Part II

Part I is here. I left off where I told him to stop, or law enforcement would get involved. He emailed me, apologizing profusely again, but then the next day, he went into overdrive. So many emails, so much obsession. It was sick. Sick and disturbing. At that point, I blocked his comments from appearing on my blogs but they, as well as direct emails, still came through to me – simply because I wanted to be able to keep tabs on him and keep everything for future reference, if necessary.

And then I called the Sheriff’s Dept. The Sergeant I spoke with said I absolutely had grounds to come in and file a Stalking Order (which is akin to a restraining order or a protection order). This is what I learned about the process: 1) the offender must be told, prior to filing, that his behaviour is unwelcome and to stop; otherwise he can say, “Oh, I didn’t know…” Obviously, I had already taken this step. 2) The victim files criminal stalking charges with the police, then it goes to the Prosecuting Attorney and he alone decides if it is worthy of pursuing. If he decides not to, then the victim is SOL or must hire an attorney to take the case in front of a judge (and incur all the expenses thereof, herself). 3) The request for a Stalking Order is taken before a judge and the offender is invited to the hearing. The victim must appear and testify, and her stalker may or may not be present (his choice) to defend himself.

I did not want to be in the same room as this guy. When I questioned the protocol outlined above, I was told by the Prosecuting Attorney’s office that under the constitution, the defendant has the right to face his accuser. So. Even though major business transactions take place via conference calls and video conferencing, the courts still take this literally, with no concern for the psychological trauma a victim of stalking or assault must endure by being in the same room as the perpetrator.

“He already knows what you look like,” I was told, “your picture is on the cover of your book.” Firstly, I had no control over the cover of my books (authors rarely do) and entered into an epic war with my publisher when I found out they were planning to use that photo on the paperback. Moreover, having a predator see your picture is far different than having to sit in front of them in a tiny room. I felt like, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it, he would be getting what he wanted. It boggles my mind that in the age of Skype and CCTV, the courts are not set up to allow the victim to testify via video conferencing from a neighboring room in the courthouse with a bailiff present.

Anyway, I forwarded everything to the Sgt. so he could start a file but chose not to formally file charges at that point because I felt so strongly about not wanting to be face to face with this guy. The Sgt. offered to call the stalker and speak to him directly, that sometimes hearing it from law enforcement can scare a guy straight. I asked him to hold off on that for the time being, hoping that if I just ignored everything, the stalker would lose interest when he got no response, and stop.

Tangent: In the comments of my previous posts on this subject, many of you recommended that I read The Gift Of Fear by Gavin de Becker. I read it last week. Women, girls, those of you who know any women or girls, go read Chapter Four of this book. Fabulous info in Chapter Four. Chapter Four should be photocopied and tacked up in every girl’s locker room in every school.

The author also devotes a section of the book to dealing with stalkers, and while the overarching theme of the book is about trusting intuition, he makes a great point regarding stalkers: once you engage, there is no going back. If you want them to go away quietly, and think this is possible, ignore them from the outset. It may still take six weeks of harassment one must endure, but once you engage, there is no going back to ignoring. Even in telling the guy to stop, a “relationship” has been established (in the stalker’s mind).

It became very clear, very fast, that ignoring him had no effect (since I had already engaged by telling him to stop). It got to the point where I dreaded checking my emails because of this guy. It would derail my days; it robbed me of my time and my focus and my life. One woman said it perfectly in a comment left on this site: Stalking is terrorism at the most personal level.

It got to the point where I could not take it anymore, and I got back in touch with the Sgt and he called and spoke to the stalker directly (because I still wanted to avoid having to be in court with him). The Sgt. called me afterward and told me the guy had been apologetic on the phone and said he would stop (pattern here???) but the very next day, more crazy, obsessive emails came in. That’s when I said “OK, enough!” and went in and filed Criminal Stalking Charges against him.

Part III is HERE

2011 Calendars Are Here!

Charlie Is Back!

So Is The Cowboy.

CLICK HERE to see details, larger images, and to order!

Sugarbeet Season!!

OK, your guesses were hilarious. But that thing in the post below is not a petrified dinosaur tongue or a stalker’s soul. It’s a sugarbeet! There are many sugarbeet farms in this county and I love sugarbeet season. Because I love foraging for sugarbeets.

When the fields are harvested, bright trucks are everywhere, driving from the fields to the sugar refinery, filled to overflowing with sugarbeets. The big one shown in the post below was a beet I spotted on the side of the road (I always pull over for sugarbeets); when the trucks take corners, one or two beets inevitably roll off.

At the sugar refinery, they unload the big beets but the small, unworthy beets are refused and sent away with the truck. Back at the field, the truck dumps the loose dirt and inadequate beets in neat, orderly piles, then goes out to get filled with another load.

Whenever I make trips to town during sugarbeet season, I stop at these dump piles and fill boxes with sugarbeets. I check in with the truck drivers when they’re around but they never care – the piles are just left to decompose.

I bring the sugarbeets home and spoil my animals. The horses love sugarbeets. I chew on them myself – they taste like I imagine a raw potato dipped in sugar would taste, kind of earthy and sweet. Beneath the peel they are white, and have rings inside like a red beet.

This year, I offered some to Daisy and she devours them. The morning after I had first fed her sugarbeets, I took a sip of the warm, frothy milk as I was milking and just started laughing. It was unreal. Daisy’s sugarbeet milk is like drinking ice cream.

Wha?

Who knows what this is?

Make me laugh ~ make a guess before reading the rest of the comments!

Part I

OK, finally! Blogging is a tricky thing for me. I have started so many topics and series and then never finished them because life keeps going at a million miles and hour and when I find the time to update, it’s about something in the moment (like Sir Baby rubbing his head in the dirt – how could I ignore that?)

But finally, here is the story of the stalker, or at least the beginning of it. I have no problem sharing this – some commenters showed concern that the man who stalked me might read these posts and get off on them and honestly, I really do not care. If that’s what gives him a thrill, then his life is very, very empty. More importantly, he is the least significant part of the story. His role is generic and not that compelling – I am much more interested in everything that happened in me and in the courtroom. That’s where the real story is.

But for the sake of background: this guy was a stranger. He lives in Wyoming about three hours away. He was a “regular” on the websites – I read every comment I get and if people post often enough I start recognizing names. He emailed me now and then and it was all very tame and normal. I responded when I could – those of you who have emailed me knows how this goes. This guy was no different.

Then, out of the blue, I got an insane, disgusting, INSANE email from him. And then about six more, tamer, but totally off-kilter. After a few days I wrote him one line, “Your emails in the past week have been totally outside the bounds of decency and respect, I’m pretty annoyed.” Silence from him for about a week, then he sent a long apology – so long, I didn’t even read the whole thing. He was already permanently on my shit list by that point and I wasn’t about to spend my time reading a lengthy apology. I didn’t care. And by shit list I mean, I give my energy to everyone until they abuse it. And then I stop. That’s it.

Things were mellow and he commented here and there on the sites but nothing weird, and I really didn’t give it or him another thought. Then, maybe a week later, he sent another series of emails; these were love-obsessive, one after another. I wrote back and said, “Your emails continue to be in bad taste. Mike and I find them completely disrespectful to us both. If you choose to continue I will forward all your emails to the Sheriff’s Department and the FBI, who have jurisdiction over the internet.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose and the full-on stalking began. Obsessive emails about how much he loved me, sometimes more than 50 in one day.

Now, feel free to discuss whether or not I should have responded either time. In this case, what’s done is done, but perhaps a discussion will help others know how to proceed if they find themselves in a similar situation. I know with trolls (hate mail), not responding works really well. Over the past three years, I’ve learned there’s no point in responding to hate mail, and it no longer bothers me – it goes in one eye and out the back of my head. But this bothered me.

I naively thought, just as I thought three years ago when it came to hate mail, that if I addressed it head on, it would stop. Ironically, in learning how to fight {more on that coming soon}, I have learned how to temper that impulse in favor of strategy. I am also quite certain that if this ever happened again, it would not bother me. It would join the ranks of hate mail, the ranks of “if that’s how people want to spend their time, fine, but it has no effect on me.” But that’s because of what I….. well, explaining it won’t make sense until I finish the story.

Part II is HERE