Thursday, October 20, 2011

Door To Despair

I was so ill yesterday I fell asleep before 7 pm and woke up around 11.30 pm so violently ill I wanted to die. Somehow I had allowed the door to the shed be closed, and the smell of mold and filth built up as I slept without ventilation.

Before midnight I opened the door and drifted back to sleep praying that the temperature wouldn't drop as low as it did the night previous, or if it did I would wake up and be able to get into the truck. The temperature didn't drop, thank God. I woke up before sunrise to a much warmer 40's, which was well into the upper 50's by 9 am.

By the time I walked outside I was met with a simply fabulous day.

The number of people and organizations on *twitter that are following me has increased and most are the most active in the field of social justice, not only here in the USA but in Europe and Australia. It's a blessing to see so many people involved in the field of "homelessness" in what is nothing short of a deplorable national tragedy, as the economy continues to roll.

Not since at least 1960 has the US standard of living fallen so fast for so long. The average American has $1,315 less in annual disposable income now than at the onset of the Great Recession.

Think life is not as good as it used to be, at least in terms of your wallet? You'd be right about that. The standard of living for Americans has fallen longer and more steeply over the past three years than at any time since the US government began recording it five decades ago.

Bottom line: The average individual now has $1,315 less in disposable income than he or she did three years ago at the onset of the Great Recession – even though the recession ended, technically speaking, in mid-2009. That means less money to spend at the spa or the movies, less for vacations, new carpeting for the house, or dinner at a restaurant.

In short, it means a less vibrant economy, with more Americans spending primarily on necessities. The diminished standard of living, moreover, is squeezing the middle class, whose restlessness and discontent are evident in grass-roots movements such as the tea party and "Occupy Wall Street" and who may take out their frustrations on incumbent politicians in next year's election.

Still, the more I have read, the more unusual my own situation seems to be. I didn't meet with unfortunate financial circumstances. I met with a convicted felon, a thief. And one that is laughing all the way to the bank. Or wherever he has the stolen funds stashed away.

I am a stickler for not deleting or throwing away any correspondence. I will save everything even if I have to take a hard-drive out of a computer, or multiple copy everything and store in a safe.

I can produce every letter, e-mail, informal or formal, contract, document since the day my mother sold her home. There is simply nothing I cannot produce, and produce within minutes. EVERY conversation, with everyone.. I have documented.

When the District Attorney's office needed to know what year and model of the truck Robert Huckins owned in 2008, I produced not only the make, year, model but even the license number ... and did so within 5 minutes.

Yet the physical and emotional damages are not as simplistic as the financial - and all three make up the whole.

While walking across the yard around 10 am this morning the migraine that had been continuously throbbing for days made a sudden turn for the worse. In one stride both eyes were hit with excruciating pain and I could no longer see. It was that fast.
I somehow managed to make it to my bosses house, somewhat between panic and anxiety I told him that my vision had gone and I needed some soup to stop nausea from accompanying the loss of vision.

My boss handed me a pain killer and told me to get to bed, warning me not to drive after taking the prescription medication. Driving was so far out of my ability it was going to be the last thing I worried about.

Back in the shed I could do nothing more than lay in bed with a cold towel over my face. Both hands started with severe pins and needles but I didn't have the physical ability to move. Open my eyes. Not even move my tongue. All I wanted to do was sleep. No, all I really wanted to do was die. But neither was going to materialize today.

Not until 1.30 pm could I find the strength or physical ability to move... even then it was with great caution.

I am not a sick woman who found herself homeless. I'm a woman who had her home stolen, who is now homeless, and who is losing her health because I cannot afford two homes.

This is the consequence of crime. This are the invisible results of the acts of a person who set out to destroy. Invisible because it's easier to look away than to look. An attorney from the District Attorney's office has visited this shed. A half dozen Lincoln County Sheriff's Deputies have been to this shed. Walking up to this shed is walking up to a door of despair. I need to be able to walk into the door of the home I bought and paid to have, because I can't survive this.
There has to be someone related to Robert & Sylve Huckins must have some means to reach them, if it be Michael Huckins, Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie ( Diana Huckins? Dominic Huckins? Malcolm Huckins? ) or Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins and get them to return ALL of the money they stole from us so that I can buy a home and get our lives back. I am begging anyone in this family for help.

I don't believe I have EVER witnessed any none viol
ent crime that can be as devastating as stealing someone's home. I am walking in Dorothy McKeevers footsteps, day by day, month by month, year by year.

Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins you were present the day I signed contract with your son. You walked out of the kitchen with Sylve Huckins and your son introduced me to you. He told you that I was the British horse trainer he had told you about, the one he was going to build the home and barn for. Why didn't you say something? There may be a rational and reasonable explanation but I have spent over 3 years, homeless, not understanding it. I understand it even less knowing that though I was a total stranger, both Dorothy McKeever and Sally Canning you KNEW, and you knew what your son had done to them and others.

Dr. Kenneth Ogilvie, I contacted you and simply asked for a reference, not knowing that Robert Huckins was your cousin. Robert Huckins had just stolen over $30,000 from the domestic violence
shelter, HEAL, yet everyone was trying to hide it. There was a history of stealing large amounts of money. $65,000 PLUS from Nancy Canning. $89,000 PLUS from Dorothy McKeever, $45,000 from Francis McKinney. The list just goes on and on and on.
Because of Robert Huckins I ended up paying $140,000 to be homeless.. sat in the cold, emotionally, physically and financially broke. In the middle of a recession, with no way to recover the stolen funds.

Today Robert Huckins has his own home...
He also has OUR home.....
He also has a lot of people's money...
And his freedom.

Women are not banks or loan institutions. Women should not be the source of a retirement fund for people who don't want to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. Holding women hostage while playing with the judicial system, a horrendous game of cat and mouse extending YEARS, with the victims whose very homes, families and stability are in jeopardy is cruelty, as cruel as a physical beating. It is financial and emotional RAPE. Homelessness is not justice. It is a slow, painful death.
Please, I beg with everything I have within me, please convince
Robert Huckins to stop this torture and return the building fund he stole from us so we too, can have a home"The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives." ~ Albert Einstein