State Police and Waterford: White is Right

The reason the FBI isn't so quick to get involved with the jail situation, is that it's the job of the Michigan State Police to investigate the county. There is a chain of command involved in any criminal case. The FBI should be involved in a drug or human trafficking ring, but so should the State Police. So, I wrote Lt. Mike Shaw of the Michigan State Police, because he was always on Fox 2 News. Yes, bad habits die hard. I came home and I still watch Fox 2 Detroit. I don't watch as much, anymore, but it is my "go to" for the news. I still get a taste for noodles and cheese. Like I said, bad habits die hard. Lt. Shaw spends a lot of time talking about stuff that's going on in Detroit. Since there is a prostitution ring being run out the Oakland County Jail, I thought he should know about and I wrote him a letter.

Since then, a Michigan State Trooper patrolling the streets of Detroit, pulled up on a young Black man on a all terrain vehicle and killed him. Now, the ACLU wants statistics on how they make traffic stops. You know, if they stop Black motorists more than White ones. I know in Waterford, they found out that they wrote more tickets at Elizabeth Lake Road and Telegraph than inside the Waterford city limits. There was no Black people, well, not a lot of Black people in their city limits 20 years ago. My friend, who loves to bowl, told me a story about coming home from 300 bowling alley. I'm not sure if it was called that in the 2000's, but there. He said he and his friends, all Black men, were rolling fur deep.

Waterford Police, stopped them, took each one of them out the car, ran their names, but gave no reason for the stop. He said that they had gotten just to Oakland Point, when they were stopped. Everyone, surprisingly was clean and they gave them all back their I.D,'s and they went on their way. There wasn't any Black officers on the Waterford Police then, and I don't think the one they hired in 2001 made it. He was being harassed and punished from the moment he started. A guy I worked with at Sears was involved with a woman, whose father had worked for Waterford Police for over 20 years. He told me that he had said that they would never allow him to make it. I believe it.

So, the idea that the ACLU is watching the State Police isn't surprising to me. All of us in Pontiac are used to it. When my brother was under indictment, a Waterford patrol office with a detective in the car stopped me for failing to signal when I changed lanes. I was also driving a "doper ride", a 1977 Cutlass Supreme. My brother had given it to me to drive, because it was too, "hot", for him to drive. I stayed in court, because I couldn't keep a license, because I was always getting stopped and getting tickets. My seat belt didn't work or my right turn signal, but my mother and I had to get to work and I "tried it" everyday. After the run-in with the Waterford Police, I parked that car and got a Taurus. Haven't been stopped since.

When I pulled into that PB, that used to be on the corner of Elizabeth Lake Road and Summit Drive, I got out to pay for my gas. The cop ordered me to stop, and I did. Then he put me in the back seat of his patrol car. A place I wasn't so familiar with back then. When he came to the car to retrieve his little book, I said, "The only reason you stopped me, is because I'm Black and drive a '77 Cutlass." He replied, "Oh, you like OJ, you playing the race card, huh?" I told him, "Yeah, because it's true!" He gathered his little book and told me, "Well, I got something for you!" He went about his business and was saying something in his little walkie-talkie that rested on his shoulder, while the detective in the front seat and I watched.

Waterford Police

Shortly thereafter, the tow truck pulled up and took my car. He wrote me five tickets, failure to signal, driving on suspended license, no seat belt, my tab expired, and no proof of insurance. I let all the tickets go, because I had to pay $130 to the tow truck company that day. Both my mother and I had to get to work the next day. I couldn't afford not to get it out, just like I couldn't afford not to drive that car all messed up the way it was. Two women, with no man, because my brother was still in jail, and we were just trying to make. That cop actually came in a few years later to buy a treadmill and I refused to wait on him. I gave the sell to my co-worker. He didn't realize his mistake back then. I'm not my brother and shouldn't be treated so badly, because he's in trouble.

But cops don't care about anyone, but other cops. Even if they hate one another, they have to help one another. That brings me back to the State Police. They have a reputation for not even hiring Black people. They aren't very fond of us. Moreover, they like and appreciate people who look like them. So, I didn't want to write Lt. Shaw in the first place. But I did, because he was my only option. He was always on the TV. I was weary, because police don't like to be on TV like that. They have thrown so many people in jail, some rightfully and some wrongfully, they don't want to be seen. It's best to keep yourself away from the maddening crowd. When you see a cop around without other cops, in the hood or at the mall. They are as crooked as they come, because they be scared as hell! Somebody run up on them or their family, it could be "kill or be killed" That's a scenario they want to avoid at all cost.

Oakland County Jail is predominantly White. There were about five regular Black deputies out of the 100 that worked in the Annex with the women. We all know what happened to Jackson. Then there was Miss Lydia, and she had been there so long she was one of them. Besides, she liked the little boys, and engaged in all types of sexual "things" with inmates and went home and told her neighbors how sad the inmates were. No more sadder than she was, but she retired now. They had power that was out of control. Quisenberry, whose family were legacies at the Oakland County compound, had as many women as he wanted, and his uncle, along with Michael Bouchard was supposed to stop the opioid addiction in Oakland County. As soon as his nephew stopped having sex with all of them in his Midnight Ramblings. 

Beane had access to the entire jail on the computer in the bubble. After I peeped it out, and began spying on the deputies from my cell, they put tinted windows up. Because I watched him begging a classification deputy to legal move my classification up to the highest in the jail, when I realized that I wasn't. I also watched him order all the food for the prostitutes in the unit, too. Like I said, we even watched Quisenberry throw a fit about the pizza boxes Claus left in the bubble. POWER, the epitome of WHITE POWER. And if the State Police is the group of racists that the news and the ACLU is making them out to be, then then there won't be much success for me, when it comes to them investigating the ring in OCJ. 

I've just seen too much. I'm just not sure what it is I'm going to do, but keep writing, because it's hard enough to get police to police the police, but White men to police other White men is like impossible. But don't you ever get it twisted. They sell White women, just as much as they sell the Black ones. Although, those White men tend to like the Black ones better. I know they liked me. One woman, spoke outlous one morning, after she had come back from a night at the clinic. "I wonder why they want her so bad. Maybe, it's because she lost all that weight". I was on my way to see my lawyer, and wanted to yell back, "Most people want what they can't have!" 

All these people are White, Waterford Police, like Pontiac is the biggest supplier of prostitutes. All the judges, but a few are White, the lawyers, prosecutors, bailsbondmen and probation. They are 99.9% White. Now, who is going to stop all that. Another White man? Not with handcuffs and courts. They are trying to bring some relief quietly, but they just wait a while and start right back up again. Like Nassar, who I don't believe is White, they need to cut it off and hand out punishment for these crimes against humanity. You might not think they matter. But wait until your mother, daughter, wife or sister meet one of them in a dark parking lot. You name a major case in Oakland County of crimes, against citizens and I bet an OCJ prostitute is in there.

You would think that they would learn, because all the cops who have been killed, have been killed by either ex-offenders or the mentally ill. Over time, something solid might happen. Maybe they will understand that it's better to rehabilitate prisoners and not sell them for new cars and their children's education. It's going to be tough finally getting this done, but eventually, someone or something will help law enforcement focus on their own when it comes to crime. Sears did, and when I was in my final year, they passed out pamphlets that explained that store employees stole more from the company than people from the outside...But it took years for that revelation, but law enforcement is long overdue.

Lt. Mike Shaw

State of the State...

When I first found out about the prostitution at OCJ, I didn't get it. There were hundreds of women who came through that jail, in a month. With all those women who had come in and out of that jail, somebody had to tell. If there was just one, then someone would know and do something about it. It never happened, however, partly, because the FBI is involved. I remember telling Martha Anderson that I had been to the FBI to tell them about being harassed by the Pontiac Police. She asked me to go home and find out who that agent was, because I couldn't remember his name and he didn't give me a card. I called, but they refused to give me his name. I don't know why, but it was clear they didn't want to be involved.

I went to see them again, in March of last year. I was told that I need more evidence, and more than just my word. Maybe, other women that have been prostituted who would corroborate my story and help bust up the racket. I have none. The women in jail were unable to help me at all. While in jail the spring of 2011, I passed a note to "Big Titty Shelly". I asked that she gather some girls and write letters about being sexually abused in OCJ. While in a drug induced fit, she had robbed a gas station at gun point. She ended up with six months in jail and the head Trustee of Maximum. This is before she refused to clean the urine from under my door that Angel F. had thrown there. She seemed to be very decent, but after I passed my note, the women told me about her crime.

A gun charge gets you two years, flat. No matter what happened that you could weasel out of, if you're caught with a gun, you go down for two years. Caught with a gun while in the commission of a felony, and that's five years. Armed Robbery, even as a first offense carries prison time. Shelly had gotten six months and a hefty position as a Trustee. They are the prettiest and sluttiest women in the jail. They were also well behaved and "got along", not only with each other, but were kind to the deputies, even if their "boyfriend" took care of them.

Trustees are the deputies girlfriends, or highly lucrative prostitutes that make them the most money. I was courted for one of those positions, and if I was guilty and had actually committed a crime, I would have taken him up on it, because it's a better life. Unlike the other women that had to have sex with various men, you only had to have sex with one or two (I would have had trouble with two). And they were usually deputies and not some chaplain or cleaning guy. He was clean, decent and cared for you nicely. If he was a Sergeant or Lieutenant or something like that, you didn't even have to listen to the deputies. Their doors were open all day, some greedy deputy, who loved women would bring them ice, because that always made them happy and cooperative.

So, the note fell on deaf ears for two reasons. First, Shelly was happy in her jailhouse bliss. Second, Shelly had a son, and she wanted to keep him safe with her mother. Since my several trips back to jail, I've heard horror stories about inmates and their kids. One woman told me, how the police entered her house illegally and reported to DHS that her house was nasty, opened to trespass and that she didn't have any food in her refrigerator. She swore that he house was clean, that she had food in her refrigerator and he has entered a back door that was unlocked and not opened. He did not come through a open front door like he claimed. She had complaints about her children in the past and with this complaint, she might lose her kids. She was also five months pregnant.

She was now in OCJ fighting an old case, she claimed had been resolved and having to be a part from her children. DHS had told her that she had to get all of her cases straightened out, because it would help her keep her kids. She cried, and said that cop had lied and that she had no business there. I asked, and she had been in jail, before. Shelly, after reading the note I had written, had told the woman next to me about her son. She spoke loud enough for me to hear. Her son was seven and had been living with her mother since she had become an addict. He was sending her letters and pictures and he was safe. She couldn't stand it, if what she did took him from his home.

At the time, I didn't get it. Not even when that tired and sick mother of two and a third explained it to me. Sometimes, for me, certain organizations involvement in prostitution is hard to accept. I was more than willing to believe the FBI was involve. Because the police, some of them, are crooked at all levels. Michigan Department of Health and Human Services was solid in my view. It is their job to protect children and not use them for barter to keep an inmate quiet in a sex ring. I mean, those young women don't mind it. Free food, sex and playtime, all the time, without people telling them what to do. It's all good in jail. As long as they keep their looks, youth and vigor going to jail isn't an issue. Plus, the women who were just whores anyway, it's a way to trick and get fat. But for women like Shelly, women who might tell, there is DHS.

Many of these children can take the right road, if left in the hands of good people. Many of these women have children while out on the streets and their parents take them in. They know that their parents were doing the best for them all their life, and that they just messed up. In prison, some women are there, because their mothers' were criminals. Then there are some women who have children graduating from high school and going to college, getting jobs and sending their mothers money, Master's Degrees, doctors and social workers. It's not the norm, but it happens. Who wouldn't want to give their child the opportunity to step outside the norm. Going into the system could blow any chance they have for a good life. Foster care is risky with sexual connotations of its own. Children involved with the system usually stay involved, they are homeless, addicted and in jail or prison.

I remember talking to a life-long friend about her quadriplegic sister. The State was taking care of her through medicaid and home-care. She said they had begun taking her to court for the care of her sister. She said they kept making claims that she was unfit to care for her sister and harassing her all the time. Finally, they won custody of her sister, and she was dead in six months. There was no more funds from the State needed in her care. I'm not going to begin to tell you about prison, and how they aren't properly fed and cared for. The officers make so much money that they can't afford to feed them a well-balanced meal. The sick and dying are cared for by other inmates and the only thing that is truly treated is cancer. We all know that's a cash-cow for hospitals and doctors, and they probably get a cut.

When I was in prison there was a woman named Ms. Delong. I used to read her letters to her, from her son, because she couldn't read. We moved from Scott to Huron Valley and Ms. Delong came with us. She was about 55 years old and had a colostomy bag. She couldn't go to the bathroom the normal way, and had this bag attached to her stomach. She had been fighting with the prison to get new bags everyday. They were telling her to clean the bags and reuse them. Well, she did and set up an infection and had to go to the hospital. When she came back, she had a bonafide order from the hospital that she had to have a clean bag on a regular bases. As usual, the State refused the doctor's orders and continued to make her clean out her bags and use them. Of course, the infection came back and Ms. Delong was in a lot of pain.

She had committed some hefty crimes. Attempted Arson and some kind of robbery charge. I don't really remember, but she had at least 10 more years to do. The State did not want to be responsible for buying those bags. One day, she was in so much pain, she wanted to go to the clinic. She couldn't walk, and someone had to push her up there in a wheelchair. For some reason, the officer asked me. Reluctantly, I don't like hard labor, I agreed. Pushing her up there she seemed fine, but she was in pain. I left her there and rolled the wheelchair back down the hill. I was in our unit for about two hours, before the officer told me that she had died. Two old timers just looked at each other knowingly, I stood there in shock! She didn't seem THAT sick.

So, when you think about children being ripped from their homes, to quiet inmates about prostitution it's not surprising to me. At least it's not surprising, anymore. The idea that they serve inmates bologna and cabbage soup tells you that they don't care. The fact that I have written every State Representative, Senator and Governor of Michigan to no avail, makes sense. No one really cares, and these women know that their children could be moved around from pedophile to pedophile, being used and abused for their own satisfaction. Those in the system that abuse are crafty and know that as long as they present a clean home, make dental and doctor's appointment with regular attendance at school, they can abuse a child for years.

How could a woman have faith in a system that allows them to be raped and used? They don't, and although they can't do anything productive for their children, they do what they can. It's not all the women. Like I said there are some, but one is too many. The State has no business being involved in such vile and degrading criminal activity. But who really cares about a quadrepligic, a prisoner or a criminal with a drug problem? 

Ghandi

"A nation's greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members." 
~ Mahatma Ghandi

Hit-and-Run

Vern

Last week a guy I knew as a kid, Vernon (Vern) got killed in a hit-and-run accident in Pontiac. He was best friends with my cousin, when we lived in the "Project", or Lakeside Homes in the late-70's and early-80's. Vernon had a crush on my sister, and we would tease him about that and everything else about him. He was so quiet and shy, he took it all in stride. My cousin is a wild and crazy guy, and he and Vern were perfect friends. I remember, skipping rocks with the two of them on "mud lake". He was there when my cousin taught me, and I got over-joyed from finally skipping a rock.

As time went on, Vern kind of fell into the life of drugs and street life. My cousin, a stellar man, never stopped being his friend. He would have days, if he could find him would hang out with him talk about old times. I don't think they ever left each others hearts. It's just that they had taken different roads. Not that my cousin is a doctor or lawyer or anything, but he tries his best to live his best and Vern had just chose a different kind of life. Addiction is a monster that I don't wish on anyone. My father was an addict that died from the effects of drugs on his life at 46. His drug use effected me so much, I've never gotten high. I've never done crack or heroine. I've smoked weed and drank, and I was purposely given crack in my weed, but I didn't know it.

In Pontiac, that is something that sets me apart from other people. Pontiac, is a drug city. You either use it, sell it or both. I'm not going to win over people in Pontiac with this post, at all. I'm hoping that by writing these blogs and subsequent book that people with understand the ill-effects that drugs have on our community. It's true, it's like alcohol. Some people can drink socially, some people can survive with a drink or two a day, but then their are the others. Drugs are such a demeaning part of the community that we should readdress it's impact on every sector of our lives. No one has ever hoarded alcohol, organized prostitution rings for drugs and they surely never killed for alcohol. Not since 1920 - December 5, 1933, during Prohibition, when alcohol was illegal. Legalizing drugs does sound good to me! It'll take the power from the police who are running them, anyway.

Vern is one of several people who have died off Baldwin Avenue. The first, that stands out in my mind is Deb. She was an addict and prostitute on Baldwin. She spent a lot of time in the Oakland County Jail (OCJ). I heard several different accounts of what happened, but she was run down and killed on the streets of Baldwin. There is the man that was killed on his way to work one morning, walking in the dark. I'm sure over his life span, and being on them streets that Vern had spent time in OCJ. I keep asking, "What is it?" The only thing that I can say is that they are picking them off, because some selfish reason that has to do with their corruption. They seen something or done something that threatens their racket.

I worked at HQ in 1996. It was a home improvement store similar to Home Depot. I met a young woman there named Machekia. HQ was pretty much like Sears. Everybody there was stealing and I was caught in the middle. I had become a supervisor and that had mad a lot of people upset. First my car began to stop for no reason in the middle of me driving. I was driving down Telegraph one day, and I just stopped getting gas. I caused a three car pile up one day. When that didn't work, they just had man hit my car, one morning on my way to work. The man actually swerved into me as I made a left hand turn and they said it was my fault, because I turned into traffic and he was trying to avoid me. I had made it to the middle of the street and had crossed all three lanes traveling south. So, he swerved into me, and not away from me. But they are crafty.

Machekia, although a part of the racket was a sweet girl, and didn't give me an ounce of trouble at HQ. In fact, I can't remember her talking. I'm sure she was the life of the party with her friends, but she wasn't at work. When I heard she was dead, and the way she died, I was so shocked. Again, it was crafty. Her ex-husband was released from prison early and came home and murdered her and her two small children. It was gruesome, and frankly unbelievable. The first thing I thought was that I had never heard of anyone being released from prison on accident. It just doesn't happen. There are too many people, too many checks and balances and paperwork with your out-date on it. There couldn't be such a horrific mistake. Now, I have been to prison and know that is the biggest lie ever told since JFK. An Officer will know your out-date, better than you. Crafty, really crafty...

People who worked at HQ worked at Sears. If they didn't work there, their family or friends worked there. Brothers, sisters, mothers and daughters and sons. Five of my HQ ex-coworkers walked right passed me one evening, while I was working at Sears. These hit-and-runs are simply an extension of the racket that I keep telling you about. They are ridding themselves of parts of them that is either a threat or an obnoxious nuisance.  Yes, I think about my safety, everyday, especially with these white SUV's that follow me and the semi-trucks that try to frighten me off the road. They know when I leave my house, have people at any route I take and will never let a day go by without letting me know they are there.

They sleep together, male-female, male-male or female-female. They use drugs together, and they have built an empire of sex, drugs, prostitution and murder. You can join in if you do all of the above and can keep your mouth shut about what's going on. I have accidentally run into these people my entire working life. I've dated them, I've had them as my friends, and I have had to leave them alone. They are Black, White, Hispanic and everything in between. If you ever see me, I'm alone, unless I'm with my family. I don't fit in any of those categories, except male-female. I'm sure from past experiences that's not enough.

I want to help people with addiction, who are homeless and disenchanted with life. People like Vern and Deb deserved to be affiliated with sober people. But when you are strung out, and your associations are using socially or privately it's hard. It can make them believe that it's possible for them, and it's not. Then when you go to places where you are supposed to get help, the people that are supposed to be sober, aren't sober and don't want you to be either and you get high on site. Even worse, they sell you and make you their prostitute, or engage in an illegal sexual relationship with you. The reason people run from sobriety houses is not because they want to get high, but because they are getting high, but it's not enough. Plus, people get tired of being used. Many of these women have been abused as children.

Then they end up back in jail, and of course they are sold there. That's how they got into the drug program in the first place. They are fed drugs and hot food, and forced to have sex with the same sex and then one day, they get hit by a car and left dead on the side of the road. It's a consequence of your choices, but is it? If people get the right help, from the right people, and with the right heart. Could they live? Could they not be slaughtered on the side of the road like animals. If only someone really cared about the people who have lost their way, and not look at them as an opportunity to make money, Oakland County's crime rate would actually go down and Pontiac would be a better place to live.

CNS III: The Board ~ Eric Hawkins

Eric Hawkins
Former Southfield Police Chief 

I've been trying to show you how this is a racket. A triangulation of drugs, stealing and prostitution. The police are running the racket in Oakland County, and not the criminals at large, but the police. It's not the mafia like on Goodfellas or The Godfather. Their are no Black men, like in Takers that are running nightclubs and rob banks for cash. No, the police rob the banks from the inside, using legitimate means to get money and loans that they have no business having. Eric Hawkins, is a stellar example of this and I'm going to wrap it into a perfect bow for you right now, using CNS; Community Network Services. Now, I don't like to talk about peoples' Mommas. I love mine dearly and wouldn't want nobody talking about her, but his mother is at the root of the ultimate link that is the corruption in Oakland County. 

Betty Hawkins is Eric's mother. She worked in personnel at Sears at the Summit Place Mall. A mall that was closed, simply because it wasn't generating profit for any organization that had a store in the establishment. Not Sears, JC Penney, Macy's or smaller companies like Wilson's Leather, Victoria's Secret or Kay Jewelry. People like Eric Hawkins, ligitimate people with jobs took from these places more than they spent, and are now trying to make Great Lakes Crossing the same way. Don't forget that Northland Mall closed, too. It was one of the biggest attraction in Southfield for years.

While looking for the President of CNS, I came across its Board. You know, the people who govern the non-profits direction. Giving insight on the type of things the organization should be involved in, to help move it forward in the community and to help further their cause? In this case, the health of mental patients in Oakland County. Well, that's what they are supposed to be doing, but as I've been telling you this organization is running a prostitution ring from inside its doors. Guess who is the Treasure of the Board, Eric Hawkins, Betty's son. Her dealings with the racket, was most likely the reason he got his job with the Southfield Police Department. 

Now, that Waterford store was ran completely by White people from Waterford. I told you, just like the deputies at OCJ, they had cars, boats and houses..."Up North". Most of them had hefty drug habits, too. Around 1995, a man by the name of Ron Batey became the manager of the store. As a Black man, he had it tough, because he had a management team the consisted of all White people from Waterford, who had been robbing the store blind for years. There were very few Blacks that worked there for more than a year, and finding one that worked there for more than 10, at the time Batey came was rare, but there was four. Betty in Women's, Pat in Shoe's, Marvin in Sporting Goods and Betty Hawkins in Personnel. 

As I can recall, Betty told me when I worked there, she has a son named Eric. He worked for Southfield Police Department and had married a woman from my class at Pontiac Central, Letricia. Whose former last name, I do not remember, but who is now Letricia Hawkins. They have two son's, and I know this, because his mother brags on her son and his wife would "play shop" during Family Night at Christmas time. Now, we fast-forward to today, and Eric is Chief of Police of the City of Southfield, and on the Board of CNS. 

Now, when you think of sex-trafficking in Michigan, Southfield is always front and center in the news. In fact, Hawkins was stage right of the Federal Investigator, in charge of a major crimes in Southeastern Michigan. Except, I know that he is involved in all that kind of stuff that is supposed to be what he is fighting and up against in his community. Instead, drug dealers from Detroit move into Southfield in droves. Now back in the 90's Eric couldn't be anything, but a crooked cop letting dealers run drugs and looking the other way and getting paid. Today, as Chief, he is a major contributor to the crime and corruption in Oakland County.

Hawkins' to the far right with US Attorney Barbara McQuade

Back in 2002, when I caught my first case, Oakland County Sheriff's Department had a substation in Southfield. Women went there and stayed for days. I didn't know then, the extent of the prostitution, but now I do. One day, a woman left New Arrest on her way to the Southfield substantion and she was cheered on by the other women. I asked, "Where is she going?" I was told, she was going to Southfield, and that when you go to Southfield you could stay for two or three days. It seemed strange to be going to court and staying there for two or three days. I never understood the cheering, but apparently, I do now. Southfield prostitutes also make headlines.

You've heard of the cases. I've written so far about two, Jessica Ermatinger and Amy Burdette. These women were involved with murder in Southfield. But they weren't there to commit murder, they were there prostituting and ended up being involved in murder. Southfield is a prime area for prostitution and drug dealing, because it's close proximity to Detroit. You can straddle the border of either city on Eight Mile. There should surely be a kinship between Chief Craig and Chief Hawkins, but as you can see from the above photo, there is no real love between the two, and they are stationed on opposite ends of the photo. 

Eric Hawkins has no wish to end his cash cow. Southfield is full of dope, prostitutes and corruption to get him very rich and men like Bouchard, also. With his affiliation with CNS, as Treasurer,  he has a pool of countless women to help further his crooked prostitution cause. Most of the women from OCJ end up at CNS, because their addiction is usually fueled by some form of mental illness or they lied in jail to get pills in order to continue their addiction. Mr Beane, was in charge of that and they had to come to my pod to see the doctor, and there was a lot of them. The doctor would prescribed whatever drug of choice they claimed to have taken on the street. It only makes sense for them to go somewhere to get those drugs once they leave jail. That place would be CNS.

Besides, they are familiar with the men that engage in sexual activities with inmates. Payne's sex parties in the gym, probably consisted of the same men they deal with at CNS. When some of the women leave, they get involved with other programs in the area that engage in prostitution. For example, Grace Center of Hope. Fox 2 News, did a story about them, too. They think, because I donate clothes and stuff to them that I support their cause. No, I support those women, and I know that the things that I give them will probably be bartered for sex, but it's where I choose to give. Southfield has plenty of  halfway houses for ex-inmates and mentally ill citizens who were inmates, too. They are a source for funds in a city full of corruption.

Hawkins' is highly educated. He even holds degrees from the FBI. Which in Detroit doesn't mean anything. The Senate and House are filled with educated crooks, too. He has earned his job, which is sad, because he is not a source of pride in our community. His accomplishments are unlawful and greedy and his seat on CNS's board proves that. Men were busted in 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 and 2017 for trafficking sex in Southfield.

Now, you might say that proves that he is tough on trafficking. Any police worth his weight, will tell you, criminal activities aren't true victories, until the behavior ceases to exist in your community. It seems that Hawkins can't keep these type of people out of his city. Those busts were small dealers used as scapegoats. A heroine bust in October of 2017, was concentrated in Pontiac, with Southfield affiliation. Plus, bust came about a month after my post on Bouchard, and includes the son of one of his lieutenants. Just like Bouchards little heroine bust, of youngsters in Pontiac, those busts haven't made a drip in the opioid epedemic in Oakland County. That's what's feeding their prostitution ring, and that of CNS, too.  Other cities on the cusp of Detroit don't have these types of problems. No, Hawkins is a legacy of corruption and his mother's influence has helped breed his illegal activities.

Hawkins and Sheriff Michael Bouchard during heroine bust in 2017

CNS II

Pervert

I wondered why Dr. Z had lied on me. I hadn't done anything to him. I was friendly, courteous and cooperative. It took me two years to understand why he had lied on me, and it was simple. Community Network Services was also engaging in prostitution and sexual exploitation. Women were having sex for money, as well as having sex with drivers, case managers and security guards. I know now that mental institutions are breeding grounds for sexual activity. It's not just patients have sex with staff, but having sex with one another. Before Clinton Valley closed in Pontiac, patients claimed to have access to tunnels under the hospital where they would meet, have sex and use drugs. People who suffer from bi-polar disorder have a heightened sexual drive during a manic phase. Workers at the hospital took advantage of that and so did other patients.

Before I bought my car, I would get a ride to CNS. A man named Ken would come pick me up. He explained to me once that he had worked as a social worker for a mental institution, after leaving his job as a layman. He said he had started off as a volunteer and began working there after a while. He kept saying, "So, I know how it goes". I sat in the back seat, because he refused me the front seat and listened, while I pretended to look out the window. All I could think was that he was making a pass at me the way perverted people who like to to have sex with the mentally ill do. I didn't ask any questions or comment on anything he said. He kept driving and talking and I kept looking out the window at the cars as they went pass.

When my appointment was over, he was taking me and two other consumers home. There was a woman going with us, who seemed a little excited to see Ken. When she went to get in the back seat, he called her by her first name and told her to sit up front with him. I was insulted, he had told me to sit in the back. But then, he told her that he would be taking her home first. The look on her face, was disappointed, but red lights were going off in my mind. In less than a minute, he had pitted me and that woman against one another. I was angry, but I wasn't, that he let her sit in the front seat, after he told me that I couldn't sit there. If he and this woman had ever had sexual contact, which I'm convinced they had. He had taken her home last, and she was thinking that I was going home last and having some kind of sexual contact with him.

Reluctantly, she got out the car first. He told her that he might be back to take her to the clubhouse later, when she got on her porch. She turned around with a grin on her face and said, "Okay!" I knew the reason she was disappointed was that Ken probably gave her drugs for sexual favors. I once heard that it was rare to find a mental patient who was retarded, but I've found that not to be true. Many of the people I met in mental institutions had the mental capacity of an eight year old. Playing two of them against each other would be easy, because they think like children and jealousy is high on their list of personality flaws. Working with the mentally ill as long as he had, Ken seemed to be an expert. I got out the van and went in the house.

A guy from Pontiac, named Mike, works at CNS. Those van rides aren't regular van rides I suspect. I think that they drive patients to see sexual customers from CNS. There was a woman named Kim who used to come and pick me up. She would take me places other than straight home. Altronyse Cunningham, who they call Niecy and who I call "Pookie", was disenchanted with that. I thought it was because she had did it for me. But how would she know? Either we were being followed, or there was another reason she didn't like Kim. It wasn't impossible that we were being followed. But Kim was a strong personality, and wouldn't take Niecy's orders. On top of the idea that she was cool with me. Niecy and I have a past that includes her sleeping with four of my ex-boyfriends. When I told my case manager about it, she tried to down grade me and say she would never tell her business like that.

Well, I didn't do anything to be ashamed of. She was the one having sex with men, simply because I had sex with them. A few of them, I didn't have sex with at all. She would flirt with and act as if she was having sex with the security guards at CNS, too. Or call herself telling them about me, before I got there. Many women of my stature have had at least one, "Pookie" in their life time. A woman so obsessed, they lower their own standards to prove they are better or equal to you. She's mine, and I'm telling you she is still obsessed 25 years later. All I can say is, she works in the right place and has more in common with the clients than she thinks. When Mike began to show me some attention, she of course became anxious. It seemed that Mike wasn't interested in her.

Besides, it wouldn't suit her purpose to have sex with him herself. He worked at CNS, and it would serve her purpose more, if she got one of her "girls", a patient, to have sex with him. That had happened in between appointments. What she couldn't control with Kim, she had full control of with Mike. Men have a weakness for women and Mike is no different. Suddenly, Kim was doing everything wrong. Running off without clients, showing up late and forgetting appointments. If you control the patients, these things could be made up or over-exaggerated. My next visit, Kim was driving a big van, and doing something else and Mike had taken over as the new driver in Pontiac. He no longer spent 10 minutes talking about how my life was going, gave me a swift "hello', and kept it moving. A patient, a woman, walked away from the desk, where she had been talking to "Pookie" and yelled at him to get a move on. He quickened his step and "Pookie" snickered. I just shook my head.

"Pookie" called herself running the Pontiac Office with her deceitful ways. Hold back their mail and faxes. Forgetting important calls or transferring calls straight to voicemail and making the case managers job difficult. Taking care of the clients is their most important priority. A missed phone call, a missed placed fax or mail could be detrimental to their success. A case manager spoke to me one day, and the next time I came in she handed her a letter. The woman asked her when did the letter come. She said, "Oh, a couple of days ago. I forgot to give it to you." The woman took the letter and open it right then and began to read it. "Pookie..."

She also listens to all my sessions with the nurse practitioner, case manger and whomever. I discovered at the Forensic Center that they listen to everything. Even if they lie and say they only have cameras that show visual and not audio. They don't have to tell us the truth. Who cares anyway. It's easy for it to be "Pookie's" job to look after me, she's been obsessed for years. She does a good and thorough job, but she's not as good as I am. She's not smarter, either. People like her thrive in places like mental institutions, because for once they have access to people who are either their equal or beneath their intelligence level enough so they can control and manipulate the situation. She has them try and harass me, and creates scenarios to make me jealous and divert the focus from her to other people. She treats them really badly, too. Not just the way she manipulates them, but how she talks to them and degrades them in their conversations.

CNS I

In March of 2012, I was released from the Oakland County Jail (OCJ) for a hiatus. I was truly a mental and emotional wreck. I had previously been in jail for seven months, starting in January. I had been committed to the Forensic Center for four months and had gone home for a week after, and went back to jail in November. There was a stipulation on my bail that I would have to wear a GPS tether on top of the $1,000 my mother had already paid. My mother paid for two weeks of the tether and I went home. In December, when she couldn't pay another week , Martha Anderson sent me back to jail. While in jail, I had recieved the okay to plead "Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity". I hadn't done anything wrong, and refused to take the plea. Judge Anderson had badgered me from the bench to take it, but I still refused. I was given another pretrial date and spent another 45 days in jail.

 On March 5, 2012, I had a court date. My then attorney, Howard Arnkoff, God rest his soul, made Kelly Collins admit on the record that she had no idea where he was the last 15 months, while I was in jail. He had claimed that for the last year, to Chabot and to Anderson when she revoke my bond in December. Now, she was admitting that she had no victim. While I sat in jail being torture, by OCJ deputies. Anderson, the woman that had badgered me from the bench to take a plea, set me free. I agreed not to blog and she let me go. I stood there rocking and silently crying in disbelief, I acted as if I didn't hear what she had said. Her reporter looked at me and said, "Did you hear her? You're free to go." I didn't budge. Anderson looked at Arnkoff, who had fought for me and swore that I was sane, and nodded affirmation. "See," her nod implied, "she is unstable". He didn't look my way, he simply said, "Sit down." I did.

I stipulation of my bond, because I had been declared incompetent to stand trial was to be involve with an out-patient psychiatric program. I had been involved with Community Network Service, when I got out of prison. I went back to them, because they were familiar. All summer long, I came in once a month and spoke to a psychiatrist there nicknamed, Dr. Z. I sat and talked to him and answered his question. I had a trial date set for early September. My attorney and I wasn't getting along, because she wasn't doing her job. I text her earlier that morning, before court and asked her if I needed anything from Dr. Z. She told me that I wouldn't. I got on the bus and went to court. I got to court to an entirely different scenario. Patrice Waterman was there, sitting next to my victim. She told a story about my having emailed her. The judge had told me that I couldn't use the Internet to email, but especially not to blog. I could only use it for school, which I had only started the week before.

After Patrice Waterman backed down from her statement, I thought I would be free to begin my trial. Nope, Judge Anderson asked if I had been seeing my psychiatrist. I told her that I had and everything was going well. She said that she wanted to give him a call. She put him and speaker phone and he began to lie on me. He told the judge that I still had problems with facing reality and that I refused to take the medication if he prescribed it. None of those things had ever been discussed. We talked about school and my future, and he never brought up medication. Besides, I wouldn't even have to tell him I wasn't taking the medication. If he prescribed it, all I had to do is get the script filled and not take it. They can't force you to take medication. If you don't take it, you have to live with the consequences of your unstable behavior. I knew that, and would never deny medication prescribed for me.

Since the email fiasco didn't work, Dr. Z, gave her the ammunition to send me back to jail. She looked at me and stated, "You knew I wanted you to take medication". First, I didn't know she wanted me to take medication. I knew she wanted me to be insane, but she knew that I knew I wasn't insane. Second, how could I take medication that wasn't prescribed for me? He just told her that he never prescribe any medication for me. The lie was that I told him I wouldn't take it, if I was given it. I asked my attorney, who was so pissed at me, because she had yet to secure the phone records that would prove my case. She turned her nose up at me, and said, "I don't know". As if to say, "Look bitch, you've been giving me a hard time. Now, it's my turn. You ready to beg me yet?" She and Judge Anderson are friends, good friends, and they had this in the works before that day had even began.

With my uncanny way of pissing people off, I went to sit in the jury box on my way back to the Oakland County Jail. Patrice Waterman, because of her recant was not present at my trial, when she was a key witness had watch as I was taken away. Jeff Buchmann, the derelict detective, who should have brought the phone records to court months before, watched too. My attorney walked towards me, looking mean with disgust. She thought that I would cuss her out the way I had the week, before, so the judge would understand why she had snaked me. My victim, stood there with his hands in his pocket with a look that I asked, "How in hell did it get this far?" I plopped my ass down in the chair, clasped my hands together on my lap, and told my lawyer. "I'll go wherever you want me to go, just get those phone records. Then I waited for the deputies to come get me,and I went back to hell, where I fought for my life. ...And boy, did I fight, and I fight, today...