PROPHET666DOOM: San Francisco Where is My Liberty & Justice Bomb Threat to Search Car or Harassment? (Event Occurred June 2011 before Pride 2011) While on leave from school, visiting my family in Montana, an informant, Demetrius a.k.a. Andrew, who reports to Agent Eyebay and meets with a Judge above the jail, outted me to my very homophobic mother. Not his first treacherous act, but by far the cruelest. Shockingly horrified at the inevitable fallout, I grabbed a steak knife and began disemboweling myself yelling, "I want justice!" My mother, already in shock, remind me of Brie Van Decamp, and began cleaning. I asked her to take me to the hospital, to which she replied, "In just a minute." I got in the truck and started driving myself. However, she quickly called the police having me pulled over on Main Street. At the hospital, I received nine staples and was kept overnight. The next day, handcuffed, I was committed to the State of Montana Warm Springs hospital 400 miles away for evaluation. Three days later, I returned home. That evening I overheard my father whisper to my mother, "I don't want to sleep under the same roof as a faggot." The following day, even though roads were flooding, high water did not prevent my parents from driving me 200 miles to the nearest airport. I'm not sure Hell could have stopped them either. Upon returning to the Bay Area, I went out on a Thursday night, June 3, 2011, with my friend, Frank. I must have gotten pretty drunk. Somehow out on Market two officers arrested me for resisting arrest. SD 0028587 Report Ref: 11-014836 (?) [Foxworthy #1364 was NOT one of the arresting officers.] They beat me up pretty good, nearly breaking my wrist. Then the black officer, called a (312) number reporting they picked me up. At the police station, they detained me from 2:00 am until 8:00 pm. The booking officer, an undercover taxi driver I once flipped off, reminded me of my vulgarity. In holding, I overheard the same treacherous informant, Deme, upstairs laughing with a judge about my predicament. While in holding, three black gentlemen came through the jail, and they also called (312) area code numbers, all taking to "mama." Around 6:00 pm a bomb threat in the Castro was reported. They referenced the establishment my car was parked in front of all day. The caller requested a search warrant for my car, however, the judge above the jail refused. Leaving the jail, officers remarked, "Don't walk!" Apparently, I was arrested for walking, because the resisting arrest citation had no other charges to go with it. Arriving at my car, there were ambulances and fire trucks on 18th and on Market. My car was covered in parking citations. Officers stood at nearly every entrance to the nightclubs. I quickly got in my car and fled back to Berkeley. When I went to go to Court, the charges were all dismissed. I guess that's justice? What is there to have PRIDE about? Summer and Fall 2011 (I haven't had a relationship in 11 years. I think this is Bullshit!) He's Cruel, But You Need To Go! After my Exodus from Montana, the only people I knew in San Francisco were the informants, Demetrius and his boyfriend, Benjamin. Even though what Demetrius had done was wrong; Benjamin insisted I had to leave. The rejection was intolerable, and the fact all of my friends were his friends; I therefore, had no one. Worst still, since I was not in school, I did not have money to even maintain my credit to get school loans again. I was severely broke, isolated, and I needed a job. Agents Outside my School I went to the school to collect my belongings and noticed mulling around the front, a guy I saw before being placed on leave. I curiously asked him if he was a federal employee. He said, he was, and indicated he was FBI. But, really he was an agent that my neighbor placed outside of my school. I saw two African-American's pull up in a gold Lexus with P, L, and possibly Z, in the license plate. The man was wearing a black suit with white pin stripes, matted down hair, around 6 foot tall, and kind of portly, with larger front teeth. I later matched the license plate to my neighbor's car. Weird, huh? You see, I got into San Francisco on a Monday, met Demetrius (aka Andrew) on a Tuesday, and put an ad on Craig's List where I got a response. The landlord said the neighbor between them and me was his mother-in-law, and though she had the same last name as Demetrius, Deme said his mother was dead. I know I can be stupid, and I put up with much of the torment, because in my mind, I kind of thought Demetrius and Ben were my friends (prior to stealing my money and telling my mother I was gay), and he and Ben were "hazing" me. However, after I tried to stand up for myself, he began showing that he possessed information and knowledge I didn't think someone of his social status would easily have access to. Obviously, I am a complete fool, but at least I am not a "God-Damn Fool." Prior to my leave from school, I had retaliated against the informant for stealing my savings. I foolishly entrusted Demetrius with my savings, which of course, he stole to get high. He even told my mother he would buy me groceries; he told me he'd, "Rather take the food off your plate and feed it to a dog, than worry about if you had anything to eat." That was during Easter and Passover. After which, he and his boyfriend continually lied and tried to manipulate me further. At any rate, after asking the guy in front of my school curiously, I asked about the case I reported to Inspector Monroe at SF PD Bank Fraud (Who refused to even file a report). The supposed FBI agent confirmed it was under investigation. Then he glared as if he was angry with me, and motioned to some people in a car across the street. While returning home that day, I heard someone yelling at me, "Go Back to Montana!" Moral Compass I also went to Demetrius' Parole Officer, Agent Eyebay, after I had returned. I requested his informant receive treatment having told my mother I was a home-wrecking homosexual on drugs. I believed, and still do, the informant lost his moral compass and needs help. Bet He Won't Show Nothing happened, and Agent Eyebay appeared to blame me regarding the FBI involvement. I heard there was a warrant on Demetrius, but I don't believe it is of much concern. Me, Agent Eyebay and the Man on the Moon all know where Demetrius can be found. Really, I wasn't seeking a warrant, only treatment. When I was scheduled to meet Eyebay he wasn't even in his office. He had to come from somewhere, perhaps a elicit sex party, who knows? He made some off comment, and later, Benjamin, Demetrius' boyfriend, said Agent Eyebay and Demetrius were betting I wouldn't show up for the meeting. Harassing my Home In October, my landlord, neighbors, and the same informant began harassing me at my home. Apparently, Heather, a friend of Benjamin's and his boyfriend, Demetrius' was conducting surveillance on me. The landlord had someone switch my inside phone line to another line in the house. A "fax" line connected between my house and the landlord's house. Like I am to believe the landlord needed a fax line to run 32 feet between our buildings. While my computers were being hacked, the police refused to respond, even having me call Officer Fernandez of the Berkeley Police Dept. directly. He and the Dispatcher were having fun ridiculing me. While I was talking to my mother, the landlord was having neighborhood people call me and harass me by saying things to feed my fears of being setup. Fears I believed by what I was seeing on my computer. Files were being added, changed, and erased; resulting in me changing the password too many times locking the hard drives. DEA or Cruel Setup or Joke? A message appeared on my phone saying, "DEA lost your phone." I suspected I was being setup for child pornography. Demetrius, the informant, had in the past implied he worked with the feds setting up child predators. I watched files being connected to a www.go.microsoft.com/fwlink, even on a computer with no former on-line capability. I could see that someone paired my router. Also, pictures of Benjamin, and his party friends were on my computer. Someone was on the IP 255.255 etc. with a cell phone. The following morning, an Amnesty International Contract against Child Violence was slid through my mail slot. I thought of Pete Seager and the FBI. I called my mother to make sure she knew I would never harm a child; to which she replied she knew. After taking a bottle of Respiradol, I heard informant, Demetrius, across the street yelling to an accomplice, "Oh, Mike, Come On!" I ended up in the hospital nearly on life support. Sabotage After my recovery, I was unable to get a computer running. Oddly enough, the few people I met insisted they were not friends of Demetrius'. However, I later would find out they were. I wasn't able to get anyone to let me borrow their computer or even help fix one of mine. One of Demetrius' friends stripped the hard drives clean, claiming to help me. I suspect he was covering up the spy ware his buddy put on my systems. Isolated and Harassed More Overwhelmed, isolated, severely depressed, and then I was even denied re-entry into law school. I was unable to meet the Dean's established criteria in order to return. My DROID was often flashing internet pages such as America Airlines, and words were being added on browsers to leave California. In an e-mail to the President, the word, "nigger," was added in the browser. I was also getting FaceBook requests from suspected Montana Mexican mafia names, and blurred hostage photos. I later learned from my mother after returning to Montana, a couple "kidnapped" my niece, took her to a house in Livingston, and yelled at her for a period of time I am uncertain about, because I am having a hard time getting any answers out of anyone. Every time I went to a public computer, Bayman06 and Gaiacaribou from Google hacked my e-mail, even blocking access to information on sites. Harassing My Niece Just To Harass Me Coincidently, the one and only time I spoke with my niece's fiancé in Montana who happens to be from California and has the last name as a short street there. He made a special point to tell me he was changing his name to "Bayman." He claimed it was his mother's maiden name. I later found out that someone had planted a girl named, Jen in Montana. According to a good friend of mine, she was feeding he and my niece's boyfriend meth all summer starting in June, about the time when I was picked up and beaten by the SF Police Dept. Coincidently, the same time Demetrius' boyfriend, Benjamin, was supposedly in jail. Denied Justice Even though I repeatedly tried, I could never get a police investigation regarding any matter I complained of . Officers in Berkeley repeatedly refused to ask the landlord about anything, especially the "fax" line! Then, after changing my bank accounts, the landlord said I hadn't paid rent. I had initially paid with a cashier's check. I ended up paying rent twice that month. Later, Officer Smith went to the landlord and brought back my second check, still no further investigation. Not even an explanation of why my landlord needed my bank information. I heard a girl next door talking about me *&^% on my bed and watching on television. I became incapable of being intimate in my home. The woman frequently spoke to Benjamin, and she was often asking him, "why are you trying to set this guy up?" I knew I was being watched, but I also knew, they didn't mean me well. I attempted suicide a total of five times in a year, and I have NEVER attempted suicide before in my entire life, except for a "cry for help" when I was twelve. I can honestly tell you, when you attempt suicide, your mind will ALWAYS say, "I wish I hadn't done that." But, I can also honestly tell you, that you can turn that part of your mind off. Every time I encountered the police, they handcuffed me and 5150'd me. I couldn't tell the doctors; I knew they wouldn't believe me No one would help me regarding any of the events. The neighborhood accused me of being on drugs and started teasing me. My landlord evicted me. I began suspecting that the people who had me under survellance were just trying to make a snuff film, so I took Respiradol again, and after running to Walgreens to find they didn't carry ipecac, I just returned home, and went to bed. No one got called, and awoke a day and a half later. I do vaguely recall a tall slender man with dark hair, but it could have been a dream. Itried writing the President and Nancy Pelosi. I do not know who is responsible, and my constitutional rights are not protected. Mr. Lazaro at Nancy Pelosi's office accused me of being a drug addict, and I am forbidden from calling her office. She will not even meet with me. I am not a drug addict! Informants are saying I'm a narc, and I don't even have a dealer. False Imprisonment Last March, an attendant at the sunset Chevron station called the police concerned I might be suicidal. The police on the scene then called (who else?) Agent Eyebay. The Parole Officer of Demetrius. Agent Eyebay had nothing to do with the three police officers and me on the scene. Eyebay instructed them to get a statement and take me to Langley Porter. I was incarcerated for almost a week After speaking with a gentleman regarding my niece, I overheard him telling Eyebay, "You son's-a-bitches always go too damn far!" I then heard Agent Eyebay and a woman, with legal knowledge, say they couldn't releasing me because it would be an omission of liability. After a week of being unable to convince a doctor of the outrageous events, I saw a judge who released me. Upon my discharge, my mother told me my niece and her fiancé had broken up. Things You Should Know After the 3rd of July, 2011, I never saw Demetrius again. He was mad I talked to his parole officer, and he got real weird. He did call me later at one point, and said he wanted a liability waiver. I told him, "no." He said he would be my friend, but I would have to listen to him as far as who I could and couldn't talk to. Of course, after everything he had put me through, I said, "no." Also, in December, the landlord wanted me to put my car on the street. Demetrius, happened to call my phone and notoriously not hang up. During a conversation he had with someone else about stealing my car, putting sugar in the gas tank, and parking it down in the Sunset. The other person he spoke with, said, "I'll make him wish he hadn't left the ranch." To which Demetrius said, "I'll make him wish he was dead." Well, congratulations to both of them. They make a good, sound argument for supporting abortion, can we make abortion retro? The other caller then gave him a number that went to the "Hall of [IN]Justice." Neither the landlord, the police, or the neighbors would tell me anything about what was going on. After I was being evicted, I wrote the President. I had 26 Human Rights Amendments violated within a single year and a half. I sent a copy to Pelosi, Feinstein, and Hatch, and I have heard no response whatsoever. Housing revoked My landlord discontinued my Section 8, and in the period I was to move, Berkeley Housing Authority would not give me my voucher. Then I was told I would have to sleep in my car before I could get my voucher. However, after a week in my car with no shower, and living with my dog, I threw in the towel. I had to leave California. I keep having problems with Section 8 in Berkeley, and anyone with any logical reasoning can see that I only got the voucher for a week after March 31, 2012, and when I put in to porter it, they took it back. My hearing is on October 31, 2012. I have tried to get an attorney, but because of the "outrageousness" and California's standing with people the doctor's label, I CAN GET NO LEGAL ASSISTANCE! IT IS A HUMAN RIGHT'S CATASTROPHY OCCURRING IN CALIFORNIA! I tried to break windows, and I even told the DA in Alemeda County I did break them, but she threw out the case, citing "lack of evidence." There just was NO way I was ever going to get ANY answers. I put out 200 flyers with my story, and not ONE person offered so much as even a dollar, or a phone call for support. Obviously, there is even more to this story as I was even harassed around Berkeley, and the Castro being called, "Vajrapanni." Buddha of Berkeley From the end of 2011 through March 2012, I entered into a spiritual crisis period. Experiencing events similar to the Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism, the Tibetan Book of the Dead literally came alive. A religious text once foreign to me, began accurately describing my daily experiences. According to Tibetan Buddhism, I entered into the Intermediate Stages of Reality, also known as the Bardo. For months I really didn't know if I was dead or going to die soon. The Intermediate Stages of Reality, or Bardo, traditionally occurs either prior to death or after death. I wondered if reality was a manifestation of my post-death consciousness. I could, for example, pick up broken glass, scooping it up with my bare hands. I frequently walked on the broken glass I'd break in fits of anger, rarely getting cut. While my neighbor appeared to have surveillance on me, rumors spread throughout my South Berkeley neighborhood. Perhaps some people thought I was on drugs; while others may have considered it an innocent joke on a mental patient. I do not really know what other peoples' intentions were; perhaps, they were trying to cheer me up, but I don't think that was their intentions. One day riding around Berkeley many people were calling me, "Vajrapanni". Some people called me a Bodhichitta, while others asked if I was a Buddha. Kids in a church courtyard ran up, seeing flower peddles surrounding me, started calling, "Bodhichitta, Bodhichitta!" Then they began playing ball with their parents. The postal lady even appeared to be going around the campus area telling people I was a boddhichitta. Coincidently, I was pondering just then if I was strong enough to handle a re-incarnation. Thinking perhaps I wasn't being of much service, maybe not re-incarnating might better serve mankind. However, one look at the two innocent little girls playing ball with their parents, I knew what I had to do. In the park, four individuals appeared staged. Overhearing one talking on his phone he said he saw the Bodhichitta describing his reaction as, "nothing special;" A reaction to which I felt pristine cognizant delight! Though some events were staged, other events simply could not have been. While walking up in the hills, Deity began manifesting. I came face to face with a wrathful powerful spirit, manifesting out of many people. Angrily, he repeatedly said, "Go back to Montana!," or "Don't do it here!" He wanted me to leave the Bay Area. I asserted, as the Buddha did several 1000 years ago, I wasn't here to challenge him. On Shattuck, I overheard a tall black man across the street saying, "Vajrapanni needs his ass kicked." I tried to catch him, but he ducked into the Hotel before I could make it across the street. Some younger people appeared to be spreading I was Vajrapanni. For the record, I am not Vajrapanni. I tried to write the Dalai Llama, but after I wrote him my account was shut down. So, later I had my mother write him. After a few weeks, I experienced a vivid hallucination. In a waking dream he came to me. Isolated and angry about my hardships, so full of self-pity most people only saw me as pathetic. We spoke briefly, and he showered me with much needed sympathy. At one point my neighbors set an elaborate display next door showing me my funeral. People were shouting, "You killed the Buddha!" Of course, I suspected a prank again, but it was very well done, even professionally created perhaps. I do not know if I am a Buddha, Bodhichitta, still a Bodhichitta-in-precept, homo sapien sapien with schizophrenia, or just a Montanan who was trying to live in California. I have my suspicions though; and if I were a confidential informant, or a certain Parole Officer, I would be very nice to me. I certainly wouldn't try to hurt a guy like me, and I bet the Dalai Llama would agree.

San Francisco Where is My Liberty & Justice Bomb Threat to Search Car or Harassment? (Event Occurred June 2011 before Pride 2011) While on leave from school, visiting my family in Montana, an informant, Demetrius a.k.a. Andrew, who reports to Agent Eyebay and meets with a Judge above the jail, outted me to my very homophobic mother. Not his first treacherous act, but by far the cruelest. Shockingly horrified at the inevitable fallout, I grabbed a steak knife and began disemboweling myself yelling, "I want justice!" My mother, already in shock, remind me of Brie Van Decamp, and began cleaning. I asked her to take me to the hospital, to which she replied, "In just a minute." I got in the truck and started driving myself. However, she quickly called the police having me pulled over on Main Street. At the hospital, I received nine staples and was kept overnight. The next day, handcuffed, I was committed to the State of Montana Warm Springs hospital 400 miles away for evaluation. Three days later, I returned home. That evening I overheard my father whisper to my mother, "I don't want to sleep under the same roof as a faggot." The following day, even though roads were flooding, high water did not prevent my parents from driving me 200 miles to the nearest airport. I'm not sure Hell could have stopped them either. Upon returning to the Bay Area, I went out on a Thursday night, June 3, 2011, with my friend, Frank. I must have gotten pretty drunk. Somehow out on Market two officers arrested me for resisting arrest. SD 0028587 Report Ref: 11-014836 (?) [Foxworthy #1364 was NOT one of the arresting officers.] They beat me up pretty good, nearly breaking my wrist. Then the black officer, called a (312) number reporting they picked me up. At the police station, they detained me from 2:00 am until 8:00 pm. The booking officer, an undercover taxi driver I once flipped off, reminded me of my vulgarity. In holding, I overheard the same treacherous informant, Deme, upstairs laughing with a judge about my predicament. While in holding, three black gentlemen came through the jail, and they also called (312) area code numbers, all taking to "mama." Around 6:00 pm a bomb threat in the Castro was reported. They referenced the establishment my car was parked in front of all day. The caller requested a search warrant for my car, however, the judge above the jail refused. Leaving the jail, officers remarked, "Don't walk!" Apparently, I was arrested for walking, because the resisting arrest citation had no other charges to go with it. Arriving at my car, there were ambulances and fire trucks on 18th and on Market. My car was covered in parking citations. Officers stood at nearly every entrance to the nightclubs. I quickly got in my car and fled back to Berkeley. When I went to go to Court, the charges were all dismissed. I guess that's justice? What is there to have PRIDE about? Summer and Fall 2011 (I haven't had a relationship in 11 years. I think this is Bullshit!) He's Cruel, But You Need To Go! After my Exodus from Montana, the only people I knew in San Francisco were the informants, Demetrius and his boyfriend, Benjamin. Even though what Demetrius had done was wrong; Benjamin insisted I had to leave. The rejection was intolerable, and the fact all of my friends were his friends; I therefore, had no one. Worst still, since I was not in school, I did not have money to even maintain my credit to get school loans again. I was severely broke, isolated, and I needed a job. Agents Outside my School I went to the school to collect my belongings and noticed mulling around the front, a guy I saw before being placed on leave. I curiously asked him if he was a federal employee. He said, he was, and indicated he was FBI. But, really he was an agent that my neighbor placed outside of my school. I saw two African-American's pull up in a gold Lexus with P, L, and possibly Z, in the license plate. The man was wearing a black suit with white pin stripes, matted down hair, around 6 foot tall, and kind of portly, with larger front teeth. I later matched the license plate to my neighbor's car. Weird, huh? You see, I got into San Francisco on a Monday, met Demetrius (aka Andrew) on a Tuesday, and put an ad on Craig's List where I got a response. The landlord said the neighbor between them and me was his mother-in-law, and though she had the same last name as Demetrius, Deme said his mother was dead. I know I can be stupid, and I put up with much of the torment, because in my mind, I kind of thought Demetrius and Ben were my friends (prior to stealing my money and telling my mother I was gay), and he and Ben were "hazing" me. However, after I tried to stand up for myself, he began showing that he possessed information and knowledge I didn't think someone of his social status would easily have access to. Obviously, I am a complete fool, but at least I am not a "God-Damn Fool." Prior to my leave from school, I had retaliated against the informant for stealing my savings. I foolishly entrusted Demetrius with my savings, which of course, he stole to get high. He even told my mother he would buy me groceries; he told me he'd, "Rather take the food off your plate and feed it to a dog, than worry about if you had anything to eat." That was during Easter and Passover. After which, he and his boyfriend continually lied and tried to manipulate me further. At any rate, after asking the guy in front of my school curiously, I asked about the case I reported to Inspector Monroe at SF PD Bank Fraud (Who refused to even file a report). The supposed FBI agent confirmed it was under investigation. Then he glared as if he was angry with me, and motioned to some people in a car across the street. While returning home that day, I heard someone yelling at me, "Go Back to Montana!" Moral Compass I also went to Demetrius' Parole Officer, Agent Eyebay, after I had returned. I requested his informant receive treatment having told my mother I was a home-wrecking homosexual on drugs. I believed, and still do, the informant lost his moral compass and needs help. Bet He Won't Show Nothing happened, and Agent Eyebay appeared to blame me regarding the FBI involvement. I heard there was a warrant on Demetrius, but I don't believe it is of much concern. Me, Agent Eyebay and the Man on the Moon all know where Demetrius can be found. Really, I wasn't seeking a warrant, only treatment. When I was scheduled to meet Eyebay he wasn't even in his office. He had to come from somewhere, perhaps a elicit sex party, who knows? He made some off comment, and later, Benjamin, Demetrius' boyfriend, said Agent Eyebay and Demetrius were betting I wouldn't show up for the meeting. Harassing my Home In October, my landlord, neighbors, and the same informant began harassing me at my home. Apparently, Heather, a friend of Benjamin's and his boyfriend, Demetrius' was conducting surveillance on me. The landlord had someone switch my inside phone line to another line in the house. A "fax" line connected between my house and the landlord's house. Like I am to believe the landlord needed a fax line to run 32 feet between our buildings. While my computers were being hacked, the police refused to respond, even having me call Officer Fernandez of the Berkeley Police Dept. directly. He and the Dispatcher were having fun ridiculing me. While I was talking to my mother, the landlord was having neighborhood people call me and harass me by saying things to feed my fears of being setup. Fears I believed by what I was seeing on my computer. Files were being added, changed, and erased; resulting in me changing the password too many times locking the hard drives. DEA or Cruel Setup or Joke? A message appeared on my phone saying, "DEA lost your phone." I suspected I was being setup for child pornography. Demetrius, the informant, had in the past implied he worked with the feds setting up child predators. I watched files being connected to a www.go.microsoft.com/fwlink, even on a computer with no former on-line capability. I could see that someone paired my router. Also, pictures of Benjamin, and his party friends were on my computer. Someone was on the IP 255.255 etc. with a cell phone. The following morning, an Amnesty International Contract against Child Violence was slid through my mail slot. I thought of Pete Seager and the FBI. I called my mother to make sure she knew I would never harm a child; to which she replied she knew. After taking a bottle of Respiradol, I heard informant, Demetrius, across the street yelling to an accomplice, "Oh, Mike, Come On!" I ended up in the hospital nearly on life support. Sabotage After my recovery, I was unable to get a computer running. Oddly enough, the few people I met insisted they were not friends of Demetrius'. However, I later would find out they were. I wasn't able to get anyone to let me borrow their computer or even help fix one of mine. One of Demetrius' friends stripped the hard drives clean, claiming to help me. I suspect he was covering up the spy ware his buddy put on my systems. Isolated and Harassed More Overwhelmed, isolated, severely depressed, and then I was even denied re-entry into law school. I was unable to meet the Dean's established criteria in order to return. My DROID was often flashing internet pages such as America Airlines, and words were being added on browsers to leave California. In an e-mail to the President, the word, "nigger," was added in the browser. I was also getting FaceBook requests from suspected Montana Mexican mafia names, and blurred hostage photos. I later learned from my mother after returning to Montana, a couple "kidnapped" my niece, took her to a house in Livingston, and yelled at her for a period of time I am uncertain about, because I am having a hard time getting any answers out of anyone. Every time I went to a public computer, Bayman06 and Gaiacaribou from Google hacked my e-mail, even blocking access to information on sites. Harassing My Niece Just To Harass Me Coincidently, the one and only time I spoke with my niece's fiancé in Montana who happens to be from California and has the last name as a short street there. He made a special point to tell me he was changing his name to "Bayman." He claimed it was his mother's maiden name. I later found out that someone had planted a girl named, Jen in Montana. According to a good friend of mine, she was feeding he and my niece's boyfriend meth all summer starting in June, about the time when I was picked up and beaten by the SF Police Dept. Coincidently, the same time Demetrius' boyfriend, Benjamin, was supposedly in jail. Denied Justice Even though I repeatedly tried, I could never get a police investigation regarding any matter I complained of . Officers in Berkeley repeatedly refused to ask the landlord about anything, especially the "fax" line! Then, after changing my bank accounts, the landlord said I hadn't paid rent. I had initially paid with a cashier's check. I ended up paying rent twice that month. Later, Officer Smith went to the landlord and brought back my second check, still no further investigation. Not even an explanation of why my landlord needed my bank information. I heard a girl next door talking about me *&^% on my bed and watching on television. I became incapable of being intimate in my home. The woman frequently spoke to Benjamin, and she was often asking him, "why are you trying to set this guy up?" I knew I was being watched, but I also knew, they didn't mean me well. I attempted suicide a total of five times in a year, and I have NEVER attempted suicide before in my entire life, except for a "cry for help" when I was twelve. I can honestly tell you, when you attempt suicide, your mind will ALWAYS say, "I wish I hadn't done that." But, I can also honestly tell you, that you can turn that part of your mind off. Every time I encountered the police, they handcuffed me and 5150'd me. I couldn't tell the doctors; I knew they wouldn't believe me No one would help me regarding any of the events. The neighborhood accused me of being on drugs and started teasing me. My landlord evicted me. I began suspecting that the people who had me under survellance were just trying to make a snuff film, so I took Respiradol again, and after running to Walgreens to find they didn't carry ipecac, I just returned home, and went to bed. No one got called, and awoke a day and a half later. I do vaguely recall a tall slender man with dark hair, but it could have been a dream. Itried writing the President and Nancy Pelosi. I do not know who is responsible, and my constitutional rights are not protected. Mr. Lazaro at Nancy Pelosi's office accused me of being a drug addict, and I am forbidden from calling her office. She will not even meet with me. I am not a drug addict! Informants are saying I'm a narc, and I don't even have a dealer. False Imprisonment Last March, an attendant at the sunset Chevron station called the police concerned I might be suicidal. The police on the scene then called (who else?) Agent Eyebay. The Parole Officer of Demetrius. Agent Eyebay had nothing to do with the three police officers and me on the scene. Eyebay instructed them to get a statement and take me to Langley Porter. I was incarcerated for almost a week After speaking with a gentleman regarding my niece, I overheard him telling Eyebay, "You son's-a-bitches always go too damn far!" I then heard Agent Eyebay and a woman, with legal knowledge, say they couldn't releasing me because it would be an omission of liability. After a week of being unable to convince a doctor of the outrageous events, I saw a judge who released me. Upon my discharge, my mother told me my niece and her fiancé had broken up. Things You Should Know After the 3rd of July, 2011, I never saw Demetrius again. He was mad I talked to his parole officer, and he got real weird. He did call me later at one point, and said he wanted a liability waiver. I told him, "no." He said he would be my friend, but I would have to listen to him as far as who I could and couldn't talk to. Of course, after everything he had put me through, I said, "no." Also, in December, the landlord wanted me to put my car on the street. Demetrius, happened to call my phone and notoriously not hang up. During a conversation he had with someone else about stealing my car, putting sugar in the gas tank, and parking it down in the Sunset. The other person he spoke with, said, "I'll make him wish he hadn't left the ranch." To which Demetrius said, "I'll make him wish he was dead." Well, congratulations to both of them. They make a good, sound argument for supporting abortion, can we make abortion retro? The other caller then gave him a number that went to the "Hall of [IN]Justice." Neither the landlord, the police, or the neighbors would tell me anything about what was going on. After I was being evicted, I wrote the President. I had 26 Human Rights Amendments violated within a single year and a half. I sent a copy to Pelosi, Feinstein, and Hatch, and I have heard no response whatsoever. Housing revoked My landlord discontinued my Section 8, and in the period I was to move, Berkeley Housing Authority would not give me my voucher. Then I was told I would have to sleep in my car before I could get my voucher. However, after a week in my car with no shower, and living with my dog, I threw in the towel. I had to leave California. I keep having problems with Section 8 in Berkeley, and anyone with any logical reasoning can see that I only got the voucher for a week after March 31, 2012, and when I put in to porter it, they took it back. My hearing is on October 31, 2012. I have tried to get an attorney, but because of the "outrageousness" and California's standing with people the doctor's label, I CAN GET NO LEGAL ASSISTANCE! IT IS A HUMAN RIGHT'S CATASTROPHY OCCURRING IN CALIFORNIA! I tried to break windows, and I even told the DA in Alemeda County I did break them, but she threw out the case, citing "lack of evidence." There just was NO way I was ever going to get ANY answers. I put out 200 flyers with my story, and not ONE person offered so much as even a dollar, or a phone call for support. Obviously, there is even more to this story as I was even harassed around Berkeley, and the Castro being called, "Vajrapanni." Buddha of Berkeley From the end of 2011 through March 2012, I entered into a spiritual crisis period. Experiencing events similar to the Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism, the Tibetan Book of the Dead literally came alive. A religious text once foreign to me, began accurately describing my daily experiences. According to Tibetan Buddhism, I entered into the Intermediate Stages of Reality, also known as the Bardo. For months I really didn't know if I was dead or going to die soon. The Intermediate Stages of Reality, or Bardo, traditionally occurs either prior to death or after death. I wondered if reality was a manifestation of my post-death consciousness. I could, for example, pick up broken glass, scooping it up with my bare hands. I frequently walked on the broken glass I'd break in fits of anger, rarely getting cut. While my neighbor appeared to have surveillance on me, rumors spread throughout my South Berkeley neighborhood. Perhaps some people thought I was on drugs; while others may have considered it an innocent joke on a mental patient. I do not really know what other peoples' intentions were; perhaps, they were trying to cheer me up, but I don't think that was their intentions. One day riding around Berkeley many people were calling me, "Vajrapanni". Some people called me a Bodhichitta, while others asked if I was a Buddha. Kids in a church courtyard ran up, seeing flower peddles surrounding me, started calling, "Bodhichitta, Bodhichitta!" Then they began playing ball with their parents. The postal lady even appeared to be going around the campus area telling people I was a boddhichitta. Coincidently, I was pondering just then if I was strong enough to handle a re-incarnation. Thinking perhaps I wasn't being of much service, maybe not re-incarnating might better serve mankind. However, one look at the two innocent little girls playing ball with their parents, I knew what I had to do. In the park, four individuals appeared staged. Overhearing one talking on his phone he said he saw the Bodhichitta describing his reaction as, "nothing special;" A reaction to which I felt pristine cognizant delight! Though some events were staged, other events simply could not have been. While walking up in the hills, Deity began manifesting. I came face to face with a wrathful powerful spirit, manifesting out of many people. Angrily, he repeatedly said, "Go back to Montana!," or "Don't do it here!" He wanted me to leave the Bay Area. I asserted, as the Buddha did several 1000 years ago, I wasn't here to challenge him. On Shattuck, I overheard a tall black man across the street saying, "Vajrapanni needs his ass kicked." I tried to catch him, but he ducked into the Hotel before I could make it across the street. Some younger people appeared to be spreading I was Vajrapanni. For the record, I am not Vajrapanni. I tried to write the Dalai Llama, but after I wrote him my account was shut down. So, later I had my mother write him. After a few weeks, I experienced a vivid hallucination. In a waking dream he came to me. Isolated and angry about my hardships, so full of self-pity most people only saw me as pathetic. We spoke briefly, and he showered me with much needed sympathy. At one point my neighbors set an elaborate display next door showing me my funeral. People were shouting, "You killed the Buddha!" Of course, I suspected a prank again, but it was very well done, even professionally created perhaps. I do not know if I am a Buddha, Bodhichitta, still a Bodhichitta-in-precept, homo sapien sapien with schizophrenia, or just a Montanan who was trying to live in California. I have my suspicions though; and if I were a confidential informant, or a certain Parole Officer, I would be very nice to me. I certainly wouldn't try to hurt a guy like me, and I bet the Dalai Llama would agree.

San Francisco Where is My Liberty & Justice Bomb Threat to Search Car or Harassment? (Event Occurred June 2011 before Pride 2011) While on leave from school, visiting my family in Montana, an informant, Demetrius a.k.a. Andrew, who reports to Agent Eyebay and meets with a Judge above the jail, outted me to my very homophobic mother. Not his first treacherous act, but by far the cruelest. Shockingly horrified at the inevitable fallout, I grabbed a steak knife and began disemboweling myself yelling, "I want justice!" My mother, already in shock, remind me of Brie Van Decamp, and began cleaning. I asked her to take me to the hospital, to which she replied, "In just a minute." I got in the truck and started driving myself. However, she quickly called the police having me pulled over on Main Street. At the hospital, I received nine staples and was kept overnight. The next day, handcuffed, I was committed to the State of Montana Warm Springs hospital 400 miles away for evaluation. Three days later, I returned home. That evening I overheard my father whisper to my mother, "I don't want to sleep under the same roof as a faggot." The following day, even though roads were flooding, high water did not prevent my parents from driving me 200 miles to the nearest airport. I'm not sure Hell could have stopped them either. Upon returning to the Bay Area, I went out on a Thursday night, June 3, 2011, with my friend, Frank. I must have gotten pretty drunk. Somehow out on Market two officers arrested me for resisting arrest. SD 0028587 Report Ref: 11-014836 (?) [Foxworthy #1364 was NOT one of the arresting officers.] They beat me up pretty good, nearly breaking my wrist. Then the black officer, called a (312) number reporting they picked me up. At the police station, they detained me from 2:00 am until 8:00 pm. The booking officer, an undercover taxi driver I once flipped off, reminded me of my vulgarity. In holding, I overheard the same treacherous informant, Deme, upstairs laughing with a judge about my predicament. While in holding, three black gentlemen came through the jail, and they also called (312) area code numbers, all taking to "mama." Around 6:00 pm a bomb threat in the Castro was reported. They referenced the establishment my car was parked in front of all day. The caller requested a search warrant for my car, however, the judge above the jail refused. Leaving the jail, officers remarked, "Don't walk!" Apparently, I was arrested for walking, because the resisting arrest citation had no other charges to go with it. Arriving at my car, there were ambulances and fire trucks on 18th and on Market. My car was covered in parking citations. Officers stood at nearly every entrance to the nightclubs. I quickly got in my car and fled back to Berkeley. When I went to go to Court, the charges were all dismissed. I guess that's justice? What is there to have PRIDE about? Summer and Fall 2011 (I haven't had a relationship in 11 years. I think this is Bullshit!) He's Cruel, But You Need To Go! After my Exodus from Montana, the only people I knew in San Francisco were the informants, Demetrius and his boyfriend, Benjamin. Even though what Demetrius had done was wrong; Benjamin insisted I had to leave. The rejection was intolerable, and the fact all of my friends were his friends; I therefore, had no one. Worst still, since I was not in school, I did not have money to even maintain my credit to get school loans again. I was severely broke, isolated, and I needed a job. Agents Outside my School I went to the school to collect my belongings and noticed mulling around the front, a guy I saw before being placed on leave. I curiously asked him if he was a federal employee. He said, he was, and indicated he was FBI. But, really he was an agent that my neighbor placed outside of my school. I saw two African-American's pull up in a gold Lexus with P, L, and possibly Z, in the license plate. The man was wearing a black suit with white pin stripes, matted down hair, around 6 foot tall, and kind of portly, with larger front teeth. I later matched the license plate to my neighbor's car. Weird, huh? You see, I got into San Francisco on a Monday, met Demetrius (aka Andrew) on a Tuesday, and put an ad on Craig's List where I got a response. The landlord said the neighbor between them and me was his mother-in-law, and though she had the same last name as Demetrius, Deme said his mother was dead. I know I can be stupid, and I put up with much of the torment, because in my mind, I kind of thought Demetrius and Ben were my friends (prior to stealing my money and telling my mother I was gay), and he and Ben were "hazing" me. However, after I tried to stand up for myself, he began showing that he possessed information and knowledge I didn't think someone of his social status would easily have access to. Obviously, I am a complete fool, but at least I am not a "God-Damn Fool." Prior to my leave from school, I had retaliated against the informant for stealing my savings. I foolishly entrusted Demetrius with my savings, which of course, he stole to get high. He even told my mother he would buy me groceries; he told me he'd, "Rather take the food off your plate and feed it to a dog, than worry about if you had anything to eat." That was during Easter and Passover. After which, he and his boyfriend continually lied and tried to manipulate me further. At any rate, after asking the guy in front of my school curiously, I asked about the case I reported to Inspector Monroe at SF PD Bank Fraud (Who refused to even file a report). The supposed FBI agent confirmed it was under investigation. Then he glared as if he was angry with me, and motioned to some people in a car across the street. While returning home that day, I heard someone yelling at me, "Go Back to Montana!" Moral Compass I also went to Demetrius' Parole Officer, Agent Eyebay, after I had returned. I requested his informant receive treatment having told my mother I was a home-wrecking homosexual on drugs. I believed, and still do, the informant lost his moral compass and needs help. Bet He Won't Show Nothing happened, and Agent Eyebay appeared to blame me regarding the FBI involvement. I heard there was a warrant on Demetrius, but I don't believe it is of much concern. Me, Agent Eyebay and the Man on the Moon all know where Demetrius can be found. Really, I wasn't seeking a warrant, only treatment. When I was scheduled to meet Eyebay he wasn't even in his office. He had to come from somewhere, perhaps a elicit sex party, who knows? He made some off comment, and later, Benjamin, Demetrius' boyfriend, said Agent Eyebay and Demetrius were betting I wouldn't show up for the meeting. Harassing my Home In October, my landlord, neighbors, and the same informant began harassing me at my home. Apparently, Heather, a friend of Benjamin's and his boyfriend, Demetrius' was conducting surveillance on me. The landlord had someone switch my inside phone line to another line in the house. A "fax" line connected between my house and the landlord's house. Like I am to believe the landlord needed a fax line to run 32 feet between our buildings. While my computers were being hacked, the police refused to respond, even having me call Officer Fernandez of the Berkeley Police Dept. directly. He and the Dispatcher were having fun ridiculing me. While I was talking to my mother, the landlord was having neighborhood people call me and harass me by saying things to feed my fears of being setup. Fears I believed by what I was seeing on my computer. Files were being added, changed, and erased; resulting in me changing the password too many times locking the hard drives. DEA or Cruel Setup or Joke? A message appeared on my phone saying, "DEA lost your phone." I suspected I was being setup for child pornography. Demetrius, the informant, had in the past implied he worked with the feds setting up child predators. I watched files being connected to a www.go.microsoft.com/fwlink, even on a computer with no former on-line capability. I could see that someone paired my router. Also, pictures of Benjamin, and his party friends were on my computer. Someone was on the IP 255.255 etc. with a cell phone. The following morning, an Amnesty International Contract against Child Violence was slid through my mail slot. I thought of Pete Seager and the FBI. I called my mother to make sure she knew I would never harm a child; to which she replied she knew. After taking a bottle of Respiradol, I heard informant, Demetrius, across the street yelling to an accomplice, "Oh, Mike, Come On!" I ended up in the hospital nearly on life support. Sabotage After my recovery, I was unable to get a computer running. Oddly enough, the few people I met insisted they were not friends of Demetrius'. However, I later would find out they were. I wasn't able to get anyone to let me borrow their computer or even help fix one of mine. One of Demetrius' friends stripped the hard drives clean, claiming to help me. I suspect he was covering up the spy ware his buddy put on my systems. Isolated and Harassed More Overwhelmed, isolated, severely depressed, and then I was even denied re-entry into law school. I was unable to meet the Dean's established criteria in order to return. My DROID was often flashing internet pages such as America Airlines, and words were being added on browsers to leave California. In an e-mail to the President, the word, "nigger," was added in the browser. I was also getting FaceBook requests from suspected Montana Mexican mafia names, and blurred hostage photos. I later learned from my mother after returning to Montana, a couple "kidnapped" my niece, took her to a house in Livingston, and yelled at her for a period of time I am uncertain about, because I am having a hard time getting any answers out of anyone. Every time I went to a public computer, Bayman06 and Gaiacaribou from Google hacked my e-mail, even blocking access to information on sites. Harassing My Niece Just To Harass Me Coincidently, the one and only time I spoke with my niece's fiancé in Montana who happens to be from California and has the last name as a short street there. He made a special point to tell me he was changing his name to "Bayman." He claimed it was his mother's maiden name. I later found out that someone had planted a girl named, Jen in Montana. According to a good friend of mine, she was feeding he and my niece's boyfriend meth all summer starting in June, about the time when I was picked up and beaten by the SF Police Dept. Coincidently, the same time Demetrius' boyfriend, Benjamin, was supposedly in jail. Denied Justice Even though I repeatedly tried, I could never get a police investigation regarding any matter I complained of . Officers in Berkeley repeatedly refused to ask the landlord about anything, especially the "fax" line! Then, after changing my bank accounts, the landlord said I hadn't paid rent. I had initially paid with a cashier's check. I ended up paying rent twice that month. Later, Officer Smith went to the landlord and brought back my second check, still no further investigation. Not even an explanation of why my landlord needed my bank information. I heard a girl next door talking about me *&^% on my bed and watching on television. I became incapable of being intimate in my home. The woman frequently spoke to Benjamin, and she was often asking him, "why are you trying to set this guy up?" I knew I was being watched, but I also knew, they didn't mean me well. I attempted suicide a total of five times in a year, and I have NEVER attempted suicide before in my entire life, except for a "cry for help" when I was twelve. I can honestly tell you, when you attempt suicide, your mind will ALWAYS say, "I wish I hadn't done that." But, I can also honestly tell you, that you can turn that part of your mind off. Every time I encountered the police, they handcuffed me and 5150'd me. I couldn't tell the doctors; I knew they wouldn't believe me No one would help me regarding any of the events. The neighborhood accused me of being on drugs and started teasing me. My landlord evicted me. I began suspecting that the people who had me under survellance were just trying to make a snuff film, so I took Respiradol again, and after running to Walgreens to find they didn't carry ipecac, I just returned home, and went to bed. No one got called, and awoke a day and a half later. I do vaguely recall a tall slender man with dark hair, but it could have been a dream. Itried writing the President and Nancy Pelosi. I do not know who is responsible, and my constitutional rights are not protected. Mr. Lazaro at Nancy Pelosi's office accused me of being a drug addict, and I am forbidden from calling her office. She will not even meet with me. I am not a drug addict! Informants are saying I'm a narc, and I don't even have a dealer. False Imprisonment Last March, an attendant at the sunset Chevron station called the police concerned I might be suicidal. The police on the scene then called (who else?) Agent Eyebay. The Parole Officer of Demetrius. Agent Eyebay had nothing to do with the three police officers and me on the scene. Eyebay instructed them to get a statement and take me to Langley Porter. I was incarcerated for almost a week After speaking with a gentleman regarding my niece, I overheard him telling Eyebay, "You son's-a-bitches always go too damn far!" I then heard Agent Eyebay and a woman, with legal knowledge, say they couldn't releasing me because it would be an omission of liability. After a week of being unable to convince a doctor of the outrageous events, I saw a judge who released me. Upon my discharge, my mother told me my niece and her fiancé had broken up. Things You Should Know After the 3rd of July, 2011, I never saw Demetrius again. He was mad I talked to his parole officer, and he got real weird. He did call me later at one point, and said he wanted a liability waiver. I told him, "no." He said he would be my friend, but I would have to listen to him as far as who I could and couldn't talk to. Of course, after everything he had put me through, I said, "no." Also, in December, the landlord wanted me to put my car on the street. Demetrius, happened to call my phone and notoriously not hang up. During a conversation he had with someone else about stealing my car, putting sugar in the gas tank, and parking it down in the Sunset. The other person he spoke with, said, "I'll make him wish he hadn't left the ranch." To which Demetrius said, "I'll make him wish he was dead." Well, congratulations to both of them. They make a good, sound argument for supporting abortion, can we make abortion retro? The other caller then gave him a number that went to the "Hall of [IN]Justice." Neither the landlord, the police, or the neighbors would tell me anything about what was going on. After I was being evicted, I wrote the President. I had 26 Human Rights Amendments violated within a single year and a half. I sent a copy to Pelosi, Feinstein, and Hatch, and I have heard no response whatsoever. Housing revoked My landlord discontinued my Section 8, and in the period I was to move, Berkeley Housing Authority would not give me my voucher. Then I was told I would have to sleep in my car before I could get my voucher. However, after a week in my car with no shower, and living with my dog, I threw in the towel. I had to leave California. I keep having problems with Section 8 in Berkeley, and anyone with any logical reasoning can see that I only got the voucher for a week after March 31, 2012, and when I put in to porter it, they took it back. My hearing is on October 31, 2012. I have tried to get an attorney, but because of the "outrageousness" and California's standing with people the doctor's label, I CAN GET NO LEGAL ASSISTANCE! IT IS A HUMAN RIGHT'S CATASTROPHY OCCURRING IN CALIFORNIA! I tried to break windows, and I even told the DA in Alemeda County I did break them, but she threw out the case, citing "lack of evidence." There just was NO way I was ever going to get ANY answers. I put out 200 flyers with my story, and not ONE person offered so much as even a dollar, or a phone call for support. Obviously, there is even more to this story as I was even harassed around Berkeley, and the Castro being called, "Vajrapanni." Buddha of Berkeley From the end of 2011 through March 2012, I entered into a spiritual crisis period. Experiencing events similar to the Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism, the Tibetan Book of the Dead literally came alive. A religious text once foreign to me, began accurately describing my daily experiences. According to Tibetan Buddhism, I entered into the Intermediate Stages of Reality, also known as the Bardo. For months I really didn't know if I was dead or going to die soon. The Intermediate Stages of Reality, or Bardo, traditionally occurs either prior to death or after death. I wondered if reality was a manifestation of my post-death consciousness. I could, for example, pick up broken glass, scooping it up with my bare hands. I frequently walked on the broken glass I'd break in fits of anger, rarely getting cut. While my neighbor appeared to have surveillance on me, rumors spread throughout my South Berkeley neighborhood. Perhaps some people thought I was on drugs; while others may have considered it an innocent joke on a mental patient. I do not really know what other peoples' intentions were; perhaps, they were trying to cheer me up, but I don't think that was their intentions. One day riding around Berkeley many people were calling me, "Vajrapanni". Some people called me a Bodhichitta, while others asked if I was a Buddha. Kids in a church courtyard ran up, seeing flower peddles surrounding me, started calling, "Bodhichitta, Bodhichitta!" Then they began playing ball with their parents. The postal lady even appeared to be going around the campus area telling people I was a boddhichitta. Coincidently, I was pondering just then if I was strong enough to handle a re-incarnation. Thinking perhaps I wasn't being of much service, maybe not re-incarnating might better serve mankind. However, one look at the two innocent little girls playing ball with their parents, I knew what I had to do. In the park, four individuals appeared staged. Overhearing one talking on his phone he said he saw the Bodhichitta describing his reaction as, "nothing special;" A reaction to which I felt pristine cognizant delight! Though some events were staged, other events simply could not have been. While walking up in the hills, Deity began manifesting. I came face to face with a wrathful powerful spirit, manifesting out of many people. Angrily, he repeatedly said, "Go back to Montana!," or "Don't do it here!" He wanted me to leave the Bay Area. I asserted, as the Buddha did several 1000 years ago, I wasn't here to challenge him. On Shattuck, I overheard a tall black man across the street saying, "Vajrapanni needs his ass kicked." I tried to catch him, but he ducked into the Hotel before I could make it across the street. Some younger people appeared to be spreading I was Vajrapanni. For the record, I am not Vajrapanni. I tried to write the Dalai Llama, but after I wrote him my account was shut down. So, later I had my mother write him. After a few weeks, I experienced a vivid hallucination. In a waking dream he came to me. Isolated and angry about my hardships, so full of self-pity most people only saw me as pathetic. We spoke briefly, and he showered me with much needed sympathy. At one point my neighbors set an elaborate display next door showing me my funeral. People were shouting, "You killed the Buddha!" Of course, I suspected a prank again, but it was very well done, even professionally created perhaps. I do not know if I am a Buddha, Bodhichitta, still a Bodhichitta-in-precept, homo sapien sapien with schizophrenia, or just a Montanan who was trying to live in California. I have my suspicions though; and if I were a confidential informant, or a certain Parole Officer, I would be very nice to me. I certainly wouldn't try to hurt a guy like me, and I bet the Dalai Llama would agree.