I drive about 12 miles to school each day. My last car was 20 years old and would shake as I drove down I-75, so, I would go down Woodward to Long Lake. Long Lake to Adams and Adams to Wattles, and Wattles to Livernois. On my way home in the winter and spring sessions, it was dark. Cars would come behind me and put their head light in my rear view mirror or side view mirror as they drove behind me. If I chose to take the freeway, at night, they would put their high beam lights on my rear. It was very annoying. I would get tired of it. I pulled into a strangers driveway and got behind the person that was harassing me. I got a couple of license plate numbers, too. This isn't the worst of it. The name of this blog is "The White SUV..." and I'm going to tell you about the white SUV, now.
Back in 2001, I fell for this man. It was before my bouts with prison and jail, police and deputies. Then all of that happened and I came back to Pontiac. I walked in one day, saw him and it was on, again. We talked a little. I bought him a Christmas gift, he gave me free tea and I sent him flowers for Valentine's Day. After the flowers, he told me that he was married and it broke my heart. It didn't seem to bother him much that he was married, but it bothered me. He didn't wear a ring or show any signs of marital bliss. I was very shamed, but I wasn't going to be involved with some one's husband. I've never been involved with some one's husband. It's against the mantra I made for myself, "No married men!" I can type that with a clear conscience, and knowing that no one can call me a liar.
This man's wife drives a white SUV or crossover. I think it's a Chevy Traverse. He drove it to work, sometimes. Now, if Steve Wittebort was my man, the relationship with this man would be prohibited. Steve would be very angry about it; right? Well, these men are trying to control his career, are also trying to drive me crazy and into a state of mind that is delusional by sending white SUV's. Why would I think that Steve is sending white SUV's to harass me. I didn't get it at first. It's very complex, too, but you have to understand who I am dealing with.
How could the Oakland County Sheriff's Department conduct a prostitution ring out of their clinic, without Federal help? It transcends just their clinic, but sex trafficking and underworld sex clubs and murder, too. How do you think they keep these women quiet about the whole thing? Many of them like the ability to commit petty crimes and go to jail. That's one way, but not all of these women are career criminals. Some of them just got into a bad situation once. But for the true criminal element, instead of spending the winter months, shuffling from shelter to shelter and turning tricks behind dumpster, they would have a warm bed and can turn tricks in an organized environment. In this environment, you get good food, a uniform and a warm bed. Which would you choose? You're a prostitute and a crackhead, anyway, why not do it in luxury? For the others it's fear and mind games.
I think about this all the time. Who can gather 15 to 20 white SUV's to come in my path on my way to school, Walmart or the grocery store? A couple left a doberman, my favorite dog, in a Chevy at Walmart. What does that mean? I have no idea. Surely not those idiots at the OCSD. Those men can bearly gather the women and men they take down to the clinic two to three times a day. Who can think up a scheme to brainwash me into thinking Steve Wittebort, and lame-brain himself, could orchestrate such an elaborate scheme, when he is a something that's not that important, too. Nobody, but a federal agent. You might say that I am delusional for saying this, but it's true. Those movies you watch on television have to come for somewhere. Everyone knows those movies aren't just the figment of some one's imagination, but has some semblance in the truth.
One of my favorite movies is "Enemy of the State" with Will Smith. Smith is an advocate of conspiracy theories himself. Do you see all that stuff they could do, and that was 20 years ago. Dick Gregory swears that Michael Jackson died from a laser that came out of the sky and penetrated his brain. Wouldn't that be incredible? Not only that, but we know that there are satellites in the sky. So, when I see these SUV's stalking me on the street, my mind goes right to the Feds. It's either the FBI or someone, skilled in the art of brainwashing and skillful at manipulation. In fact, these people trolled me on national television using the Wendy Williams Show and Dr. Phil.
I see these white SUV's and then I don't see them. I surely will never say that it's the work of Steve Wittebort, because that would hold a different set of ramifications. When they think that I'm having a temper-tantrum about the SUV's they get more intense. I do get annoyed, because they run out in front of me while I'm driving down the street or a white plow-truck follows behind me one snowy afternoon, when I was on my way to turn in a textbook. But to just see one on the street, I don't care, there are white SUV's in America. They sell them everyday. Why would I believe that any of them are following or harassing me? I don't...And never will. I mean, other than this blog.
They believed that I would never talk about the White SUV's, because it involves a married man. Please, every time I walk out the grocery store and there is one sitting, illegally, in a handicap spot so that I can see it or that Chevy emblem in my rear view mirror, I just laugh and shake my head. I'm enjoying my life, I'm in school, helping people and getting back to normal. I haven't been home this long since 2004, when I first went to prison, for something I didn't do.Plus, when Judge Matthews let me off probation early, she said she didn't want to see me anymore. So, I keep my nose clean. These people are obviously after Steve. They feel that he has somehow taken money out of their hands, and they can't buy that new vintage corvette. Because I'm not letting them trying to pimp me go. I'm not stopping, until it all stops and everybody knows all about it. That "Blue-Wall" must have some loose bricks in it! That, however, is not my problem.
| Always in my rearview! |
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