My Doberman Bitch and the Thieves (robbers)

Reads: 161  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a short essay describing a real life experience.

Submitted: March 02, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 02, 2014



Respectfully submitted to the Judge responsible for case 87090

I am writing herein in regard to the citation issued to me on 21/7/2011. If you would be so kind as to give regard to the information herein, I would like to attempt to explain from my perspective the incidents leading up to the noted citation.

I would like to begin with the violation stated, carrying of a concealed weapon. I am a 52 year old FCC licensed radio operator, General classwho works with radios and power supplies quite frequently. Several months ago, I was doing some work in this regard during a visit from a social worker from the ACT team at Community Alliance, whose care I am forced to be under as a result of being under court appointed guardianships of both parents. I love my parents; however they both attempt to be very controlling. During this visit I was working with connections from radio to power supplies. This may sound strange to you, but I frequently touch the connection of cable to binding posts on power supplies while DC current is flowing through it. I have been a licensed operator for over ten years and know this to be quite safe. Other operators or electricians will quickly verify this to be true. The young social worker who was visiting was somewhat disturbed at this procedure, and several days later he called to state that the ACT team thought I should go into a local mental hospital. What am I to do? Two police officers showed up at my home and asked me if I will go with them to my choice of hospitals. I have experienced incidents similar to this in the past and knew that they wouldget physicalif I did not agree.

So there I was at Lasting Hope that evening, and as I was walking down the hallway, a young Hispanic male by the name of Tomas speaks to me. "Quepasa, loco?" he asks. I speak Spanish also, having studied at Drake University in Iowa, so I knew he was asking, "What's happening, crazy?" Well, I have tasted both the rich and the poor sides of life, so my quick response to him was, "Tu Madre loco," which translates as "Your mama  crazy." Well evidently he had not tasted the poor side as much as I, and took quite an attitude at my response, with the result of his beginning to swing fists at my face. My glasses were ultimately bent almost beyond use, lenses scratched, which I am wearing to this day scratched, and my blood was all over my face, as well as the floor. I hate to boast, but in self-defense I held him in a bear lock with him on his knees and kissed him on the cheek twice, calling him sweetheart, before releasing him. He went to jail, however I was never reimbursed for glasses, as was promised to me by the supervisor that night, never received any monetary compensation for damages or injuries,nor ever received any counsel from Victims Assistance. This could be considered humorous in some respects; however I live with a scar between my eyes.

Furthermore, while at the hospital, I was forced three blood draws, which I consider to be a gross violation of my rights, in that a part of my personal body was taken from me, and furthermore, two weeks of my life were stolen. I love essential oils, such as frankincense, myrrh, lavender, dragons blood, etc., which have been proven for thousands of years to possess healing properties, raising the body's wavelength, and before being escorted to the hospital that time, I ingested a small portion of it. When I was received a mock hearing, no offense to your court, the so-called physician in so-called charge of my health, Syed Qadri, stated under oath to the hearing officers that I had ingested "Frankenstein" oil. When asked if he knew what this oil was, he stated assuredly that he did, and that this was "extremely deadly." What a joke! Maybe we should send in the three wise men to see him. Or even Frankenstein.

My reason for this story is that I have become somewhat guarded, defensive, maybe jaded as a result of this incident. Maybe not a good thing, however it is there. I recently bought a Buck knife and began carrying it in my vest pocket. No malicious intentions, but firm resolve to never let anyone abuse me.

Now to the case in question.Recently l have had dental problems, and on 22/07/11 I drove to Bennington to receive care at Quality Dental Care. I love to talk with anyone, love children especially, and while waiting to be seen had pleasant conversation with two young boys, asking them about school, parents, etc. I was seen by the dentist, told that my tooth could not be saved, (look forward to gumming), and finalized the appointment. As I walked out the door I was approached by a lady appearing to be in early forties, who asked me if I had been talking to the young boys. Somewhat surprised, I answered affirmatively, and listened to what she had to say. I was then told that the boys had asked if they could see me sometime, and become friends. They are really precious young boys. The mother then stated that she did not want me talking to the boys, and while she was "elaborating," her dog-faced husband (please pardon my attitude but this described him well) began approaching in a hostile and threatening manner, causing serious question on my part as to whether I would be attacked. I quietly stated to the young lady that I did not blame her for being afraid, considering the type of crimes that are committed against children nowadays, and that I actually would encourage the children to be protected. I noticed another gentleman hovering, however, I do not go out of my way to cause anyone problems, so I got in my vehicle and departed.As I was leaving the parking lot, I noticed the other gentleman began following me in his truck. I do not take abuse or harassment from anyone, male or female, large or small, so I pulled into a local gas and grocery, got out of the vehicle with intentions of settling the confrontation.

The man in the truck did have some mistaken intentions, because he was at my vehicle within seconds. He began threatening with display of aggressive behavior instantly. I raise my voice naturally when I am angry, so my voice dominated as I demanded him to present me with what he had for me, if anything. He had nothing to present, either physically, mentally, or verbally, as my words took over. I finished my assertion with a loud, "Grow up," turned my back to him and walked away into the store as he struggled to say the words, "I'll beat your ass," with some lost degree of convincing aggressiveness. I then called the local police and reported the incident, as I had settled it in about 3 minutes, and it was all over but the crying. The gentleman that I spoke with, Johnson, was very helpful and stated that he would try to be out in 15 minutes or so if I would care to wait. I thought that it would not be necessary, and began the drive back to Omaha.

When I reached Omaha, I began to be angry about what had happened, knowing that I could have killed the man if I had been physically attacked. These feelings are difficult for anyone to deal with, and as I approached the Douglas County Sheriff Department I began to think that I would like to talk with someone further about the incident, and that maybe the Sheriff could give me some advice about proper measures of self-defense if I were attacked. I did not know what building would provide the best services, but happened to meet a gentleman by the name of David walking in to an office building. I asked if he were an officer. He said that he was not, but our conversation continued. When I briefly explained the recent incident and how I could have killed had I been attacked, he gave some advice which I know would be well to always recall. He said when the harassment led to the man saying, "I will beat your ass," the proper action would be to politely say, "Thank you very much, have a nice day." If I learned anything that day, I have to acknowledge that those were words of wisdom. This did not come from an officer but from an IT man. He then continued by saying that there might be a phone in the front building if I would still like to speak with an officer.

I thought this might be a good idea as I wanted to hear an officer's viewpoint, and furthermore I wanted to clarify my feelings regarding the general nature of Sheriff Deputies, as I have had serious misgivings about some of the officers' integrity. I then proceeded into the foyer, as the building itself was closed, and placed a call inquiring of the availability of an officer. The dispatcher said that she would have someone sent out to speak with me.

After about a 10 to fifteen minute wait a young lady by the name of Teresa arrived. I consider myself a very good judge of character, and will challenge anyone that thinks otherwise to converse with me for the validity of this claim,and I must say to be honest that Teresa was hiding her true feelings. I have learned to describe this behavior as a "big front." I am not the type of person to attack verbally or intellectually when I see this behavior however, because I feel that every person should be given a fair opportunity before they are judged.

Giving her this 100% opportunity to do well and be honest until evidence proved otherwise, I began to relate to her the reason for my visit, explaining what had happened in Bennington. Her true colors soon began to show, as she said that she had not heard any reports of any incidents and that if there had been any she would have heard of it on her radio. (I later called Johnson again, asking if he would be so kind as to provide documentation of the incident, and he was very helpful, telling me I could stop by Bennington any time to pick it up.) I knew her nature and began to set her up for judgment. Just like a mirror, I casually stated to her that I could have killed the man who followed and threatened me. As they always take the bait from me, she asked if I were capable of killing, did I have the skill or weaponry that would allow me to do so? I subtly replied that I have knowledge of martial arts and that I carry a blade, asking politely if she would like me to safely remove it from my vest and let her examine it. More true colors began to show, as I have found to be shown in quite a few "officers." Because of her nature she could not trust my gentle spirit, and I say gentle because I have control over my spirit, giving gentleness and anger as it is required. That is where all officers make the mistake when dealing with me. They become judged when they pull rank with me, whether I ever make any intellectual judgments or no, as I will soon relate. I knew what her nature was, and said, basically, that she was welcome to reach into my vest and remove it, assuring her that she would be safe. Holding a defensive stance, she cautiously began to feel for it. When she found it, I said, "That's it" and the catch was there. Once she had the blade she did not return it. A little time on the radio, and another officer arrived, which I expected. Again I began a pleasant soul searching conversation, this time with Gerry. The first thing that I noticed is that he had been injured, having a bruise around his eye, also having two Band-Aids applied. I genuinely felt his pain, stating that I was sorry that he had been injured. He corrected me, stating that it had actually been a surgeon that had done that, and the surgeon was supposed to have the scalpel. As I knew would occur, another officer soon arrived. I tried to be polite and opened the door for him as he walked in. It took me one glance to see the hate and deceit in his "big front," but the golden rule always applies with me because I know its value. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. From that moment on it was all script. The officer asked me to step into the building, and I cordially complied. As I stepped probably three steps in, he began the aggression, trying to say that he was going to search me in such a way that he could do his thing with me and get away with it. I never resist and calmly stated that he was welcome to search as he tightly held my fingers together behind my back, and began his search feeling my buttocks, legs, front pockets, and finally my vest, while I asked his name. This one was named Rob Jones. I again calmly stated that I let kids hold my fingers that way and that I even let them walk all over me. Sometime during this process Rob decided to say that he did not rob banks. I guess he was attempting to be funny. As they completed their search, the three officers cautiously stood back, as if they were afraid of an explosion. I then calmly turned to face them and began their judgment. I first calmly stated to Rob Jones that no homosexual ever has their way with me because I do not allow it. Theresa's bite then came, as she said that she regretted it but she was going to have to issue me a ticket. This disappointed me greatly, and I began to ask her if she would please waive or refrain from this. I explained to the officers that I receive only Social and Supplemental Security, which amounts to between $700 and $800 a month. I knew that I could not afford a ticket and continued to entreat, asking them if they could look me in the  eye and judge the integrity that was there or absent for their selves, stating that I had no intentions of hurting or attacking anyone when I had arrived, but was only seeking counsel. Theresa replied that I had entered their building with a concealed weapon. Again, I said that I had only entered the foyer with the blade. They could not accept their judgment of my integrity as something that could be applied to their current actions, as they acknowledged that they did not think I had any malicious intentions, but could not make a compromise. I finally said that I could just not understand why the stated judgment of my docile character could not be applied to their action. I received the ultimate reply from Rob. "See, we have cameras in here. All of this has been recorded." I said I understood, and that possibly the reason they could not waive the "ticket" was because they could lose their jobs. They all chimed in agreement. I stated then that I would not like to see them or their families hurting for money, and decided to express my feelings a little more. I tried to tell them the way I look at life. "I see everything or person has a name, in whatever language they are involved in. I tried to tell them that a person could be free of the bonds these names created if they so choose. For example, a person nicknamed Killer might be inclined to go around murdering people, that is if they accepted the linguistic bonds and properties that nickname implied. However, they do not have to be slaves to whatever their society, parents or distant ancestors bequeathed to them linguistically. For example, I do not wear a gun, badge, Taser, cuffs, etc., however,

I said, my name is Gayland Holloway, trying to express how linguistics affect behavior. I said, why would I want to break any law, when the very letters that compose the word law, are a part of my name, with no need of having rearrangement of order to make up the word. It would be kind of silly to do anything contrary to my name, wouldn't it? I then asked politely if any of the letters in their names provided such a unique alphabetical arrangement of letters, receiving a negative acknowledgement from all.

In retrospect, I think it would not have been the least bit inappropriate to present to them, as citizens who claim the title of law enforcement, the idea that if there is any value to the English language, and since I claim the use of my name in society, they might possibly owe their daily bread, income and occupation to the word law, which is a vital component of my name, even though I am not the type to extort money. I leave that judgment to the person who considers it; however, linguistic characteristics and innate properties continue every nanosecond of the day.

Somewhere in this part of the discussion, I asked if they really thought I was the type to use a gun, a blade, a hand grenade, nuclear bomb, etc. on anyone. I told them I was not that type.

Thinking it was about time for me to be on my way, I gave them one more thought. "What is the best way in which to approach a Doberman?" Teresa was quick to respond "You don't," looking at Rob and grinning. I calmly said that she was wrong. When a Doberman, or any other animal is approached. It should be given full access to the back part of the hand. In other words, if I desired to make friends with a Doberman, or feed it, etc., I extend the back of my hand before it, leaving myself vulnerable to an attack. This provides a sense of security to the Doberman, as opposed to a sense of threat or desired capture created by approaching with an open hand. They all seemed to agree, and I politely stated, "Believe me, it is true. I raise Doberman bitches." Since they did not wish to return my two small, "legal," pocketknives to me while we were in the building, (I hope they were not afraid the building would collapse) Rob said that they would let me get in the driver's side while Gerry opened the passenger door and placed the two blades on the front seat. I replied that this sounded like a good idea, and we did so. I then began my drive to Wal-Mart to get my three dental prescriptions filled and to return home.

When I had returned home and thought about what had happened, a thought came to me, and is stated as follows. Respect is similar to putting oil in a vehicle. If a person truly deserves respect, it would be very unwise not to give them that, because if a vehicle does not have the oil to make it operate smoothly, it is a bad deal all around. The car does not operate, may be ruined, and the owner has no transportation. Likewise, if a person does not deserve respect, and a false token respect is given them, it is comparable to spilling the oil when trying to put it in the car. The oil is wasted and a mess is there to clean up.

Of course, I am sending this to the court with hopes of having it read before the 29th of August, and plan on appearing this day.

If my hearing is held, I plan on being there as well, and highly anticipate meeting the judge, also hoping that it will be read prior to this time. I do intend to bring multiple printouts of this document to court for anyone interested, and intend to publish it and copyright it online, as I have had success with one of my other writings. I plan on sending it to Omaha World Herald, putting it on one of my websites, searching online for any number of possible global or national publishing opportunities, and retaining multiple permanent digital forms for personal documentation.  Of course, I would ideally like to have my blade returned to me, as I feel that I have been robbed. If the court decides that they cannot return the blade, I am certain that it will have found a good home. I will continue my linguistic studies, disregarding that I sometimes feel that God gets in everybody's face. And I guess I will still have to answer to "Gayland" when my friends and family call for me.

For the moment, I am tired; I send you one sentence. Out of imagination is the genius; I light a candle, breathe some oils, and go to sleep.

© Copyright 2018 yah. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: