When I took Rio and Gracie out early in the morning the ground was frozen solid and the sky looked as ominous as it did yesterday. Whatever had been outside the shed in the middle of the night left an odor that had both dogs becoming hounds in a matter of seconds. My boss was convinced that it as a black bear but I question that any bear would be wondering around near Christmas.
The snow is supposed to arrive back by Sunday or Monday but I am praying that it will, like the last forecast snow storm, go right around us. Frigid cold doesn't quite describe it, with a high in the upper 20's, lower 30's, and my lungs are so painful.
Trying to get my head around Christmas is getting harder and harder. I don't want it to arrive. I just want it to go away.
My boss doesn't want me to be around him.. he's worried about getting what ails me - but what ails me is being outside homeless in inhumane conditions and dangerous temperatures. I wasn't going to argue with him, instead I accepted his invitation for me to just "go away."
I managed to run some errands for my boss, which seemed like the only thing to do to work and remain a distance from him. It actually turned into a very pretty sunny day in the pm.
At Thriftway grocery store I bumped into Patrica Ogilvie-Huckins and wondered if she had any idea at all what it's like to be homeless.
To be so cold you don't know how you will survive it?
To never know where you will be sleeping next month or next year?
To know the absolute terror of wondering if you will ever see your mother alive again, or you yourself are fated to die homeless?
To be camping in deplorable conditions?
To watch your life stolen by those who already have enough, but want what is yours even if it decimated you in the process?
I bet not.
I put the 5lb bag of dog biscuit's I purchased on the floor in the shed and never thought a thing about it, until I heard Gracie chomping away and realized that she accepted the invitation for an "all you can eat" buffet. 20 square meals a day should put this girl back in shape. *Sigh*
It was such a slow day, an easy day, yet I came back into the shed simply exhausted. I don't want to be this ill. Nor this cold. I desperately want the home we bought and paid for.. and the stolen life I can't restore until I have a home.
WHAT will it take ?
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 violent 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.
Liam Griffin, I sat in your law office with two witnesses as you gave me your promise, your guarantee, that our money would be returned before harm came to us.
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.
It takes no more actual sagacity to carry on the everyday hawking and haggling of the world, or to ladle out its normal doses of bad medicine and worse law, than it takes to operate a taxi cab or fry a pan of fish.-H.L.Mencken