Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Documentation

Academically Gifted

“Angie has so much potential. I hope she will work hard to achieve the maximum.”

Academically Gifted

5th grade, studied Self Actualized Leadership, World Community Systems, Communication & The Media, Science Technology & Energy Sciences, Geometry and Spatial Relationships.

Only satisfactorily respects the ideas and opinions of others and expresses ideas clearly. Noted; something’s don’t change much.

Academically Gifted

In fifth grade they said I’d never finish, and in 8th grade I knew they were right. In 9th grade I dropped out to go to college, but they wouldn’t let me in until I was 16. Thus I started college on December 1, 1995.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

My last “good” report card: Note the number of absences. Never was good at sitting still when bored out of my mind. I have crazy feet, Dr. Seuss diagnosed me so.

One of my last "good" report cards.

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Angela's Mother
Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Documentation, Ethics

The Hammer

a homeless person called 911 & reported the client was “5150”

He took the word of the guy he labeled a “transient” “homeless person” over mine taking me while leaving the “homeless person” in my unlocked home…

Read along as I explain what happened the summer of 2011…

July 9, 2011

I’m taken in handcuffs, held and drugged against my will. I was released the next morning.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/spunkygidget/15035125570/in/datetaken/

July 14, 2011

I was again taken, drugged and held against my will.

It is important to note that the paperwork refers to my “mother” who put me in—this is a lie. When my mother found out that I had been institutionalized and immediately bought a ticket to California to rescue me. See also my parents documentation regarding the events, notations regarding timelines and deceptions…

They refused to release me to my mother.

Angela's Mom: BEACUSE

I was held until July 19, 2011 and released by the hospital “against recommendation” just prior to my case being heard by the judge. I was too tired to wait to see a judge to have my ‘case’ heard. So I accepted their offer of release ‘against their recommendation’ instead of waiting and taking my chances with the judge… at that moment being free was more important that exposing injustice.

The above person’s condition was called to my attention under the following circumstances:

Client invited a transient to live with her a week ago. This homeless person called 911 & reported the client was “5150”. Daniel Rhodes 940-217-7649.

urine-no-evidence-new-dog

“bedding odorous of urine”: no evidence has new dog (Mom)

Determined that client has not slept in past 3 days, eats little, irrational, talks non-stop to herself, & talks to people not present. Client stays in a tent in her spare room, & the bedding was odorous of urine. Birth mother, Arlene Baxley said client refused from CMH 3 days ago. Hyperactive, illogical and unable to sleep.

The following information has been established: (Please give sufficiently detailed information to support the belief that the person for whom evaluation and treatment is sought is in fact a danger to others, a danger to himself/herself and/or gravely disabled.)

Upon arrival client was hypomanic, hyperverbal, mostly incoherent & unresponsive, illogical, derailed thoughts, rambling, when asked her name she stated “just follow the river to the mountain.” Birth Surrogate mother, knew client over 10 years stated “She not able to care for herself, she’s not safe, she’s not in the real world”, Barbara Yager, 803-487-1502. Barbara explained client in TX for anxiety since 2007 believes client is bipolar.

Based upon the above information it appears there is probable cause to believe that said person is, as a result of a mental disorder:

Client has no viable plan for self care.

support-system

support system was not notified of her release (Mom)

⌧ Gravely disabled adult

As evaluated by,

Mike F. Hammer, LCSW #0494, 7/14/11 11:30am, 619-884-5149
Norther SDPD PERT, 1401 Broadway San Diego, CA 92130

Rights

You can make a phone call and/or leave a note to tell your friends and/or family where you have been taken.

 

Bringing Down the Hammer

transient

What does it matter that if a person is transient or not when it comes to determining the case? “Daniel” has a driver’s license with a respectable address, is known in the neighborhood, and it’s simply Hammer’s judgmental attitude showing immediately in the documentation when he calls the person reporting a “transient”. (That’s “Daniel” photographed below.)

He's not Happy, He's my Brother...

He’s not Happy, He’s my Brother… the “transient” “homeless person” who lived with me.

homeless person

Likewise, you can’t say I invited him to live with me, and then call him homeless. As a matter of fact, he lived with me until the end of the summer. You see, after getting out I made sure I wasn’t going to have been punished for inviting a transient homeless man live with me and not actually have him live with me!

has not slept past 3 days

At this point it should be pointed out the confusion between Hammer referring to my “birth” mother and a “surrogate” mother, both individuals he refers to being in North Carolina, and thus says who, the homeless transient who lives with me? Meanwhile, ironically, not sleeping had everything to do with having been drugged against my will on July 9th, 2011.

eats little

Refrigerator full of quality food (Mom)

Refrigerator full of quality food (Mom)

My mother notes that I had a refrigerator full of food.

I had a friend, Lea Dennis, prepare some amazing food (see below) which stocked the refrigerator.

I’m also known for my routine coffee—and occasional pastry—at Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, to be followed by brunch at a diner, like Harry’s or Cass Street.

I plan my day around food.

Should I have to prove that I eat enough food so as not to be institutionalized? Whose right is it to judge me?—and on what days? To come into my home, and to take me away, and to hold me, and drug me, against my wishes?

My Mint.com transactions for the “Food & Dining” category for July 1, 2011 – July 15, 2011 are below.

july-2011-food

surrogate mother

I don’t have a surrogate mother.

Angela has never depressive effected adversely manic

Angela has never been in with a depressive state. Lithium from the Em Dept visit effected aversely adversely sending her into a manic state though. (Mom)

bipolar

I’m not, nor ever have been, bipolar. See my Mom’s notes on the false documentation. Saying a thing doesn’t make it so. Making lots of documentation about it doesn’t make it so. Institutionalizing me and treating me for it still doesn’t make it true.

So July 2011 overnight on the 9th, and from the 14th through the 19th I was held in mental institution under the recommendation of someone who called 911 from North Carolina about a person in California. This person was not my mother—my mother flew to California to rescue me, but San Diego County Psychiatric Hospital refused to release me, even to my mother’s care.

On July 19th rather than allowing me to see the judge they planned for the “AMA” release.

That’s my dog Roxie. I got her back, but we were only together for a few days before she died—run over before my eyes.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/spunkygidget/15044535537/in/datetaken/

The cops would come to my door one more time that summer to threaten to take me away.

“Pet owner who is 5150 and is going to county mental health dog had marijuana and other poisons. Dog was on its side not responding when I first arrived. After a few min dog became alert.”

They tested her for drugs twice failing to find any evidence to substantiate Mike Hammer’s report. Roxie wasn’t unresponsive on her side when he arrived—she was resting in my lap. Hence, see, trouble: I was unable to allow Mike Hammer into my home, as I was sitting on the couch with my dog asleep on my lap… so, let’s talk about due process.

 

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget

The House of Glass

  1. ‘wow, I haven’t seen you since you were, like, a teenager!’ — Darryl messaged Angela

    First Facebook message July 12, 2011 7:05pm

  2. Ang just thought she saw your Angela.” — Mom responds to Darryl

    Momma responded July 20, 2011 5:13am

  3. It’s Angela (Baxley). Saw your post. Reposted. Thinking of you. Going to my grandfather’s funeral today. On Facebook you’ll see photos of me as a clown.

    Via SMS; Accepted Facebook Friend Request: August 8, 2011 6:29am.

I saw her first.

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget

La Jolla Bird

Well I spent the day bumbling through my daily Bird Rock walk. The 3am walk with random neighbors brought me a philosophy student from Oxford and his two friends. We walked the darkness towards light as I wove the stories that keep the memories bright. Ever haunted by the corner where you turn left, inevitably to miss the home of my charming Chandler and the woman he loved.

We walked to our cultural center, known to the outside as Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, or just “Bird Rock” to us. I told the story of the families memories that haunt me, the jukebox that should be and the future that seems unsought.

Back home, I slept the rest of the night, as it seems I’m on a 4 hours on, 4 hours off schedule. I think about all the Microsoftie’s who brag on the few hours they can live on. I miss my eight solid hours. It seems the culprit may be the intense bright light across the street which shines in on my bedroom… well, until last night when a stranger took to removing the bulb leaving me to sleep in peace. I think of circadian rhythms and how my sleep cycle was affected by the lack of sun living in Seattle.

The day? Well, that’s the usual stuff you know. I went to Bird Rock, met and talked to the new people, the by now old friends. A potter chose a bike for me, as it’s obvious to all that I need a bike rack. Off I went in pursuit, first leaving my car to have the convertible repaired, on foot.

That’s when I ran into Loni and her puppies, and Rosie became Roxie as our bond formed in the serendipitous sunlight of the day.

My walk home (the bike abandoned, what would I do with a bike and a dog?!) was long but a labor of love. I wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible in transition. It’s so easy to see the “humaness” of an animal. Their eyes tell all, their body language. … I think of my own body language and wonder what it is that makes some so afraid of me while others so delighted.

I met the brains behind an outfit on Bird Rock’s main drag. I’ll leave that to later, as he may wish to introduce himself.

IMG_3661_2

Rosie (not yet Roxie) and I crossed paths with a jogging Physics teacher from Bishops, and the day progressed into kind of intelligent conversation on which I thrive.

Art and music finds its way home.

Here I am, 10pm and tired. A amber colored silken Roxie by my side, and thinking of how much more of the day I’ve failed to recount. I’m sure it’ll be fine, as tomorrow begins anew with more stories.

I’m looking forward to working my crew tomorrow. Plans are exceedingly underway. Larry comes in about three weeks from LA. Ori and Tara likely sooner. I go to San Francisco (oh, how I hate to leave my little stretch of Windansea/Bird Rock) to meet the founder of Burning man on the 19th. (Heads up you SF’ers!)

Time seems so short between now and Nicaragua. I can’t wait to see Gaia though. Turns out the physicist has the same plan, long term.

Most of all, I can’t wait to introduce Roxie to Kingston.

“If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.”—Dead Poets Society

My spirit carries no bruises, though my skin tells tales.

Tonight I lay my head down in peace, and Roxie lays her next to mine in a symbol of her humane love. I wonder if she misses her babies, as I adore mine.

Oh, and the first artist-in-residence of the center has arrived. We close the evening with Into the Wild. How appropriate.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more.”—Lord Byron

Choose your own adventure: Nothing to Undo or Change the Lense.

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget

Written July 10, 2012

One Saturday night I accepted a date from a stranger, a man I now refer to as ‘the Boo Radley’. I had already had plans to go see Gregory Page play at the Westgate, and so I met him for wine, and he joined me for the show…

When you fall in love, you can’t eat, you can’t sleep. But it didn’t happen quite like that, then again, this isn’t a story about falling in love. I love food, I love my sleep, and for the moment, I might have thought I loved him. Alas, while I ate with a passion, as I usually do, loved like it was for only a moment, as one should, I did indeed miss my sleep…

We’d met that weekend, a weekend of fireworks—hey! don’t judge—I say that with only a touch of corniness, it was July 4th, after all.

Give me a break, as much as this isn’t a love story, it is a crazy one, and as with the best of them, it begins with that classic boy-meets-girl moment. Continue reading

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Neuroscience, Technology, Writing

Creative Tools Specification

Stephen Jenvey, as per my style I am listening to waves crash to some

[thesaurus: words for beautiful sounds; retrieve:images, music; sort: color, timbre; todo:look for a better word here. i’m trying to capture how magical it is to be able to think freely and design the future because you can see clearly, now the rain is gone.]

does that designer language speak to your interface?

Continue reading

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Nibbles

to tell the truth

Date: Friday, September 7, 2007 at 1:35 AM
To: Brian Goldfarb <bgold@microsoft.com>
Subject: to tell the truth

Here’s one of those moments where I’m sad and vulnerable. I want to thrash myself, and thought like “I suck” come to mind. I say no wonder why I’m not wanted. I’m a disappointment to everyone I try to love.

I’m sad and I miss my dad. I see you talk to your parents and wonder what it would be like to have that. I believe my dad would love me regardless… I know he’d be disappointed in me, but he’d let me come and cry in his arms. He’d pat my head and tell me everything would be alright. He’d let me call and tell him how my heart hurts even in the middle of the night.

They say I was daddy’s girl.

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Nibbles, Nibbles

logic

you are my best friend, and you always want to be my best friend

as my best friend you love me and want the best for me, for me to be healthy and safe

your finest moments in loving me are in my worst moments of living where you demonstrate just that. you put yourself and your heart and your feelings aside to care for me, to take care of me, to help me heal, so that i may one day become a secure and confident woman as i remember being as a little girl.

this all feels fantastic. this feels like what love should be. i don’t know what love is, but if it isn’t that, what else is there?

then i am sad.

this is my messed up logic.

what point is there in becoming that amazing me that you and and i believe in, if it isn’t for you? why would you invest so much in me and treasure the outcome? why would you love me so much and not love me?

there are many things i don’t understand. this is the one that overshadows me every day, and has since the spring.

all my logic can do is to say that you don’t love me in that way. but i don’t know what it is that would be missing so that could possibly be true. we connect by just looking into each others eyes when we lay our heads down beside each other. we connect in the most intimate of movements and motion.

so when i lose my sense of self and i say over and over “i don’t understand”, maybe you can at least understand what i mean.

i’m just emailing. i don’t want responses. i just want to share. i want to send the thoughts from the deepest depths of exploring my heart and soul out there into the world to the only one i put faith in.

if we aren’t lovers at least being friends can really mean something.

if i can’t be loved, i just want to be understood.

i was content today when you guys came to see eilon’s house. you seemed happy and i was happy. at little sad, but happy. that made me happy. to see you at ease, relaxed.

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Culture, Technology

The Impact of Blogs on Mass Media

Blogs are a new medium of communication which is accessible to anyone with the ability to use the Internet. With the demonstrated power and reach of blogs it is important to examine this medium and the subsequent impact which it may have on mass media. Continue reading

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Culture, Technology

The Internet, Mass Media Pervasiveness

The Internet is a pervasive medium that enhances personal communication, access to information, and freedom of speech, while making obsolete borders, reversing isolation even as it reduces tactile and direct experiences with real people, which retrieves a sense of tribalism a global village.

By means of the Internet, the ways in which we can communicate have been forever enhanced. The Internet is here to stay and it will ever continue to grow in popularity. Continue reading

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Nibbles

my space plus some, ok a lot

From: <AllRodm@aol.com>
Date: Wednesday, February 7, 2007 at 11:59 PM
To: Angela Baxley <abaxley@microsoft.com>
Subject: Re: my space plus some, ok a lot

hey got your note and forwarded it to Vanessa. Thanks.

Love the family pics.  The last time I saw your mom and dad was in 1994? and I think that was probably the last time I saw Matthew, Heather and Erin to.  I still find it strange to call him your dad since I can actually remember knowing your dad.

Do you remember much of your dad?  My guess would be more from stories than experiences, though I have no idea of course.  Have you ever seen the picture of your dad holding me on his shoulders and we’re pointing toward the sky.  I remember that day.  Everyone was at our house in Van Wert for BBQ and a storm came rolling in and the clouds were moving really fast and that’s what we were looking at in the picture. Its funny the things we remember I can almost remember the conversation, that is to say I can remember hearing them talking to each other and to me.  I do remember a bit it was about the storm and the way the wind and clouds were that day.  I remember coming down from his shoulders to, mostly the way it felt.  Funny the things we remember.  I like that memory.

I remember another time at your house in Ft Wayne when I asked about a string art picture they had on the wall. It was a boat I think, a sailboat.  I remember looking at it on a table and seeing how the strings were pulled tight around little nails and formed into the picture.  I think you were looking at it to, do you remember that?  Then I think for some reason we were in a hurry to get somewhere. We walked out the back door and it was dark out. That’s it nothing else on that one.  Except that at sometime you and Heather took a bath.

I also remember when they told me he had been in an accident. I was worried.  Then I was angry when he died. Not because he died really but because he may not have had to. I remember grandma Schaadt was really angry over it to.  I don’t remember who told me but I remember exactly what they said.  I think grandma and grandpa still have that motorcycle.

Every time I see a picture of John Lennon with a beard I think of your dad.

Sorry if any of this brings up a bad memory or makes you sad.  I just thought you’d like to know and hear something about your dad you may not have known or heard before.

I love you,

Allen

P. S. – I know this probably sounds really wrong, so take it for the meaning and not the sound, if you weren’t my cousin you’d definitely be on the “hotty” list. I think you’re really doing great and I envy you a lot for getting to travel so much and to have disposable income, what a new concept. I’m really happy for you. can’t wait to see you.

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Correspondence, Religion

10/20/2004 – 7/12/2005

Date: 10/20/2004 12:19:26 PM
From: East Coast Hottie
To: angie

you there?? How are ya?

Date: 10/20/2004 12:19:40 PM
From: angie
To: East Coast Hottie

can’t talk right now. i’m in mtgs for the next several hours will be out at 6pm your time

Date: 10/20/2004 12:20:02 PM
From: East Coast Hottie
To: angie

cool deal

Date: 10/20/2004 12:20:02 PM
From: East Coast Hottie
To: angie

love ya

Continue reading

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Nibbles

Sure I do! :)

On 9/30/99, 5:14 AM, “angela.benson” <angela.benson@bankofamerica.com> wrote:

    To: elmojo <elmojo@hotmail.com>

    cc:

    Subject: Re: Sure I do! 🙂

    What that thingy at the bottom?

    Well we’ve talked, but he’s heavily influenced by his mother. I found the

    lyrics to his music, and together with the Awake magizine have found out a

    major problem. The music has blocked the holy spirit from us and our house. I

    got rid of it (sent it up to him) yesterday. Last night I was able to say a

    prayer. It was coherent, focused, and not interrupted by thoughts. Before last

    night, I wasn’t able to and really had stopped for a long time trying.

    I slept on my tummy stretched out on the bed (gotta take advantage of it while

    I can!). My back was unprotected to the “world”. But I didn’t feel vulnerable,

    or worried. I slept with a smile on my face, and feel asleep at a reasonable

    hour.

    The music is our problem, just the catalyst. It doesn’t matter how hard we

    would try to fix anything without the holy spirit (and add to it the negative

    influence and views of the music) we couldn’t get anywhere.

    So now. THis morning he called, and told me he was going this weekend to get

    his drum set. I told him he couldn’t do that until he had seperation papers

    written up. (His car and drum set are the only things holding him to the

    marriage materially.) So he basically can’t do that (he doesn’t have any

    money). He also wanted the old furniture to take with him. (It’s all mine,

    gifts from co-workers, etc.) I told him he’d have to pay me what we were going

    to sell it for. ($150) OR

    The deal. (a.k.a. The Challenge)

    He comes down, stays in the house, and goes to work, the meetings and service.

    Two weeks. If in two weeks he’s ready to leave, I get the papers, give him the

    furniture, and help him load the truck. And he can say he tried.

    I put faith in Jehovah that that music is like the Awake said, that

    influencial, and by removing that variable from our relationship, coupled with

    his taking the St. John’s Wort & Magnesium, and an open mind, we have a

    fighting chance. All it takes is Jehovah’s holy spirit flowing again.

    Anyways, there goes… write me back, and tell me what you think. I’m offended

    by the Teddy Bear thing. I needed it, but I don’t anymore!

    AB

    elmojo <elmojo@hotmail.com> on 09/29/99 09:23:01 AM

    Please respond to elmojo <elmojo@hotmail.com>

    To: Angela M. Benson/USA/BAC@NATIONSBANK

    cc:

    Subject: Sure I do! 🙂

    SORRY!! PLEEEEZ FORGIVE ME!!!

    I wasn’t able to check my email since sunday night.  Julie says I can’t give

    you the bear, she has claimed it for her own!  You know, the old ‘what’s

    mine is yours and yours is mine’ thing.  I can’t blame her though, it is

    awefully cute!

    So, what’s the news?  Fill me in… COMEON!!

    Gotta split, keep strong!

    Luv ya!

    Mojo

    @}-,-‘—-

    ______________________________________________________

    Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com

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Nibbles

Guess what!

On 9/30/99, 5:13 AM,”angela.benson” <angela.benson@bankofamerica.com> wrote:

    To: benga@msn.com

    Subject: Guess what!

    I told you last night how I collected Brads music (on Monday night) together

    and shipped it out to him yesterday. What I didn’t know was how big of a

    difference it would make.

    Gregg, I prayed and prayed, the four nights I stayed there by myself. I

    couldn’t seem to keep my concentration or focus to be able to finish a prayer

    at a time though. I kept feeling uncomfortable in a “I need to get over it”

    way. I thought I was just afraid of being alone there at night. I went to sleep

    when I was thoroughly exhausted.

    Last night I didn’t have any feeling of paranoia. I stretched out comfortably,

    and didn’t worry about which direction my back was facing, or feeling

    “vulnerable”. I said my prayer, it was complete, focused and made sense. I fell

    asleep with a smile on my face. The house settling noises were still there, but

    they didn’t make me jump, or my heart pound out of my chest.

    I don’t care what anyone else thinks. There is a difference, and there’s only

    one thing missing from that one night to the next. It even “screwed up” my

    prayers. It wasn’t exhaustion either. If I was exhausted, I couldn’t have

    prayed better than all the other nights. It only took one prayer, and it made

    sense, with a beginning, body, and end, without interruptions.

    I wish that there was some way to convey the peace that I felt, how comfortable

    I was able to feel to Brad. It’s a big deal that I slept on my tummy. I left my

    back open to the world. Even when Brad was there I would sleep with my back to

    him, and until he came to bed not be able to sleep.

    I used to pray ALL THE TIME. Once when I was working with my pioneer partner I

    had asked her, how often do you pray? (Thinking of the scripture, you know the

    one, when you lay down, get up….) She said all day. That’s when I started

    having conversations with Jehovah.

    Anyways, I just talked to Brad. He called to tell me that he’s coming this

    weekend to pick up his drum set. To me that’s an indication of separation. I

    told him he would need to bring papers with him, because I couldn’t allow him

    to take that (for that reason) with out it being “legal”. He also asked to have

    the old furniture (it’s mostly all mine). I told him that with the situation

    that I am left in I need the money from it, whether its him or anyone else,

    because as he said this isn’t about love anymore.

    Then I proposed a deal.

    The hard way: just as I told him- separation papers for him to pick up his drum

    set, pay for the furniture if he wants it, and it’s over.

    The easy way: since he’s coming anyways, stay for two weeks. Go to work, the

    meetings, service, and family bible study. No music (he’ll leave with his mom),

    pornography, and his has to take his St. John’s Wort & Magnesium (and before he

    gets here so it kicks in). Have an open mind. He doesn’t have to talk to me,

    sleep in our room, or even touch me. (Hopefully he will give it an open mind so

    he will stick around the house for us to interact.) If in two weeks he ready to

    leave again I will give him the furniture, I’ll get the papers, and I’ll even

    help him load the U-Haul truck. And he case say “I gave it a fair shot”.

    What do you think? If he needs to talk to someone to discuss whether he should

    or not, would you (instead of Pam)? And if he decides to take the easy way,

    will you talk to him to get him in the right frame of mind when he gets here?

    I’m not planning an attack, just allowing Jehovah’s holy spirit to do it’s

    work, with the right actions in place.

    Please write back. And thank you very much for talking to me last night.

    Angela

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Nibbles

From your loving wife…

From: “Angela M. Benson” <spunkygidget@mindspring.com>
Date: Tuesday, September 28, 1999 at 6:11 PM
To: Gregg Benson <benga@msn.com>
Subject: Fw: From your loving wife…

This was a night where it was bad. I wrote this sitting in the dark. I put the knife under my bed this night. I thought he would try to kill me (inadvertently) after he found out what I wrote and told his mom. I told her everything. He didn’t have anything to worry about. She told me I was the problem. That I needed help. I don’t remember what happened. But it was like the rest of them.

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