I checked one of my journals for any entries dated the spring of 2002, but the closest entries I found are dated September 2001. Then the entries skip to June 21, 2002. I left Oxnard and arrived at Bert & Shirley Myers house in Sunnyvale, CA sometime in March or April, 2002. Around this same time of year 15 years ago. The police report from that night would show the exact date.
This morning I promised myself I would vilify their behavior for the rest of my life (Bert, Shirley, Warren & Jeff Myers). While I was looking for the exact date of my arrival in Sunnyvale 15 years ago, I briefly re-read a few journal entries from my second hospitalization at El Camino Hospital in Mountain View, CA. What I wrote at that time clearly illustrates the trust I had in the four people whom I considered my family at that time (i.e. people who loved and cared about me).
I’ve been admitted to the Behavioral Health Department at El Camino Hospital this afternoon. It was a nice admittance, rather than last time. It’s much more relaxed here than at Mass General. I have a nice psychiatrist – she is prescribing me new medication. This time – Paxil and another anti-psychotic?
June 21, 2002
I heard Sara earlier this morning, saying something about HIV (that’s really all she ever says as far as I can tell)…I’m looking forward to leaving as well. They keep asking me if I’m afraid, if I feel safe, if I think people are trying to kill me, if I’m anxious or nervous. Sometimes I am, sometimes not. I think I’ve gotten so used to these people harassing me and pursuing me constantly, that for it not to occur is rather unusual. I just wish they’d leave me be!! Get on with their lives already!
June 24, 2002
Chris is the worst, as he is always describing my thoughts and whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing. Anyway, I’m sick of it. I’m looking forward to leaving the hospital and possibly teaching or finding a great job. This is what I’m truly looking forward to.
June 24, 2002
Apparently what I thought happened the night I arrived in Sunnyvale was not what happened. Not by a long shot. What I thought happened was I woke up in the middle of the night to some commotion. I heard Warren’s voice coming from the bedroom next to mine inside the house telling me to dial 911. I dialed 911, the police came and took me outside the house and waited with me along the side of the house for awhile. During this time, what actually transpired between the Sunnyvale Police Dept, Bert, Shirley, Warren and Jeff Myers, Sam McKellar and Preston Scott was never discussed with me.
Suffice it to say, the only people I actually saw that night were the Sunnyvale PD and Bert & Shirley Myers. When the police led me back into the house, Shirley had gone to bed. Apparently she had lied to the police that night and said I had a man (Preston Scott?) in my bedroom, and tried to get the police to take me to the psych ward that night, rather than let me back into their house. That didn’t happen but afterward, Bert spoke with me briefly over a glass of warm milk in the kitchen. All he had to say was, “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
What actually happened that night is entirely different. What actually happened is that Warren Myers, Preston Scott and Sam McKellar showed up that night because they had all followed me to Sunnyvale as one big group from the house in Oxnard. A discussion took place between Sam McKellar, Warren, Bert and Shirley Myers. Perhaps they were wondering what was going on with all these people. At any rate, McKellar gave Shirley Myers some sort of choice to make and ultimately what ended up happening was Shirley decided to turn me over to McKellar as some sort of “payment” for whatever it was she thought I’d done. Ultimately, she decided he used me as his personal prostitute to pay off my “debt.”
Fifteen years later, I discover that Shirley (as well as Bert, Warren and Jeff) believed me to be some sort of slut/prostitute/escort for my entire life, who lied and screwed men to get jobs and college degrees (probably because this is what the four of them have done their entire lives). The crazy thing is, none of them ever bothered to ask me one single question. In addition to this fact, Shirley blamed her decision on Warren. Her first response to my question as to what happened that night with Sam McKellar:
It wasn’t our decision.
Meaning she wasn’t the one who decided to hand me over to McKellar, but rather Warren was to blame. Looking back at my second hospitalization at El Camino Hospital, when asked why she never said anything to me about Sara, McKellar and the others who were still stalking and harassing me at that time, Shirley responded:
We thought it was ok for her to be in the hospital.
Re-reading my journal entries from that time, and considering what has transpired over the past eight months, I realize what horrible people the four of them really are. The problem is they don’t actually give a shit. They’re only concern is for themselves. For this reason I will vilify all four of them for the rest of their lives.
“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” This was my parents’ attitude toward me with regard to their own lives, Warren and Jeff’s lives, and everything related to this horrific nightmare since 2000.
In the Western world both the proverb and the image are often used to refer to a lack of moral responsibility on the part of people who refuse to acknowledge impropriety, look the other way, or feign ignorance.
Remaining silent in the face of injustice is the same as supporting it.
— Daisaku Ikeda
For the past almost nine months as I’ve watched and listened to my parent’s behavior, I’ve come to the following conclusion based on the above quote:
My parents did not say one word to me over the past fifteen years about anything to do with Sam McKellar, Preston Scott, Warren Myers or Jeff Myers. Since last August, they have done nothing but harass me, yell at me from the house next door, persecute me, and try to tell me what to do. As it turns out, the only person either one of them has listened to all this time was Jeff. Unfortunately, everything he told my parents (my mom mostly) was a lie.
Instead, my parents spent the past nine months standing behind and fully supporting Warren (a terrorist and psychopath) and Jeff (a terrorist and pedophile). In addition they are intent on institutionalizing me and demonizing me according to their preconceived notions based on their own misinformed suspicions and lies.
I believe in SGI President Daisaku Ikeda’s quote. Not only did my parents remain silent in the face of injustice (at least from my perspective), they actively support it. Warren and Jeff are not merely perpetrators of injustice, they are both facing severe terrorism charges related to this ongoing nightmare. In this sense, my parents actively support terrorists, becoming terrorists themselves.
While all these years we believed terrorists were Muslims from the Middle East, as it turns out, they were in our own backyard the entire time.
I re-read my memoir’s dedication yesterday. I self-published my memoir the summer of 2014. This is what it currently reads:
This memoir is dedicated first and foremost to my husband and my family. Of course, without my Buddhist practice and the Soka Gakkai International, I would have give up years ago. My husband’s family, my friends and neighbors, my doctors and therapists, and many others all offered their support. I hope my experience is a source of hope, encouragement and inspiration for everyone who reads it.
I revised my memoir yesterday afternoon, so that now it reads as follows:
I hope my experience is a source of hope, encouragement and inspiration for everyone who reads it.
I remember last August when my parents flew out here to deal with Warren. Warren showed up first in the house next door with a huge narcotics deal that sat there for awhile. The heroin ended up being laced with tetracycline. The heroin was from Cali and it was laced in Mexico.
Warren never said anything to me, neither did Sue although they were together. My parents never told me they flew out here in August. They never said anything to me while they were here. A few weeks later, they left. They returned a month or so later and have been in Sunnyvale ever since. They never said they were actually here in Sunnyvale, as opposed to their home in Fort Collins. The few times I have called them by phone, they always told me they were in Fort Collins. My mom has also repeatedly mailed me letters in the mail postmarked Fort Collins, Colorado although she never mentioned any of the events since last August.
Instead, what she has done over the past few months has been to yell at me from the house next door, try to order me around, tell me what to do, threaten me and continue to refuse to leave me alone and stay out of my life. She repeatedly yells at me, “I love you!” The only problem with this (and it actually was pointed out to me by someone else over there) is that her statement is meaningless and a total lie. The woman who pointed this out said,
“What she (my mom) is really saying is not “I love you,” but rather “I HATE you.”
What I needed to do was every time I heard my mom shout those words was to replace the word “love” with the word “hate.” Over the next few days and weeks, it turns out that this was what she learned “love” was growing up. Her idea of “love” (at least in my case) was concealed hate, anger, and contempt [at her lot in life] that had nothing to do with me personally, other than the fact that I was her daughter.
To illustrate, the words “I love you” can have a completely different impact depending on whether they are said from the heart or merely as an empty gesture.
“The Wisdom for Creating Happiness and Peace” Daisaku Ikeda p.64
The person I thought of as my mom all these years (happy, friendly, sociable, well-read), was merely another facade masking the anger and contempt lying underneath her stone-cold exterior. It turns out that the same is true for my dad, as well as Warren and Jeff. Obviously, appearances can be deceiving but this was a deception of a particularly insidious nature. When I looked back, I realized that until now I had no reason to believe my parents or either sibling would be hiding anything. No one ever said anything to me and I had no reason to be suspicious.
The same holds true for faith. There may be times when we give in to self-defeat and our determination wanes, or when things don’t go as we’d hoped and we begin to feel anxious or fearful. But the important thing is to continue chanting, no matter what. Whether our prayers are answered right away or not, we must keep chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, without harboring any doubts. Those who maintain such faith will eventually attain the supreme path and highest pinnacle of value and savor the conviction that everything unfolded in the very best and most meaningful way.
“The Wisdom for Creating Happiness and Peace” Daisaku Ikeda p.65