My wife and I had been having a cookout for ten years on the Sunday that a parade rolls down the street which this sidewalk and grass strip parallel. People, on Parade day, most of whom were not connected to us in any way, would gather on this strip as it was an area that they could gather that someone had not staked out as being their property. [I would neither allow anybody to stake out an area on this strip nor to park their cars on it, and this did cause some small controversy around this neighborhood. You would have to be from the New Orleans area to understand what I am talking about when I am talking about staking out an area from which you could watch a parade. Actually, forbidding some of these people from parking their cars almost caused some fights. However, where 50 people could have comfortably gathered when there had been parked cars, a couple of hundred could have possibly gathered without the cars there. I did not care if anybody did not like it. Literally, my way was the highway.] This year, 2001, our cookout was not very well attended. Nearly every last person that had gathered on this strip was wearing LSU emblazoned outer wear. This was unusual. I'm talking quite a few people, in excess of 50. I have been observing the people that gathered on this strip for 15 years now, this was the only time that this had ever occurred. I did think a lot of the overwhelming predominance of people on this strip next to my house on this day that were overtly demonstrating their support for LSU.

This instance with the weeds began a battle with persons as a fact unknown seeding my property with seeds of various pernicious weeds and Bermuda grass. On the left side of my house my neighbors of ten years moved. They had been in the neighborhood for more than 20 years. I did count the husband among my friendly acquaintances, and I did get along with his wife. The new couple that moved in had just returned from an excursion into the Twilight Zone. Their names are Matt and Amy. Matt and Amy are swingers. {I mentioned this to a neighbor that cut my hair, she seemed approving.] The grass died on my side of the property line and became infested with Bermuda grass a few months after this couple put up a 6' board fence. [I had no objection to the board fence. My personal nickname for her was evil bitch and for him it was punk bitch.] I will probably have three posts dedicated to evil bitch and punk bitch.

By the way, if you are wondering, I did take photographs of all this, did call the police, etc..

I suffered further lawn damage to my property. Imagine a street. Imagine a corner house. Imagine a sidewalk, separated from the street by about a five foot wide strip of grass, running alongside this corner house. Imagine a line of 6' tall hedges lining the sidewalk, the entire distance of the sidewalk for the length of this property, and growing in front of a four foot tall chain link fence which starts at the corner of the house which sits on this corner lot. Imagine that where the hedgerow ends at the back corner of the lot on which this corner house sits another neighbors front lawn begins. Imagine that at the front of this house on this corner lot the chain link is replaced with wood and returns from the sidewalk side property line back to the house. Now imagine how easy it is to walk up to either end of this fence and throw weed seeds.

Imagine the broadcast distribution of the weeds at the back corner, if you wanted to make your cast as quick and surreptitious as possible. The broadcast pattern could be a fan. This is the pattern in which the weeds grew from this corner, and I photographed this. Now imagine that you have the audacity to walk behind the hedgerow to approach the fence that comes from the sidewalk side fence line and returns to the house. If you were going to cast weed seeds, you would probably do it at night, as you would be more comfortable committing your crime. You might stand there and ensure thorough coverage as far as your throw of seeds would reach. This is what the photographs depict as being one scenario. [Except for the night hypothesis as some people would have no trouble doing something like this in broad daylight.] Now imagine you are a passersby on the sidewalk intent on throwing seeds over the six foot hedgerow. Your broadcast pattern would be a linear one paralleling the fence, and not too close to it, as you had to loft the seeds up and over the hedgerow. This is how the weeds grew in this area of the yard. Dead blotches started appearing also, in a similar pattern. According to my wife, a police officer told her that he had heard of people freezing Round Up herbicide and doing this.

I had a downspout crushed on the side of the house where evil bitch and punk bitch lived. And I have what I believe is a knuckle mark, three obvious dents and a fourth slightly less so, from a fist in the drivers door of my pick up truck, which was still new when this occurred. Oddly, it occurred soon after I filed suit against evil bitch and punk bitch. Thankfully, they moved.

All this damage may amount to a hill of criminal intent beans. That is what you would believe if you were to judge by the reaction of the local authorities, including the courts.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755312)

I returned to Loyola Law School for the spring semester of 2002. I had been placed in Academic Probation and was required to attend sessions with a Professor that had been hired to in-school tutor students that were not doing very well.

The name of this Professor was Sarah Whalen. Professor Whalen was a knowledgeable person. However, I have to correct an error she once made. She did state to me that once I became an attorney I would think differently. Although I did not become an attorney, I can see that with the exposure to law school, etc.., I do think about the aspects of more things, but not differently at all. Sarah, look at what I am publishing and I am not very concerned. Why would I not be? The reason is that is I am protected by the statutory law of the State of Louisiana. Thank you, whoever the heck is in charge of everything, that I ended up in a state of fact pleading.

I came to consider Sarah a friendly acquaintance. My wife and I attended an Easter party she had held at her house for her son. Sarah had invited some group that assists disadvantaged children. She had actually rented a train service to ferry them around the street in front of her home. Kathleen Breaux, if I recall the name correctly, the secretary of the Dean’s suite, was also in attendance. My wife and Kathleen Breaux had a great time face painting the children.

I met a doctor at this gathering. I had never met a doctor before that specialized in ingrown nails. I suppose ingrown nails are big business in New Orleans. He was a friendly guy. I recall sitting next to this fellow in lawn chairs in Sarah’s back yard and commenting on the children that were getting up on the deck in back of Sarah’s house and making it a stage upon which they did sing and so forth. These children were full of themselves and having a ball.

I do consider this particular day the high point of my time at Loyola University Law School New Orleans. This is because I was around people that were behaving normally. Which made all the more disturbing an incident that occurred with Kathleen Breaux a couple of weeks later.

A few more factoids, just giving some more details.

I recently saw U.S. Attorney Jim Letten on the boob tube. He was commenting on the theft by fraud conviction of Haydel, an uncle of Marc Morial. I do believe that this same person was a guest lecturer in Dane Ciolino’s ethics class. In any event, this guest lecturer, during the course of his lecture, did point in my direction, and did appear to be looking at me, and did state: “Prosecute her.” I did think that he was addressing me, and I did wonder: ‘Prosecute who for what?’

I took Sarah Whalen out to lunch some time after the party at her house. Sarah generally dressed professionally, albeit in black. On the day I took her to lunch we met outside the front doors of Loyola Law School. She was dressed in a Bohemian manner, not quite extremely, but very apparent. I would not have cared whether she had come dressed as Bozette the Clown. We went to a Bohemian restaurant on Magazine St. The food was good and I wish I could remember the name of the restaurant. She is an interesting conversationalist. [Made up for my grunts and bellows.] This was another good point in my time at Loyola Law school.

Sarah and I returned to the law school. We walked in the front doors together. A number of female law students were standing by the elevator. Sarah and I must have each grown another head based on the sideways looks we received. The following day I perceived that Sarah must have started a temporary interest in a retro look. Several women that had been friendly to me were now dressed in a fashion similar to that which Sarah had affected the prior day. I did mention it to her and did state that I had found this similarity in dress amusing.

That was the second lie I had told in law school, the first being when I told Victoria McDaniel I would like to entertain her fantasy. It was actually distressing, more so at this time as the bisexual and homosexual males had started up. I will be getting to Lawrence Moore, SJ, quite soon.

Cowabunga, MF's

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755316)

Loyola University New Orleans Pamela Occhipinti

During my first few weeks at Loyola Law School I met Pamela Occhipinti. She was unloading packages out of her black Honda. I think it was an Accord. I offered to help her carry her packages. I followed her into the building [there I go, following yet another woman] and we took the elevator up to her office. I then discovered that she was the Career Services Counselor. She was a very pleasant person. We had a brief conversation in which we exchanged information. I had a wife and she had a boyfriend that worked at the University. This was very good.

[In hindsight I have come to realize that it was a possibility that some law students perceived my acquaintance with Pamela and Sarah to be a ‘sucking up.’ Please be assured that I never sent out a single resume.’]

Some time thereafter I asked Pam if she would let me take her out to lunch. She agreed. We went to a popular lunch restaurant on Canal Boulevard, right around the corner from Brocato’s. We had lunch and afterwards she asked me if I would care for an ice cream. She told me that a nearby place made their own and that it was great. She named it, and asked if I had ever been there before. I responded that I had not. When we pulled up in front of Brocato’s I recognized it, and realized that I had been there before but did not mention it.

Over the course of the next year and a half I did speak to Pam often. Pamela was another island of normalcy in a sea of aberrancy. There should be a photograph of us at a wine and cheese tasting event that she had arranged. I went to this and another function that she had arranged because she had suggested that I do.

On one occasion I went to her home to assess a problem with the settling of a concrete pad, extending from the house slab, that supported the A/C compressor. I met both her parents at this time. Soon after I had met her and told her some of my employment history, she had quite a few negative things to say about my boss, but nothing libelous. From what I had and have been able to glean from what I have been directly told by my boss and by other, the identity of whom now forgotten supposedly disinterested parties, that what happened in her subdivision was not his fault, although he had been forewarned about the person he had collaborated with, in a slight percentage, in the small development.

I ran into her father recently at Techni-Sistemas, I believe the name is, a supplier of welding supplies and associated tools and hardware. [I was in there with an employee of our company buying him an auto-darkening welding shield. The woman working in here was this employee’s aunt, or so he said, and I had no reason to disbelieve him.] I recognized Mr. Occhipinti. We had a fairly long conversation. During this conversation, which did include some dialogue about the duties of children to parents*, he told me that Pam had purchased a new vehicle and that on the way in to school somebody had ran into the side of her. He also told me, somewhat pointedly I thought, that her boyfriend got to the scene real quickly. Pam was not injured. I was happy to hear that and that her boyfriend was able to get there quickly. Her father misremembered the purpose of my visit to his home and did remember that it had been a fence issue. At this time I had not done any fence work in 2 years. *Mr. Occhipinti was quite transparently attempting to determine whether I had any loyalty to Pam. Loyalty is not an issue. Friendship is not an issue.

I have been in Pam’s neighborhood quite often in the past few years. I have never stopped to say hello. I did not want any difficult questions popping out of my mouth. I did not want in any way to embroil her in the controversy that I have been lying in legal wait to crank up. [It depended, in some significant part that I would be unable to elucidate, on Judge Morvant.] But, she may have to be, because of that practice interview I attended during which the mock interviewer stated that I had a bad reputation. This is in my Federal civil action, I believe. As I have stated, I am doing this from memory.

While I have the interviewer in my consciousness let me go into this a little bit. I had been forewarned the guy was blind. I kept my gum in my mouth when I entered the interview office, which was just slightly larger than a small closet. I sat down and the interview began. As quietly as possible I wet my fingers and removed the gum from my mouth. I rolled the gum up into a ball. I slowly brought the gum ball down between my knees. His head followed my movements. This guy had superior hearing, or he was not blind. I think it is possible that if this person was actually not blind that this was a practice interview technique to allow the interviewee to feel at ease. [Additionally, his watch had a smooth face.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755318)

While I was at Loyola Law School New Orleans I did become acquainted with people other than those I have previously mentioned as being acquainted with. Within the context of this post acquainted means that we spoke on a frequent, if not regular, non-adversarial, first name basis.

Among these persons were Lori Whittier (possibly her maiden name, her mother worked at Touro Hospital), J.R., ‘Kit’ Nyguen (possibly spelled incorrectly), Jessica Jenkins (her maiden name, and another island in the normalcy archipelago in the Aberration Sea), Peter Lappe (a vocally homophobic Texan that refers to many people as ‘jackasses,’ and whom I came to realize associated with John Hagan), Jesse Beasely (a married guy from South Carolina that lived in Metairie), and Kimone Paley.

There was a Japanese woman that I am just now remembering. I had taken her out to get something to eat, at an Asian restaurant, not far from the school. Although I had met her in the first or second semester, our acquaintanceship did not begin until nearly that time I was told to leave Loyola Law School. I recall that I asked her to drop me off in front of the school. We had gone to this restaurant in her vehicle. (She had a fixation with the mirror in this restaurant; she kept directing my attention to it. I had initially thought she was motioning that I look over my shoulder and so I did, it took me a few times to realize that she was motioning at the mirror. Idiosyncrasies abound in law school.) Just before I got out of her car she asked me a strange question, and this was: “Am I next?” I said sure. I was in a hurry to get out of her car or I might have asked next for what. I had spotted Noami by the front doors and I wanted to get another look at her as I did realize at that time that it was a possibility I would not be around this school much longer. (The fags were becoming too extreme.) I did communicate with this Japanese woman via a few e-mails, near the end of and after the time I was told to leave Loyola.

Lori and her husband Van, Kit, and J.R came to my home in the spring of 2002 for the Mardi Gras parade that rolls down the street alongside my home. I believe that someone else from the school was there, aside from myself, but I cannot recall at this time whom. It may have been Ava deMontaine. I had Ava and her daughter Lundi over for Sunday dinner (along with my sister-in-law, her kids, and the neighbors that unfortunately had moved and allowed the Twilight Zone in.)

Kit was a smart fellow. He was, if I recall correctly, from Washington State and had participated in math competitions. He and I often had sat on the front wall of the school reading between classes. One day I told him what I had said to Ava the previous semester. He no longer spoke to me after that. I cannot say that I blame him. What I did say to Ava was cold in the extreme. However, I had wanted to nip that crap in the bud. However, as Ava and I did become friendly acquaintances, it had been the correct thing to state. As an aside, law students can be pretty shitty. Ava told me that she had let a law student borrow her car and this student had wrecked it somewhere in Mississippi. Ava was a single mother going through law school; she really could not afford to take this hit. However, there was nothing I could do about it, she should have sued the law student, and I did suggest this.

Law schools have what is known as TGIF’s. These are student council (or something similar to student council) sponsored beer drinking gathering’s at various bars. I went to a few in the company of Lori and Van, and a couple of other law students. Martin Lang was along with us on one occasion when the TGIF was held at the ‘W,’ which is a hotel bar in downtown New Orleans. I cannot say that I ever really enjoyed going out to any of these TGIF’s.

I went out to lunch with Lori on a few occasions. Her husband Van met us on a couple of these occasions. Van and Lori operated snowball stands (a dessert made of flavored shaved ice). They did pretty well off of these snowball stands. Lori drove a blue convertible BMW and her husband drove a brown Toyota 4 Runner. Lori told me that they had another BMW that matched hers. Actually, I thought Van to be a bit on the slow side for apparently being so successful. Recently, I thought I spotted Lori driving past my home on the street which runs alongside my home. She was in an SUV and had sunglasses on. She had a sour look on her face. Although I thought that it was her, she did not stop and say hello so I must have been mistaken.

I went out drinking with J.R. one night. We went to a bar on River Road in Jefferson. I forget the name of it, but it has been around and apparently popular for years. I met him over at the school and we took my vehicle. I dropped him off at the school afterwards. He expressed concern that I may have been impaired and offered the use of the second bedroom at his home. I declined, as I had fairly carefully monitored how much I had had to drink and was perfectly fine to drive home. If I had not of been, I would have called a taxi or my wife.

I studied with Heather Borst on at least three occasions, at her home. I did inform my wife of my intentions. I ensured that Heather and I were seen in public. If this woman were to accuse me of anything, at least there would have been witnesses that we apparently had some camaraderie. As I think about my blog, and what I have thus far posted, it seems as though I had a great many friendly acquaintances with a number of women. Well, from my point of view, if anybody were to be thinking anything adulterous of me, I would prefer that these thoughts be associated with females rather than males. And I did need somebody to study with for the aural aspects of learning. Y’know, hear, repeat, reinforce, discuss.

Lawrence Moore, S.J., I am getting to you.

Yippi Yi Oh Ti Ay

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755319)

Loyola University School of Law Lawrence Moore, S.J.

I was standing in front of the main doors to the law school at about lunchtime. Kathleen Breaux exited the doors. She looked around a little bit. I greeted her. I believe she stated that she was waiting for her ride. She explained to me that she did some volunteer work at a local hospital during her lunch break. [It seemed like an awful short period of time in which to do volunteer work, but I had no reason to disbelieve her.] She was nearing the end of her explanation or story. Her manner and demeanor noticeably changed. She stated: “Imagine that, a five year old all alone in a room.” Her demeanor and tone left no doubt that I was to attach some significance to the thought of finding a five year old alone in a room. There was no doubt that I was supposed to find this intriguing. After she left I remained quite disturbed by her inference.

I went home that night and thought about it. I tried to think who among those people in the Dean’s suite could have possibly put this idea in this woman’s head about me. I was, and continued be, put under sexual pressure, and continued to be subjected to nasty comments made as people were walking behind my back, but to a lesser extent than in the first semester. By this time I had come to the conclusion that in order to remain in law school and be given the courtesy’s that people in society generally expect, one had to be of the ‘tribe,’ which is the best way I can put it at this moment. As I did not care to do anything I did not want to do (commit adultery), and more so especially did not want to do in order to become a member of some ‘tribe’ comprised of a majority of dysfunctional,* nasty, petty bastards, I determined that this was a pressure tactic to get me moving towards becoming a member of the ‘tribe.’

For some reason, Lawrence Moore’s named popped into my head. This made sense to me. Recently and increasingly, members of the Roman Catholic clergy have been being outed as pedophiles in the last few years. If this was a tactic to get me moving in the direction of becoming a member of the ‘tribe,’ the pressure tactic being an inference like this, of all the people in the Dean’s suite, the idea would have come from Lawrence Moore, S.J. I decided to test my hypothesis. Reasonably, from an intellectual viewpoint, why do pedophiles choose children? Among reasons that I am certain of by virtue of my education and slight ability to think, is because they are weak, defenseless, and trusting.

*I consider it dysfunctional to reject people merely because they do not fit some pre-conceived mold of acceptability that I formulated or learned.

The very next day I went up to the Dean’s suite and requested to speak with Dean Moore. I entered his office and took a seat opposite him, with his desk between us. I began speaking about LSU Law School. I was not paying too much attention to what I myself was saying about it. I was watching and listening to him. I was also giving him the opportunity to confess anything he knew. He did state: ‘It sounds like you’re doing the defaming to me.’ That was pretty much the end of the meeting.

I left this meeting dissatisfied with the results. I was reasonably certain Lawrence Moore, S.J., was a colon cowboy. I was reasonably certain that he had put the idea into Kathleen Breaux’s head to infer that I must prefer children, as I had been offered every thing else around this school and had not bitten. (And I had had offers, even though I viewed every single one with maximum suspicion, which further alienated me from those doing the offering, and nearly everyone else, for that matter.)

I went back the next day to finish the test. I entered Dean Moore’s office. I again took the seat opposite him on the other side of his desk. I asked if I could be allowed to drop his Civil Procedure course. I actually did not want to drop his Civil Procedure course, I was there for something else, and that was to determine whether a person in a state of weakness tripped his trigger. I told him that I was under a lot of pressure and I was having a hard time dealing with it. This was the truth, but it was sexual pressure. The exact order, as a matter of swearing that this was the exact order, of the conversation from this point on escapes me at this moment. I believe the following was the order of the conversation.

Dean Moore asked me if I had ever felt suicidal. I actually started crying, because I had. [My life was getting wiped out and I did not know why.] When Dean Moore saw this, he smiled. He glanced at the telephone on his desk and stated: “I am only asking out of concern for the school’s liability.” I truly felt much worse; this man was truly one sick fuck. He then stated that there would be no penalty. He then stated that there would be a penalty. When he stated that there would be a penalty, his hands dropped to his crotch and he started rubbing. I let this go on for somewhat less than ten seconds. I then decided that this had to be terminated. I stated that I had to go and started to stand up. Dean Moore arose. When he arose he grasped and lifted the front lower portions of his jacket and looked down at his crotch. He then looked up at me, dropped one of the portions of his jacket, and extended his hand. I took his hand, shook it, and turned and left his office.

When I exited his office, the common area of the Dean’s suite was deserted. I exited the doors of the Dean’s suite and looked into the records office to my right, it was deserted. There was no person in sight in the area around the elevator or in the elevator when I boarded it. When I arrived at the first floor and stepped out, there was no person in sight in the foyer. I looked into the glass walled office on the first floor and it was empty. I looked down the corridor that led to the library, and it was empty. I exited the front doors of the school and there was nobody on the large landing that met the steps. I stepped out and looked each way down the street and across the street. There was nobody in sight; it was if the school had been abandoned.

I took this to be of some significance. I think people had been made aware that I had been in Dean Moore’s office and in emotional distress. What had been offered to me had been offered to other emotionally distressed students in Dean Moore’s office as he liked his sexual prey weak. What these people could not have known was that was what I had been looking for and I had determined that when I graduated from this place I would come back and legally destroy him. I had satisfied myself that Kathleen Breaux had not arrived at this tactic herself.

A few days later I was passing the benches that were positioned in front of the school. I saw Amy, a student from one of my classes sitting on one of the benches. I generally found her to be pleasant and not one of the nasty tribe. I mentioned that I had a meeting with Dean Moore and that he had made a queer offer. I wanted to know if she knew what I was talking about. She nodded her head and stated that he had always been a straight shooter with her. There were two possible ways to take this; given my brief experience with Lawrence Moore, I chose to believe she had gone for it. As I had not stated there had been an acceptance of the offer, it should have been clear that I had not. Amy drove a blue two door BMW. Of all the people that I had met in law school and believed had alternate employment as a member of some law enforcement organization, she was among the most obvious, if I was reading things correctly. And if this person went for an offer of the type that Lawrence Moore had made, then the entire judiciary and law enforcement connected to it behaved similarly and this had to be an expected form of behavior. All these people were sick fucks, out to protect one another, and multiple judges proved my hypothesis. Lawrence Moore's behavior was normal to these people, as were Marlene Allgood's, Victoria McDaniel's, et. al., ad nauseum.

Of course, after six years, I have finally figured it out. But that does not absolve any judge from violating my right to seek a redress of grievances.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755322)

Loyola U. School of Law Lawrence Moore, S.J., cont.

Today, although I did work, I dwelled on my last post. Between the statement that there would be no penalty and that there would be a penalty, Lawrence Moore told me he could get me a tuition refund, and stated an amount around or about $3000.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755323)

You need to seek psychatric help or just blow your brains out. Get off your fat ass and get a life and I do not appreciate you dragging my name and my parent's names into your chronicles of sickening distorted lies.

TOBY MONIER

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6619323)

To any of those people reading this that grind their teeth at my failure to post this story chronologically or in some other acceptable sequence: I have to tell it as I have to tell it. Let some other person sort it all out and set it linear. Further, if my structure or grammar is far off, that is just how it is going to be and if anybody does not like it they can do what I told Shannon Penn he could do: “You can go jump in the F’ing lake.”

This is something that I need to write before I forget about it again.

As I have earlier stated, I had gone to Professor John Church after the day that I think of as the day the feces hit the fan. On one of these occasions that I was visiting his office in the pursuit of determining what had been communicated about me and by whom, he stated: “I do not care.” At the time, I found this statement very disheartening. You would have to have been living my life at the time to understand why. I have earlier, within this chronicle, related many of the events that were occurring, but not all.

Here are a few more, and the exact order is probably off.

There is a Louisiana State Trooper that lives up the street from me. At this time I had been living in this house for ten years. I believe this State Trooper had been living here at the time I moved in. After the day the feces hit the fan I observed this State Trooper passing my house on the sidewalk across the street. It was a bright day, so he would not have noticed me watching him as I was standing back within the shadows of the interior of my home. As he was passing, he appeared to be attempting to look through the windows of my home. In and of itself, this behavior and action is fairly innocuous and not uncommon. However, in light of what was going on in my life, that I had been accused of something and was not to made aware of what, and that he was a representative of the law enforcement of the State of Louisiana, this action did chill me. Further, in the ten years that I had been living here, I had never seen this guy take a walk. Not on one single occasion.

I had a friend, Randy, that lives in the next subdivision over. I visited him very often prior to my entry to law school. We generally sat in his back yard and just shot the breeze. During my time at LSU Law school I visited him. I tried to explain to him what was going on at LSU Law school. I was looking for advice. I believe I told him about everything, including the sexually aggressive Victoria Monier / McDaniel. He asked me if I had sex with her and I told him no, I had not. I have not had sex with any woman other than my wife for nearly a year prior to marrying her. [And I have never had sex with another male in my entire life.] He then told me a short story about how a woman had once accused him of getting her pregnant and how he blew her out of the water because he had made a notation on a calendar of the occasion on which he had sex with this woman. Although this was an interesting story, at the time I did not see any applicability to my situation.

[In hindsight I see what the applicability may have been to my situation. I think it is possible that the slut, Victoria Monier / McDaniel, was pregnant and had gotten pregnant the summer before I matriculated at LSU. I think that she was aware of this and that is the reason that she was such a pit bull about getting laid. She wanted someone to pay for it. This could be one of the reasons that her dialogue about sex was so often interspersed with comments about money. Further, I think the administration of LSU Law School was aware of this. Furthermore, I think somebody made the presumption that as I was associating with her, I had been sexually intimate with her. If this was a presumption that was made by the administration of LSU Law School, it was not a presumption that they should have made. I thought that everyone knew that a person is innocent until proven guilty. And among the first things the accused is made aware of is what they are suspected of. You would think that a school full of lawyers and wannabe’s would know this. I have met guys with seventh grade educations that knew this. I think that an epithet that Ted Beddingfield often spouted is apropos: “Educated idiots.”]

During the fall of the year 2000, I visited this friend Randy on a few more occasions other than that which I previously related within this post, and after the day I think of as the day the feces hit the fan. Some very odd and disquieting things happened during some of these visits.

I arrived at his home on one occasion and exited my vehicle. His neighbor, Eric Falgout, upon my arrival, had called his three sons to him and gathered them about his legs with his arms wrapped around them. Eric was staring at me very peculiarly. I found this odd, and very disquieting. On my prior visits to my friend’s home, Eric’s sons had always ran around Randy and me like a bunch of electrons. On this occasion and future visits to Randy’s home, Eric’s sons running around us like a bunch of electrons never happened again. The word disheartening is not adequate.

On another occasion I visited Randy only to find that he was not home. I noticed his neighbor, Kelsey, in his driveway across the street from Randy’s home. I had always thought Kelsey to be a good guy and I had thought that I had gotten along with him well. I hailed him and walked across the street to ask him where he thought Randy might be. Kelsey approached me down the driveway. He is somewhat taller than I am and he had a cant to his body that appeared as if he were ready to fight. He told me that Randy had gone out of town for the weekend. During the brief time that I was speaking to him, I had the distinct impression that he was restraining himself from punching me. At the time, I figured that he had just had an extremely bad day and was looking for someone, anyone, to take it out on. I think people get like this sometimes.

This next instance is not about me. This next instance is about another of Randy’s neighbors. Randy told me a neighbor had applied for some position that required a background check. He further told me that some law enforcement officers had canvassed the neighborhood asking questions about this neighbor. I did not think much of this at the time. I supposed that it was possible that there are such jobs where such background checks are desirable.

In hindsight, I believe that there are two possibilities. These are:

A) Victoria Monier / McDaniel became frightened that I would begin relating what a sexually aggressive and deviant slut that she apparently was. She could not have known that I was viewing this as some type of hazing. So she related to persons, including Toby Kyle Monier, a peace officer and her ex-husband, that I was trying to get into her skank pants and saying all kinds of nasty things and Toby Kyle Monier put the word out with his peace officer buddies that I needed to be investigated as a possible pedophile , or,

B) LSU Law School has audio monitoring devices implanted around the school so that they can be aware of what is going on. {This will sound far fetched to the uninitiated. However, courts do this routinely. Anybody up in Prince William (or is it Prince George) county Maryland ever notice that this fact is advertised on the courtroom walls?} LSU Law School had a recording of Ms. Monier’s aberrant question and my immediate and hostilely negative response. LSU Law School was attempting to compel me to complain about Ms. Monier / McDaniel so that they could take some action against her. So, administrators of LSU Law School gave my name to the authorities as a possible pedophile in some twisted logic pressure tactic to get me to complain. If this scenario is the correct one, then it is possible that John J. Costonis gave my name to the authorities as I already have evidence that he gave my name to person’s representative of a task force that was investigating a series of murders in the Baton Rouge area.

I WASN’T BORN WITH ENOUGH MIDDLE FINGERS. Marilyn Manson.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6629769)

The question: Why am I publishing this chronicle of evil events?

I attempted to use the courts in the appropriate manner.

The courts did not care to hear my case.

Did I not seek the help of the knowledgeable?

I did, time and again, seek legal counsel.

Time and again I had been rejected.

Is this chronicle merely a delusional fabrication?

I am setting forth the facts.

I am setting forth truth.

Isn’t redress a judicial function?

Possible redress seems unlikely.

This is destruction.

Am I correct?

I am.

Absolutely.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6629778)

Loyola University New Orleans #11

After my meeting with Lawrence Moore, S.J., the fags came out of the woodwork. The law school was infested with them. I have never really had any problem with fags, I just view their behavior as a live and let live kind of thing. [In hindsight, live and let live was probably the worst statement my father ever uttered that I paid attention to.] I ignored them as best I could, but this added to the pressure that I was under. I determined that Lawrence Moore, S.J, had indicated to one of his student bun buddies that he and I had been sexually intimate. Really, who was I going to complain to? This man was a Jesuit priest at a Catholic University. In the hierarchy of power on that campus, this sick fuck was up there. And around New Orleans, Loyola University itself commands some respect.

I gave already covered multiple events, i.e., Adele, Deanneane, lunch with Sarah Whalen, that occurred after my meeting with Lawrence Moore, S.J. I am now getting to the final semester, fall 2002, of my time at Loyola Law School, New Orleans. I will likely, some time in the future, drop back and fill in some about Professor Viator and Reynolds Blankenship, et. al.

At the beginning of this final semester the fags cranked up again. I had some respite during the prior summer semester. The caterwauling of the fags, while muted in the sense that it became a background fact of my existence, was incessant. I came to the conclusion that all this had something to do with LSU Law school, although I could not then, nor could I now, explain what logic brought me to this conclusion.

Near the end of September, 2002, I decided to write a letter to John J. Costonis. My wife became upset with me for writing this letter. I do not know why. I called the LSU Law school library to get the school address of Mr. Costonis. I mailed this letter. It was returned to me a few days later with a yellow label pasted over the address indicating that the correspondence was undeliverable as addressed. I removed the letter from the envelope and placed the envelope in a plastic baggie. I called the school again to get the correct address.

Around or about the first week of October, 2002, I arrived home from Loyola Law at around or about noon. I had a much later class so the drive home was worth it. I entered my home. I went to the kitchen counter top and noticed that there were a couple of messages on the answering machine. The persons calling had failed to enunciate the return numbers, and returning these calls became a slightly frustrating task. I was unable to get through to either party and I exclaimed "Fuck!"

When I had entered my home a few minutes before, I realized that my wife was upstairs. I could hear the water running in the upstairs bath. When I exclaimed "fuck," my wife called down and asked what was the problem. I stated something about idiots leaving incomprehensible telephone messages.

I then went upstairs to change. When I arrived home between classes my habit was to work out in my backyard and study afterwards. I was getting in very good shape at the time. I entered a second bedroom that I used as my walk in closet and began changing. My wife entered the room and began berating me for my earlier exclamation downstairs. She had her toothbrush in her hand and toothpaste laden spittle was hitting me in the face. I just stood there looking at her wondering what the hell was going on now. My earlier exclamation did not warrant this response. She left the room and I finished changing.

I went outside into the backyard and began to lift weights. I was thinking about my wife's display of anger. I went back inside to ask her what had so upset her. She was standing by the aquarium, in the dining area, feeding the fish. I was standing by the passage door leading into the garage. I asked her why she was so angry about my earlier exclamation and she stated: "It upset the dogs." I lost it. I started screaming at her. I must have called her ever vile descriptor that I could think of. She approached me from the dining area and entered the kitchen, stopping at the stove to turn the heat on under the kettle. She then approached the dishwasher and opened the door. I continued yelling as I was so pissed off that I had to watch my language because I might upset the dogs. She began unloading the dishwasher on the floor, walls, and against the kitchen cabinets. I stopped yelling at his point and just watched her, amazed. She finished unloading the dishwasher and went to the stove and fixed a cup of coffee. As she finished pouring it I turned to go back outside. I had enough of this rant, but I was still pissed off. I noticed a round, about 2" in diameter, ceramic decoration set in a slightly larger piece of wood on the wall adjacent to the passage garage door. I snatched it off of the wall and threw it to the garage floor in front of me. In the next moment I was overcome with pain and screamed. My wife had just thrown her freshly poured up of coffee on my backside.

I called the police. My wife had just crossed the line. It took me three attempts to complete the call as I did not want my wife to get into the kind of trouble that this act would surely bring. There was something going on beyond my ability to figure it out. The police arrived. The first officer to arrive began speaking to my wife. The second officer to arrive, I think his name was Perrilloux, stated to me that he ought to arrest us both. I asked him what for. He stated: "Someone broke those dishes." More police arrived, among whom was Deputy Spencer. An ambulance from Acadian Ambulance also arrived. The paramedic pronounced my burn to be second degree and took photographs of the burn wound. I re-entered my home. The police officers were sitting around the kitchen counter 'bar' area and apparently discussing the layout of my kitchen. My wife was sweeping up the broken dishes and so forth. I could not believe what I was seeing. I just went out into the backyard and resumed lifting weights; believe it or not, I was in shock. Everybody around me was in the Twilight Zone.

A short time later the police left. A remaining Deputy informed me that he had told my wife to leave for a while to cool off. That was that. As I did love my wife, and did realize that there was something going on beyond my ability to figure out, I let it go at that. When I went to school the next day, I went and told Sarah Whalen what had happened. I just had to tell somebody. Sarah did not express anything.

On or about October 15, 2002, I drove to LSU Law school to hand deliver the original letter in a different envelope. When I arrived at the Chancellor's suite I asked for Mr. Costonis and was told that he was out of town. I left the letter with the receptionist.

When I left the fourth floor area of the Chancellor's suite I took the elevator. I believe that the elevator stopped at the third floor. A construction worker entered the elevator. We had a brief conversation. For some reason I thought that he was a flooring mechanic. He told me he was doing demolition for the remodeling that the school was currently undergoing. I asked if any of the materials he was removing were hazardous. I asked this as the building was of an age that asbestos had likely been used in its construction, and I had seen no apparent precautionary measures in place as I had seen at other construction sites where asbestos removal was being undertaken. He held his index finger to his lips. Reasonably, I took this to mean 'be quiet about that.' Given that from my point of view the administration of LSU Law was dirty and corrupt beyond compare, when I arrived home I wrote a letter to Kathleen Kohl, of the EPA, Environmental Crimes Unit. I also wrote a letter to OSHA. Somehow, a department of the State of Louisiana got hold of my letter to the EPA and wrote me a letter stating that this had brought to their attention.

I hope in my next two posts to finish a recitation of the the events at Loyola Law School, New Orleans.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6634472)

Loyola University New Orleans #12

Between the 15th and the 25th of October, 2002, the behavior of fags at Loyola Law became worse. The exact sequence of events of these last ten days escapes me. I have always found it too coincidental in those 10 days after I delivered a letter to John J. Costonis, the level of sexual harassment I was experiencing skyrocketed, and then I was gone from Loyola Law School.

I believe during this span of time is when I delivered the gerbil, cage and insertion device to the Pine Street Café’ with the card addressed to Lawrence Moore, S.J. Professor Crusto walked into the foyer of the Pine Street Café’ where I was setting up this display. He read the card, looked at me, but I do not recall whether he said anything. I left and went and told Arlene Wiltz about the gerbil and accessories and asked her, if she would not mind, if they were there at the end of the day to ensure that Ava DeMontaine received the assembly for her daughter. Later that day I observed Lawrence Moore walking away from the Pine Street Café.’ This man looked like he needed to kick someone’s ass. It was all over his body and face. Truly, I enjoyed this.

The next morning I was informed that a meeting was being called that I was required to attend with Dean Klebba, Stephanie Jumonville, and Lawrence Moore S.J. It was scheduled to occur at about 4 p.m., a couple of days hence. When I entered and took a seat, Dean Klebba told me that three students had complained about e-mails from me but did not want to step forward. As this was bullshit, in every sense, I did not bother to respond. Within a few moments after realizing that this was a bullshit meeting, my temper rose. I shot bolt upright out of my seat and pointed at Lawrence Moore, S.J., and stated: “This son of a bitch told me to kill myself.” This was not actually accurate, as he merely stated that if I did he was only concerned about any liability of the school. I did not mention the part about him rubbing his crotch through his trousers. I was in enemy territory. Never expend all your ammunition. And all my ammo has not been published in this blog, either.

Stephanie Jumonville made some statement about me bothering a particular female student, but did not state a name. She looked at Lawrence Moore. Lawrence Moore looked uneasy. Lawrence Moore had been a naughty fudge packing eavesdropper. Lawrence Moore had been intercepting e-mails. At that moment I was certain that he had intercepted two between Heather Borst and me, otherwise the persons in that office on that day would not have been so sure of themselves. I will leave that for the witness stand, and/or my book. Lawrence Moore said nothing, so I supplied a name. I stated Noami Nichols. I had not purposefully sought out Noami Nichols to say hello to her in months, ever since John Hagan had stated the word stalker into my ear. I still ran into her, and I still believed she had some interest in me, and I did write her at least two of these e-mails after the time John Hagan had stated “stalker” into my ear. I truly was enamored of her.

[Please recall that I have stated that Noami Nichols has been by my home on at least three separate occasions since I was told to leave Loyola Law. If I was bothering her that much, why would she come around my home thirty miles from the school? I did attempt to get her to speak to me on one of these occasions, but she would not. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she actually did have something to do with getting me booted out of Loyola Law. I earlier related how I had seen her when the Japanese woman dropped me off. Well, I do not know whether Noami noticed me getting out of this vehicle, but she surely did not look too happy.]

Stephanie Jumonville ran with this. She stated I was to have no contact and not to attempt any contact with Ms. Nichols. I agreed, as this was easy to do. This ended the meeting. When I walked out of the office, Jeremy Diamond was standing by the counter. He gave me a thumbs up. Why, I do not know.

Over the next couple of days I believe I saw Noami twice. I did not speak to her either on either occasion. It did appear as if she were baiting me. On the second occasion, after she passed, she patted herself on the back. Believe it or not, I could appreciate this. In fact, I could have kissed her butt for that single gesture.

The caterwauling tempo of the fags increased. Finally, I had enough. I went up to the Deans suite, and approached the counter. Kathleen Breaux was seated behind this counter at her desk. I pointed at Lawrence Moore’s office and exclaimed [louder than a statement, quieter than a bellow]: “I am taking him down.” AND I AM DOING IT. I immediately turned, walked out and went to the office of Arlene Wiltz. I related, as best I could, what had happened in Lawrence Moore’s office. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. I was pretty much wiped out; these fags had finally gotten to me.

Hopefully I ‘ll finish up with Loyola Law School New Orleans with my next post about this law school; although it will have to be a lengthy one. However, the publication of the next post may have to wait a few days. In the past few weeks I have stopped going to the gym and picked the cigarettes up again, heavily. I need to reverse this deterioration in my health. I have at least 30 more posts to write. This is exclusive of the 'for fun' lame attempts at being poetic.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6640053)

Loyola Law School New Orleans #13

I arrived at Loyola Law School the next morning. I believe my first class of the day was Constitutional Law 2 with Professor Medina. I do believe that on this day one of the topics covered was the Interstate Commerce Clause and its applicability to civil rights. Sometime in the beginning of the class, Professor Medina drew a large circle in the center of the chalk board. Within this circle she wrote a name, mine. She then stated: “I can get you money__________.” “$50,000.” “You can finish law school comfortably.” She then erased the circle from the board. I determined at that moment that after class I would find out what this was about. It seemed fairly clear, but it could not possibly be what I had been thinking.

When the class ended I waited for Professor Medina to exit. I asked her if she might have another copy of her course syllabus. [I really did need one.] I accompanied her to her office. A uniformed campus police officer trailed us to her office and waited outside her office. She began looking for the syllabus. I asked her to lunch as I was not comfortable speaking within the Law School building. It had already been demonstrated to me that eavesdropping was a favorite pastime of these people. I whispered to her that I thought Father Moore had punched Stephanie Jumonville. I forget what she said, but in the next few moments we exited the office. This same uniformed police officer trailed us back up the corridor. This action did not bother me too much, as I realized I was on my way out. I turned to the officer and told him something about following the wrong person; he needed to be looking at them, up there. I pointed in the direction of the Dean’s suite.

Professor Medina and I turned a corner that put us in view of the door of the Dean’s suite. Kathleen Breaux was standing in the doorway, holding the door open, and looking at me. She was smiling and had a black eye. This seemed incongruous. Once again, I diminished internally.

I left the law school and went to the main campus. I had been informed sometime earlier, I believe the prior morning, that I had a meeting with Dr. Vicki McNeil. I arrived at Dr. McNeil’s office. She, Dr. Flynn and I sat. Dr. McNeil started talking. She mentioned something about e-mails that I had sent to a student, and she named Noami. She held up a stack of papers, at least 50 sheets thick, the implication being that what she held in her hand were e-mails I had sent to Noami. Dr. McNeil also mentioned the gerbil. The meeting went on for a few more minutes. Dr. McNeil accused me of asking Professor Medina on a date. I thought that this was a mischaracterization of lunch and I so stated. I also stated that I had taken a couple of other faculty members to lunch. [From my point of view this wasn't a brown nosing as neither of the two faculty members really could do nothing for me. In the case of Medina, I was hoping to get some information.]

While Dr. McNeil had been speaking she occasionally glanced to her left. There was an alcove off of the main area of her office. I suspected at the time that someone was standing there. Earlier, when I had first sat down I thought I had caught a sleeve of a suit coat at the corner of this alcove, but had dismissed this. I now suspected that if somebody were standing there it would have been the Reverend Bernard P. Knoth, S.J.

I practically whispered: “I think Father Moore hits women.” (I was raised a Catholic, hence the honorific for this scuzbag.) Dr. McNeil immediately stated that she was going to give me two options, a disciplinary hearing or a medical withdrawal with a tuition refund for this semester. She went on to state that if I desired to return to the University I would have to see a psychiatrist and get on medication. Dr. McNeil also stated that I was to go no where near the law school. I stated that I wanted a disciplinary hearing. She stated: “You can’t have it.” At that time we scheduled an appointment for me to come back and speak with Dr. Flynn in a week or so. I wanted this; the more information, the better.

After this meeting I took the shuttle back to the vicinity of the law school to get my car. In front of the law school were arranged several uniformed campus officers. There were also students outside of the law school, on the front landing. Whether these students associated these police officers with me, I do not know, but I sure did.

In the interim between this last day at Loyola Law and my return visit to see Dr. Flynn, I wrote a letter to the Reverend Bernard P. Knoth, President of the Board of Trustees of Loyola University New Orleans, appealing the decision. I received a return letter from Rev. Knoth stating that he was aware of the situation and agreed with the decision.

I returned to the Loyola campus for this meeting with Dr. Flynn. I first drove to the main campus, looking for a parking spot. I could not find one, so I drove to the area of the law school. It was my intent to take the shuttle to the main campus. I walked alongside the Pine Street Café’ towards the street that the law school faces. As I was about to turn the corner, a uniformed campus police officer stepped into my path. He asked me where I was going. I told him I was going to take the shuttle to the main campus. He told me that I could not do that. Furthermore, his presence directly in my path, and his apparent authority, were clearly indicative that I was not to be allowed to proceed down this sidewalk. This action did bother me, extremely. I returned to my vehicle and drove back to the main campus. I was able to find a parking spot on this attempt.

I entered the meeting with Dr. Flynn. He asked me what was different about my experiences between LSU Law and Loyola Law. I stated: “They came after me, I went after her.” ‘I went after her’ was in reference to my asking Noami Nichols to lunch. In hindsight, I do not believe that this was his point. I think it is possible that these morons had thought that I had a disciplinary hearing at LSU Law, which was the reason I had come to Loyola. This did not occur to me until some very great time later, actually after I filed my Federal civil action. The similarity of the two schools was this: both had taken my money, kicked the crap out of me for no cause ever expressed to me, and did so with impunity because they knew that they had the status to engender the protection of the judiciary. The difference between LSU Law and Loyola Law was this: LSU Law took a little bit of my money and drove me out, Loyola Law took a lot of my money and threw me out. And both schools did this because I did not have sex with any person other than my spouse. I see no other way to see it. What a racket.

Jumping forward. On or about August 4, 2003 I filed my Federal civil action. Around or about august 15, 2003, it was reported in the Times-Picayune and on the local television that the Reverend Bernard. P. Knoth, S. J. was leaving Loyola University to answer allegations about a sexual relationship that he may have had with a student at a prior school he had been an administrator of. I do believe that my earlier assessment that I did not have anybody to complain to about the behavior of Lawrence Moore, S.J., was correct.

Even though I had been aware for a couple of weeks prior to the meeting with Dr. McNeil that my days at Loyola Law were numbered, the actuality of being expelled was numbing. Although these were dark hours in my life, I cannot truthfully state that they were the darkest. I can truthfully state that the darkest hours in my life were my last two or three weeks at LSU Law school. No other trauma I have ever experienced is even remotely comparable. It occurs to me now that I may have to explain why in a prequel.

No, this is not the end of the story. There continued a series of events which I attribute to these two law schools. I have a question. In the spring of 2003 was Marlene Allgood driving a green convertible Volkswagen? If so, she had been in the vicinity of my home also, about 50 miles from Baton Rouge.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6690366)

Law School Prostitutes

The reason that I am writing this post is that somewhere on one of the threads someone had mentioned that I had stated something about prostitutes and these law schools. As I had never written anything about prostitutes in any of my posts, I presume that someone I routinely speak with posted this statement. So, I suppose I had better explain myself. I do not actually know how I had arrived at the conclusion that there were prostitutes in law school. In hindsight, I realize I was in error. [We all love Big Brother.] IN A RAT'S MF'ING ASS.

Someone made a sarcastic reference to my Grand Unifying Conspiracy Theory [hereinafter GUCT], that I have not posted yet. Well, part of it has to do with prostitutes in law school with the knowledge of the faculty and administration. Furthermore, my GUCT has the the prostitutes being paid as student workers and covered by insurance. [By the way, people, the FBI had a copy of the civil action three or so years ago, I believe that this was fair notice.]

Early in the month of October, 2002, my wife had thrown scalding coffee on my backside. Thereafter, she began speaking about leaving our home and doing some nursing agency work. I encouraged this. There was something going on beyond what was happening in our home and at Loyola Law and I was frightened. Furthermore, as she had thrown scalding coffee on my backside I wanted her gone, at least for a while. My wife left for St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands, on or about November 6, 2002. On or about November 5, 2002, was the last occasion that my wife and I have ever slept together or been sexually intimate. In a little more than a month it will be four years since I last had sex.

Among the reasons that I became frightened was that I began to believe I was being followed. As I did and do nothing to warrant the attention of any law enforcement agencies that would give any law enforcement agency legitimate cause to begin following me, I presumed that the people following me were connected to organized crime. [On or about February 5, 2003, Detective Jerry Mitchell of the Louisiana State Police visited me at my home within the scope of an investigation into a series of murders in the Baton Rouge area. A couple of months later I received the evidence that John J. Costonis had given a representative of the serial killer task force my name.] At the time I had this theory that some of the women that I had met and observed at these two law schools were prostitutes*, enrolled with the blessings of the administration. I had this theory that the people following me were a warning that I had better keep my mouth shut. I was so frightened that I dismantled the stairs leading to the second story of my home. I left the treads loose. Although this made ascending and descending the stairs dangerous for me, I was at least able to get some sleep. During this time when the cat came up the stairs I bolted upright. I did not re-secure the treads until some time after my wife returned from St. Thomas, around or about February 10, 2002. I still have not rebuilt the staircase. In this state it serves as a reminder.

I worked during the month of November, 2002. I poured a slab, built a patio cover or two, and a deck or two and made enough money to pay bills and get out of Louisiana for a while. I actually left the State of Louisiana for most of the month of December, 2002. I would have stayed gone much longer if I could have afforded to. At that time, I was that frightened. For the greatest portion of the day, every day. Going to the police was out, they were part of whatever was going on. Yes, I was paranoid. But, as Sarah Whalen stated to me, something close to this: 'It's not abnormal to be paranoid when they are out to get you.'

*I had earlier mentioned Cara Raymond. Although I believe that this woman is not and has never been a prostitute and is a fine member of both the legal community and community in general, for a while I had thought that she was a prostitute. I had sat in one of our classes behind her and to her right, about 6 feet away. I watched her write what I believed to be letters in class. I never observed her take a note. And there was the incident with her under the light telling me that she was so sorry for being late to her appointment with Marlene Allgood. One day I decided to bring a camera to school. I wanted a photograph of Cara and several others. On this day Cara decided to wear a baseball cap and sunglasses. It was a coincidence. I am glad that she wore these. After I saw this I decided to heck with the attempt to take the photographs. I remember at least one other name, and the rest I could pick out from photographs. Not that I believe that any of these females were prostitutes. It was merely a theory that I had for a while. That Victoria McDaniel / Monier interspersed her sexual talk with references to money was likely to pay for a pregnancy, I am currently presuming. That somebody stated to me, "A doctor checks all the girls out," was a reference to a conversation that I had missed. That I had seen another 1L females' [that fit the profile] car by the faculty club on a Saturday afternoon meant nothing. Even though 1L's are neither allowed to work or go into the faculty club and there were plenty of parking places right in front of the law school on this Saturday afternoon.

I want to be perfectly clear on this. I am not the prostitute police. I do not care whether prostitutes are in law schools. What I do care about is, and this is too much of a hint of my GUCT, is whether the presence of prostitutes in law schools has caused me to lose a significant percentage of my productive life. Although I believe it is likely that Victoria McDaniel/Monier was pregnant and was looking for someone to pay for it, it is a safe presumtion that Victoria McDaniels/Moniers references to money and sex might also be what a prostitute looking for a john might talk about, and, as she did state to me that "everbody F's around," Victoria McDaniel/Monier has "F'd" around a lot, and talked about money while she was doing it. [It is a safe presumption that the majority of married men that an active prostitute meets in the course of her business are "F'ing" around.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6707921)

Matt and Amy: Punk Bitch and Evil Bitch

In the summer of the year 2002 my neighbors moved out and Matthew and Amy bought their house. The first time I saw Amy she had just exited the rear sliding doors of the house. She was walking slightly hunched over with her arms folded across her chest. She had quite a disgusted look on her face. Based on the look on her face, I presumed that she had just had an argument with someone. I did not greet her as she definitely appeared as if any greeting would not be welcome. Amy looked very much like Victoria Monier / McDaniel, except that she was not quite as homely.

Some time after the first time I saw Amy, Matt and Amy began moving into the house. It was August or September of 2002 and I was still enrolled in Loyola Law School. I was in my backyard working on something. Amy approached me at the chain link fence and asked if I had a paintbrush or something. She explained that they were trying to paint the acoustic texture of an area of the ceiling and asked if I knew of any way that they could accomplish this. I went to my shed and looked around. I found a truck washing brush and an extension handle. {I know a thick nap roller or sprayer would have been correct, but I had neither.} I went over to their home. I was invited in and attempted to paint an area with the truck washing brush. It did not work very well. In the area of the house that I had thought of as the formal living room I saw two people, a male and a female, on the floor painting the baseboard. The female glanced at me as I stepped away from the area of the ceiling that I was attempting to paint.

Amy stepped up to me from my left and her husband Matt stepped up to me to my right. She looked at her husband and then looked at me. She stated, in a low but audible voice: “We’re experimenter’s. The bedroom’s ready.” As we were downstairs in that room which I had thought of as the den when the prior neighbor’s had lived here, and the bedroom was upstairs, I did not understand the relevance of what she was saying. I slightly shook the paint laden truck washing brush and stated: “Me too.” I left and went and washed out the brush. While I was washing out the brush it occurred to me that what had just happened was an invitation to me to go up to their bedroom with them and experiment. [At the time I was about 230 lbs, tan, mostly obvious muscle, and I am good-looking to boot, up yours.] I decided I would not have too much to do with these people after that.

A few days later I was preparing to leave. Matt came out of his house and went to his vehicle in his driveway. I greeted him. (I was willing to give this person another opportunity to be normal.) We met on the front lawn at the approximate property line that separates our properties. I forget the gist of the conversation. I just remember how it ended. Matt looked directly at my crotch and twice stated that he took an AIDS and a drug test every six months. That was the end of that conversation. I left. After that, as much as possible I limited my discourse with these people to greeting them with a wave when I saw them. Most of the time when I saw Amy she had a sour look on her face. It became apparent that she called the shots in their household.

Matt was a St. John the Baptist Parish Sheriff’s Deputy. Amy worked for the State of Louisiana. She had a state pick-up truck which she took home. I believed that the two of them had a combined income of about $40K, no more than $50 K. They had just bought a house for about $100K. Amy drove a new looking Saturn. Soon after they moved in they bought a new Nissan pickup, one of the factory tricked out models. [An odd factoid which I noted: When the pickup was delivered, it bore a placard indicating that it had been purchased from Benson, I believe. About a week later I noticed that the dealer placard had been changed to one that bore the name Premier. It is not that I was that carefully scrutinizing these people, I just happened to notice this.] Sometime later they evidently traded this in and bought a factory tricked out Mustang. They changed the sliding glass doors in the back of the home to French doors and had the concrete slab topped with 2” of concrete. Thereafter they put up a 6’ board fence, which will be the topic of a whole post as the circumstances of this fence became so bizarre. They did not do any of the work themselves. These two people were about as useless as a hind teat on a bull.

The only point of my relating of what they did and bought is I am trying to point out how much they were able to do on their apparent income. They may have been spending money that they did not have yet, but were sure that they could get. A lot of people do this. Or, they could have had lucrative side jobs. Yep, I was very sensitive to sexual overtures by this time. I was developing this theory that the reason I had been subjected to so many sexual overtures had to do with prostitutes in law schools, and somebody’s effort to prove the point that everybody F’s around. I was beginning to develop this theory that somebody was putting up a reward for anybody other than my wife that could get me to have sex with them. It sounds bizarre, but I know what I experienced.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6720199)

Punk Bitch and Evil Bitch #2

Matt and Amy decided to put up a fence. Sometime in September or October of 2002 I was sitting at my picnic table in the backyard, studying. Matt came over and informed me that he and his wife were going to put up a board fence. He told me that they were going to buy the material and were looking for somebody to erect the fence. He made hammering motions in the air before him in the air when he stated this. By his tone I believed he was putting forth the possibility that I could do this. I did not respond. I had not erected any fences in over two years. I had never told him or his wife that I had ever erected a fence. I do not know for a fact where he got the idea that this was something I had ever done or might be interested in doing. I suspect that if he had heard that I had ever put up a fence this information came from his wife via the gossip across the street or someone within the Sheriff’s Department. As far as I knew, all Matt and Amy knew about me was that I was a guy who left, came home, worked out and read books in his back yard.

[As an aside, Amy had become buddies with the woman that cut my hair. The attitude of this woman that cut my hair changed towards me. I suspected that Amy was saying something about me, but what I could not know what as I had very little, practically nothing, to do with Punk and Evil Bitch and liked it that way.]

In November of 2002, aside from the brief conversation about the fence, which had not been put up yet, I had not spoken to either Matt or Amy for some time, I merely waved a greeting when I saw either of them. During this month, my pick up truck broke down in Wal Mart parking lot. A friend of mine, Larry, helped me get it to my house. Larry and his son and I were attempting to push the truck up and over the curb. I saw Matt exit his front door. I called over to him to ask if he could give us a hand. The four of us got the truck up and over the curb and into my driveway. I thanked him and he left. I only mention this as an illustration that from my point of view, I did not consider these people enemies. Furthermore, as Matt came over to lend a hand, I presume that at that time he had no problem with me. In hindsight, I think I was mistaken and had just caught him off guard, or, alternatively, as he had glanced across the street at Tony’s house before coming over to help me, he may have wanted to see if anybody was about that would notice him coming to my assistance. If this alternative theory is correct, that Matt did check to see if there was anyone about that would notice him coming to my assistance, then it is possible that Matt and Amy were involved in some kind of a game whereby they were communicating to the neighbors that they were having a problem with me and I was supposed to be kept ignorant of it. This incident with my pickup had to happen before the fence went up.

In November of 2002, or January of 2003, Matt and Amy began having the fence erected [It could not have been December as I was gone for most of this month and it could not have been February as my wife was still away when the fence was erected, I believe]. I was really going to miss the openness, but otherwise had no problem with it. The man that they found to install the fence was obviously a handyman. I observed his method and found it to be lacking. However, I made no comment as I was not paying for the fence and the fence was not going to be placed on my property. It took this man a number of evening visits to set the dozen or so posts that formed the fence line that separated our back and side yards.

One evening I noticed that of the last couple of posts that he had set, the last post crossed the property line and if he continued on this track about half of this fence would be on my property. This I did not want. This man was not putting up a professionally executed fence, and I know the difference. This man was putting up a Bubba fence. The next morning I found my plot plan and went next door to Matt and Amy’s house. Amy came to the door and Matt was just in sight behind her. Matt said to give him a few minutes to finish dressing and he would be out. I turned and looked across the street. I had the plot plan, which was bound between blue sheets of paper, in my hand. A neighbor, Tony, was in his yard. I waved to him and he waved back.

Matt and Amy came out of their house and we walked around to the space between our houses. I had the plot plan in my hand. Matt and I stood by the fence and I pointed out the features of the property that the plot plan depicted (my house, the shed, the telephone pole, the exisitng fence) and the property lines depicted on the plot plan. I showed him how the fence line was crossing the property line. This was all conducted in a friendly manner. As I went over the plot plan Matt did continuously assert that he understood what I was talking about. He assured me that the man erecting the fence would be apprised of the problem and of the change necessary to correct the fence line. Matt excused himself as he had to go to work and walked off.

Amy and I remained in the space between our two homes for a moment longer. Amy reassured me that Matt understood as he had worked for a surveyor for some time and additionally had done some landscaping work. This was reassuring, although I still thought that Matt was about as useless as a hind teat on a bull. In hindsight, Evil Bitch's' reassurance should have raised a flag.

That evening the man erecting the fence returned. I observed him preparing to set another post in the same line. I went out and asked him had Matt or Amy not told him that the fence line had to be corrected. [It only amounted to pulling up one post and then continuing setting the rest of the posts in the correct line.] This man told me that he had not been told anything. I went and knocked on the front door. Amy answered the door and invited me in. She retrieved my plot plan, which I had left with her in the morning so that she could show the man erecting the fence. This was all so far non-adversarial. She and I walked out to into her backyard. The sun had now set. I discussed the fence line with the man erecting the fence. As I was speaking with him, Amy stood behind my back and began making all kinds of nasty comments. I ignored this as I had already tagged her with my personal nickname for her, Evil Bitch. The man and I finished our conversation. I held on to my plot plan, this guy now knew what he had to do, which was just pull up and reset one post and adjust the line of the remaining posts to be set.

I excused myself and went to my house. Amy came over and asked to see the plot plan again. I told her I would make her a copy. She came back over and got this copy. She held it in her hand and turned slightly away from me. She slightly dipped her shoulder and cocked her head. On any other woman I would have said she was trying to strike some kind of a pose that would engender in the viewer a desire to help. On this woman it just reinforced my perception that she was an Evil, conniving bitch. Thankfully, she left.

The next morning there was a knock at my door. It was Matt. He was in his uniform. I greeted him. He stated: “What’s up with the fence.” His tone was indicative of a perturbed person. This raised flags as the day before everything had been clear and non adversarial. I walked outside and we walked together around to the space between our homes. I pointed out that the man erecting the fence had not pulled the post and had made preparations to continue setting the posts in the same line. Matt stated: “Yesterday you said the fence was fine.” Now my temper went up. I now knew beyond all doubt that these neighbors were playing some kind of a game. I had suspected so since soon after they had moved in, which was another reason I wanted little to do with them. Matt and I were standing on our respective properties. I pointed right at him and stated, very loudly: “You are a lying motherf’er.” He pulled himself upright and said: “Back down. I am a cop.” He barked “back down” a second time. I said: “F you, I am on my property.” In the next moment I realized I had to defuse this situation. If this guy and I got into a fight over this, I would be going to jail and he would be getting into his patrol car and going to work. I turned and walked away.

Just after I turned the corner of my home and was heading towards my front door I heard something behind me. I turned and Matt was entering my property between two vehicles I had parked on that side. He was stating: “C’mon, c’mon,” and gesturing that I should come over to him. I ignored this and went inside and called the Sheriff’s Department. I waited, occasionally glancing out of the window to see when the Deputy arrived. I saw the Deputy arrive and go over to Matt and Amy’s residence. For some foolish reason I had presumed that as I had called the Sheriff’s department, the Deputy would have come to my home. I realized within the next few moments that this had been a stupid presumption, as Matt was a Deputy and had a patrol car parked in front of his home.

I looked out the window and Matt and the Deputy were speaking. I let this go on for a few minutes. I presumed that eventually, as I had called the Sheriff’s department, this Deputy would come to my home. It became apparent that this Deputy had no intention of doing so. I walked outside and approached them. As I approached, Matt was speaking about the fence. I forget exactly what I stated, but it was about the fence being a civil matter. My complaint, if I had ever gotten the opportunity to state it, was this person had used his apparent authority as a law enforcement officer in the furtherance of some kind of game he and his wife were playing and was also attempting to use his apparent authority to make me desist from having him move his fence off of my property. This was not going to happen. Amy stood at the side of the driveway, a few feet away from us, and began stating that I was a liar. As I had not made any accusation about anything or anyone, this further reinforced my perception that she was an evil bitch, and stupid to boot. I held up the plot plan and stated: “Who’s lying here, Officer?” The Deputy told Matt to cease construction of the fence and get a survey.

The Deputy left. I walked away. Another neighbor, Buster, came across the street and told me he had witnessed Matt ‘calling me out.’ Matt and Amy have since moved.

A few days later I spotted Tony sitting out in his yard, I think he may have been making adjustments on a riding lawn mower. I walked up to him, waved at Matt’s home, and said: “Tony, about these neighbor’s…” That is as far as I got. He raised his hand to cut me off and I stopped speaking. He stated: “I’ll tell you the same thing I told them, I do not want to hear about it.” I said nothing else and walked away. I had suspected and it now became apparent to me at that moment that Evil bitch was saying something about me to Tony’s wife. Tony’s wife is a garrulous gossip. When she cut my hair I would listen, and try to limit myself to non-committal comments. It was just gossip, and not something that I actually thought was the whole truth and nothing but the truth or would repeat to anybody. However, as she did cut hair, and had mostly female patrons that came from diverse areas of this pisant town, I believe that whatever, if anything, Amy had to say about me was being disseminated throughout this town by the hens. At some point I had told her that I suspected Matt and Amy to be swingers. She did seem approving, so I had nothing else to say about it. Ten years before I had unknowingly moved into Peyton Place.

I eventually came to suspect that the actual reason that my wife had thrown scalding coffee on my back had something to do with Matt and Amy. This is part of my GUCT which involves law enforcement, the judiciary, and factions of lawyers and law professors, law school administrators, et. al., and an investigation into prostitution in law schools. I believe that Matt and Amy saw themselves as some kind of crime busters, and committed crimes in the process as detailed per my civil action against them. In hindsight, I believe that through the judiciary and law enforcement of this pisant town some rumors and stories were being disseminated about me that had to do with Victoria Monier / McDaniel. At the time this never occurred to me as I had rarely, if ever, thought about her after I left LSU Law School.

Even though I had as little to do with these people as possible, there are quite a few more subtle incidents that occurred with Evil Bitch and Punk Bitch. I am not chronicling these, as, not only can I not remember them all, these were merely subtle incidents. It is the totality of these incidents that made a conclusion I came to in April of 2003 so real to me. And I am getting to what happened in April of 2003 that totally changed my life, and likely for the remainder of my life.

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 5:13 PM 0 comments

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6725624)

Interlude: The Balcony

In January of 2003, I now had had some time to think about what had transpired. I began to seriously question my own perceptions of right, wrong, and society in general. For the past 20 years I had basically gone to work and came home. I had a few friends and a number of acquaintances. None of these people had ever behaved in the manner of those people I had been associating with or those that I had met in the past couple of years. Was it me, or was it them? If it was them, then law schools and law enforcement were corrupt. In my tribulations, if it was them then these organizations had abrogated their duties. Therefore, from my point of view, part of the reason that these organizations are corrupt is that they have legal duties to not make any presumptions, decisions or pass any judgments until they have the facts. These organizations serve society, not vice versa.

My wife was in St. Thomas. I decided to start going out to bars. I first went to St. Joe’s on Magazine Street on New Year’s Eve, 2002. I liked this place, and Adele had also. St. Joe’s was kind of on the small side. I sat at the bar. I struck up a conversation with a woman sitting next to me. She was there with a friend. I said something wrong, because I think she got the idea that I wanted to go home with her. She seemed to like the idea. As I was not there to pick up any women, I pretended ignorance when the time to walk out the door with her came. I decided that St. Joe’s was too small for me. I decided to go to the Balcony. I had been there once for a TGIF. And Adele had recommended that I go there after exams, but the place had been closed.

The Balcony had some positive aspects to it. It was larger, more brightly lit, was rarely packed, and the bar itself was reminiscent, to me, anyhow, of the Long Branch Saloon. It took me a few weeks to realize that mostly bisexuals went to this place. [In hindsight, not only did Adele tell me to go there because the place was going to be closed, but because it was a bisexual bar and she must have figured that since I was not having sex with any of the women at Loyola Law School, I must be a homo.] But that did not bother me as my intent was not to meet anyone for sex, but just to see and be seen. [I was about 215, muscular, tan, good looking and I believed that somebody would remember that I went there and never left with anybody. Additionally, I have never picked up a woman in a bar in my life.] I was never driven or thrown out of the Balcony because I never left with anyone. No one that I can recall ever made any nasty comments behind my back or to my face. My property was not damaged. So, I came to the conclusion that it was them, the law schools. I went to the Balcony on somewhat of a time table, arriving at or about 9 p.m. on Saturdays and leaving at or about midnight. Besides all this, Noami lived several blocks away.

I did run into some of the law students from Loyola Law School there. They did not have much to say except to express condolences. I did not have any response to this; I was preparing, although I did not know it at the time, to write this chronicle. [I was also proceeding, in part, under the presumption that law schools were corrupt, full of prostitutes and sexual deviants, and had the protection not only of law enforcement but of organized crime as well and these law students were dupes, yet to grow up and realize the truth.] On one occasion I saw Bart Alexander from LSU Law School there. I did not speak to him as I doubted that he would remember me, and if he did I neither cared to ask nor to answer any questions at that time. So Bart, if you did recognize me and if you ever read this, my apologies for not saying hello.

Although I did not go to the Balcony to socialize, on one Saturday night a guy that I knew as Joe from Loyola Law showed up. I had liked this guy, although when I had been at Loyola he had treated me in a manner that the reasonable person would perceive as kind of shitty, but in a friendly way. Joe was there with a number of friends of his from out of town; Ohio I believe. I played pool and drank beer with Joe and his friends. We had a great time. This was the high point of my brief period of going to this bar. Other than this, I rarely spoke to people at this bar.

Although this interlude where I was going to this bar was going to end soon anyhow, it ended very abruptly in April of 2003. Also, in April of 2003 I started going to Tulane Law library to research whether I had a cause of action against these law schools. I found out that I did, but at the time I did not realize exactly how much protection law schools received from the judiciary. It was not until a few months later, when Piper Griffin twice stuck her tongue out at me and stated that she had read my suit twice and could find no cause of action within it that I remembered Peeveyhouse v. Garland Coal Mining Company. My state suit was essentially the same as my Federal Civil Action. My state suit had been dismissed in July, 2003, without prejudice, as a matter of law rather than ruling.

A commenter to my blog suggested that I should consider playing an online game called Armageddon in my free time. Better yet, I should consider playing Apocalypse Now. ‘I love the smell of Napalm in the morning.’ Robert Duvall. In this movie, his character had everything in perspective. This was just his mission, and he exulted in having fun while doing proceeding with his mission, even if in the next moment he were to be killed. I delivered the line: “It was a mistake” to Marlene Allgood almost as well as the actor did in the movie L.A. Confidential. Art reflects life, and vice versa.

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 5:32 AM 0 comments

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6725626)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6736455)

Cowabunga, MF`s!

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755326)

Interlude of the Bullet

During the month of January, 2003, on an almost daily basis, and at approximately 6:30 pm, I started receiving crank telephone calls. These crank telephone calls consisted of the person on the other end merely making a noise. This noise was pa-choo. This noise was repeated a few times on each occasion. To me, this noise was too similar to the sound that someone makes when they are trying to imitate the sound of a bullet being fired. This further added to my unease.

During January, when these calls were being made, on one occasion I went to Sam’s Wholesale Club to buy food for my dogs. When I returned to my vehicle I found a pristine 30-06 round, which I thought had been placed, next to the driver’s door on the ground. [I have never said it was placed up on my vehicle as some law enforcement officer later reiterated to me.] I thought it had been placed there because it was new, without a scratch on it, and because of the phone calls I had been receiving.

I went home and thought about it. I was certain that I was being followed. I was certain that this activity had to do with organized crime. I also had a theory that somehow law enforcement was involved. [I did not find out until later that John J. Costonis had given my name to a representative of the serial killer task force.] I decided that whoever was making the calls and placed the round next to my vehicle wanted to frighten me into purchasing a firearm and confront the people following me. In hindsight, given that I believed and found out to be likely true that I was being followed: that as some law enforcement agency was following me, it was some law enforcement agency that wanted me to purchase a firearm, or, given that I also now know that John J. Costonis supplied my name, one of these named parties wanted me to purchase a weapon to confront those who were following me.

I could not figure out the why of all this until after the visit to my home by Detective Jerry Mitchell of the Louisiana State Police on or about February 5, 2003. The why then became clear to me, and I believe I am correct in my theory. Whoever had been making the calls wanted me to be frightened and purchase a firearm to confront what was, unknown to me, a law enforcement agency. To anybody that has read my Federal Civil Action, I arrived at the conclusion that this was attempt to set me up so that I would die in an apparent suicide by cop. The only evidence I have points to either Jerry Mitchell of the Louisiana State Police or John J. Costonis, Chancellor of LSU Law School. However, I believe that it is more likely that Victoria McDaniel / Monier, or, less likely but possible, Matt or Amy were making the calls. [In April or May of 2003 I turned the round over to the LSU Campus police department. Officer Heroman took custody and gave me a receipt. In hindsight, and to my knowledge at this moment, of course subject to change, the LSU Campus police department is legit.]

That, as far as I can at this moment recall, is the totality of the incident with the rifle bullet. I included in my civil action against Victoria Monier / McDaniel, through a petition amendment, liability for the Joint Serial Killer Task Force being given my name, among other things. Furthermore, prior to getting evidence of John J. Costonis’ action, I had alleged against her that persons acting on her behalf had caused the actions of the law enforcement agency’s actions as per the serial murders as per me.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755299)

Punk and Evil Bitch #3, the Rape

Around or about April 13, 2003, I awoke in the middle of the night because of the sensation of my genitals being fondled. On this first occasion I sat upright in my bed and looked to my left. There was a person kneeling by the side of my bed. I could only vaguely make out the silhouette as it was dark and the ambient light was not great enough to reflect off of the varnished flush luan hollow core door that was in my line of sight behind this person. At this moment I had thought it had been my wife. She had on a couple of occasions made comments or overtures indicative of a desire to again begin sleeping together. I immediately laid back down and went to sleep. The next morning I awoke and went downstairs. My wife had already arisen and was downstairs. I asked if she had come into my room the night before, she said she had not. I did not believe her, but said nothing else. In hindsight, although I could only vaguely make out this person’s silhouette, the person was not tall enough to be my wife.

Two nights later, around or about April 15, 2003, I began to awaken. I had been sleeping on my back, naked, with my right hand above my head and my left hand by my side. I believe that I had been dreaming about sex. Somehow my brain supplied the hair color of this woman as being a brunette. Actually, I was not sure what a ‘brunette’ hair color looked like. My eyes opened and I saw a person down between my legs. As the room was dark, the hour being during the night, I could not clearly see this person. The head of this person was positioned at my genitals, but I could not feel anything. The person arose and mounted me. The person appeared to be much smaller than my wife. The person slightly moved its’ hindquarters back and forth as if the person was attempting to achieve penetration. I could not feel this, but did feel weight. I perceived this sequence of events as happening rapidly. I directed my attention to my right hand, which had been positioned above my head. I was attempting to force my hand to move so that I could strike this person. When my hand began to move I redirected my attention to this person. The person was no longer on top of me.

I was now almost fully awake. I started to sit up and put out my right hand to lever myself up. My hand rested on something hard, round and hairy. At that moment what had actually happened or what my hand was resting on did not register with me. I finished sitting up and got up and out of the bed. I recall walking out into the hallway. I believe that I may have leaned against the wall out in the hallway. I went downstairs and out into the garage to smoke a cigarette. I sat down and looked at the clock on the garage wall. It was about 2:30. I thought about what I had just seen and about the object in my bed. I could think of nothing in my room that could have felt that way under my hand. There was and is nothing in my room that has this shape. Either at that moment or the next morning when I first awoke the name Amy popped into my head. I went back upstairs to my room, turned on the light and looked around. There was nobody there. I lay back down and went to sleep.

The next morning when I awoke I realized what had occurred in the middle of the night. I went downstairs. My wife had already arisen. As I passed her, I stated: “I think Amy _________ was in my room last night.” My wife stated: “Amy, that little thing?” As there was both negation and query in her statement I then asked: “Matt?” My wife nodded her head yes in the classic affirmative response. I think at that moment I may have once again went into something like shock. What had happened the night before was bad enough; the possibility that it could have been another male was overwhelming.

I stayed home that day. I sat around thinking about what I should do about it. Matt and Amy had already demonstrated a penchant for sexual aggressiveness and conniving. These people had been the most sexually aggressive people that I had ever met in this community. As an explanation for their behaviors, I had already had arrived at the tentative conclusion that they likely had lucrative side jobs as prostitutes. [It was not until later that I came to the conclusion that in the pursuit of fighting crime, Matt and Amy had committed crimes, as per my civil action.] I have earlier stated that I was beginning to develop a theory that someone who believed that “everyone F’s around” had put up a reward to prove this. As Matt and Amy were, from my point of view, likely prostitutes and were definitely connivers, albeit stupid, attempting something like this would be right up their alley. Furthermore, Matt was a cop and Amy worked for the State of Louisiana. If Matt and Amy are or were prostitutes as a side job, what better protection could a pair of crime fighting prostitutes have?

I had some months before been threatened with arrest after having scalding water thrown on my backside. I had been followed and threatened, and the State Police had been to my home within the scope of an investigation into a series of murders. I decided that I could not go to the local authorities. There was something going on beyond my ability to figure out. By the end of this day I decided I would have to go to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I determined that if my wife had knowledge that she was not forthcoming with, it was because she was under duress. She had thrown scalding water on my backside; there existed a potential for 15 years in prison for this offense. And Matt was a local cop, both he and his wife had been sexually aggressive, and demonstrably connivers.

I went to the FBI on Leon C. Simon Blvd. in New Orleans. After signing in and all that, I met with an agent. This guy was slightly shorter than me, about 5’10”, white, and less than 200 lbs. I did not fully understand the name he stated as being his own, but it sounded something like Orvik, similar to the name of a brand of vacuum cleaners. This agent interviewed me. I explained what had happened. He recommended that I go to my local authorities as there was nothing that the FBI could do. This was crushing. I did not have the time to explain to this agent everything that had been going on and that the local authorities, both on the local and state level, were somehow involved. I left the FBI in extreme emotional distress. I did believe that the Sheriff’s Department of St. John the Baptist Parish was corrupt and there was no help anywhere. On my way back home as I was passing through Kenner, La., I decided to stop at the State Police barracks located there. Once again I was told to take the matter up with my local authorities. I drove the rest of the way back to St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana, home of the possibly most corrupt Sheriff’s Department in the State of Louisiana.

I first stopped at a detective’s substation on what I believe is W. Fifth Street. At that time I did not know exactly where the detective headquarters were located. I spoke with a detective, Lozano I believe. He instructed me to call the Sheriff’s Department and make a report.

I went home. I called the Sheriff’s Department. Deputy Spencer and another Deputy arrived. I explained what had happened.

When I got to the part about the hard, round, hairy object in my bed that for some reason I thought of as a coconut, Deputy Spencer rubbed his head and stated that his head did not fell like a coconut. The other Deputy took notes on a small spiral bound pad. They finished interviewing me and stated that they would make a report. Within a few days either I contacted or was contacted by Detective Mitchell of the St. John the Baptist Sheriff’s Department. I arrived at a meeting scheduled with Detective Mitchell. We met in the parking lot. I briefly explained what happened before we proceeded into the building. Detective Mitchell stated, with what I perceived as incredulity: “They came into your house.”

We went into the building and into an interview room. I told Detective Mitchell about quite a bit that had been happening prior to this incident also. I told him about being followed and thinking it was organized crime. I told him about the suit I had filed against Victoria Monier / McDaniel the prior month. I think I told him I had thought it might have something to do with some organization like the IRA, although I failed to explain fully that I was attempting to convey the idea of a violent organization with close ties to the government. I believe I told him about Detective Jerry Mitchell of the Louisiana State Police coming to my house.

[The allusion to an organization like the IRA seemed appropriate as many of the actors had Irish names, including McDaniel, and I am from New England. When I was an adolescent there was this perception, or rumor, that Boston Irish Catholics were funneling money to Ireland. During this time I was trying to figure out how it was possible that so many people seemed to be ‘coming down on me.’ The number of people coming down on me took organization and money. It was not until later that I learned that it was the serial killer task force and at the suggestion of John J. Costonis.]

I next had an interview with Major Robert Hay, Chief of Detectives in St. John the Baptist Parish. During this interview Detective Hymel was present, sitting to my right and slightly behind me. In hindsight, Curly was missing. What specifically I reiterated about the incident I forget. Major Hay began asking me about my relationship with Matt and Amy. I told him I had none. He asked about me stopping by their house for a cup of coffee. I said no, never. He asked about watching movies with them. Again I said no, never. Major Hay then suggested that I see a psychiatrist. He looked at Detective Hymel and asked if he agreed or something in that vein. Detective Hymel agreed. This ended the interview. The three of us walked outside. When we got outside the doors Major Hay asked me if I knew why he suggested that I see a psychiatrist. I responded as a statement of fact: “Because I am a citizen.” I forget what his response was. At the time I had no health insurance, so this was actually not an option. I later came to learn that statutorily, rape victims are given the opportunity of psychological counseling at local or state expense.

[On or about October 29, 2003, at or about 5:30 p.m., Curly came to my home. I stated to Curly: “Sheriff Jones, my neighbors raped me.” Curly responded: “Mr.________, love thy neighbor.”]

I suppose that the St. John Sheriff’s Department did not take a complaint of rape from a male victim seriously. I further suppose that when the person on top of me was moving her* hindquarters, as I actually did not feel myself penetrating this person, an act that could be defined as rape did not occur [In Louisiana, as in other states, the law about what constitutes rape cuts both ways. That is, a female can force herself onto a male, and penetration has occurred.]

*I earlier stated that my wife indicated by an affirmative nod of her head, in response to my querulous suggestion, that the person was Matt. I reported this to the police exactly like this, that I thought the person had been Amy but was lead to believe that the person was Matt. On or about July 2, 2003, I did testify, in an unrelated case, before Judge Madeline Jasmine about what had happened in the same way. That is, I thought the person on top of me was Amy and I was lead to believe that it was Matt. I do not believe that my wife was in the room at the time this occurred, I believe that she stayed in her room, in her bed, with her mouth shut. I believe that she had been threatened with jail time if she interfered. I believe that my wife would presume that it was the male that was the aggressor, hence her suggestion. I believe that there were at least two people in the room, although I only saw one person, on two different occasions, and briefly as per my description.

Many people reading this are going to say that I am definitely crazy. However, what I am stating happened, did happen.

My theories on this, immediately following, are an attempt to understand the incomprehensible.

I have come to theorize the following possibility, based on the fact that the incidents were brief and stopped when I awakened or appeared to be awakening:

A) That a reward had been offered for anyone, aside from my wife, that could get me to have sex, and,

B) No one could collect the reward as I had not had sex with anyone other than my wife, and,

C) Punk and Evil Bitch were inferring that I had not only wanted one or the other, but had actually been intimate with one or the other, and,

D) The person offering the reward wanted proof, so,

E) Punk and Evil Bitch concocted a plan to videotape a sexual ‘session’ with me, and,

F) As I was not going to be a willing participant, they had to break up the session into a series of videotaped discreet occurrences.

I have also come to theorize the following alternative possibility:

A) Many people commit adultery, it is far more common than I would have suspected. It is so common, in fact, that I am an

oddball for not ever having done so, and,

B) Some people at the two law schools I attended find adultery to be so common and acceptable that my not doing so was

indicative that whatever had happened between Victoria Monier / McDaniel had ‘scarred’ me, and,

C) The social ostracization of Victoria Monier / McDaniel became intense after I had been ejected from Loyola Law School,

so,

D) Although I believe that it was Amy on top of me; I believe it is possible that Victoria Monier / McDaniel herself was

among, I now believe, the multiple people that came into my home and sexually assaulted me while I was sleeping, and,

E) Matt was in the room with a video camera, and as backup, should I ever had fully come to my senses before the

participants could conceal themselves or otherwise wait until I stopped stirring.

Within the past year I have also come to have yet a third alternative possibility:

A) That it was Victoria Monier / McDaniel that had fondled me and been on top of me, and,

B) She had been coerced into doing this because I had not had sex with any person other than

my spouse and some people thought I must be ‘scarred,’ and,

C) These other people were females, have status within the law, and had something on my wife,

that is, she had thrown scalding water on my backside a few months before, and,

D) There was someone else in the room with Victoria McDaniel / Monier as back up in case I

awoke, and,

E) The sexual assault was videotaped so that Victoria McDaniel / Monier could, if necessary,

have evidence that she and I had been sexually intimate, and,

F) The reason the sexual assault of me was not investigated was because I did not identify

Victoria Monier / McDaniel as the perpetrator, and,

G) It was known to the local authorities who the perpetrator had been, and therefore, some

nitwit decided that I would or should also know.

When I write the book, I will be identifying Matt and Amy by their full names as the persons that I reported as sexually assaulting me. I will also probably put their marriage license in the book. There is jack squat anybody can do about it, because it is what I believed and reported to the authorities.

I did attempt to amend my petition against Victoria McDaniel / Monier to allege that she did have liability for the sexual assault or rape of me that did occur. The Honorable Judge Morvant would not allow me to amend my petition.

Between around or about the end of April and around or about June 5, 2003, after my initial interview with Major Hay I went to the detective division of St. John the Baptist Parish on multiple occasions. Every time I went I asked Deputy Susan Kliebert, I believe her name to be, whether Detective Hay was available. On none of these occasions was I able to speak with Major Hay again. I kept going back to the detective division because I needed to know what was being done about the sexual assault or rape of me. In hindsight, nothing was being done or was going to be done. I see only two options, either I was not believed or somebody had been paid off, and big.

After my interview with Major Hay I had laid in my bed on multiple occasions and raised my arm to the point at which the outline of the person that had been on top of me had stopped. This point was in the area between the ceiling and the top of the closet door. I realized that the person could not have been Matt, as he is about 6’ tall, and the person on top of me had to have been closer to 5’ tall. I never did have the opportunity to express this fact to a representative of law enforcement before things went really wrong. During this time I did presume that an investigation was ongoing. What else could I presume? Should I have presumed that the St. John the Baptist Sheriff’s department was blowing off an incident where somebody had entered the home of a resident and began an act of sex with that resident without that resident’s consent? In hindsight, that is what occurred.

On or about June 6, 2003 I was laying on my porch, on the concrete, in emotional distress. My wife came outside and asked me what my problem was. I told her that I needed her to go to the police and tell them what my neighbors had done. My wife began taunting me about having been raped. I then told her repeatedly to just go away and leave me alone. She remained standing above me, taunting me. I then stated to her that I felt like cutting her throat. My wife then shut up and walked around me to get her cigarettes which were lying on a bench behind me. She then went into the house. After a few more minutes my emotions subsided. I got up and went into the house. My wife was on the telephone. I felt great relief; my wife was finally going to report to the authorities what she knew about what had happened. I then laid down on the couch and closed my eyes for a few moments. Very shortly, I felt whole again. I got up and got off of the couch. I went outside and began preparations to wash my truck. Four or so St. John the Baptist Sheriff’s Department patrol cars pulled up on the street that parallels the side of my house. The Deputies came onto my property. When I saw them I was anticipating that now something would finally be done about the sexual assault or rape of me. I was placed under arrest for simple assault, on my front lawn.

I was taken to the St. John the Baptist Parish prison, handcuffed, in the back seat of a patrol car. When we arrived at the prison the Deputy pulled up in front of a gate operated by an electric gate opener. Parked to the right of the gate and facing the patrol car was a white Lexus SUV. Within this white Lexus SUV were two people, both of whom I thought to be female. Although I could not discern the features of the face of either person, I could see them. Both persons had blonde hair. The volume of the hair of the passenger was so great that I thought it to be a wig. I thought that the passenger was a child as that portion of her that I could see was closer to the line of the dashboard, from my perspective. Both persons had big smiles on their faces. I thought it odd that some woman would take her child to sit outside the Parish prison late on a Saturday afternoon and watch prisoners being brought in. I thought it so odd that within a couple of weeks I went to someone local and described the circumstances and vehicle that I had seen. I asked this person who this woman in the white Lexus SUV might have been. The person stated one name: “Becnel.”

When I entered the prison, after I had sat for a while handcuffed to a bench, I was processed. The Deputy that had arrested me sat next to me and showed me the report that my wife had made. It reflected what I have stated above, with the exception that she stated that I stated that I had threatened to cut her throat. I was told that bail would be $150.00. I said I had that much money in my wallet. Moments later I was told that bail was $160.00. I did not have that much, so after being processed I was taken to a cell where I spent the next approximately 18 hours. When I entered the cell I stated aloud: “This is not good for me.” Since the night of the rape or sexual assault I had been severely emotionally distressed on multiple occasions and had started having anxiety attacks. During this night in jail I had multiple anxiety attacks that I was able to ‘fight’ down. After this night in jail I had very severe anxiety attacks for about the next two years. To my great relief, these anxiety attacks have finally tapered off in frequency and intensity.

The next morning I attempted to contact people whose telephone number I knew. I either first called my wife or a bail bondsman. When I called my wife, she hung up on me. When I called a bail bondsman, I was told that if I did not have the cash on me that they could do nothing for me, despite my assurances to them that I had the cash at home. I then called Drew. Drew could not come up with $160.00, even temporarily, despite the fact that I told him I had the cash at home. I asked Drew for the number of the woman that cut my hair. I called her and she hung up on me. I next called Kelly, a person that I had considered a friend for a long period of time. He stated that he was playing golf but would stop and come and get me out. Kelly came and bailed me out. Kelly dropped me off in front of my home and left.

I went inside. My wife came down the steps from upstairs. When she saw me a look that I can only describe as ‘having just had defecated a brick’ came across her face. I prepared and drank a cup of coffee. I had an overwhelming compulsion to do something normal. I decided to take my string trimmer and go across the street to trim the high grass that was growing on the strip of ground between the street and sidewalk adjacent to the home of the elderly couple across the street. At the time, I did this fairly often. When I was walking down my driveway towards the street I noticed Evil Bitch the rapist and the woman that had cut my hair standing on Evil Bitch’s lawn. When I looked at them they smiled and started waving. This enraged me. I continued across the street and trimmed the grass.

Within the next few days I concluded that the reason that I had been arrested was because I kept going to the Detective Division looking for answers. I concluded this because based on a facial reading of my wife’s statement I do not believe that I should have been arrested for assault. When the Deputies arrived, I was preparing to wash my truck. There was no drama going on. There was no ‘hot pursuit.’ There was merely one woman’s claim with no other apparent circumstances, such as a visible heightened emotional state between us, on which they based this arrest. So, I concluded that I had been arrested because someone locally wanted me to keep my mouth shut. So I shut up for the next few months.

[On one occasion, after this occurred, I had seen Matt in the driveway. He was standing next to his trashcan. He looked at me and stated: “FBI.” I did not respond to this. I wanted this guy in prison. What he meant by this statement I do not know. If he was trying to instill in me a perception that what he and his wife had done was okay because the FBI had something to do with it, he was way off. Of course, given the FBI’s prohibition against using sex as an investigatory tool, the FBI has possibly used sex in investigations in the past. Further, at the time, and under the definition of the FBI of what constitutes rape, rape victims can only be females. So, it is possible that from this guy’s perspective, if he actually had anything to do with the FBI, he might not have done anything wrong. This nitwit should not have even spoken to me. That these people were never going to be arrested as some significant money had changed hands and a great cover story by persons with status had been concocted had been a conclusion I had reached a few months later. There was nothing I could do about it; my rights had been taken away.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6755301)

Blood. Lots of blood. I looked up the definition of the phrase "jump the shark" in Wikipedia. I suppose this could be an accurate description of my blog. It has now reached its peak. It is going to be on the wane. According to Wikipedia, some television shows, when their audience was in decline, would turn to sex or violence to get the ratings back up. The term supposedly came from an episode of Happy Days where Fonzie, while riding water ski's and wearing his leather jacket, jumped a shark. However, my blog is not a television show or a work of fiction. It all happened. This last blog was just the peak of the affronts to me. Everything that has happened since is mediocre. As an example of how mediocre it will get, please consider the following post which I had been writing:

Writing the book.

When I write the book about what has happened to me, I will preface it with perhaps 10 polygraphs. I will ensure to cite the credentials of each individual examiner. There are only two question's that I need to be verified by these examiners. The first question is whether I have had sex with any person other than my wife since our marriage. This means sex of any type, including a Lewinski. The second question would have to be whether aside from one tall woman whose name was not Victoria Monier /McDaniel, have I ever actually desired to have sex with any person other than my wife since we were married. The reason that I have to do this is to demonstrate to those few persons that might read the book that it is possible that someone might have lied about me. You see, to my knowledge, polygraph examinations are not allowable as evidence.

There are good reasons for polygraph examinations not being allowed as evidence. The following are my own thoughts on the matter. First, although I am likely not stating the concept well, it eliminates the potential for trial by electronics. Second, people can beat a polygraph. Third, some people have been imbued, by their religion, upbringing, whatever, with guilt over the most petty infractions against morality and ethics. I believe that it is possible that this imbued guilt can affect the outcome of a polygraph. However, my book is not going to be about winning a case, it is going to be about destruction. And those few members of John Q. Public that read my book, even if they do understand the flaws of polygraphs, will understand that it is unlikely that anybody can beat ten polygraphs administered by ten different examiners.

Right around this time, I mean within a few days either way of the publication of this post, I believe Jambalaya Jim is going to have something in front of him. I believe that it is going to concern me. Sign it, Jambalaya Jim. When I write the book I might, just for the sake of a poetic statement, use a quill and an inkwell filled with my own blood. [Of course I would limit the use of this writing assembly to the chapter headings. Statements like that can only be taken so far. And it might be a long book.]

Anybody know how to keep blood from coagulating in an inkwell?

SPEAKING ABOUT BLOOD. Just as an aside that I personally found interesting but assigned no great significance to, then or now. In the spring or thereabouts of 2004 I built a huge patio cover down around Empire, Louisiana. [Empire, Louisiana, has now, for practical purposes, been wiped off of the face of the earth.] The people that owned the home at which I was working were very nice. The wife gave both my helper and me a plate lunch which she had prepared. A little while later the husband came home. We started speaking. Somehow, I do not recall how, the subject of LSU law school came up. The homeowner told me that he was a distant cousin* of Steve LaFluer. I thought, and remain thinking, this to be mere coincidence. The husband went back to work.

My nose started bleeding a little while later. It bled for about two days. I went to one clinic, two hospitals, and an ENT before the flow totally stopped. [Why so many is a whole ‘nother story.] I lost quite a bit of blood. The second time I emptied the 5 gallon bucket into which I was letting the blood flow the depth of blood in the bottom of the bucket was about an inch. As my helper did not get a bloody nose from the plate that was handed to him, I did not presume it was an adverse reaction to something that I had eaten. This little anecdote was just something that occurred to me when I thought about writing, for a poetic statement only, the chapter headings in blood. Interestingly, the doctor at the first clinic that I went to is now working at one near my home. There is this huge billboard with his picture on it right on the highway. I see it everyday. Among his statements about my blood was a judgment that this hemorrhaging was not due to the three aspirin that I had taken earlier that day. Good call, Doc. At one time I had eaten aspirin like candy for headaches. They had little effect. [Thank you whoever is in charge of everything for Imitrex.] Also, being a carpenter at the time, I had frequently gotten small bloody cuts that stopped quickly.

Now I am thinking about doctors and Steve Lafluer. Way leads on to way, doesn’t it though? Good call, Mr. Frost. I believe Steve Lafluer was at Professor Bower’s house on or about October 6, 2000. I seem to recall him introducing a woman as his wife that he stated was a doctor. I could be mistaken about this. During this time I was still trying to find out what Victoria Monier may have communicated about me. When speaking to her, I mentioned this to her. She told me she knew all the doctors in the hospital in Mamou, but did not remember this particular one. Actually I doubt Victoria Monier went to the hospital all that often. As Toby K. Monier had stated in a now deleted posting on the xoxo thread, he and Victoria were raised poor, and therefore not money hungry. Besides that, when I was investigating who the hell this woman actually was, a woman at the Evangaline Parish courthouse stated, and kind of meanly, I thought, “You need to check down at the health unit.” I do not know for sure what the health unit she was referring to was or is, but I presume it was or is a free clinic.

*I have been trying to take some time to make my postings as accurate as possible. I have been thinking about this one. The guy specified a distance in relation to Steve Lafluer of third or fourth cousin.

Yep, my blog has reached its; peak and is on the decline. Nonetheless, I am still anticipating that someone with the authority to do so will take a closer look at what I state did happen and not be so quick to believe those that have something to hide, if what I am saying did happen is the truth. As far as attorneys go, I visited those as I have described. I visited at least two others, wrote to fifteen others, including the ACLU. I wrote to a civil rights commission in Washington D.C. and then actually traveled there. All to no avail.

So, I am going to just have to write a book. I can, and with a great measure of protection and immunity under statutory and case law. Oh yeah, I checked this out a long time ago. Of course, I am not sure that the same laws apply to members of the judiciary and officers of the court, or their friends.

I wonder if the saga of trying to get the hemorraghing stopped would be worth writing?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6761060)

Subtitle: Further drawing back the curtain on the mind of a person that thought he was a normal male.

I may have to eliminate that second question about whether I have actually ever desired to have sex with any person other than my wife except for the one tall woman. I have been giving it quite a bit of thought since I posted “Jumping the Shark.” I have desired other women. There is no doubt about it.

There is also no doubt that I did not desire Victoria Monier / McDaniel. I also did not desire Marlene Allgood and she was or is very attractive.

Aside from those I have previously stated as finding so attractive, for whatever reason, that I regretted not being a philanderer, there are the probably hundreds of women over the course of my life that for whatever reason I felt attracted to. I could not describe this as actually desiring to have sex with them. It is just a flash of very low level lust that comes, and goes when the light turns green. One of my younger brothers once told me that he falls in love hundreds of times a day. I believe he actually meant he had a flash of lust, and furthermore, had to be exaggerating. Otherwise, if that is the norm, then I am far on the lower left hand side of the bell curve for this affliction.

A) I conclude that I am normal.

B) I regret having rushed to post “Jumping the Shark” prior to thinking through that part of it that is germane to this post.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6774064)

I realize that my chronicle jumps around a bit. Anybody reading my chronicle can just think: ‘Quentin Tarantino makes a documentary’, and this ought to settle any disquiet about my failure of sequence or linearity.

In January of 2003 I was back at home after spending most of the month of December away. I had come home with some new knowledge. I now knew what the word ‘sabot’ meant in Russian. I had been ordering a steak at a restaurant in Hollywood Beach, Florida. I told the waitress that I wanted it pink in the middle. She exclaimed: “Sabot!” After the waitress had stomped away, the woman seated behind me stated: “She thought you were talking about sex.” The waitress came back a few minutes later and stated: “I’m OK, you’re OK.” She then finished taking my order. The next day I asked around and found out that I had been called a dog. I had not been thinking about sex, she had been. I had been thinking about the steak.

When I returned to Louisiana I remained believing that I was being followed. I thought about it. I was convinced that this had something to do with organized crime. I was receiving these harassing phone calls during which the sound mimicking the sound of a bullet being fired was made. I had found the bullet next to the driver’s door of my vehicle. I could not figure out why no act of violence had yet been perpetrated against me from these people that were following me. As I have previously stated, I did not believe that going to the local authorities was an option. So I decided to paint a sign. If I did get shot, at least a finger would be pointed in the direction in which someone might begin looking for a reason. [This is the actual reason that I painted the first sign.] In hindsight, if I had been shot, no one would have been looking for a reason. Two law schools, and I suspect members of the judiciary and law enforcement on the state level, already had that covered.

The first sign I painted stated approximately this: [This sign has since been stolen from my backyard.]

Bradley Luminas:

Have you seen either of these two whores (opinion), Marlene Allgood or Victoria Monier?

[Please bear in mind that I do not consider Marlene Allgood a whore; if she actually was anything like that, she could charge for it and get top dollar. Ms. Allgood had just exhibited the behavior upon which this opinion could be based by the reasonable prude-nt person. However, it is my opinion that I do consider Victoria Monier / McDaniel to be. If she had a mind to charge for it, she could get cents off coupons.]

I have earlier mentioned Bradley Luminas. He was also a student at LSU Law School in the fall of the year 2000. He had some official class position. He was also from this town in which I live.

Within hours, I recall, of me first placing the sign out in my front yard, Matt and Amy exited their home and walked by my house. This was the first time I had ever witnessed these people take a walk. Amy had her arms folded across her chest and had her typical ‘I am an evil stupid bitch‘ look on her face. They walked up the cross street in the direction of an elementary school not far away. They returned a short while later, less than 15 minutes. This gave me the idea that they were not out for exercise. I decided that there was a possibility they might have gone to the State Trooper’s house down the street to complain about my sign. This did not bother me, there was nothing that this State Trooper or local law enforcement could do about this sign. At this time I was not even sure what the law stated, I just knew it in my gut.

I had this sign up for a few days. On another occasion, a car pulled up at the curb and stopped. A person I thought looked like a younger version of Brad was seated on the passenger side of this vehicle. This person took a long look at the sign. The police came to my house concerning this sign on one or more occasions. I was asked to cover up the word ‘whore.’ Although I did not believe that I had to as the word ‘whore’ is not obscene, I cooperated. The request was reasonable. I have since checked the law. In Louisiana I can put up pretty much any sign I want on my front lawn and there is little the police can do about it. A judge has to make the determination whether a sign is obscene. The last time I checked, the person posting the sign cannot be arrested for the sign, the law is quite specific about this.

After a couple of weeks of the sign being up and the police driving by frequently and the dumb blonde woman that lived a couple of houses away demonstrating her displeasure with my sign by screeching around in her minivan and jumping out of her vehicle in front of her house and staring at me, I got results. A white pickup truck pulled up in front of the dumb blonde woman’s house. A few people exited; at least one male and two females. One of the females was either Noami Nichols in a long black wig or her twin in a long black wig.

The person I recognized and believed to be Noami went and stood on the lawn of the elderly couple across the street. The other occupants of the pick up truck first went to the house of the blonde woman and then walked across the street to the home of the Cicero’s. The Cicero’s and this group assembled on the Cicero’s lawn. The group approached me down the street. When the group arrived at my curb, Mr. Cicero held up a camera and appeared to be taking a photograph. I asked him to make me a copy. He told me that there was no film in it. I was, of course, not taking these people too seriously at all. [Villagers approaching the castle of Frankenstein sans pitchforks.] I stood up and approached them at the curb. [They did not shrink back in abject terror.]

The leader of the pack, a woman, stated that she knew both Mrs. Allgood and Ms. Monier very well and that they were going to hear about this sign. I forget exactly what I said, but I was encouraging. The group turned and started walking away. The leader of the pack turned and stated that I needed to learn how to spell. I did take offense at this. I may make mistakes now and then when I am typing, but this sign had taken some time. It was well executed, for an amateur. I rechecked the sign, everything was spelled correctly. I thought about it. I got out my list of the names of all the 1L students that had been at LSU Law School in the fall of the year 2000. I had misspelled Bradley Luminas’ name. It is spelled Luminais. This woman had picked that out.

I came to the conclusion that: as the sign was in my front yard, was addressed to a local boy, and this woman had stated that she knew both Mrs. Allgood and Ms. Monier, and Brad was an ambitious young fellow whose parents might actually be involved in his education, and as this woman had picked out the misspelling of his name, this woman might have been Bradley’s mother. As I do not know whether this woman had been disseminating any defamatory ‘information’ about me, I currently have no problem with her. She has likely done me a service regarding notification.

I went ape-shit with the signs. This was something that I could do. It was an action. I do not know how else to explain it.

The painting of these signs was exhilarating. Figuratively speaking, I began revving up to kick the world’s ass.

“I don’t mind telling you things.” Judge Snowdy

I don’t mind telling you things.

“I WASN’T BORN WITH ENOUGH MIDDLE FINGERS.” Marilyn Manson

Cowabunga, MF’s.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6774065)

In October of 2003, after a summer of grinding my teeth, figuratively speaking, I cranked back up with the signage.

I believed that the courts were ignoring me. Additionally, around September I had received a letter from Judge Timothy Kelley of the 19th JDC, Baton Rouge, Louisiana that he had hired a Ms. Victoria Monier as a law clerk. Also around or about September I had been subpoenaed to appear before Judge Vance only to find that on that day all the other people present besides the officers of the court and one or two people sitting in the ‘gallery,’ everyone else was dressed in orange, in chains, or both.* I had sat and waited. Opposing counsel failed to appear. When the criminal docket had cleared, everyone else but one other guy and me exited the room. I called out to him: “Hey, where are they going?” I was referring to Judge Vance and a group of people exiting through a door near the bench. I forget what he said. I exited the courtroom into a deserted hallway. The door to the stairwell that I had used was locked. Although I was dreading the necessity of having to use it, the elevator would not function. I looked at the windows at one end of the hallway. An anxiety attack was coming on and I WANTED OUT. I was considering using the windows when a woman entered the hallway. The elevator worked for her.

*It was quite some time later that my opinion became that the reason that the events I have described as occurring in Sarah Vance’s court happened was because my Federal Civil Action was ascribing crimes to friends of the court. It is my opinion that the court did not want to hear this.

(Just as an aside, while it is crossing my mind. A poster to the xoxo thread representing himself as T. K. Monier made reference to a counter suit filed against me by Victoria Monier / McDaniel. I have neither been served with any such suit nor do I have any knowledge whatsoever of any such suit. In any event, from my point of view, she had no cause of action. I just did not desire her.)

Excuse me, back to the signs.

Among the signs that I posted was one that read something like this: Dear Sheriff Jones: I want a legitimate response to my complaint by October 31, 2003 or I am going to hang Jesus Christ upside down on my front lawn and beat him with an axe. I figured such a statement would be noted. This sign caused quite the hullabaloo. I was back to observing the dumb blonde woman screeching her vehicle around [I believe that she no longer had a minivan]. To judge by the volume of traffic and the number of Sheriff’s patrol cars cruising past my house, there was quite a bit of gnashing of the teeth and wagging of the tongues going on.

On or about October 29, 2003, Fox 8 news New Orleans was in my neighborhood. On this same date, a St. John the Baptist Parish Code Enforcement Officer, accompanied by a St. John the Baptist Sheriff’s Deputy arrived. I was informed that I would have to take the sign down. I almost complied. The Deputy asked me if I really wanted to play this game. Although I refrained from doing so, I felt like yelling at him that this was no game you F’ing asshole. This is why the sign would not come down. This Deputy made reference to my threat of violence using an axe. Now I refrained from asking him whether he was an idiot.

This Code Enforcement Officer and Deputy then left. A short while later a Fox 8 news woman accompanied by a cameraman interviewed me out on my front lawn. I told her about the rape.

At or about 5:30 p.m. Sheriff Jones arrived at my home. We went and sat in my garage. I sat on a stool adjacent to my table saw, upon which I had the next sign I was painting. The Sheriff sat on a stool to my right. I stated to him: “Sheriff Jones, my neighbors raped me.” Sheriff Jones replied: “Mr.________, love thy neighbor.” I then stated: “I was arrested.” Sheriff Jones replied: “People can be arrested for all kinds of things.” He delivered this line a la Eddy Haskell. Very shortly this conversation ended. As Sheriff Jones was approaching that door that leads into the house from my garage he stated that he would look into it and have a response for me by noon, Friday, which was October 31, 2003.

After Sheriff Jones left I began thinking about his statement about people being arrested and his Eddy Haskell delivery of it. I was sure this guy had something up his sleeve. I thought about what this guy could possibly arrest me for if he wanted to prove his point. The only thing that I could think of was the expired inspection sticker on my pick up truck. The very next day, Thursday, I went and had the inspection renewed.

On Friday morning, on or about October 31, 2003, at or about 7:30 a.m., I left for work. I approached an intersection at which I had to make a left to get to Airline Highway. When I stopped at the intersection I noted four vehicles on the other side of the intersection, heading in my direction. The first three were St. John the Baptist Parish Sheriff’s patrol cars; the fourth was a white SUV with the Sheriff’s logo. I let these vehicles proceed first. The first took a right, the second took a left, and the third came straight across the intersection followed immediately by the SUV. Within the SUV there was a very pissed off looking Sheriff Jones, or someone who looked very similar. Interestingly, this intersection is at about the midpoint between my home and the Sheriff’s headquarters.

I left work early on this date, October 31, 2003, and went to the Sheriff’s Department. I asked for Sheriff Jones. He was not there. I went home and sat in my garage and resumed work on yet another sign that I was painting. I was waiting for a telephone call or visit from Sheriff Jones. I had the curtain pulled slightly back so that I could observe the street. I saw a woman come up the sidewalk with a small child, less than five years old. The woman stopped several feet from my sign and prodded her child to go forward. I thought at that moment that this woman was looking for a lawsuit. I also thought that she was quite the idiot as if her child had been scarred by this sign, not only would she not have a viable cause of action, she would have a damaged child by her own hand.

Sheriff Jones never called or came to my home. I had called the Sheriff’s department at least once during this afternoon seeking to speak with Sheriff Jones. I went and sat on my front lawn and just waited. As dusk approached I made preparations to distribute candy. October 31 is my father’s birthday so I give out the big candy bars. Or maybe I just like to give out the big candy bars. Lately I have been questioning many things. Of course I took the signs down.

Prior to the hour at which the children and their parents normally start walking around in significant number, a St. John the Baptist Parish Sheriff’s patrol car parked across the street from my house. It sat there with the lights flashing for the entire time people were walking around with their children getting the treats. Punk and Evil Bitch were having a Halloween party. Punk and Evil Bitch came out of their home and walked over to the patrol car and had a brief conversation with the person inside that I presume was a deputy. I did not give out many candy bars this year.

The couple of hours of the trick or treating had passed. I was slightly upset by what had occurred. Not terribly so, because I had anticipated that something would happen. I already had the cross built upon which I was going to hang an effigy of Jesus Christ upside down. I had not actually constructed the effigy as I was determined to give Sheriff Jones until the last possible minute. This delay was merely out of respect for the predominant religion of a community that had demonstrated no respect for my rights. I cut out a silhouette of a human figure; about 5’6.” At about 11 p.m. I erected the cross in my front yard and then fastened this silhouette to the cross; the silhouette affixed upside down. I drove a nail through the silhouettes’ head and painted a trial of blood down the cross from this nail hole.

Very soon thereafter a crowd gathered. Several Sheriff’s Deputies arrived, along with Shannon Penn, a local nitwit that was then running for Sheriff against Wayne Jones. I had a brief conversation with Shannon Penn on the corner across from my house. One of his uniformed Sheriff’s Deputy supporters stood close by. Shannon said something, I forget what, but it annoyed me. I pointed straight at him and stated something to the effect that he had his own agenda. I then stated: “You can go jump in the F’ing lake.” The Deputy standing nearby moved to intervene. Shannon held up his hand and the Deputy stopped. Good thing for this Deputy, because if I had been arrested for telling Shannon Penn to go jump in the lake, as Shannon had lost the election, this deputy may have been fired. I went back inside my home.

The next morning when I arose I went out and inspected my display. Someone had removed the effigy from the cross and placed it right side up in front of the cross, propped up with a board. Interestingly, as I had cut out the effigy with its arms extended out and hanging down, when it was placed upright it appeared to be praising. I let it be. I then left town for the day and did not return until later that evening. A month or so before I had bought tickets to an open air concert in New Orleans City Park. This was the first concert that I can recall going to since I was 21.

Some interesting things happened at this concert. When I first arrived, much earlier than most people, I went to one of the fields where bands were going to be playing. This was the field at which Marilyn Manson was going to be appearing. I wanted to hear this guy sing (or scream): “I WASN’T BORN WITH ENOUGH MIDDLE FINGERS.” The first group of the day was a band from Mandeville, Louisiana and there were only a few dozen concert goers in this large field at this time. This group announced that they were going to play a song that they had just written. The lyrics consisted of “Don’t say it again,” repeated numerous times. After this I went to the back of the field where there were some trees and a little bit of shade. I lay there, resting. I needed some serious rest at this time. After a while I became hungry and decided to get something to eat. I found a stand, Voodoo Barbeque, and bought a great sandwich, thinking I could have not possibly found a more appropriate place to buy a sandwich. When I returned to the area of the trees a sign had been nailed to a tree adjacent to where I had been resting. The sign read, more or less, ‘Circus Freaks, this way to hell’ and had an arrow pointing down. A while later, after the crowd had thickened and I had moved closer to the stage, a person that I presumed was a Roman Catholic priest, based on his attire, walked by me holding a crucifix and stared at me. I felt like saying ‘boo.’ If I could have popped my eyes out of my head and stuck my tongue up one of my nostrils, or something similar reminiscent of the Exorcist, I would have said ‘boo.’ Some woman walked by and spat at my feet. Some other person walked by and threw trash at my feet. This was all okay as these events were merely coincidental.

When I returned home I saw that my cross and figure had been knocked down. I later saw the elderly neighbor on the news knocking it over. He made some statement about the display being offensive to his religion. A silhouette of a person standing in front of a cross with upraised and outstretched arms offended his religion. A few days later, this elderly neighbor, whom I had automatically forgiven for knocking over the display, stated to me that Sheriff Jones had referred to me and stated that: “we are going to snatch him up first chance we get.” I rechecked this statement with this neighbor shortly after I filed suit against Sheriff Jones. He reiterated his earlier statement. A few months later I checked again with this neighbor as I, possibly naively, was going to insist on all testimony to be given in open court. He had changed his story. He now stated, with adamancy, that Sheriff Jones had said this: “If Mr._______ breaks any laws we will arrest him.” This was devastating. This person had often sat on my front lawn and stated among other things, how much backbone he had and that he was not a hypocrite. I spoke to this person very rarely after this, and not at all in the past couple of years.

I was told by my wife that Sheriff Jones had been on the news impugning my sanity. Specifically, he supposedly stated that I could not be forced to be on medication. This is a good thing, as I do not need it. I never saw this news clip and no one other then my wife had mentioned it to me. Although I am sure that Sheriff Jones is a fool, I cannot believe that he would be that big a fool.

Three years ago one of my signs stated:

I HAVE YOU SURROUNDED.

I meant it.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6780510)

On or about June 6 of 2003 I had been arrested for simple assault. Soon thereafter I received a notice that I had to appear before the court to answer for this. In the notice the District Attorney John Crumb had elevated the charges to aggravated assault, irrespective that no weapon had been used or had been reported as being used or displayed. I sensed a railroad job coming. I believed that this railroad job had something to with, and was at the urging of the Sheriff’s Department of St. John the Baptist Parish. At this time I had was not fully aware of the kangaroo nature of the Louisiana Judiciary.

I went to the local Justice of the Peace to swear out a complaint against my wife for throwing scalding coffee on my backside the previous October. I had the item number. During the exchange of introductory information, I mentioned that I had done some work at both the homes of his parents and of his aunt. I was not trying to gain anything by this as what I was there for was procedural and his procedural input was limited to taking the complaint. This justice of the peace did not seem amenable to taking my complaint. After I visited him to make the complaint, I checked back on at least two occasions over the next two weeks as my wife had not been arrested. I was told that either he had not filed it yet or the Sheriff’s Department had not come by to pick the complaint up.

*I couldn’t figure out why this guy seemed to be averse to taking my complaint. I mean, his mother and aunt seemed to like me well enough. One time, several years before, I had done some work at his aunt’s house. His uncle died while the work was progressing. His aunt told me, and I was always unsure of whether or not she was just pulling my leg, that his uncle wanted a picture of my work in his casket as I was among very few that had worked on his house that had not screwed him. His aunt was working at K-Mart at the time the work happened. Afterwards, every time I went in there she tried to hug me. This was kind of embarrassing. My work was not that good. The work was just well executed, not extraordinary. I had done some work at his parents’ house also. His mother had seemed very pleased with the execution of this work.

Eventually, I believe, the complaint was filed. I came home from work and my wife stated to me that she had been arrested that day. My wife stated to me that a Deputy had come by to arrest her, but she had wanted to take a shower first. So she went over to the Sheriff’s Department later and turned herself in.

The date my wife was scheduled to appear coincidentally landed on the day I was scheduled to appear. My wife insisted that her sister come along. I asked her why and she said for a witness. I told my wife that her sister had not witnessed anything, but my wife was adamant about having her sister along. My wife, her sister and I went to the courthouse annex located in Cambridge Subdivision. We took a seat. It was announced that prior to Judge Becnel entering the court a roll would be taken. When the names of my wife and I were called we approached the railing. We were informed that the D.A. was willing to dismiss the charges if we were both willing to sign off on this. So we did.

I was more than happy to sign off on this. The name of this Judge was Becnel. If this was the same Becnel that had been identified to me as sitting outside the jail in a white Lexus SUV when I had been taken to the parish prison, I had serious concerns about this Judges ability to remain non-biased. After all, when my neighbors saw four or so patrol cars come to my home and my subsequent arrest by the Deputies, it is not unreasonable to presume they had likely presumed that I had done something of quite the serious nature to require all these Deputies to arrest me. So, as it was merely possible that this could have been the same Becnel, actually seeing me in the back of the patrol car could only, however unconsciously, tilt the scale towards my guilt, and I was not comfortable with this.

“I WASN’T BORN WITH ENOUGH MIDDLE FINGERS.” Marilyn Manson

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6791318)

The Louisiana Judiciary: Dr. Strangelove, Yahoo!

I had received a speeding ticket in Kenner, Louisiana, sometime in 2003. I appeared before the Kenner City Court to contest this ticket. In front of Judge Lizardi this officer testified that he had been parked using his radar gun to monitor the speed of the traffic. I was judged guilty of the offense. I had no problem with being found guilty of speeding on this occasion. The ruling was straight, legitimate. I prefer things to be conducted legitimately. I appealed this ruling to the 24th JDC. The appeal was assigned to Judge Sassone.

I was staying in Rhode Island on the date that the appeal of the guilty ruling for the speeding ticket was to be heard, around or about July, 2004. I drove back to Louisiana to contest this traffic ticket. I arrived at the court. I met with the Kenner city attorney, an amiable guy. We went and sat down in the courtroom. The officer that had written me the ticket failed to appear. I failed to ask for the ticket to be dismissed until it was too late. This was actually okay. I had wanted to question this guy. The hearing was rescheduled to sometime in August of 2004. Prior to ordering that the hearing be rescheduled, Judge Sassone took exception to my address. She wanted to know where I lived as I had two different addresses. I explained to her that I was domiciled in Louisiana but resided in Rhode Island. Based on the fact that she got a little bitchy when asking me about my address, I do not think that she was enamored of this idea. When I say a little bitchy, I mean that she had a couple of comment’s about the court needing to able to get a hold of me, and the delivery of the comment’s indicated to me a desire within this judge to find some reason to not let me walk out of the door. I explained that I had just driven 1600 miles to contest a speeding ticket. The speeding ticket would have cost me less than $200 just to pay. I determined Judge Sassone’s questions to be out of line. At that moment I judged her to be a nitwit. What could this nitwit say; that I was a flight risk?

Among the reasons that I had failed to ask that the ticket be dismissed, aside from the failure of the officer to appear, was that I got wrapped up listening to what the various criminal defendants were charged with. There were a few stalkers, one of whom had his record of telephonic stalking in Florida mentioned during the prosecutorial presentation

As briefly as possible: why I contested the ticket. The ticket was a result of a speed trap. It was a school zone. The children had already been dismissed. I was following traffic, just putting along at about 34 miles per hour. I was about the fifth car back, approaching a traffic light. When the light turned yellow everybody in front of me sped up to beat the light. Right at about that time, the police officer pulled behind me and signaled that he desired that I pull over. I pulled into a Walgreen’s parking lot, which I later consistently misidentified as being an Eckerd’s parking lot. The officer asked me if I knew how fast I had been going. I told him about 35 miles per hour. He then asked me if I knew what time it was. I forget my response, but I recall him saying it was 3:20 and I had just sped through a school zone. He asked if I had not seen the flashing lights. I told him I had not. He wrote me a ticket and I was on my merry way. The ticket was legitimate, but, there are different shades of legitimacy as far as I am concerned.

I returned to this court about a month later, driving from Rhode Island. Once again I met with the Kenner city attorney. After we had greeted one another, the police officer that had written the ticket arrived. The Kenner city attorney and I took a seat in the ‘gallery.’ Judge Sassone was seated at the bench. I think she remembered me. She looked at me, or the Kenner city attorney, with what I have come to recognize on females as being the ‘I am a stupid evil bitch look’ on her face. I noticed that she was not wearing a wedding band, no surprise there. I noticed this as she had raised her left hand above the side of the bench. When she did this I perceived, perhaps mistakenly, that she was looking at me. Although Judges are of course above all such things,* I thought that she was trying to surreptitiously flip me off.

*Except for masturbating on the bench or allowing prostitutes off in exchange for services rendered or mailing rattlesnakes to people that piss them off, etc..

The time came to address my ticket. The Kenner city attorney very impressively demonstrated for me an organization of questions to establish facts. At that moment the damage done to me by my being rejected for the moot court ‘team’ became apparent to me. I really could have used the practice to learn this skill, or develop that ability, of ordering the questions to establish the facts without having to attempt to destroy the person on the stand. For the moot court competition a guy named Jimmy had represented a witness. When I questioned him, his unease, actually fright, became apparent on his face. [Isn’t the modern Inquisitorial Process so much more civilized?]

I began my examination of the police officer. Within moments I realized that I should have done more research and submitted evidence for the record. The police officer misremembered and testified that there were children and crossing guard’s present. I knew there had not been, and later called to confirm with the school the actual time of dismissal. The police officer then misremembered that he had testified before Judge Lizardi that he had been parked. His testimony now became he was traveling west on West Esplanade monitoring the traffic with his radar. I did point out this discrepancy. I was chastised by someone, the Kenner city attorney I presume, for a statement of mine made during my questioning that could have been perceived as attempting to offer testimony. My examination was over. I, along with the police officer, stepped before the bench to get the ruling.

Judge Sassone had what I presumed was the record open before her. She glanced at it. She then stated that she found the testimony of the officer credible. I heard this and left. I was slightly perturbed with this as I had pointed out that his testimony had changed. This state of being perturbed lasted less than two minutes.

I exited the courthouse. I saw the Kenner city attorney walking away. I hailed him, waved, smiled, and made some comment about the officer’s memory. That was the end of that.

“The wall of evidence is built one brick at a time.” Rault, Professor of law.

“I woke up this morning,

Bent on destruction,

In my Ivory tower,

On the sunny side of the street…” The Screaming Blue Messiahs

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6792385)

The Louisiana Judiciary: Failing to find its ass' with both hands.

As I have stated I filed suit against Sheriff Wayne Jones. This was in November or December of 2003. I was specific in my allegations of fact. I was served a general denial. As ‘Louisiana is and remains a state of fact pleading,’ to paraphrase the relevant statutory and case law, I moved that I be served with a statement of facts. [I had moved for this in other suits and been denied it as well.] This occurred round about May 2004. I desired a statement of facts that addressed my factual allegations. As within my factual allegations there were allegations of actions by the St. John the Baptist Sheriff’s Department that would be supported by public record, I figured that this was something that the attorney for the parish, in pursuit of her ‘reasonable’ investigation into the allegations, as required by the statutory law, must do. Furthermore, as Louisiana is a state where the law is written to prevent a plaintiff from having to prove every last detail from the inception of an action,* I believed that what I was requesting was actually mandatory. This motion was denied.

*As I have stated, Victoria Monier / McDaniel did deny even being enrolled at LSU Law School in the fall of the year 2000. I had to force this admission. Given that from my point of view the judges I was appearing before must have some knowledge of the procedure of a civil action, and that fact pleading is a basic and mandatory procedure in Louisiana that has already been fought out, I believed I should not have to fight this battle again. So, my opinion became that when the plaintiff has an action against a defendant that is well connected to the judiciary, and the plaintiff is pro se, every last part of the statutory law beneficial to the plaintiff had to be fought out. In the case of Sheriff Jones, as a matter of state law he is the Executive Officer of the court.

I filed my notice of appeal. Judge Snowdy set the bond for appeal at about $2500. At this time I did not have $2500. I had exhausted my resources trying to get through law school. Furthermore, since I had been raped the year before, my income and attention to paying the bills had become sporadic, so my credit was on the decline. The date that I had to post the bond was set in June. On the date the bond had to be posted by, I arrived home from work. This was around about 5 p.m. There was a notice of an attempted delivery of a certified letter. The next day I went and got this letter. It was from the clerk of court, Eliana Defrancesh, informing me that the amount I would have to post for the appellate bond was some figure around or less than $500. It had been posted the day before the bond was due. I presume this is legitimate. Thereafter I checked civil procedure and found that, I believed, I actually had more time to post the bond. The time for posting the bond was somehow predicated on the date the clerk of court sets the cost amount. I gave up. I couldn’t pursue this case if not only was the judge not going to follow basic statutory and case law, but the clerk was going to play fucking games also.*

*I had already witnessed, and would witness again, that the clerks of court and their employee’s also play games. When I first filed suit against Bernard P. Knoth, President of the Board of Trustees of Loyola University New Orleans in Orleans Parish District Court (OPDC) I had walked into the clerks’ office with several copies of my action. The attendant at the desk where civil actions begin to be processed looked at my suit, then took the whole stack and set it on a chair, placed another stack of papers on top of it, and then ignored me. I did not raise a fuss, but of course I walked out with my action being processed and a few stamped copies. And up in the 19th JDC, Baton Rouge, documents that I had filed for the record never made it into the record the last time I had checked. So, among my perception's of the manifestations of judicial malfeasance is that, if the plaintiff’s case is unpopular, and the plaintiff is pro se, and the defendant is connected to the judiciary, the mal- or misfeasance starts at the clerks’ desk and works its way through the system.

I decided to get the hell out of the State of Louisiana for a while. Around June 18, 2004, I left and went to Rhode Island for three months.

Ezell v. Dyess. If I write the book, I might just begin the book with this case. The case is just so illustrative of how far judicial immunity may extend.

'I didn't start it.' Genghis Kahn

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6797095)

I had been raped on or about April 15, 2003. Thereafter I did have periods of emotional distress and anxiety attacks. During the time between the rape and June 6, 2003, when I had been arrested, I told my wife to get out on multiple occasions. I wanted her gone. It took me some time to determine that if she had any knowledge she must have been under great duress not to be forthcoming with that knowledge.

I suppose that she became tired of me telling her to get out, or my non-threat to her on or about June 6 gave her what she needed to begin her own screwing of the Louisiana Judiciary. Because in hindsight, that is what she did. On or about June 12, 2003, she filed for divorce, pro se. The local judiciary acted very quickly. The first time I gave any testimony was before Madeline Jasmine, a judge at the 40th JDC, Edgard, Louisiana. It was on this date, July 2, 2003, that the local judiciary had actual notice that I had been raped. I actually forget whether I testified that Judge Jasmine’s Executive Officer, Wayne Jones, was doing nothing about it. Pretty quick, huh, 20 days between the time the petition is filed and the time the litigants get in front of a judge here in St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana. As in my cases I had not appeared before a judge for quite some time after I had filed my actions, I presume divorces are a high priority with the Louisiana Judiciary.

As much as I have ever learned about divorce, not being interested in divorce, is that the way divorce works here in Louisiana is the people have to be separated, living apart at different residences, for at least six months before a divorce can be granted. I had and have no intention of leaving my home until the person that raped me has been arrested. My wife had no intention of leaving our home, either. My wife had asked for exclusive use and possession in the form divorce action she had used but had amended the petition to eliminate this request prior to going to court. So, Madeline Jasmine could legally say nothing about either about our marital status or domicile.

One year later I was in another Rhode Island for three months. While I was there I was served, via regular mail, with an ex-parte order from Madeline Jasmines court granting my wife exclusive use and possession. As an order granting exclusive use and possession can only be granted after a contradictory hearing, Madeline Jasmine had no authority to do this, so I ignored this order.* Three or so weeks later I came back to Louisiana. As regards this ex-parte order, in any event, no harm, no foul, I suppose.

My wife and I had to appear in court before this nitwit about seven weeks after I had arrived back in Louisiana. Judge Jasmine really no longer had any legal input. Anything she said was just flapping her lips. She tried to determine whether my wife and I had resumed conjugal relations without actually asking the question. The question was whether my wife and I had reconciled. Repeatedly, I attempted to make this nitwit ask the specific question. She couldn’t do it. I stated that I didn’t understand the question. I further stated that my wife and I had been seen in public together and that I had taken her out to eat. As I have earlier stated within this blog I have not had sex in nearly four years. I do not have a problem with that fact. If Judge Nitwit2 did, and wanted to know, she should have so stated.

*Of course I felt safe ignoring this order. What was this nitwit going to do, issue a bench warrant for my arrest? That would have been something, violating my United States Constitutional rights by illegally seizing my property and then have me arrested for ignoring the seizure. Furthermore, I do not have to again appear before Judge Nitwit as regards this divorce because the law of the State of Louisiana is clear. With or without any input from the judiciary a divorce action is automatically null after two years if that action has not been pursued. Finally, I still have Judge Nitwits ex-parte order granting my wife the initial exclusive use and possession prior to the contradictory hearing.

I still have an action before Judge Nitwit2. I am not too concerned. If or when this action ever gets rolling again she may by that time be knocking on doors asking the question: Have you or anybody you know taken ill because of some odors? Or, she may have a police scanner tuned to the Acadian Ambulance frequency. I do not believe that she or any attorney would actually chase an ambulance. Pay for advertising on the ceiling of the ambulance, but not chase it. Or she could have a billboard stating her name, occupation, and maybe the tag line: "A serious attorney for serious cases who doesn't mind getting her buttocks out of bed, unlike the spoiled brat bozo up the street."

Just an aside…

The Title of this post is inapplicable to the following.

A recent commentor suggested that it is I who cannot find my ass with both hands because I do not know how the courts work. I do not have any need of knowing how the courts ‘work’ beyond how the law of the State of Louisiana says they are supposed to work. And I do, and did, given the slow pace of the progress of civil actions, well enough to pursue my actions given a level playing field and given that I did seek and was unable to get legal counsel. Moreover, the legal system of the State of Louisiana is supposed to be so simple that a literate farmer can pursue an action.* This is how Napoleon set it up, and the system of law in Louisiana, the civil law, is modeled after Napoleons Civil Code of 1805. And it is quite irrelevant that educated persons such as Maraist characterize the system of law in Louisiana as being schizophrenic. These people are merely referring to the courts reliance on case law. The way I understand it, the law and the courts in Louisiana are supposed to work like this: Thou Shall or Thou Shall Not. The court takes the FACTS, considers the evidence, mitigating factors, applies the appropriate rule of STATUTORY LAW, and makes its decision. This is why the State of Louisiana is, and will remain, a fact pleading state. It all starts with the facts. Which is why I would not be uncomfortable publishing. The resultant civil actions would just be more fodder for the cannon targeting the hypocrisy of those entrusted with the execution of the law. [Please bear in mind I am doing this from memory, and off the cuff at that, whereas if I were attempting some type of scholarly treatise, I would ensure to review and analyze what Maraist had to say. I would do this even though of my awareness now that the law is Bullshit. There is no Bullshit with banging nails.]

*This is what Levassuer said. My apologies for not giving a rat’s behind about Justinian, the Glossators, or any of the other influences on, or the history of, our current system. Although I did find the part’s about ancient awareness and attention to property rights very intriguing. However, given that I did find some parts very interesting, other people would find other parts equally as interesting, so, the course must remain as it is. Somebody needs to write a book about when things changed that made it illegal for a starving person to help themselves to something to eat that was produced by the labors of another. I believe that Thomas Jefferson, among others, saw this as a basic human right. Of course the liberals have taken this concept way too far. Not allowing people to starve does not mean feeding them so that someone else can direct their own financial resources to get an Escalade with 20’s. It is just about not allowing people to starve. And this goes way back to when we were just gatherers. Of course I cannot develop this thoroughly, as not only do I not now nor likely would ever have the inclination to do so, this is just a blog.

Junior to whom?

This post sucks. I cannot, reasonably, conclude the post with a war whoop expressing my exultation about what I percieve, perhaps erroneously, as righteous destruction. Nonetheless, as I am not as a matter of law required to be reasonable, and, with a preemptory apology to those whom the following sentiment is inapplicable:

"I WASN'T BORN WITH ENOUGH MIDDLE FINGERS" Marilyn Manson

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6891516)

The Louisiana Judiciary: Hell's Bells

Well, it may be quite some time before I post again after this. I am waiting on the Honorable Judge Morvant of the 19th JDC, Baton Rouge, Louisiana to pry his head loose from his rectum. As far as I know, my case is still before him, although at the inception of my action I could have never even imagined he could be looking at inside it inside his colon. He has some motions before him that he could possibly rule on. These include my motion for summary judgment based on the judicial admissions of the defendant, and the defendant’s motion for summary judgment. He can sign anything he wants to. Given that my suit alleges the defendant began defaming me and never ceased, and given that for a period of time the defendant worked a couple of offices away from this dope, he might have personal knowledge. Or, he could just drop back and order that I be served with a statement of facts. My apologies to those that find my story to be interesting reading.

Now I am just going to flap my lips.

A recent commenter asked a question about what the objective of my blog is. Aside from destruction, I am not sure that I could explain my objective completely. Among the reasons is that I have a need to tell the story. One of my objective’s of this blog is not the resolution of all that I am reporting as resolution or justice is unlikely merely by the telling of this story. If resolution or justice happens, it will not be because of any action of mine. Not only have I attempted and been thwarted in the civil resolution of all this, I have visited with, and have written to, a number of lawyers including the ACLU. I have written to and received a response from Mary Landrieu, I have written to and received no response from President Bush, and I have written to Governor Blanco and received a response from the Louisiana Commission on Law Enforcement. I also wrote to the Attorney General of the State of Louisiana and received a telephone call from a person representing himself as being with an investigative unit of the Attorney General’s office and identifying himself as Investigator Breaux. I believe that some people with status and power would have to be injured for me to get justice. What we are talking about here is the greater good.

Equitably, which option is the greater good: that persons with status and connections not be injured or that one person is raised from the status of ‘less than a person?’ My societal status is somewhat less than a person. People have rights. My rights were taken away. For example, as a rape victim the law of the State of Louisiana states that because of this heinous sex crime committed against me I am entitled to psychological counseling at the expense of the state or parish. I was never given or offered this psychological counseling. Not that I need it. I learned of this requirement when I began the research into my action against Sheriff Wayne Jones of St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana. I did not imagine or dream this assailant and I suspect that the local law enforcement authorities in St. John the Baptist Parish would prefer that this, that I imagined the sexual assualt, be believed. Irrespective of whether Sheriff Wayne Jones would like people to believe that I did imagine this sexual assault, if I was a person I still would have had rights under the law. I see no other way to see this.

I did call an organization here in Louisiana named the Metropolitan Crime Commission. The name of the person that I spoke to may have been Jerry. During the course of my conversation with this person he informed me that the commission had four people and these people covered the whole state. I believe that this conversation occurred a couple of months after Hurricane Katrina passed through in 2005, so the figure might have been accurate. This fellow told me to call back in a couple of days. I did not bother. Realistically, after having read what I have stated has occurred, and presuming pending supporting evidence [as the courts must do in civil actions] that this is the truth, could any organization with four people handle it?

The response that I received from the Louisiana Commission on Law Enforcement was a telephone call that occurred not long after I wrote to Governor Blanco. Therefore I am presuming that this was the response to my correspondence as this commission falls under the control or purview of the Governor’s office. This very interesting telephone call was made by a woman representing herself as being with the Louisiana Commission on Law Enforcement. This telephone call was lengthy, it seemed not less than ten minutes. I attempted to find out whether any rapes had been reported as occurring within St. John the Baptist Parish in April of 2003. [Dear reader, I am not fabricating any of this blog.] This woman did explain to me that due to the reporting methods it was not possible to distill that information out. She went on to give the reasons why, and examples. Her two favorite examples were: one, about men having sex with 12 year old boys, and two, about men in some northern Louisiana parish that liked to fight each other with knives, for fun. I actually forget how the example of sex with 12 year old boys related to the reporting method, but I do recall how the example of men fighting each other with knives just for fun related to the reporting methods. Her explanation for the reporting problem with the knives was that many Sheriff’s up around that way reported the knife incidents as assaults only, rather than aggravated assaults, so numbers of particular crimes reported became meaningless to the lay person. In any event, one thing I have learned about women in Louisiana is that many of them have a preoccupation about sex with children. And I am not the only person learning this. It had been recently reported in the news, within the past couple of years, I believe up around Ponchatoula, Louisiana, there was this church where the matriarch masterminded the systematic sexual abuse of children.

[A review of public record, including newspapers, would be adequate warning for the wary traveler that might happen to stop in St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana, to leave their kids in the car and keep an eye on them. A review of public record, including newspapers, would be adequate warning for the wary traveler to not even bring their children around the Loyola University New Orleans campus, ditto plus pets for LSU Baton Rouge. Recently at LSU an administrator was charged with some crime related to child pornography. In the past, some person on the campus sexually molested an animal and this crime has not been solved, last time I checked. Or this crime could have been covered up, as, if the crime was connected to LSU Law, it is my opinion that these people are pretty good at cover-ups. Further, as the 19th JDC, Baton Rouge, is not far from the law school, if this crime had been connected to the law school, prosecution may have been quashed* anyhow. After all, this is Louisiana. {*that’s squashed to some Loyola Law grads}]

Among my lesser theories as to why the sexual assault or rape was never investigated is that it was meant to be a prank, or that I deserved it and should just get over it. Not being an attorney, and therefore lacking the analytical capabilities necessary to determine why the rape of me was no crime, I believe that whether the rape of me was meant to be a prank or that I deserved it was nonetheless a crime. I will never believe otherwise.

The error I made finally dawns on me. I never stated that I wanted the crime investigated or the perpetrator arrested. I am very fortunate that I was not shot in St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana. If I failed to actually ask that the crime be investigated I eventually might have been arrested and charged with ‘interfering with the discharge of a firearm.’ These people that control the law around here are very creative.

I think, in hindsight, that Victoria McDaniel / Monier was stalking me. Irrespective that a commenter to my sight stated that he and Victoria McDaniel were raised poor, I have come to the realization that the opposite may be possible. I have another theory that the administration of LSU Law School, in pursuit of funds to do the recent renovation, was kissing the ass of someone connected to this woman. I further theorize that all that has happened to me was based on comments or statements made about me by Victoria Monier / McDaniel either directly or indirectly to members of the administration of LSU Law school and all that has happened to me has been a result of manipulations by these administrators to force me to act. Of course, if this were true, then these administrators, and this nitwit Judge Morvant, would have had to presume that I had actual knowledge.

I was in the Home Depot in Kenner, Louisiana, a place that I frequent, around or about February, maybe March, 2006. Something odd occurred as I was standing in a check out line. From my right a woman approached and passed in front of me. As she passed she held up her right hand and pointed her index finger into my face. She had a nasty look on her face. Her face was quite homely [kind of looked like the Thing from the comics] and she was a heavy short woman, appearing to be not less than 140 lbs and appearing to be in her twenties. This woman was somewhat less than five foot tall. As she walked away I noticed no items in her hands or about her person. I could not recall having ‘stepped on anyone’s toes’ as I had done my shopping. The questioning idea or thought flashed across my brain as to whether this could be Victoria McDaniel. I dismissed this, although not quite instantaneously. I dismissed this as there could be no way that this woman be Victoria McDaniel, 60 miles from her home and just happening to be in the Kenner, Louisiana, Home Depot at the same time that I was there.

This incident brings to mind another incident that occurred a couple of years earlier, in 2004, prior to my leaving for Rhode Island. I was returning to my home after going to the store. I approached a four way stop intersection in my neighborhood. From my right, a car approached the intersection. I stopped and yielded. The car pulled into the middle of the intersection and stopped. The driver, who appeared to be a female, framed her face in the window opening and looked directly at me. This woman was jutting her jaw forward, making her face reminiscent of the gargoyle on the front of the tractor-trailer in the movie ‘Maximum Overdrive,’ except this woman did not have pointy ears. This tableau only lasted a few seconds, and then she faced forward and drove off. Although I could not then, nor could I now, bring Victoria McDaniel’s face to mind other than she was homely and had oozing sores, this woman was homely enough to be Victoria McDaniel. The car was a blue two door compact. It was not a new car. As the car proceeded away from me I noticed a ‘Wayne Jones’ bumper sticker on the rear bumper.

I suppose that some people may see people that remind them of people that they have met before. I have a few times. I recall looking, and then looking again. I presume that most people are like me in that when they make the determination that the similarity in features is just a similarity, they become slightly embarrassed for having done this inspection. That being stated, I have also seen women that reminded me of Noami Nichols quite often, and in diverse localities from Rhode Island to Florida.

I was sitting on the front steps of my aunt’s house where I was living while in Rhode Island. This was in July or August of 2004. A tall woman, with long sandy blonde hair was pushing a stroller down the street. She had a few other children around the stroller, walking with her. As she approached the crest of where a down slope begins her hair was slightly flopping back and forth, intermittently exposing her face. She looked just like Noami Nichols, the first time I had seen her at Loyola Law School. I got up from the steps, went to the end of the driveway, and leaned against the bed of my pick up in order to greet her as she passed. We exchanged greetings. She sounded like Noami Nichols, also.

On other occasions I have seen women that looked like Noami Nichols in police uniforms. Once was at the Warwick Public Library in Warwick, Rhode Island and then once again in Gretna, Louisiana. In Gretna, Louisiana, I was installing a roll gate and operator at the entrance to a new subdivision. A female police officer drove by me, not too fast, as I was working on this property. This female police officer also looked like Noami Nichols.

About two months ago I was passing through Tallahassee, Florida, after visiting relatives there displaced by Hurricane Katrina. I was sitting in a burger restaurant attached to a gas station. Through the open blind I could see a tall woman with about shoulder length black hair fueling a black VW, I think that it was a convertible Jetta, if they make such a model. I could see this woman’s face full on and she could have been Noami’s sister.

And then about three or so weeks ago I was returning home, traveling on Airline Highway. To my right, several blocks away from my home, in front of a small strip shopping center there was a tan Mustang of recent make. The driver of this vehicle was a female and she was apparently looking at something on, around or about the passenger seat. This woman was wearing small reading glasses with thick dark frames. From the side her face was slightly mannish, but undoubtedly female, and pretty. This woman was the spitting image of Noami Nichols as I had seen her sitting on the steps of the rear entrance to the Pine St. Cafe.’

Although I realize that this recitation of sightings does nothing to further any person’s perception of me as being rational, and more likely, the perception of most people would be that I should just go sit on the couch with tin foil on my head. However, and after all, this is just a blog. That I have seen these people is a fact. That these people have reminded me of other people that I met is a fact. However, I am not presenting these sighting’s as a fact that these were these people. A difference between these sightings is that when I have seen people that for whatever reason cause me to think of Victoria Monier / McDaniel there is some attendant threat, whereas this is not the case when I have seen women that for whatever reason remind me of Noami Nichols.

Happy Halloween

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#6891520)

I have decided that I have nothing of any import to say at this time. So, I am just going to flap my lips. As of around or about December 1, my civil action against Victoria McDaniel had been ruled prescribed and dismissed. I do not have the stomach for an appeal [although I am now getting one heck of a stomach again.] It is among my opinion's that my action has been dismissed to allow Ms. McDaniel’s counsels an ‘out.’ Supposedly, one of them moved out of the state almost immediately after I filed my motion for summary judgment based on her judicial admissions. If my opinion is correct, I am not terribly upset about it. In my opinion, the woman is a very good con artist that had the benefit of rumor preceding her retaining her attorney’s. Her attorney's did their job.

In one of the earlier pre-law chat rooms, Judge Sarah Vance’s’ dismissal of my Federal Civil Action was posted along with the question: Can I appeal this decision? Well, actually I did. My appeal was dismissed by the clerk for lack of prosecution. I had presumed this was because I had not filed an appellate brief. At the time my understanding of the rules made an appellate brief optional. As I had covered everything fairly well in my memorandums I was loathe to write an appellate brief. Especially since Judge Vance’s dismissal was clearly so contrary to the law. Furthermore, in my opinion and how I perceived things, it did seem to me that the fix was in.

I could write about a few female Loyola Law students, name them and what they did and said; but why bother? One of these females now has a job with a law firm. Why would I want to embarrass her? Merely because I suspect she implied or inferred to somebody that we had been intimate? Merely because when I visited her apartment she had a vibrator out? I jumped her car, not her.

In hindsight, I wish I would have of been intimate with all of them all that I think that I could have. What a great time for a mid-40’s male, aay? {I base this only on those females who asked me, more or less straight out, to have sex.} It would only have been a couple of dozen.

I have this other theory that makes some sense to me. These multiple women that did overtly express a sexual interest in me did so to see if I would go for it and if I did go for it they would have shot me down. This would have been horrible as I did not want it in the first place. I think it is possible Victoria McDaniel may have said I wanted her, she said no, I was persistent, she finally said okay, and I said no way. This is almost the opposite of what happened, except that she implied she would like to shoot me, and then attempted to re-open the door.

This is the worst thing that happened:

Noami Nichols. I was enamored of her.

After Noami walked in the door at Loyola, the first time I saw her, she came up the aisle and took a seat behind me, to my left. I turned to look at her. She was jutting her jaw out. I thought this was odd. When I had seen her face as she was coming up the aisle her face was kind of round. When I saw her jutting her jaw out it occurred to me that she was trying to elongate her face. I think some women try for that ‘model’ looking face. The action seemed incongruous with this woman’s beautiful face.

I attempted to enjoin her in conversations on multiple occasions. She was not amenable to conversations of any great length. She was possibly trying to ‘save’ Victoria McDaniel/Monier. I can’t prove that her behaviors were motivated by a desire to save Victoria McDaniel/Monier. I only realize this possibility in hindsight. I put this theory together a couple of years ago after the woman pulled into the intersection in front of me and framed her face in the window with her jaw thrust out. Prior to this I had been to the LSU Law school library and had seen the class of 2003 graduation photograph’s hanging on the wall. Victoria McDaniel’s photograph is about dead center. There was something odd about the photograph. It seemed to me that she was pushing her jaw down or out in the photograph. That is all I can remember about the photograph.

Well, some one may ask how I could possibly remember what Noami was doing with her face. Well, I remember that when I got out of the Japanese woman’s [actually, I know her name] car and I saw Noami at the door she was wearing a dark blue or black overcoat, similar to a pea coat. She had her head nestled down in the collar, and she was frowning. Her hair flowed over the collar in such a way that only the triangle of her features plus a little more face was visible.

And I recall sometime earlier she was standing on the sidewalk looking up at me and she had a look that could reasonably be described as haughty on her face. On this occasion she was wearing a brown pants suit. [She looked like someone that had been a legal secretary on this occasion.]

Then on another occasion she was sitting on a bench in front of the main doors. I was coming up the sidewalk. I saw her sitting there and she smiled at me. I smiled back and then consciously wiped the smile off of my face and then she wiped the smile off of her face. [Or maybe I smiled at her and she smiled back.] I was determined to have an actual conversation with this woman. I sat down next to her. That is as far as I can go with this. She won. [No, I do not mean I was intimate with her.]

There will be some people that will perceive my character negatively in the light of this admission. [That I was actually enamored of someone other than my spouse.] Well, hell, I’m only human.

This is likely the end of the blog. I am not going to post any Grand Unified Conspiracy Theory. I do not have to; that a conspiracy occurred should be obvious. If I ever get around to posting the various documents I will do so on lsu-law-less.com.

One more thing: I do not believe John J. Costonis’s' stated reason’s for stepping down as Chancellor of LSU Law school. It is my opinion that John J. Costonis is stepping down rather than be put down. I believe Mr. Costonis made a grievous mistake in the fall of the year 2000 as concerned Ms. McDaniel and me and presumptions he made. I believe Mr. Costonis compounded his mistakes, and I have some evidence of this. As Mr. Costonis likely had the ear of a number of the members of the Louisiana judiciary, his 'take' on things would have been accepted and disseminated. I believe, hopefully not erroneously, that the feces is going to hit the fan again. Perhaps Mr. Costonis can get a job teaching; preferably in another state.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7217806)

Abracadabra?

Some readers may recall a post I published concerning Stephanie Jumonville and a black eye. Although it may still be there, I cannot find that post on my dashboard. But you can find a reference to that post here. http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=480903&forum_id=2#6615895

There are two other posts that I published that may have become unpublished by a hand other than that of my own after I posted them. Some reader may recall that I started a post with the approximate beginning:I have begun setting up blogs in other countries... I wrote this after the first occasion I became aware that something I had published was unpublished by a hand other than my own. Although that post remains on my dashboard, you can find reference to that post here. http://www.xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=480903&mc=323&forum_id=2#6556576

There is an archive of these posts here: http://www.xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&mc=57&forum_id=2 The person that is the "archivist" is generally pretty quick about getting them posted in this "archive." He is not as quick as whoever unpublished the post that started with: I have begun setting up blogs in other countries... I just now visited these archives and could find neither post to which I have referred.

As there are some people who truly believe that I am crazy, at some time in the future I may have to find a disinterested third party to publish these posts on the web. One of the law firms that have visited my site may publish these posts just for curiosities sake. Just to see whether the posts remain published.

Although I realize that I am needlessly repeating myself here, among my theories as to the cause of these chain of events I have these theories that Victoria McDaniel:

a) was going to be a Federal witness to something of import, or,

b) was the daughter of someone in either the Federal judiciary or law enforcement, or,

c) had already sexually favored some member of the administration of LSU Law school, or,

d) despite her dialogue that led me to believe that she was poor, was actually from a quite wealthy family, and, given that money talks, pressure was exerted on the administration of LSU Law school to not take any action unless I made a complaint.

This last possibility might explain the interest Ted Richard had in her: he could have been a bodyguard. Ted Richard might have also become accustomed to fixing situations Victoria McDaniel created with her sexual aggressiveness. Bearing in mind that I am only putting forth theories to make sense of the imcomprehensible; if there were other prostitutes in the law school maybe he was a hired hand to keep them in line. This is no more bizarre an idea than the idea that state troopers would go out and pick up prostitutes for a past Governor of Arknasas. This would explain some comments Ted made during conversations that I had with him after the feces hit the fan. i.e. "Bend them all over." This also might explain the bizarre behaviors of some faculty members. This also might explain a few remarks John Baker made, while the controversy was quietly raging around me, during the course of a lecture about Federal agents being allowed to carry weapons on campus. The remarks were off the topic of the lesson and were not precluded with any introductory statements that the topic was about to change.

I have theorized that in an effort to get me to complain, the administration of LSU Law school, through social and professional connections with some members of the judiciary and the administration and faculty of Loyola Law New Orleans, did knowingly cause and manipulate the sexual harassment that I was subjected to. I further theorize that the reason I was being subjected to this was not divulged to those persons that were actually doing the pressuring.

I stated "or was going to be" a Federal witness. I also theorize that it was possible that Victoria McDaniel had some experience in the sexual profession and had been recruited to blow the whistle on the presence of prostitutes in law school. Or perhaps her references to money were an attempt to get me to offer it and thereby make a case. This would explain her references to money during her sexual pursuit of me. She was trying to help make a case. I further theorize that it is possible in order to have done her job she stated to someone that I had been intimate with her but refused to pay. Hence the disappearance of my money, irrespective of where my money actually went or who paid her. This may sound crazy to some younger people, but, use your intelligence and pretend for a moment that you are an investigator trying to uncover prostitution in law schools. Would a 42 year old overweight man entering law school fit the profile of a man that might be looking for sex with younger women and be willing to pay for it?

When I entered Loyola Law School I encountered and had a brief conversation with another man apparently in his mid to late 30's, slightly overweight and unkempt; sloppy looking. I had seen Noami speaking to this fellow and was curious. I never saw this guy again after the first week or so of law school. That he was there during the day time after orientation indicated to me that he was taking at least some classes during the day. The guy told me that he was a New Orleans police officer that worked in vice. When I had seen Noami speaking with this guy it had seemed that they were familiar to one another. Their proximity during the conversation would indicate to the reasonable person that they were somewhat confidant's. That I have since seen a person that looked exactly like Noami in police uniform kinds of leads me to believe that she may have been aiming for a career in the prosecutorial side of the law.

I find it incredibly distressing to state the following theory [because she struck some chord in me that resonated for a long time] but Noami may have been attempting to get me to become intimate with her and offer her money to bolster a case that was being made. If Victoria McDaniel had falsely communicated to someone that we had been intimate and I had either offered her money or refused to pay her I believe that it is possible that in the interests of a stonger case a second person would also have to be able to testify to the fact that I had been intimate with them and either offered money or refused to pay.

So, it should be clear that not only do I not believe that Noami was a prostitute but that I do believe that she was cooperating in some type of investigation. If any of my theories are in the ballpark of being correct I do believe that others were enlisted to this end. For example, Jeremy Diamond, Dan Noelke, and me were sitting in St. Joes bar on Magazine Street in New Orleans in the summer of 2002. The subject of women came up. I mentioned Noami's name. After a few moments of silence, Jeremy stated one word: "prostitute." I responded: "I don't care what she is." My perception at that time of the reason Jeremy stated this was to instill in me the idea that if I wanted her I could have her easily. Then Dan Noelke stated the name of a male student that was obviously light in the loafers and made a comment about his oral activities. As I did believe that this male student to whom Dan had referred was a bun buddy of a colon cowboy administrator I had nothing to say other than "what's the difference?" [between having one in your mouth and sucking on one.] Dan responded that there was no difference. I did not so state but did think at that moment that Dan had just flushed his law school time at Loyola Law New Orleans right down the toilet. I have not repeated this conversation to anyone until now.

Dan did not return to school the next semester. I did not think Dan's comments to be particularly defamatory given the fact that we were in New Orleans. I do not think that the reasonable person living in and hearing such a statement in San Francisco would find the comment particularly defamatory either. The comment just reflected a fact of life, given the city and its mores, that was apparent in this particular male student's demeanor. Although this particular male student to whom Dan had referred did not wear a tag that said: "Hi, I'm so and so and I'm a bisexual," he was not deep in the closet about it either. In any event, I did not give a hoot.

Furthermore, within the literature that prospective or new students to Loyola Law New Orleans are given is language that states, unequivocally, that Loyola Law New Orleans does not discriminate against person's based on their sexual orientation. [Unless the person is a heterosexual monogamist, which is intolerable.] This is clearly an invitation as I do not believe that any law school law could have language to the contrary in their literature. So, if it is not an invitation, why mention it?

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 4:48 PM 0 comments

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7327304)

Infra: Hillary Clinton hot for me?

Unbelievably, there are those who believe that what I am saying has happened is not a compensable wrong at all. Although I really do not care to attack any one person in particular that has actually not personally offended me, sometimes I come across one person whose stupidity, whether real or feigned, is so overwhelming that the person deserves it.

There is this approximately 43 year old female law student at the Columbus School of Law, Catholic University of America, in Washington, D.C... She goes by the screen name of Rosettaresearch... That what occurred at LSU and Loyola that concerned me may have already become the stuff of legend is indicated by a number of posts this woman made on JDJive. She stated that there was overwhelming evidence that I was a jackass; that the law schools’ said so and I said that I was not. http://www.lawstudentparadise.com/forums/124454-post20.html I would sure like to see some of this overwhelming evidence. I would like to know how she came to possess this evidence or knowledge of this evidence. Furthermore, she also stated that merely because I allege these things happened, that does not mean that the allegations rise to the level of a civil wrong.

This woman was apparently parroting somebody. This woman is both as dumb as a box of rocks or feigning being as dumb as a box of rocks and screechy about it. The woman actually told me to look up the word allegation. Just because I claim facts to be true does not make them true, http://www.lawstudentparadise.com/forums/124385-post10.html and the judge said so, so therefore my allegations are not true. Further, Rosetta states that I obviously failed to prove my allegations by a preponderance of the evidence so this explains my C+ in Civil Procedure. http://www.lawstudentparadise.com/forums/124393-post12.html

To reiterate: Rosettaresearch, a second year law student, knew the following not long after I started my blog:

A) I had been a jackass.

B) The law schools said so.

C) I whined that I had not been a jackass.

D) There was overwhelming evidence that I had been a jackass.

As I never had made these comments about myself, and these comments were exclusive to rosettaresearch, that is I never found any statements by any other person on any forum where my culpability was so positively expressed, it is possible that she was parroting a professor or administrator at the Catholic University of America, Columbus School of Law. Within the law and law schools, politics’ exist. I have wondered whether through the legal grapevine a perception has developed of what occurred at LSU and Loyola Law Schools that concerned me. The fact that these law school administrators, including Lawrence Moore, S.J, communicate with their peers across the country and this communication is not only normal but expected, and is irrefutable. Lawrence Moore, S. J., is quoted four times in this paper. Ira P. Robbins, "The Importance of the Secret Ballot in Law Faculty Personnel Decisions: Promoting Candor and Collegiality in the Academy" (May 15, 2006). ExpressO Preprint Series. Working Paper 1367.

http://www.law.bepress.com/expresso/eps/1367

Then again, it is possible that as the Administration of the Columbus School of Law is all females, this perception of my behavior that had developed, as per rosettaresearchs’ comments, could have had another conduit. At Loyola Law New Orleans there is Cecelia Bennett, a graduate of Catholic University of America and both a professor of civil and canon law. Ms. Bennett does go around the country quite a bit, addressing women’s groups. http://www.loyno.edu/newsandcalendars/loyolatoday/2000/10/footnotes.html

http://www.loyno.edu/newsandcalendars/loyolatoday/index.php?action=view&article_id=282&issue_id=31&year=2006&page=2 As Ms. Bennett is professor of canon law, and there is apparently some confusion in our society as to what is the law of the land http://www.religionlink.org/tip_021104bzones.php , as a professor of law this woman’s ‘take’ on things would have some weight, should she have had any comments.It is possible she or someone from Loyola Law New Orleans could have been asked, Judge Vance's ruling had been published in a legal journal in 2004.

Interestingly, Judge Becnel, mentioned earlier in my blog, may have been on a visiting committee to the law school when some of these events were going down, like when my suit was dismissed. http://law.loyno.edu/bulletin04-05/126-153.pdf One of Judge Becnel’s sons was at Loyola Law New Orleans during the same time I was there, but a year ahead. I do not recall meeting him and I do not suppose that he ever heard anything about me or about the cops being around the school when I was thrown out. Supposedly Judge Becnel’s son interned at the White House during the Clinton Administration. On one of the threads resulting from my blog someone stated that Hillary Clinton was ‘hot’ for this swamp rat. http://www.jdjive.com/read.php?1,261430,page=2 Maybe Judge Becnel’s son described me to Ms. Clinton. http://www.becnellaw.com/bradleybecnel.htm

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 6:22 PM 1 comments

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7327306)

RE: The Leiter Reports

http://leiterreports.typepad.com/blog/2005/03/penn_law_studen.html

This post is off topic. If you are not familiar with the supposed controversy that I am commenting on, said controversy being more likely than not flame, you may as well just skip this post. I believe that my last ‘true’ judicial malfeasance post will be made on New Year’s Day, 2007. Of course, as I have found writing them to be a lot of fun, I may not be able to stop. There is always Reynolds Blankenship’s fixation on Professor Viator’s ‘nutbuster’ jeans I could write about.

First, I recognize the possibility that Mr. Leiter’s controversy with the XOXO forum may have been and may continue to be a means to get more traffic to his site. Really, sex and so forth sells. Associating yourself or your product with something that is selling, in this case a forum, can only increase the exposure you or your product has. Or, second, if there is no commercial aspect to the controversy, the controversy is merely meant to fan the flames of heated discourse about which speech is protected. Finally, as per my introduction, the controversy is wholly flame.

That being stated, ostensibly, Mr. Leiter is outraged with the comments posted on http://www.xoxo.com/ and asserts that these people will be outed, and the implication from my point of view is that because of this, this site will be shut down and the careers of the moderators and owners negatively affected. Further, and also ostensibly, Mr. Leiter dislikes the anonymous nature of the postings yet published anonymous statements from persons that share his viewpoint on the detestability of the postings on the site, XOXO.hth.com. An anonymous moderator from another law forum had this to say and Mr. Leiter published this without using his censorship capabilities:

“I hate Jews. I have enormous genitals, and I also had sex with all of your mothers last night after snorting more cocaine than I have ever had before. Here’s a picture of one student’s father, and my god, is he the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. I’d like to kill him.” An anonymous contributor to Mr. Leiter’s page.

Of course this quote is taken out of context. Follow Mr. Leiter’s link above and you will arrive at a page that was recently posted that which republishes a post Mr. Leiter made on March 11, 2005.

I, were I truly offended by any such speech, prior to publication and regardless of whether the speech is meant merely to be illustrative of perception of the speaker that a listener may have, would clean it up thusly:

With every fiber of my body and every bit of my soul and consciousness I intensely dislike the descendant’s of Abraham. Furthermore, prior to this class meeting but after the nasal inhalation of massive quantities of a proscribed narcotic white powder, and with those reproductive organs that I have been magnificently endowed with, I ensured the pleasure of all of your mothers. I present to you the likeness of the sire of one of your classmates. Truly, does any student present believe that a just creator of all things meant that such an abomination, the likeness and image of whom I now present to you that is so contrary to the acceptable norms of 21st century beauty deserve to continue wasting precious and limited natural resources? I say not, and with maximum prejudice! Finally, it is apparent that Roe v. Wade was a decision made much too late!

On this page you will find the following statement made by Mr. Leiter:

“True enough, this is all constitutionally protected speech, but that isn't the issue, since Messrs. Ciolli and Cohen are not the state.”

Although I cannot fathom the meaning or import of the reference to the state as the ‘state’ could not utter such sentiments, this constitutionally protected speech is the issue, the exact issue. First, speech, other than that which is in and of itself a crime, such as acts of espionage or assaultive speech that engenders in the listener a fear of an imminent offensive or harmful bodily contact, that is hateful but that does not incite others to violence or the commission of crimes is absolutely protected from criminal liability. Furthermore, bearing in mind my lack of scholarship, my current understanding is that most speech that is defamatory or hateful that is not directed at an individual or individual organization is protected from civil liability.

Although I recognize the possibility that no such subpoena’s exist or were served, who is subpoenaing whom or what, and for what purpose? What judge signed these subpoenas? What were the application’s for the subpoena’s predicated on? National security? A civil suit for defamation of character?

This controversy has to be flame.

BTW: Dear XO’ers, et. al., I am aware of my copyright protections and appreciate the respectful recognition of those protections as apparent by the limited republication of my story on the XOXO forum, that appreciation being limited as follows: This appreciative recognition is limited to those specific threads on the XO forum that I have, prior to this date of December 28, 2006, linked to as ‘repositories’ of my posting’s. Shortly, my work is not in the public domain for reproductive purposes.

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 6:23 AM 2 comments

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7327311)

Happy New Year: The long and winding post.

Is this is the ‘end’ of my blog? Should I now stop and consider whether to file the copyright? I generally consider things for quite some time. As this is a true story, and many of the characters alive and active within the law, the story has some value. However, there are advantages in not filing for the copyright. Not filing for the copyright has the potential for recreational value, as if someone were to publish the story without my consent I could sue them.

ADDRESSING THE ISSUE OF WHETHER I AM ACTUALLY CRAZY

There are undoubtedly a number of people that think that I am crazy. I have come across this perception on multiple threads. A number of people have linked to my blog via this page. You will notice that the person on this page, Lawjerk, who posted the link to my blog also posted a number of times on this thread: http://www.xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=480903&mc=323&forum_id=2

You may also notice that Lawjerk only posted one time on the page where a person is questioning their suitability, due to a psychological defect, for law school. It is apparent that as a link to my site was the only comment Lawjerk made on this thread Lawjerk is clearly implying that my blog is the product of a schizophrenic. Of course I am aware the 'schizophrenic' thing is flame. However, some people eat it up.

SCHIZOPHRENIA

From what little I have learned about schizophrenia, besides that it is a generic term for a variety or range of psychological disorders arising from chemical imbalances, the accepted and prevailing idea had been that once the illness has onset only medication could control the manifestations of the illness. Currently, according to at least one doctor, is that there is an approximately 35% natural recovery rate. So, any plaintiff or defendant that may arise from the ultimate publication of my blog that attempts to use as a defense, or, if it is even possible, as part of a suit designed to profit from what they did do, that I imagined all this as a result of a psychological defect such as schizophrenia is going to have to prove, or get credible scientific testimony that this illness can manifest itself and then cure itself in a less than 3 months. This illness would have had to onset in late September 2000 and then disappear by around or about December 5, 2000. Further, as I take no medications other than OTC analgesics, any plaintiff or defendant that raises the claim that I imagined all this as the result of a psychological defect, namely schizophrenia, will have to find a psychiatrist that can testify that this is, the sudden onset and cure a couple of months after the onset of the illness, is what occurred. As I believe that this sudden cure is not possible, I was poisoned. Period.

Earlier in my blog I had related how Laura Hart made her single word statement ‘bipolar.’ I believe that this was a ‘prophecy,’ and I theorize that the apparent symptoms of the illness were possibly made real by Victoria McDaniel or an ally in a surreptitious and illegal manner. Further, and also just before the symptoms started and before the incidents when she had favored me with her smile, Eve Blanchard had turned to look at me, I mean directly at me. She sat in a row several rows down from my own. As she looked away and turned to look at those females in the seats adjoining hers she made the statement, and I heard this statement not perfectly, but nonetheless clearly, ‘He is/ is not turning red.’ After Eve made this statement I thought about what this woman could have thought I would have to turn red about, i.e., be embarrassed about, and could think of nothing so thought no more of it. I further theorize that the possibility exists that Victoria McDaniel or an ally was indeed causing me to ingest, by some mechanism unknown to me, a chemical agent that among the physical manifestations of would be a flushed face. I also theorize that it is possible that Victoria McDaniel or an ally preemptively implied or actually stated that I was knowingly taking this chemical agent. Which could be why nobody ever mentioned this to me or made reference, they would presume that I had knowledge. Further, a not uncommon belief among paranoid schizophrenics is that someone is trying to poison them. If during that time I had any inkling of what I now believe was the cause of what I was experiencing, that is that I was being poisoned, and I had stated the thought, another manufactured ‘prophecy’ would have been fulfilled.

IF IT TRULY HAD BEEN PERPETUATED, HOW COULD THE IDEA THAT I WAS A SCHIZOPHRENIC HAVE BEEN PERPETUATED?

As I related earlier in my blog, within about three days after Professor Derbigny indicated that could be of no assistance to me, I was summoned to the offices of Dean Jumonville. Further, as I also related, during this meeting Dean Jumonville stated that Loyola University desired that I undergo psychological counseling and her tone and demeanor indicated that this was not optional. I suspect that Victoria McDaniel was fabricating, depending on her audience, to some audiences a story that she and I had an ongoing relationship and to other audiences that we did not have an ongoing relationship but that I was pursuing to a relationship with her, contrary to her wishes. This latter story, were it to be disseminated through the professional and social connections of LSU Law and Loyola Law could be the actual reason that I was expelled from Loyola Law and told to get on medication. After all, I never spoke about the woman to anyone. This is because I rarely, if ever, thought about the skank.

From there, this perception could have spread through the legal ‘grapevine’ prior to the filing of my civil action and been reinforced by a factual allegation in my civil action. One legal periodical actually published Sarah Vance’s dismissal. http://www.clhe2.org/salpw/vol1num1.pdf That my case would have been discussed is likely. The title of the article is Student Affairs Cases in the Spotlight, by Jodi Gill, J.D., ED. S. Interestingly, Ms. Gill juxtaposes my case against that of another student that was expelled from a different law school. This other student supposedly threatened to blow up the career counselor’s office. To my knowledge nobody has claimed that I ever made any threats of violence. Furthermore, nobody that I am aware of has claimed in any legal proceeding that I suffer from any psychological disorder, as did the student in the article preceding the reporting of mine. This student admitted being in a counselor’s office discussing a renewal of medications he was taking for bi-polar disorder. In Judge Sarah Vance’s dismissal she states I admit I “may have” had a psychotic break around the time I left LSU Law.

Prior to my filing of this civil action, as far as I can recall, nobody but my wife and I knew what I had experienced for one short period of time in my life, measured in hours, between the time LSU Law took the Thanksgiving break prior to exams and the time I withdrew from the school. I put this in my civil action; for a reason. The reason being that at one point, for one long moment in my life, I was overcome with so much fear that I was overwhelmed. And LSU Law was not only the cause of it, LSU Law could have been prevented it. Read my blog. I was in rough shape, people commented on it, I did not know what was going on, and the symptoms I experienced I found to be consistent with low dose Strychnine poisoning, http://www.merck.com/media/mmpe/pdf/Table_326-8.pdf, p23.

If you look at the symptoms contained here and were to find anyone that had been at LSU Law at the time that was paying attention and asked whether I manifested any of these symptoms, their answer might be yes. The symptoms I experienced may be consistent with a range of poisons, but I had a specific reason I thought that if I had been poisoned it may have been accomplished with strychnine. The specific reason was that a number of people at LSU Law had implied that I was a rat. It is not something that any one person said to my face, but that a few people had said in passage and then later one law professor had exclaimed in front of the class: ‘You’ve turned this school into a house of prostitution.’ During my time at LSU Law other people had made passing refernces to prostitutes. At the time, this made no sense to me either. Despite her references to money and sex I would never have thought Victoria McDaniel to be a prostitute as she was as ugly as a bag of frozen anal orifices. The idea that she may have been offering me money has since occurred to me, and would explain the behaviors of Lawrence Moore, et. al. Unfortunately for these people, not only had I never done that, I had never in my life, on a single occasion, considered the possibility. Furthermore, I had never, on a single occasion in my preparations to enter law school, thought about the possibility of sex.

In hindsight, I now realize the possibility that many statements people made to me were based on knowledge they presumed that I had. For example, there was this male student named, I believe, Phil. Phil and I were sitting on one of the low concrete benches in front of the law school. Phil looked bummed. I forget the specific’s of the conversation, but I said, “Phil, there’s a lot of pretty women here in this law school.” His response was: “________, I can’t afford any of these girls.” I had no response for that. At the time I thought he meant ‘afford’ as in being able to take them out on a date or something, and this is what he may have actually meant.

Further, although a quick web search of Strychnine poisoning would indicate to a non-thorough researcher that the effects are always severe and generally fatal, this is not the case. At times in history it has been a recreational drug of choice as well as a stimulant taken to increase performance, both athletic and on the battlefield.

DELUSIONS OR ILLUSIONS?

With the truthful testimony of those persons to whom I have referred within my blog I could prove that their acts as I have set forth did occur. This would be proof that these were not delusions. However, there is another symptom of this mental illness and that is illusions. That is, the schizophrenic person misinterprets the actions of others around the person. What I cannot prove is that how I interpreted these acts was not an illusion. I interpreted Ms. Allgood swinging of what I perceived to be a tampon under my nose and then during the immediately subsequent meeting leaning towards me, closing her eyes and puckering her lips up to be sexual in nature. I interpreted those actions of Lawrence Moore, S.J., in which he stated to me there would be no penalty for dropping his course, and then stating an amount of money, and then stating there would be a penalty as he started vigorously rubbing his crotch to be sexual in nature. His actions occurred in the objective world. My perception of the meaning of his actions could be the only place an illusion could happen.

Although I have freely admitted that I had {they have now totally ceased} suffered from severe anxiety attacks since I had been raped and subsequently arrested, and I did suffer from something while at LSU Law that I attribute to being poisoned, other than this I do believe my behaviors are consistent with those of a person within the psychological ‘normal’ range.

To use an extreme example concerning whether anxiety attacks can be considered normal: Would it be considered abnormal for a person, whether guilty, not guilty, or innocent, to have anxiety attacks while awaiting death in the electric chair? Could it be considered abnormal for a person either sitting for a law school exam or afterwards to have an anxiety attack? And I wonder, because this person had an anxiety attack either because they had to sit for an examination or because afterwards they believed they had performed poorly, does this mean that the examination did not actually occur? Sorry, Rosetta.

http://www.lawstudentparadise.com/forums/144147-post17.html

I have been wondering whether Professor Crusto perceived me as acting irrationally when he inspected my gerbil, cage, and insertion device gift package and attached card. He actually read the card. I mean, aside from leaving such a gift, was my behavior consistent with that of a normal person leaving an abnormal gift? I have wondered whether this person ever had the balls to ask Professor Crusto about me. Professor Crusto may not remember me; I understand this. However, I did sit in on his class on a day prior to my leaving the token of my esteem to Lawrence Moore, S.J., and had asked his permission to do so beforehand. So, he met me twice, and on one of those occasions I was delivering perhaps the most outrageous gift he had ever seen in his life. The topic on the day I sat in his property class was about perpetuities. I actually had Professor Tully for property. This perpetuity business was confusing as these professors kept explaining it. I thought I had it the first time around; a life then in existence plus 20 years. A life then in existence, say Bill, plus twenty years after Bill dies. Do I have this correct? I still wonder about that.

I only mention the following now as this is the ‘end’ of my blog and I want to set this fact forth within the blog. I believe that the person I wrote to and received a response from in the Department of Justice Civil Rights Division was Theresa Weathers. While checking the contents of some floppies yesterday I came across one of the letters I had been composing in response to Ms. Weathers ‘so sorry, nothing we can do, what do you expect of us’ response to my initial correspondence.

The End?

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 10:22 PM 2 comments

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7327312)

Your brother has girls feet...

Your brother has girls feet. I have been contemplating writing a post that started with this for quite some time. I just can't do it. So, I am going to have to sum that whole post up like this:

Your brother has girls feet, your brother has girls feet, OMG your brother has girls feet, alas, I will never see them. That being said, moving right along, I had decided to quit posting. I changed my mind, this is too much fun. This is a good blog: http://bamber.blogspot.com/

Here is something I posted on Law Student Paradise:

I am long winded; you are invited to skip this. Everybody except Rosetta, of course. Dear heart, take two Tylenol's, lie down and try to forget about me, it will never work out between us.

I believe that overall the following is just a rehash of my blog. I have only the one story.I work in construction. I realize that this is a generalization, but this generalization will have to do. I have an extremely broad range of skills, and perform at least at the level of journeyman at each. I have mastered some marketable skills. The difference, for the purposes of this description only, between being a journeyman and a master lies in whether I, or anybody, could step into a position as the working foreman for a particular skilled trade.

Why wouldn't I respond to the statement about paranoid schizophrenics knowing whether they are or not? I do not believe that paranoid schizophrenics generally believe that they are so prior to the first or second episode and subsequent medication. After that, they know it. As one example, my spouse and I have known one paranoid schizophrenic for a number of years. He is an extremely smart man. He does know that when he gets off of his medication he gets sick. Many years ago he described an early episode of his for me which involved him stealing a pick-up and taking off as he thought the CIA and FBI were after him. The story was quite involved. Later, he got on medication and became an insurance agent. We were all still in our twenties at this time. One day he comes by our house and tells us he had just gone to work and shot a few rounds through the walls of the building and through the windows. We did not see him for a while after that. He has not worked since. He has told us that he had committed himself on a few occasions over the past twenty years. According to him, he does this when he realizes that the medications are no longer working. Actually, I have suspected the reason could be is that he needs a vacation.

I know that I am not either a paranoid schizophrenic or crazy or mentally ill in the least. I have asked myself this and have given it quite a bit of thought. Everything that I state happened as an objective fact did happen. I have been sexually harassed, followed, threatened, scalded, raped, arrested, vilified, defamed, denied my civil rights, I am out tens of thousands of dollars in school expenses, had my property damaged, my income suffered and had my family and friends turn their backs on me. I had a judge stick her tongue out at me in court, another not respond or comment in the least when I testified about the sexual assault of me, had another totally not allow me to respond to defense counsel and then have the audacity to comment on my clothing. {I appeared in my work clothes, they were clean.} I did not do a thing to deserve any of this, except not screw Victoria McDaniel, Marlene Allgood, or Mary Drabnis, et. al. The difference between the guy my spouse and I know thinking he was being followed and me is that they came to my house, the neighbors saw them [two cars], and they left a card.

Furthermore, within my blog, aside from typographical or grammatical errors, or errors in the spelling of names, there is ONE error of fact in my blog that I am aware of, and it concerns who it was that looked over their shoulder at me in the Loyola Law school library. I realized later that I had typed the wrong name. I have been dwelling on whether to correct it. The actual guy that looked over his shoulder is a Harvard Law grad, Professor Rabalais, and whom, unknown to him had already, two years before, dissed him on the steps of the old law school at LSU. The poet loves the law, give me a break. Jon Kuni said: _____, that guy graduated from Harvard. I said something like that does not mean he is not a dope. I had stated this, and not so nicely, and then I end up in one of the guy's classes. I kind of felt bad about that because he knew his subject so well. I could just so relate to the desire to destroy civilizations and salt the earth.

Oh well, my apologies for being so long winded. Thinking of you, love.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7440939)

Another ridiculously long post...

according to a nitwit.

The following is also something I had posted elsewhere. The beginning is in response to a statement by a law student, posting as GWreborn, that the case can be found on Westlaw.

I am amazed to hear the case can be found on Westlaw. Although it has been quite some time now since I last cracked a Reporter, I was under the impression that only cases that went to appeal were reported. My memory is not infallible. Anybody that reads Judge Vances decision and knows anything about the law knows that her decision was not based on the law. If you have a PACER account you can look up the various memorandums that addressed the issues Judge Vance based her dismissal on. There are no esoteric arguments; the arguments are sound because the arguments are basic.

Let me relate yet another anecdote. It happened at LSU Law school and involved Kathleen Gendusa, a pretty and smart young woman who never, as far as I can recall, was rude in the least. In the fall of the year 2000, I went to the Halloween party that the SGA hosted at a bar. I went as myself, as did Steve Lafluer and John Stamps. While I was there I spoke to a few people, among them I believe was Jon Kuni. I also spoke briefly with Katy Gendusa. Katy danced up to me. She was wearing a 'flapper' costume; the costume may have been gold in color. She looked really good in this costume. She asked me whether I would like her to show me the moves as she knew them all. I responded no thank you. I recall this well as I wondered at that moment was this how my grandmother had looked in the 1920's.

Some time later, I was standing on the steps of the old law school. A woman, exactly whom I forget, was standing a step or two below me. She made some comment about dancing at the Gold Club. At that moment I thought about Katy's little jig at the Halloween party and asked this woman if she was going to dance for me. I do not recall her response, but I think it was negative. I later found out that the Gold Club was a strip bar. Anyhow, I didn't bring it up, she did.Later, maybe a few minutes, or on yet another day, I was speaking with Katy. She really was pleasant. We were standing on the steps of the old law school, Katy a step or two above me. Victoria McDaniel, whom I had ceased speaking with altogether, walked up behind Katy Gendusa's back and opened her mouth real wide, stuck her tongue out, and shook her head back and forth. I did not understand the import of this, and Katy could not have noticed as her back was turned.

Some time later, a couple of weeks perhaps, I asked Katy if I could take her to lunch. She responded no thank you and mentioned her boyfriend. This was okay by me. Later, it occurred to me that she may have been thinking I was hitting on her. I wrote her an e-mail saying she could have brought her boyfriend and her father. And she could have, I just liked her.

In hindsight, I was pretty naive. Anytime a male and a female are having lunch together, one of them is thinking about sex. I just liked the change of lifestyle. I had just come from working outdoors, on a daily basis, for years. Prior to entering law school, I could count on one hand the number of times I stopped working and went somewhere to sitdown for lunch. This change was a great relief. Here in southern Louisiana the temperature is often quite high in the summer. On a cloudless day, this can be brutal. Many times I would be working, generally by myself, and begin to think that I did not know how much more of this relentless heat of the day that I could take. {Of course I always took the heat until the end of the day, I only became heat exhausted on one occasion} And then, sometimes, on these brutal cloudless days, a lone cloud would drift across the sky. Sometimes it happened that I would fall under the shadow of this cloud, getting a few moments or minutes of relief. And I would state aloud, to the sky: "Thank you God for the cloud." I am not fabricating this either.

Although exactly what my beliefs are concerning a Supreme Being I am not sure of. After all, I, similar to many others, have been hearing about God since childhood.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7442149)

Last year, on a local forum, I made the post that begins with the second paragraph after an article appeared in the L’Observateur, the local newspaper in St. John the Baptist Parish, Louisiana. During this past week, on January 17, 2007, an employee of this newspaper was sentenced to six and half years in jail on child pornography charges. http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/riverparishes/index.ssf?/base/news-3/116901571357310.xml&coll=1 Also, in October of 2003, a person that identified themselves as reporter from this newspaper, Tom I believe his name was, came around my home quite often. He had a couple of vehicles, one was a black Lincoln and the other was a minivan. He ran over one of my dogs with his minivan, the dog was okay. He took many photographs. The night I told Shannon Penn he could go jump in the lake, at or about 11:30 p.m. on October 31, 2003, this guy was there taking photos. There were quite a few patrol cars around.

Well, it is nice to see that the SJSO [St. John Sheriff’s Office] gets something right. Some woman was raped by one of the few men she was living in a house with. The perpetrator was apprehended in Alabama, according to the story. Pretty quick work. I have been waiting for 3 years and 2 months for SJSO to arrest the person that came into my home and began a sexual act with me at 2:30 a.m. Maybe I need to pay somebody in the SJSO to investigate. I think that is how it works in Latin American countries, where this woman is from. So, maybe she paid. So, if there is a fee that someone forgot to mention and that I wasn't aware of because of my limited exposure to the legal system, maybe someone would inform me. Or post it somewhere, in a visible location. Hey WJ [Wayne Jones ] or Robert Hay, or detective Hymel or Mitchell, would somebody mind telling me what the price is in SJ [St. John Parish] to have certain crimes investigated and prosecuted? Actually, in hindsight, I should have been clued in when Detective Mitchell expressed something like astonishment when he stated 'They came into your house.' I understand now, it may be like one of those spaghetti westerns. The person enters the adobe environ of the policia. He explains to the uniformed, mustachioed person behind a desk what has occurred. This uniformed person exclaims "Senor, that is a most terrible thing!" Then a moment of silence. Then the uniformed person states: "So, what can we do for you?" At this point the victim becomes aware he has to pay to have the crime investigated. This is the part I failed in. Had I forked over some money, maybe somebody from the SJSO would have waddled over to the Plantationo El Pubo*, knocked on the window of a blue BMW convertible** with steamed up windows, and asked a question or two. I did not pay up, has to be the explanation. Because I went to the Detective Division nearly every day from when it happened until the first week of June, when I was arrested. I thought that my arrest was political, which is why I shut up for a few months.

* The Plantation Pub, a bar in Laplace, Louisiana where some friends, I have been told, of Sheriff Wayne Jones hang out. I went in there once with an acquaintance, the persons within just looked like mostly a bunch of ‘good ole boys’ to me.

**The reference to a blue convertible was within the short thread that developed from a series of posts that I did in July of 2006. During the course of these posts, based on comments from other people, I came to believe, likely erroneously, that the blue BMW convertible that the commenter referred to was owned by a local judge, Becnel. I am neither sure nor care what kind of a car she drives.

As an aside, this judge, Becnel, was a candidate for the Louisiana Supreme Court. She did not lose the election by many votes. www.uschamber.com/press/releases/2001/november/01-197.htm

It could be a good thing that this woman was not elected, as if she indeed was the person sitting in a white Lexus SUV outside the entry gate at the parish prison at about 4:30 p.m. on the day I was arrested, Saturday, June 6, 2003, and smiling at me, I think that this could raise serious questions about not only her ability to judge, but about her ability to be a lawyer, period.

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 3:55 AM

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7468086)

I originally wrote and published the following post in August. For some reason, after I published this post, it became 'unpublished' and listed within my 'dashboard' as "save as draft." I do not know how this occurred, but it is not the only post that this had occurred with. I presumed that this 'unpublishing' was a glitch. 11/14/2006

Further, an inspection of the thread on XOXO, www.xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&mc=57&forum_id=2, at 7:15 a.m. revealed that this post is not there. I have actually checked quite often. 1/22/07.

Although the post can now be found on this blog, I realize that most people are not going to look through the archives to see if anything has changed, hence the republication.

Prior to going to LSU Law School, I had been a subcontract skilled laborer. As a subcontract skilled laborer I needed to carry workmen's compensation insurance. I carried my workmen's compensation insurance with LWCC. (Louisiana Workmans Compensation Corporation)

On or about August 4, 2000, my next premium payment for my workmen's compensation was due. I called the LWCC office's and did cancel my account. I did ask at that time whether I owed any money. The response was that I did not.

During the first week of November, 2000, I received a letter from a Ms. Broussard, of Ascension Parish, a representative of Broussard, Bush, and Hurst. This letter informed me that I was to be audited and demanded I present a long list of document's. This letter was ominously styled, and dated October 31. Ominously styled? What is that, you might ask? Well, the tone of the first paragraphs were demanding, and in about a 12 point type. The list of documents demanded was in two columns, totaled about 12, were in about 14 point type and were highlighted. I conferred with Ms. Broussard on the telephone and explained to her all I had for her to look at was a checkbook and a pile of receipts. Still she wanted to audit me. I told her she was welcome to come by and see what I had, which was a checkbook and a pile of receipts. I did not hear any more about it until December.

During the second week or so of December 2000, I received a letter from LWCC demanding payment. During an ensuing series of telephone calls with Bill Matthews of LWCC,[Coincidentally, LWCC HQ is not that far from the LSU campus.] Mr. Matthews claimed I owed LWCC money, in an amount of about $170.00. I disagreed and did explain that when I had canceled my account I had asked whether I owed any money and was told no. This went back and forth. He supposedly had his paperwork out and I had mine out. We were on the same page but reading it different. I concluded that LWCC owed me money, and he concluded differently, despite my pointing out to him that it was clear from the paperwork. Mr. Matthews said that if I did not pay he would turn it over to a collection agency. He did turn the supposed debt over to a collection agency and about three months later I paid about $170 to a collection agency.

A number of months [eighteen months in my original post] later I got a refund check from LWCC in the amount of $6.00. I copied the check and deposited it. I called the LWCC accounting department and inquired about it. I was told that they had audited my account and determined that they owed me money. I did inquire as to what date they had owed me the money. The answer I received was when I closed my account, on or about August 4, 2000. I should have sued them. However, in hindsight, given my experience with the Louisiana judiciary, the case would have been dead minutes after hitting the clerk's office.

I do believe Gerard McDaniel lived in Ascension parish at that time; irrespective of what Victoria McDaniel told me, which was that she lived in Denham Springs with her father in a small dirty trailer. I also have reason to believe he may have been a LSU professor. Victoria McDaniel also had told me she had a boyfriend named Gerard that worked in a casino around Lafayette. [I do not know whether there are any casina's around Lafayette or not.] I am not sure if this is the 'father' at whose home she felt it necessary to keep a gun under the bed.

I have since wondered whether Bill Matthews lived in Ascension parish.

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 5:16 AM

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7468090)

This is my last post. I am going to delete the blog, probably tomorrow morning, 1-23-07.

Good luck, and good afternoon.

The end.

you brother has girls feet

posted by Judicial Malfeasance at 12:23 PM

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7468101)

Geez, I could go on and on. Yesterday, two more incidents occurred to me. Here is one of them.

In the fall of the year 2001, during orientation for Loyola Law School New Orleans, I had quite a bit of attention paid to me. More so than the beginning law student would expect.

One of the large group meetings was hosted by a Professor LeCesne, I am reasonably certain of the professor’s name. During this meeting, which was held in a third floor auditorium, this professor waved his hand in the direction of the area in which I was seated and stated the word “Trash” three times. I do not know for a fact that this one word statement was directed at me as this professor did not have the balls to state my name when he stated the word, he also did not have the balls to point directly at me.

If this professor was indicating me he should have stated my name. Identifying somebody as trash is not defamatory. Identifying me by name or pointing directly at me would have given me the opportunity to at least question why this professor would identify me as trash in front of 200 or so of my classmates. If LeCesne was indicating me, who was the trash in this situation?

I wonder whether any of the other students present at this orientation thought that Professor LeCense was referring to me when he made this series of one word comments.

I wonder if this colored their perception of me?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7586623)

Well, I think I have got the story about wrapped up. I have been sitting in front of the monitor trying to think of whether there are any other incidents worth telling.

The incident wherein I was hemorrhaging and tried to get it stopped is worth relating. However, I cannot present the incident other than as somehow related to everything else that has occurred to me since the fall of the year 2000. If I just sit back and try to imagine myself as some other person reading this blog the conclusion I reach is that this writer is paranoid and delusional. Things like this just do not happen, and if they did all happen, they cannot possibly be related and if they are all related, well, I had it coming to me for not screwing Victoria McDaniel. Here is a little of the story of the hemorrhaging.

I sat in the emergency room waiting area of the River Parishes Hospital in Laplace, Louisiana bleeding into a garbage can for at least, NO LESS THAN, 30 minutes before being seen. At this hour, about 10 p.m., on this particular day, there was one other person in the waiting area with me. The person was a woman, and she was waiting on someone else.

Eventually, I was escorted into the treatment area. I was directed into one of the draped cubicles. The nurse told me to lay down and put my head back. I knew better than to do this as I was bleeding so heavily I could have drowned in my own blood. The doctor, whose name escapes me at the moment, although I recall it may have started with an 'L,' or had an 'L' in it, maybe Lutz, Lum, or Alor [a few weeks ago the name of this doctor popped into my head, but I forgot it again], came in and briefly looked at me and left. I heard him enter the next cubicle and begin a conversation with the patient within. The doctor assured the patient that the bump on his head was just a big zit and that after he lanced it everything would be okay. The doctor made some joke comparing the guy's zit to his brain. I was still bleeding heavily.

The doctor left the cubicle. I sat there waiting my turn. After a while, when it seemed that way too much time had passed, I looked out of the cubicle to see if I could spot this doctor. He was standing over by the nurse's station, chatting and drinking a Diet Doctor Pepper.

I became slightly upset. I had been sitting there, patiently, swallowing my own blood until I was becoming nauseous. I went and stood by the sink in this cubicle and started letting the blood out of my nose rather than swallow it. This was best accomplished jet engine style. Of course, as the blood was coming out fairly heavily, the snorts only a few seconds apart and each snort an amount not less, in my estimation, than two tablespoons, quite a mess was being made. There was blood all over the place, but at least my stomach was settling down.

In hindsight, I wish I would have had a zit.

When the doctor finally did attend to me, he assured me that he may not be able to stop the bleeding. He made a number of comments about admitting me to the hospital. I thought, 'In a pig's ass.' He stuffed a tampon up my nose and I was ready to get out of there. A nurse wanted to check my blood pressure. She explained that they could tell how about how much blood I lost by checking my pressure at rest and then having me stand up. At rest my blood pressure was around 145, elevated because of the stress, I presume. When I stood up it dropped to around 100, according to the nurse. I found this to be a great relief, 100 is a good number. That is, it was a good enough number to ensure that I would not spend another minute in that nut house. I went home and continued to bleed.

I had my wife drive me to the VA in New Orleans. I was becoming paranoid at this point. My experience at River Parishes Hospital was like something out of the Twilight Zone. I continued to bleed, but the flow had lessened considerably. In my estimation it was now down to about a teaspoon every few minutes. I spoke with a doctor at the VA hospital in New Orleans. I am not even going to go into what I told him. However, as far as I can see, it all adds up. This doctor changed the tampon in my nose and the blood flow dropped to just a steady annoying trickle.

The next morning the bleeding continued and I went back to River Parishes Hospital. I forget most of what happened other than my nose being repacked. During my visit, another doctor, supposedly from Metairie, gave me his card. It identified him as a plastic surgeon. There were more comments about admitting me. This was not going to happen at this hospital.

That afternoon or on the afternoon of the next day my wife managed to schedule an appointment with an ENT near East Jefferson General Hospital. I believe that this doctor did not generally confront situations such as my bleeding presented. The waiting room was mostly elderly females with blue hair, blue eyelids, and red lipstick. Romero would have had a field day.

This doctor first sat me in a chair in which he did most of his examinations. He pulled the plug. The deluge began, although not as heavily as it was when I had first walked into River Parishes Hospital. After a little while of fiddling with my nose he asked whether I had any health insurance so that I could be admitted to the hospital. I told him I did not. He led me to a large storage closet in which he had another chair. For some reason, at the time and even now, the chair brings to mind something I once saw in a horror flick. From behind him, out of some varnished birch cabinets, he retrieved a set of tools. He went at my nose. I had the distinct impression that he did not use these particular tools very often. For most of the time he was working on my nose, the expression on his face could accurately be described as OMG, WTF. He unsuccessfully attempted mulptiple times to cauterize the rupture, but I believe the rupture was in a not directly accessible spot. Eventually, he was able to cauterize the rupture. When he was done this doctor seemed very concerned whether I perceived his work as having assisted me. I assured him that he had. The bleeding had now dropped to maybe a drop down the back of my throat every few minutes.

Let me tell you this. This doctor was frightened. But he did the job. I would go back to him. I could, with no remorse, urinate on the doctor at River Parishes Hospital.

I had my wife stop at a convenience store, I think on the corner of Clearview Parkway and West Esplanade. I think it was a Danny & Clyde's. I wanted a soft drink to get the taste of blood out of my mouth and the feeling of it out of my throat. The clerk asked me if I had been painting. All I could do was shake my head back and forth.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7613818)

Hello old friend,

Glad to see that you are still around.

Well, I am glad you are receptive to being bored.

North Carolina is on hold for now.

Here is the boring part:

I wrote last you last summer and told you about a blog that I had started. I continued the blog until this month, and then I deleted the whole thing. I am such a ball buster. I believe that I had quite a regular readership. I base this not on my 'hits,' which totaled fewer than 10,000, but on the fact that if you Google "my name" or "my name" you get a lot of hits on other sites that refer to my blog. I published the blog pseudo-anonymously, for 'just-for-fun' legal reasons. Quite a kick in the pants that way.

I would rather, just in case you had a mind to, that if you do happen to share this with anyone, you edit my name out. The just-for-fun part is this: If I had been sued for libel based on the contents of my blog, as I had not identified myself within the blog, I could answer with a general denial and the plaintiff's would have to prove that I wrote it. Any plaintiff that sued me would have had to prove that it was me that wrote it and that would entail getting subpoena's and so forth. Further, as my blog is an indictment of so many people, I could drag all of them into any such suit. So, if someone that I have supposedly libeled wants to sue me, they are going to have to prove it's me. Unless I admit it, they can't prove it is me unless they prove that many other things on the blog are also true or false and did or did not happen to me. In the pursuit of this proof, these people, mostly lawyers, would be risking that one of them might tell the truth. I know that this is a long shot [a lawyer telling the truth], but not one that a lawyer doing a risk assessment would ignore.

This 'general denial' thing is interesting. The law of the State of Louisiana does not allow them. However, I have been answered with general denials in two lawsuits and the judges let the general denials slide. Further, these same judges disallowed my motion for Statements of Facts, which are supposed to be in the answer to the lawsuit, anyhow.

Further, anybody that would sue me for libel has this problem. What if I win? What happens if I appear before a judge that is not corrupt? This is also a long shot, but again, not one that a lawyer doing a risk assessment would ignore.

Really, knowing what I know now, if I had ever made it through law school that is definitely something to be considered if I had to do some forum shopping. Which judge is corrupt in what way?

Think about the Schiavo case. My thoughts were originally that after a great deal of reflection the judge understood that her soul was trapped, and enough was enough. [Of course I understand that the Judge deemed the husband's position the more compelling.] In hindsight, I would like to know whether he received a break when he renewed his health insurance.

Well, later, Jambalaya Jim Costonis

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7613819)

I often drive by Loyola Law School. Of course, in general I only do so when I am in the neighborhood. Driving by the place is a thrill in itself. The school is chock full of lawyers. Some of our sitting local judges graduated from Loyola Law School New Orleans. At least one of the local sitting judges, Derbigny, was a professor at Loyola Law when I was there and knew me by first name.

This law school, via the administration, faculty, staff, and students, caused to be disseminated in the local community a false picture of me. As I have previously stated, the police were around the school when I was expelled, and then on at least two more occasions when I was around thereafter. Some of the students at Loyola Law came from the local community. One of them, a beginning 1L when I became a 2L, was the daughter of an acquaintance of several years. I had actually done some construction on their home. The wife of his acquaintance dropped the daughter off in front of the school one day and the wife and I had the chance to speak. We had spoken before, but I had not seen her in a while. On this day she was as friendly as she had been in the past.

Within a few weeks of this conversation I had been thrown out. I can only speculate that news of my expulsion and the attendance of the police on this day may have spread through the student body. I have not spoken to this acquaintance or his wife again since. Our acquaintance had been through work, and sometime after I began law school the husband had left the company to begin his own.

I wonder whether news of the police being around when I was expelled reached this young woman. Did she go home and tell her parents? Was their perception that I must have done something?

The thrill of driving by is this: For all the power and connections this law school has, they can do nothing about me driving by it. Because if they try to get a restraining order they will have to state their reasons, which will then become a matter of public record.

Loyola University New Orleans

Loyola Law School

Lawrence Moore, S.J., Second Fellatist in Command

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7613822)

I just cannot give it up. There is actually quite a bit more to tell. I can still report quite a bit more before I actually have to go into any more details about the sexual harassment, specifically which person said what and when.

Some commenter to my original blog asked why did all these women want to have sex with me? The answer is that I do not believe that they did. Whether these women, and in some cases males, actually wanted to have sex with me is irrelevant to the issue of whether what they did constitutes sexual harassment.

I am going to be reposting my original blog, Judicial Malfeasance, as long as possible, on other free blog hosts. My objective, obviously, is to ensure the possibility that eventually when a web search is done for either of these law schools my story will come up. This is not going to end until the person that raped me has been arrested.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7613824)

Pepe LeCespul

Geez, I could go on and on. Yesterday, two more incidents occurred to me. Here is one of them.

In the fall of the year 2001, during orientation for Loyola Law School New Orleans, I had quite a bit of attention paid to me. More so than the beginning law student would expect.

One of the large group meetings was hosted by a Professor LeCesne, I am reasonably certain* of the professor’s name. During this meeting, which was held in a third floor auditorium, this professor waved his hand in the direction of the area in which I was seated and stated the word “Trash” three times. I do not know for a fact that this one word statement was directed at me as this professor did not have the balls to state my name when he stated the word, he also did not have the balls to point directly at me.

If this professor was indicating me he should have stated my name. Identifying somebody as trash is not defamatory. Identifying me by name or pointing directly at me would have given me the opportunity to at least question why this professor would identify me as trash in front of 200 or so of my classmates. If LeCesne was indicating me, who was the trash in this situation?

I wonder whether any of the other students present at this orientation thought that Professor LeCense was referring to me when he made this series of one word comments.

I wonder if this colored their perception of me?

*I am now beyond reasonable certainty. It was LeCesne.

In Requiem:

Loyola University New Orleans

Loyola School of Law

Lawrence Moore, S.J., Second Fellatist in Command

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7629547)

The Twilight Zone Breakfast Club

I have previously touched on the following incident.

I tried out for the moot court team. It occurred to me that these people were all lawyer wanna-bes. Which is not to say that some of them were not great people, but that they would use whatever legal means necessary to gain an advantage. As I have previously related, 29 people tried out and 28 people were selected. I was not selected. I suspected I would not be selected which is why I had to do a superior job. I was determined to make these people answer one day. As this does not appear as something that is going to happen, I will have to settle for second best, which is telling what they did.

Immediately on reading the hypothetical, I knew where the blame, if any, for the accident should fall, other than my client. I typed out a somewhat lengthy list of questions and possible answers that directed attention away from the object of my attack. The questions that I typed out were all directed at my witness. Then I waited.

I chose Martin Lang for my witness. Most people that had a witness recruited a friend. I paid Martin Lang $80.00 and all he could drink at Fat Harry's. I chose Martin Lang for a number of reasons that I do not care to elaborate on. Martin did not disappoint me. When I decided that I was going to pay a witness, I made the conscious decision that I wanted an employee. This fact has an effect on the rules. That is, I had a reasonable expectation that my employee would not share confidential information, an expectation greater than that expectation that I would have had, had I an acquaintance that I could have asked to be my witness for the competition.

The opportunity arose to disseminate my diversion. Stacey Miller, I believe her name was, asked me about the moot court competition. This happened at the Pine St. Café,' outside on the patio, one afternoon. I forget her exact question or questions, but the opportunity arose that I could give her my diversion. I delivered the questions and answers to her on a floppy disc. I just had to now hope that my fake plan of attack would be further disseminated to those people that were to be my opponents for the moot court competition.

The date and time arrived for my turn to compete. Martin Lang took the stand. Martin appeared out of sorts on this day. I had anticipated this. As Martin was my witness and had been identified as such to the coordinators of the competition I believed that a reasonable expectation would have developed that I was going to question him. Further, I had prepared a series of questions that went somewhere and attempted to demonstrate his lack of culpability. Furthermore, I had elaborately prepared Martin for his role, including giving him his background, how much he earned, what his hobbies were and why, and so forth. I passed on the opportunity to question Martin. The puzzlement on the faces of some of the other people in the room was actually a thrill, I hate to admit it.

I rose to question the object of my attack, the EMT. Jimmy was playing the role of the EMT. I hammered him. I stayed at least 10 feet away from him and I had him looking frightened. [Opposing counsel could have objected that I was badgering the witness, but none of us had any prior experience at this, as far as I knew.] I could have laughed out loud. I asked permission to approach the witness. I stepped right up to Jimmy and with a big smile apologized for my aggressive questioning. I asked his permission to ask him three more questions. When I was done with Jimmy it was apparent to the jury that this weak, lazy, self-serving EMT had been responsible, if any responsibility could be assigned, for the death of his partner, an EMT that had run off of a cliff in the dark, attempting to come to the aid and rescue of my client. This was an absolute thrill; I do not believe that it gets any better than that.

When I walked out of the building Jesse Beasley was on the sidewalk, apparently preparing to leave. Jesse was one of the people that I spoke with fairly often. He was a good guy. I began speaking with Jesse. The person that had been the Judge for the competition exited the building. I glanced at him. He was just standing there, looking at me. This was all the confirmation I needed that I had done a superior job. I looked at Jesse. He looked down at the ground and stated: "_________, these people have to travel together." I felt like clapping him on the shoulder and telling him not to worry about it.

Jesse turned to walk away. I asked him: "Did Kimone have a copy of my questions?" Once again Jesse looked down at the ground. When he looked back up he was facing away from me and had started to walk away. I felt like calling out after him and telling him that this was okay also as I had meant for the questions to be disseminated. Kimone had not demonstrated, during her turn to question, any reliance on any of my questions. It really would not have mattered if she had. When I had given the questions to Stacey Miller I had purposefully remained silent on what my expectations were that she was going to do with them. I had carefully thought about this and could find no violation of the bull feces honor code.

Maurice Ruffin, or his wife Tanzinika, had sat as a member of the jury for this competition. A day or some days after the competition Maurice stated to me: "_______, we didn't even see that." I believed that he was referring to my exposure of the EMT as a person culpable, if any culpability was assignable, for the death of the plaintiff's spouse. If he was not referring to this, then I have no idea what he was referring to.

When I was approaching the school for my turn at the competition, Maurice Ruffin had asked me: "Hey, _________, what's up with the Men in Black outfit?"

ROTFLMMFAO

PS I came across an article in a newspaper a year or so later about a case that had been decided, or was in consideration, where the facts paralleled the facts as presented within the hypothetical situation for this moot court competition. The question occurred to me whether law firms or law schools use cases that present interesting legal questions for moot court competitions to see what comes of it.

In Requiem:

Loyola University New Orleans

Loyola School of Law

I can make spaghetti.

I can make a lamp.

Lawrence Moore, S.J., I could tape your buns together and nobody would ever notice any difference.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7629550)

Asbestos or Cement with that J.D., sir?

I sat adjacent to Lori and J.R. in one of my classes. Lori and I had eaten out away from the school on a few occasions. I found her to be pleasant. I was not particularly concerned with any ulterior motives she may have had for seeking my company. That Lori sought my company is the way it was, and it began at orientation.

Just to explain this, I had entered one of the orientation sessions and there were not very many seats left. Among the remaining open seats the woman in the seat next to this seat looked at me, smiled, and patted the armrest of this empty seat. I went and sat next to her. I then learned her name was Lori.

Professor Medina was hosting this orientation session. Oddly, part of her introduction was informing the group that she was in good shape. This was the first time I observed her effusiveness {crow-like flutterings accompanied by big smiles.} Professor Medina also had some comment about a second bite at an apple. The woman was slightly strange.

Moving along. I believe the following incident happened in my final semester. I believe Lori, J.R., and I sat in the same row in professor Rault’s evidence class. {We had also sat in the same row in the class of Harges, the criminal law scholar.) J.R. mentioned going out to lunch. The group was going to be him, Lori, me and a woman that I knew by name, but forget now. With a wink J.R. told me it had been all arranged. I attached no particular significance to this.

After the class was over we exited the building. The woman that was going to lunch with us met us in front of the building. The driving arrangements were discussed. It was decided that I would go with this woman and J.R. would go with Lori. I did not mind her driving. Generally, when I went to lunch with Lori, we took her car. She preferred this and I did not mind, so I had no objection to allowing this other woman to drive.

We arrived at the restaurant. There was a big puddle in front, about 15 feet across. The woman that I had driven with wondered aloud how she was going to get across. I told her to lift her arms slightly and I put my hands under her armpits and carried her across. I held her out in front of me. I was quite strong at the time.

We entered the restaurant and were seated. A conversation ensued in which I learned the woman’s husband was a doctor. Lori commented that this woman’s husband had made some small conversation about whether it would be preferable to eat cement or asbestos insulation. Lori looked at me and asked: “Would you rather eat cement or asbestos insulation?” I replied: “Asbestos, for the roughage.”

These people were just a barrel of laughs.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7638780)

Privacy and DNA samples

I have previously touched on the following incident.

On or about February 5, 2003, Detective Jerry Mitchell of the Louisiana State Police visited me at my home in relation to series of murders in the Baton Rouge area. On the previous Friday two cars, presumably of Louisiana State Police, had been at my home. I was at work. According to one of my neighbors, these two cars had sat parked in front of my home for quite some time. When I had arrived home that evening, before I found Detective Mitchell's card in the door, my neighbor had hailed me and informed me of this. Detective Mitchell's card had a notation on it that he was investigating a series of murders.

I went on line to learn about the serial murders. I knew very little about them. I was able to discover the dates on which these women were murdered or last seen alive. I went to my file cabinet and started digging through my receipts. I was able to place myself about a hundred miles from the location of where one murder victim was found about an hour and a half before she was last seen.

Another murder victim, Pam Kinnison, I believe, had disappeared from her home, in the evening, on or about November 20, 2002. On this date I had been home most of the day except for went I went to Radio Shack or Auto Zone. I had put a new computer and pigtail in my pickup. I had to connect the wires from the pigtail to my existing wire harness. Rather than simply use crimp type connectors, I had elected to solder each wire connection together and cover each connection with shrink tube. I had been out in my driveway, working on my truck, from early in the afternoon until about midnight. I live in a neighborhood where the houses average 20 feet apart. My driveway is in the front. My neighbors had to see me out there.

After Detective Mitchell arrived at my home he began what I believe would be accurately described as a standard interview, which is a mild interrogation. I presented my receipts to him. He was curious as to why I had all these receipts. I explained to him that I had been a carpenter and saved my receipts for tax purposes.

He asked me my whereabouts on May 31, 2002. I did not have any receipts ready for this day as this date had not been reported as being a date {not that I had found) with any significance related to the serial murders. [However, it is likely that I was studying for law school exams on that date.] After Detective Mitchell left it occurred to me that this date represented some hold back information, that is, information law enforcement does not report for investigative purposes. Now, I believe that it is possible someone, likely Victoria McDaniel, with great specificity placed me in Baton Rouge or the surrounding area on that date. In hindsight, rather than present Detective Mitchell with any receipts I should have told him go screw himself as I had not been within 40 miles of Baton Rouge between the first week of December 2000 and around or about October 15, 2002. [I work and shop, practically live, in the opposite direction, that is, New Orleans.]

At or near the end of the interview Detective Mitchell asked me for a DNA sample which he wanted to collect from my mouth with a swab. I told him no. He retorted he could get a court order. I told him to go ahead, he had no probable cause. This is the reason for the title of this post. Not only had I not committed any serial murders, I have never committed any murder. Furthermore, I do not do anything that a sample of my DNA could be of interest or use to anybody. I was not about to give up anything just because some jackass from the Louisiana State Police wanted it.

I then told him about what had happened to me after I went to see Fred Defrancesh in the fall of the year 2000. I described the vehicle for him. I was attempting to give this idiot a heads up on what was going on here. If he had gotten my name from somebody, it was from a person that had an interest in having me cast in a false light. I suspected that Detective Mitchell was recording the conversation based on his apparent adjustment of something in his breast pocket inside his jacket. I think that it was a leather jacket.

In any event, after Detective Mitchell left I was greatly relieved. I now knew the who and the why of why people had been following me, I was a 'person of interest.' I did not know the why of why I had become a 'person of interest.' These people that had been following me had been doing so prior to the disappearance of Pam Kinnison. It occurred to me that it was a fact that Detective Mitchell would have known that not only did I not have anything to do with these serial murders, I generally did not even go in the direction of Baton Rouge.

This is when I decided to sue Victoria McDaniel. This lying slut must have had something to do with everything that had gone down in my life. It was just a matter of proving it. Little did I know at this time how corrupt the Louisiana Judiciary is.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7646442)

Carlotta/Carlena

I remember this one dumb woman at Loyola School of Law, Carlotta or Carlena was her name. I believed she was of a mixed Spanish-Asian descent. I only mention this so that a mental image can be formed.

One day I walked into the Pine Street Café. Carlotta was sitting towards the back near the kitchen, in a booth against the wall, on the right, and facing me. We made eye contact. Carlotta/ Carlena began to move her head from side to side in a rhythmic manner while uttering the noises da duh, da duh, da duh, similar to the background soundtrack I had once heard in a cartoon wherein a herd of elephants, or other animal generally viewed as moving ponderously, was marching single file and the soundtrack was meant to convey the idea that these elephants were oblivious to the world around them. I approached her and stopped to face her at her table. I stated: "I couldn't hear the rocks from back there." A blank look came over her face. I stated it again and this time she got it.

That Carlotta/ Carlena was attempting to insult me by her act was not lost on me. The apparent insult was that I was dumb and oblivious to what was going on around me. Unknown to Carlotta/ Carlena, I was not at all oblivious to what was going on around me, I just wanted no part of it. This is why the woman was dumb, she did not understand the KISS principle. That is Keep It Simple, Stupid. Simply, why doesn't a married man not have sexual intercourse with any person other than his spouse? Da-duh, because he is married.

I am not attempting to imply that Carlotta/ Carlena and I had any conversations of great length prior to or after this. I had only spoken to the woman once or twice. Her action on this day only confirmed what I had thought when I had observed her in a clutch of hens apparently engrossed in some deep subject and they glanced at me too frequently.

You can take that rotten box and keep it,

Cause baby I don't need it.

Frank Zappa (actually referring to the television)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7672522)

How do you know that Mike Tyson had sex?

Pre-emptorily, my apologies to Ms. Allgood for having to relate what happened and my continued reflection on the experience.

The world will not be peaceful and safe until disarmament is complete. This may not occur until Marlene Allgood has reached menopause. Until such time, her right to keep and bear tampons cannot be taken away. Some nitwit on XOXO made the comment: "Regardless, Marlene Allgood has a strong case for libel." NOT. What an idiot. Jackass, it is the truth. The truth is a complete defense. She did it, get it?

Recently, I have been giving this incident with the tampon quite a bit of thought. My question is why would this classy woman swing a tampon under my nose? I first must set aside my simple knee-jerk presumptive opinion that the majority of female lawyers and female law students are of low moral character. Well, presuming that Victoria McDaniel is a lying slut that attempted and was successful in the completion of a preemptory 'strike' in case I did start to relate how sexually aggressive she had been, she could have said that I displayed or swung a condom under her nose. If this is among the acts that this lying slut attributed to me then I think that a more appropriate means of addressing the act could have been arrived at. For instance: asking me. At the time I would have been able to truthfully state that I had never purchased or used a condom in my life.

There are other reasons that I now think that Ms. McDaniel may have made that communication about me. In the fall of the year 2000, sometime after the incident with Marlene Allgood and the tampon, my wife purchased and brought home a condom. She asked that I use the condom. That was the single instance in my life that I had used a condom.

I had since, in the spring of 2001, bought a pack of three. I never used them, but had started thinking about it as something along the lines of: If you have no choice, when in Rome…. I am indebted to Camile Buras, Daryl Derbigny and Stephanie Jumonville, because if not for these jackasses I might have ended up using the condoms. I had plenty of opportunities.

Something else I finally figured out: The reason that there was a pattern of sexual aggressiveness interspersed with relative quite was because this woman, Victoria McDaniel, wanted me to chase her. She couldn't figure out that when I said I was not interested in sex, and made no sexual overtures, I really meant it.

In hindsight, I can now see that to most males that have never used a condom in their life that when one woman swings a tampon under your nose and then that males wife brings home a condom and asks him to use it, Victoria McDaniel wanted to have sex with somebody. This kind of thing must happen all the time. It is kind of like the question: How do you know that Mike Tyson had sex?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7672530)

The Perfect Witness

Early on in my blog I mentioned a photocopy that Professor Baker had distributed during class about a man that had spent ten years in prison because of the false testimony of the victim. This was when Professor Baker waved his hand in my direction, actually pointing it at me, and stated: “The court was wrong, she lied.”

Well, this evening, while going through my stacks, bundles and binders furiously digging for the mother lode of my Title IX material (which I failed to find) I found the photocopy. Jennifer Thompson, the woman in the article, had not lied, she had made an honest mistake.

Sunday Advocate, Baton Rouge, La., September 24, 2000, p. 22A.

I believe that within my blog or civil action I had specified September 29, 2000 as the on or about date that this statement and action by Mr. Baker was made. Therefore, this is also the on or about date that there was a CLEP happening. On this day it was raining hard in Gonzales, Louisiana. On this day I was subjected to incredible malevolence. I discovered the damage to my vehicle the next day, which would have been Saturday, September 30, 2000.

September 29, 2000 was also another landmark day as on this night my impotence broke. I had been unable to perform since the first day of law school. I had always thought it was the stress of the major career change that I was attempting. Now I am wondering whether it was the sight of Victoria Monier/McDaniel coming down the steps that did it.

This also means that my conference with Ms. Allgood occurred on September 28, 2000. I am not at all wondering why my impotence abated.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=482613&forum_id=2#7702209)