From http://people.tribe.net/rorybowman/blog/611ff089-4b89-4480-b7dc-cb3e0a9bf6cc

Kevin D Balmer in Exhibit 102, case 060303051.

Kevin Balmer first caught my attention when he posted a picture of himself with a pistol to a masculinity group on Tribe called “Shiva’s Circle.” This caught my eye for two reasons: (1) it seemed very un-Tribe-like and (2) I have huge judgements about people who think that guns are somehow cool, manly or funny. Looking at his profile I saw that he seemed a preppy poseur musician, but he had skills in GIS (a specialized kind of computer mapping system) and was working on a project with a former colleague of mine. I decided to hold judgement on the assumption that he was just naive. A white boy from Canada could naturally be drawn to guns and faux masculinity in the states, as surely as wiggers are drawn to rap music. The pistol avatar went away shortly thereafter and I did not think of it again for a week or more.

Having been on Tribe since November and sending feelers into “the community,” I was pleased when I received my first “invitation” from Kevin in late December or early January. Relatively new, I did not understand exactly how they worked, but it was an invitation to a screening of a documentary about a project of his called “The Diggable City.” I had heard about this on community radio, and knew one of the people who was listed on the web site, a tech writer who had been very kind to me when I was just getting started in the autumn of 1999. I was the third person to RSVP and was a bit surprised when (within twenty minutes of my reply) Catherine Lynne Carter was the fourth. When within an hour Heavee Kevee’s avatar changed back to the one with him and the pistol, I assumed that something was up. Looking a bit harder and attending the screening, I decided that he was as foolish as Cate Carter was crazy, left Tribe shortly thereafter but decided that it would probably be better to more formally check out.

My assumptions about Kevin Balmer were fairly simple. First, I assumed he was young and naive, to post pictures of himself with a gun on the Internet like some Eric Harris or Dylan Klebold wannabe. Secondly, I assumed his change of avatar was somehow trying to send me a message, “don’t mess with me” bravado that reinforced my first assumption. Thirdly, I assumed that Catherine Lynne Kate Cate Invisigoth Carter was telling him stories about me designed to garner attention and perhaps make him feel more manly. Naive young men who are trying to act manly can be dangerous, so my fourth assumption was that he might somehow consider me a danger. On one level this was funny, and the sort of bitter psychological justice that makes me sad but pleased with the world. If a crazy girl wanted to make a skinny boy feel manly by protecting her against phantoms, it would serve both of them right. On the other hand, I had just seen the 2004 elections, and felt strongly that fear was a corrosive force in our nation, and led toward fascism. Lest my withdrawal from Tribe be interpreted as a tactical advance, I decided to contact Kevin Balmer so that he would understand that there was no danger. Fearful and stupid people with guns are a bad thing, so I hoped to insert myself just enough to reduce his fear. But how?

Cate Carter was clearly not well, and should not be contacted. Kevin Balmer might live with Cate, and so should not be contacted at home. An email or postal letter might be misinterpreted (again) so I googled Balmer and decided that the single, least threatening thing I could do was to meet him in a public place in a non-threatening manner. Teh Googlez, they told me that he worked in NW Portland, so I swung by one afternoon and asked about him at the desk. If I wanted to send flowers to someone, I asked the reception desk, which building should I choose? “What is her name?” they asked. “Actually, it’s a him.” The receptionist gave me the building and so I decided to meet him there.

To guarantee that the letter I sent would not be intercepted, I asked a friend who lived near Balmer if I could use her business address, and sent a registered letter which he himself would have to sign for. So that he would expect the letter I decided to meet him in the least threatening way I could conceive of, as he arrived for work on a public street on a weekday morning. On the morning of Friday, March 17, 2006, I parked on the street outside of Consolidated Freightways and watched for about an hour as people arrived for work. Seeing Balmer, I approached him as he headed toward the building, introduced myself and gave him my card, explaining who I was. A letter would shortly be arriving at his house, and Kate apparently trusted him, so I would trust him as well. I was no threat, and so had left Tribe. If he would review the letter and decide what to do with it, I would appreciate it, and would also be available for lunch if he had questions. The entire exchange took less than two minutes, and I immediately made notes. If he or Carter wanted drama, I was innoculating myself, or so I thought.

My response, upon being approached by a strange man in a parking lot, would be to consider what he had said and if it made sense to me. Balmer, being Balmer, called his woman. Carter, being Carter, went for the self-serve apeshit. A few days later the nice sheriff arrived at my workplace where, in front of an employee, I was served a subpoena and restraining order. Claiming that she was in fear for her life, Carter brought me into court with a criminal-defense (cocaine and pot) lawyer, who painted a sordid tale of an evil genius who was upset over the death of his brother and so wanted to hunt down Carter for whatever profound insights and emotional closure I could give him. I was a very smart and creative person, he explained, who would use my nonexistent master’s degree in women’s studies and status as a former elite commando to find Cate Carter’s boyfriend and cleverly manipulate him to somehow get at Carter. As evidence of my agitated mental state, he read an oblique reference to Carter’s drug use and implied that I had been using illegal drugs, which made me unstable. Not wanting at that point to embarrass Carter I foolishly answered the questions in a way which did not impugn Carter. The woman was physically trembling in my presence and was clearly afraid of me, so it made no sense to embarrass her further. Having never threatened her, nor struck her, nor shown up uninvited at her home or workplace, I did not see how any reasonable person would be so afraid. I was smart and could thump people, I thought: so what? I assumed that the fact that I had never so thumped someone in violation of polite conduct or the law was evidence enough that I did not do so, but the judge was young, and made the safe call. Faced with a pretty white girl, clearly fearful, and a scary-sounding man, he granted her the restraining order.

There is something called a “Karpman drama triangle,” which I have mentioned before. Basically a psycho-drama played out in unhealthy ways, the drama triangle consists of people who choose and switch between three roles: victim, villain and rescuer. I have been pulled into such triangles before, and like to think I am smart enough to avoid them. An older judge has seen these before as well, but faced with a pretty white girl, young judge stepped in. He would do the safe thing, he explained, and I could petition later to have the order rescinded. The trouble was, as I was to find out years later, it is not possible to expunge such things from one’s record. Although the nice judge was correct that crimes can be expunged, stuff like this cannot, and there is no clear process. An attorney advised me that it would probably cost between $300 and $3,000 to petition Carter again, drag her back into court and clear my name. If she wanted to fight and drag it out, it could cost as much as $10,000 or more.

Carter’s shenanigans had legally bound her to me.

By twice pulling me into court and petitioning for an anti-stalking order, Carter had made me look like a villain. Since my vocational training is in criminal justice and education, I would always be subject to background checks. Her appetite for attention had created a legal trap whereby I was not quite accused of anything, but always under suspicion and subject to blackmail. Having contacted Balmer, I was now bound to Cate.

For professional and personal reasons of pride, I had to get this bullshit order lifted, but how could I do this without more Carter? Carter had self-selected out of my life and had lost round one in Multnomah District Court case number 9907-00283. Seeing me on the Internet, she had created drama and arguably won round two with a second case, number 0603-03051. How could I stay clean and resolve all of this legal bullshit and melodrama without a third round?

Perhaps her lawyer will listen to reason, or she can be shamed into doing the right thing. Certainly I had nothing to lose by trying, and who knows? Perhaps it could be fun or funny. With my brother dead and my reputation tarnished, certainly I didn’t have much left to lose.

I had been a fool.

Pretending otherwise solves nothing.