Personal journal entry from 18 November 2008.

I began my day with an interesting phone call from a Portland police detective. Apparently Catherine Lynne Carter has accused me of felony burglary, and the good detective would like me to consent to a DNA swab and a polygraph. I pause to savor the richness of my situation.

A woman whom I have not spoken with in years, whom has accused me of various misdeeds before the court system and presumably lied about me in other contexts as well. Now, having seen some misfortune, she wants to blame that on me as well. Her guilty conscience tells her that she deserves to be punished, and she wants to believe she is important enough that I would bother. I tell the nice detective that I would be delighted to help his investigation if and when his complainant agrees to vacate the bogus order and charges she has made against me. He says he does not want to be made a pawn and I suggest that he talk to Cate Carter about that. I am not presently inclined to assist Ms. Carter’s abuse of the court system, up to and including false felony claims.

The detective suggested that perhaps some sort of mediation and bond would be a way for us to put this behind us, and I ask him if he would like to arrange it. He declines and I tell him that I’ll get back to him this week.

I contact a criminal lawyer and ask him what is the best way to proceed. For a just man the world is all the weapon he needs, and Carter’s self-centered love of her privilege and property shall work on her in ways I could never hope to.

Personal journal entry from 20 November 2008

Recollection of phone conversation with detective Dan Andrew of PPB southeast precinct.

On or about 4:45 pm on Monday afternoon, 17 November 2008, I received a voicemail message from someone identifying himself as detective Andrew of the Portland Police Bureau. I was driving and tried to do an automatic call-back from my cell phone, but there was no return number. Listening to the number again, I tried to memorize it and dial it back but apparently misheard the number and so reached a voicemail number that had not been set up. After coming to a stop (later that afternoon or the next morning) I listened to the message again and phoned with my contact information to (503) 823-5031.

At approximately 8:50-8:55 on Tuesday morning, 18 November 2008, I received another phone call from a man who identified himself as detective Dan Andrew of PPB southeast precinct, who advised me that I was the primary suspect in a residential burglary involving Catherine Carter. My memory is that he said the burglary had occurred in southwest Portland, and that Carter had named me as the primary suspect based on a comment I had posted to Kevin Balmer’s Tribe.net blog on or about 11:40am on Sunday, 21 September 2008, the entire content of which read “You have nine days to help save approximately $10,000. Please do so.” This comment at http://people.tribe.net/heaveekevee/blog/7d2f3ec0-9cfe-4154-9c09-7f25d644cf38 was allegedly conveyed to Ms. Carter, whom interpreted it as a “veiled threat.” The detective advised me that the burglary had taken place at approximately the time indicated and that approximately $10,000 worth of property was taken, including jewelry and things that had belonged to her deceased mother. The detective then asked me to explain the comment.

I explained that the comment was a reference to a civil case I was bringing against Ms. Carter and that the $10,000 was the estimated cost to both parties of the case that I anticipated proceeding with at the end of September, 2008. I expressed my regret that Ms. Carter had been victimized, noting that the death of her mother was the single central event of Carter’s life, but that I knew nothing of the burglary, had not spoken with Carter for more than ten years and did not have any idea where she lived or worked. The detective asked me if I would be willing to submit to a DNA swab and a polygraph in relation to the case and I laughed at him, indicating that I thought Ms. Carter was crazy and that I had no interest in assisting her in any way so long as the civil matter between us was unsettled.

Detective Andrew said that there seemed to be some sort of odd issue between Carter and myself, which I confirmed, explaining that she has claimed that I wanted to kill her and has twice subpoenaed me with suits seeking a restraining order. Andrew said that this seemed odd, given that the relationship was not even a marriage and that both of us had “moved on with our lives,” noting that I seemed to be doing well and that I did not match the normal profile of a burglar. I confirmed that I had indeed moved on and was doing well, with my own business and a solid relationship of approximately seven years in duration. Andrew asked if my current partner lived with me and I confirmed that she did, asking her (she was in the room) what year she had moved in, 2002 or 2003? Our recollection was that my partner Anja had lived with me in Vancouver for at least five years, and that this was one of the reasons that I felt Carter was not mentally well.

Andrew began to question me about the nature of my relationship with Carter and why she would think I would want to burgle her residence. I explained that her charges against me made me look “like a wife-beater” and damaged my career choices, given that my vocational degrees were in criminal justice and public-school teaching, both of which involved background checks. Andrew expressed that Carter was also concerned that I had posted about her past drug history on the Internet and that this showed up well in Google searches into her, suggesting that it might be possible for the five of us (Andrew, Carter, myself and our lawyers) for mediation. I laughed again and told him that this was an innovative application of community policing, and that I would be open to such a meeting if he would like to arrange it. He indicated that it would be odd for him to suggest such a meeting as a condition of my cooperation, and I told him that I would contact my attorney about possibly arranging such a meeting and the possibilities for my future cooperation in this criminal case. I laughed again and suggested that this was probably more interesting than other cases, and Andrew said that it was just more complicated, but that he would like to eliminate me as a suspect, since he assumed that Carter was the “random victim” of a burglary by “some tweaker” and that he didn’t “give a rat’s ass” about our relationship. I told him that I would discuss the matter with my attorney and have someone get back to him, before the call ended amicably.

My recollection is that the entire conversation lasted approximately 20-30 minutes, because I left the house as I had planned to at the time of the call, and was approximately that late to my first appointment at [client name redacted] in southwest Portland.

—

16:21 @ Java House

Had a sobering conversation with my criminal attorney, Bear Wilner-Nugent, this morning. He advised me that even spurious charges could be a pain, as they could create a warrant and as much as two weeks in jail while I worked to post bond. I laughed but have to admit that yes, I am smart and confident and believe I am in the right: a dangerous combination. I agreed to keep my mouth shut and not even to give much information to Anja.  Bear met with me and sent a letter to Callahan, offering to meet in regards to the matter.

16:27

Just got a quick three-minute phone call from Bear saying that the detective had returned his call and asserted that he did not have enough evidence to charge. Bear volunteered that we had no interest in giving him any more evidence, and noted that a polygraph would be inadmissible and the detective claimed that he was currently awaiting a return call from Carter about the case. Whether Andrew really is interested in helping to arrange a meeting or mediation I have no idea, but we’ve done our due diligence and Bear has started the meter. If there are calls and negotiations from Callahan, he’ll let me know, but for now it sounds as if nothing else shall follow. What a fucking pain in the ass and semi-unwelcome bit of excitement. In our conversation this morning Bear indicated that it would not surprise him if CLC was the sort of person who would blame me for any misfortune, and sympathetically noted that she definitely seemed a bit obsessed. On the theory that all action is communication, I’m hoping that her mention of me was some sort of subconscious reaching out, which indicates a willingness to rationally engage. It is not the way to bet, I know, but a girl can dream, eh? What a waste of brain cycles.

I am glad she is not dead, nor that this call from a detective was to identify [another former friend recently in crisis].

Personal journal entry from Saturday morning, 13 January 2007.

Well, the inevitable other shoe in the whole CLC restraining-order thing dropped yesterday, and landed almost perfectly.

After the hearing I sent a letter letting her attorney know that I would be attending various arts events and such that I have avoided in the past, and that this might result in her seeing me more often than in the past. Since then I have attended several such events that were advertised on Tribe, but not seeing her at any of these. Last night, though, that changed.

There was a local benefit for a youth shelter at an art gallery just south of SBGI. Called “Covers and Blankets” the basic idea was that local musicians would do cover versions of songs and that admission would be $5 or a warm coat or blanket to be donated to the shelter. As a fan of cover songs generally and in the neighborhood already, I RSVP’d to an announcement/invite from someone called “Dale the Nail” and have been planning on attending for a while now. Checking the RSVP list I noted that KDB had said he would attend after me but I checked earlier in the day to be certain that CLC had not indicated her attendance. ASL is sometimes a bit jealous and suspicious of Tribe events, but I had convinced her it would be mellow and fun for a good cause.

At about 7:30 we left Bi-Mart with two large (queen-size), warm acrylic blankets of the sort that work well when damp or where things are drafty. We drove over and parked on the north side of the building. Approaching I did not see KDB’s truck and so we went around to the side (loading-dock) entrance where we deposited our “admission charge” slightly after 8 pm and walked in to hear some mellow-sounding covers. Seating seemed to be mainly on the floor around the stage and I noticed a bar with wine, so immediately headed over to buy a couple glasses for ASL and myself. The server started to explain that it was a warm Spanish red and I joked with her that she flattered me, as I could scarcely tell the difference, received my change, handed ASL her wine and turned around clockwise to look almost directly at CLC, who presumably also saw me.

As ASL was still turning from the bar to survey the room I said to her “I have to leave now. I legally cannot be here” and she looked puzzled until I gestured at CLC with my glass. “That is Kate,” I said, and turned clockwise again to head out the way I’d come.

We paused in the hallway headed back toward the entry, our undrunk wines still fresh in our hands. It occurred to me that I could not leave the building with the alcohol, nor realistically give it to Anja and expect her to find her own way home. I asked her if she would like to stay and have me pick her up later and she suggested going back to make sure it was CLC. I told her that she absolutely should NOT contact CLC on my behalf and that I needed to leave. I told her I had my phone and would be out in the van, but to take her time and finish up her wine. I then downed mine in two quick gulps and went out to the van where I waited for approximately five minutes until ASL came out and we went home.

At home we made a fire and had some chips and salsa instead. Ironically I also received a phone call from a stranger named Don who had seen one of my listings on Tribe and we talked for about thirty minutes about Tribe and David Deida and men’s work in the Portland area.

I’ll see what, if anything, CLC does with all this and how she chooses to portray it. I am confident, however, that I did exactly the right thing. I almost hope she pulls some sort of shit on this one, so that I can humiliate her in court. All in all, though, it was a very productive night.

jrnl.21Feb06.txt @ 07:33

My beloved cat Silky is alive and back home. Last seen Monday night before she left the house for her evening rounds, she was apparently picked up by someone as a stray and taken in to the Humane Society on Tuesday, where they failed to find her microchip on the first scan. A second pre-destroyal scan found the chip, so I got the call just after noon yesterday and immediately canceled my planned trip to Powells to swing back and pick her up. It took the better part of 90 minutes to identify her and get her back, and I have never seen her looking worse: she was matted, with caked shit and litter on her, appreciably thinner and so weak that when she opened her mouth to call there was no sound. I got her home immediately and tried to get some food in her, but she wasn’t immediately interested in anything. When I left the house to swing by the pet store and buy a reptile warming pad, she managed to get downstairs and had apparently been trying to get up to her basement window, but was too weak to make the jump. I thus spent the better part of the afternoon with her until Anja got home, cleaning her up, petting her and crying. In some ways it was good to have her back, but in other ways it makes it harder, because now she gets to be at home and we get to lose her all over again.

We’ll see.

I still have a lot more of thinking to do around the entire CLC mental illness thing. Certainly my entire being rebels at not having “a narrative structure” as EME puts it, and her being mentally ill is a hackneyed but sufficient structure. I text-messaged SMN about this yesterday, and he certainly believes that “standard, Western definitions, yes” she is mentally ill. “By western definition yes. In other contexts she could be seen as a wild, untrained shaman. Having no cultural context, I’d say the former. Why?” When I had a chance to discuss this with him later in the day, I expressed astonishment that this reading had never occurred to me before and he thought it wasn’t surprising. As I explained, to assert that someone else is mentally ill because they don’t behave as one would like would have been incredibly egocentric and self-serving on my part. He explained that to me that might be the case, but that he also thought that my own “sense of integrity” would have forbidden the mental illness reading because “that’s one of the worst things you can conceive of” and would be a major disappointment. Interesting or (as Alice’s author might note) “curiouser and curiouser.”

1310 @ EcoTrust Bldg

Swung by KDB’s “office” building this afternoon and found it to be pretty much an empty shell: your basic hipster abandoned building with a variety of offices on the upper floors but no normal entrance. This would seem to put the kabash on any plans to swing by and visit.

Howdy, Kevin.

You don’t know me, but I imagine you have heard quite a bit about me (and probably imagined more!). If you are willing I’d like to meet with you, at a time and place of your choosing.

Given that I seem to have been installed as a psychic fixture in your life (and vice versa) some authentic face-to-face connection seems healthiest, to humanize everyone involved and curtail any mixed messages my presence on Tribe may have generated.

My own schedule is pretty flexible, so whatever time and place are most convenient for you will probably work for me, as I can usually schedule whatever I want, with enough notice. I see that the CP office is downtown, so perhaps World Cup Coffee at Powell’s or the EcoTrust building would be convenient.

Thanks in advance for the consideration. I look forward to your reply.

- Rory

Personal journal entry from 19oct98, following the meeting wherein Marti Dell threatened a bogus restraining order and Bowman advised her that involving the legal system was an escalation to lethal force and one that should not be taken unless Carter was at a point where she was ready to kill me or see me killed. The context for this conversation was a June promise by Carter to exchange letters by my birthday in early October, which Dell had apparently discouraged. I had been awaiting Carter’s letter to write and send mine, formally closing the romantic period in our relationship. As part of counseling for depression triggered by the death of my brother Marcus, I was addressing an overwhelming sense of failure, and trying to bring loose ends such as the formal, final exchange with Carter to a close. Most of my other journal entries at this time are very much “one day at a time” about the challenges of simply staying alive within a major depression. SMP is a friend who was caring for me during this time, who had introduced Marti Dell to Kate in the first place.

Your pompous lawyer
threatened me with paper
as if paper could stop me
when I daily pray for death.

Well, it can,
one paper:
your letter.

Met with Marti last night about Kate and she was pompous, heavy-handed and unskilled, getting angry with me and grossly miscalculating where I was and what I was about. Marti is neither a skilled negotiator, nor very smart. Kate has many problems, but they don’t come from me, and Marti had grossly miscalculated where I am.

Marti immediately took issue with my attitude, asking me why I felt I deserved a meeting, then implying that I wouldn’t get one if I didn’t cave and kiss her ass. I explained that I could force a meeting (holding back that it could be at any time and circumstance I chose) and she said she could file a restraining order. I shook my head and chortled, telling her that she had no basis for an order and asking her where she thought such an action would go. I told her that false accusations to invoke the police were an immediate escalation to lethal force, explaining that she should only file one if she was ready to kill me, because anything short of my death assumed my cooperation.

Marti is a pompous, self-important, meddler. Old, ugly and jealous, she is making herself more important to this than necessary, keeping Kate from mailing letters that she wanted to. We were able to negotiate a postal-letter exchange, which I think shall be a good thing. That will take Marti the fuck out of it, and oh, how pissed off she was at my “cc” of our exchange to Kate! SMP stayed afterward to explain to Marti that Kate wasn’t the one in danger and that it was in no one’s interest to pretend that I was like my brother. I am, Sarah said, emphatically not, and my death would serve no one, Kate included. In many ways I think my death would be simpler and easier for Kate than my life: death she knows. It sure as shit would be easier for me, but blah blah blah.

No death today.

What a pompous twit.