About James Power and Michael Power
James Power worked at the Stay-At-Home day camp. He was a paid employee, although in 2020, he denied having anything to do with the day camp. I have accused him of lying about that. I do not think Michael Power was an employee, but I could be wrong. In any case, he was James Power’s brother. In fact, he was his fraternal twin. Thus, I guess they hung out together inside the Club.
Michael Power was a homosexual, no doubt in my mind about that. After his time at the Boys Club, he went on to college at Boston State on Huntington Ave. He then became a lawyer, specifically a title lawyer, for a company called Old Republic International Corporation in Portland Maine. He also become a counsel for the state of Maine. In 1999, when I went public with my dispute and put up bumper stickers all over Charlestown, Michael saw or heard about that and went to the public library in Somerville (as the bumper sticker suggested, if you did not have a computer) to visit my website. He searched for his name, “Mike.” Sometime later, while traveling in Canada, he visited the website again and left a message via Google search terms, which were public back then. He said that he had been very remorseful when this happened in 1963, and now that I have come out with it, he is remorseful again. I think that was his way of saying sorry, but it had zero effect on me.
James Power was a very sadistic eighteen-year-old who enjoyed inflicting pain and injury on little boys. And he especially enjoyed terrifying them, even to the point of madness. For instance, he tried to push me into the lake during one field trip which I think happened at the Mystic Lakes. And it happened totally out of the blue, unprovoked. I have no memory of any incident with James Power prior to his attempt to push me into the lake. When he did it, I remember having an eleven-year-old’s reaction that was tantamount to “What the fuck?” The whole think was unprovoked. But I forgot about it. Then it happened again, in the baseball park opposite Mass Eye and Ear alongside the Charles River. And again, I just looked at him like “What the fuck?” I have no idea why he wanted to hurt me, but he did that twice. And I have no idea where Bob Dolan and Ed Moussally were the two times it happened, but I think they would have stopped it if they saw it, so maybe they weren’t looking.
I’m taking a guess to say that the incident opposite Mass Eye and Ear on the Charles River happened the day we returned to the Club and were kidnapped from the gym. And when I say kidnapped, I mean chased down and restrained and forced into a room that both of them struggled to keep locked. However, James Power and his brother Michael had already done some trial runs on us inside the equipment room. They had assembled us boys into that room before and then had us do a singing contest for them, where we had to sing songs after which James and Michael would ridicule us. I think they were looking to see how far they could go or if they would be caught by anyone. Eventually, they figured they could get away with what they wanted to do, and, one afternoon, they perpetrated a sadistic and brutal sexual assault on extremely frightened, naked pre-teen boys. It was savage what they did to us. Not only did they not get caught doing it, but they were never punished afterwards, in order to save the Club’s reputation, no doubt. And all the authorities back then, who also knew what happened, went along, too, just as they would again sixty years later.
The Crime
While we were playing basketball, James and Michael called us one by one into the room. When my turn came, I refused to go. Michael was standing to my right of the office doorway and James was standing to my left of the doorway. When I said that I would not go, Michael said “But everyone has and now it’s your turn.” I ran for the exit which was to my left, where James was standing the closest. They were much closer to the door than I was and I did not have a chance. They both grabbed me and dragged me into the office while I kicked and yelled.
Once inside, some of the boys had begun to cry because everyone was scared. I scrambled to find a way to escape. I remember trying to unlock the door and someone grabbing my hands away and stopping me. I also remember trying to hide under some gym mats in a closet, obviously without success.
At some point, they forced us to take off all our clothes and then stand in the middle of the room to sing a song, while they ridiculed us. At one point, they also ridiculed the appearance of my penis because I was not circumcised. At another point, I remember standing away at the periphery while Michael repeatedly inserted something into a boy’s rectum, sliding it in and out. I noticed the boy did not seem frightened or panicked, as I was. Michael was sitting in a chair while he did this, rocking his head and shoulders from side to side as if he was experiencing some wild ecstasy. When I saw this, I knew I was next, and that anticipation gripped me with a depth of fear that surpassed me. In fact, that moment of fear plunged to the very bottom of my soul and took a hold that would not let go for the remainder of my life. From that moment afterward, I experienced that fear involuntarily, day in and day out, sparked sometimes by the most trivial apprehension into full-blown panic. People I interacted with in the course of my day would see the fear in me.
The next thing I remember is Michael grabbing my penis in his hand and pulling me from the adjacent room to a chair near the door in the first room. He then sat in that chair, putting me on the floor in front of him, and perpetrated irrumation on me. I remember looking up and to my left at James who stood there and watched me being humiliated. I remember seeing the look of satisfaction on his face which was coupled with a look of contempt and scorn for me, though I do not recall ever doing anything against him. Afterward, James ordered me to clean up the feces that had been expelled by some boys whose rectums had been violated with what I always thought had been a miniaturized baseball bat, the kind that children would use instead of a regular size bat. When he saw me attempting to clean up the mess, he ordered me to lick it up with my tongue. And the last thing I remember is James telling me that now they were going to throw me out the window, and he made me beg for my life.
The Next Day
The next day, we all assembled on the front porch of the Charlestown Boys Club to wait for the bus that would take us on our field trip. James walked right up to me, coming from the direction of the top of Green Street and onto the clubhouse porch, and said to me “And I know you’ll do exactly as you’re told.” I think he was arriving for work. I never saw him again after that, which means the Club knew that day, and that is not surprising.
I have no further memory of Michael either. According to Moussally, the Club learned what had happened the very next day. In fact, I suspect half of the people in Charlestown heard about what had happened the next day. I suspect James was promptly fired, never to return.
Upon returning to the clubhouse after our field trip that day, a woman was waiting for me. As soon as I walked through the turnstile, she walked up to me, bent down to my height, and asked if I would tell her what happened in the gym yesterday. But I could not speak. I just stared straight ahead at a blank wall and said nothing, to which she said “Okay.” At that point, the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston knew that I had been severely injured, so much so that I could not speak about.
And apparently, they were fine with that. Maybe they thought, “If he can’t speak about it, then we’re safe because no one will ever know.”
Let me relate that to you in a simpler way. These people were driving down a country road late at night, heard a terrible thump, stopped and looked to see a kid in shock, mortally wounded, and staring in disbelief. And they got back in their car and drove off. That’s all you need to think about to understand just what happened. That’s what happened.
The decision to leave me laying by the side of the road as they drove off in the middle of the night — was unconscionable. And I thought about that for a long time. How could people be that unconscionable about a mortally wounded child? And the only way I could ever understand it is that they were told by their lawyers what to do and transferred all responsibility to those lawyers, not themselves. Except that these people portrayed themselves publicly as the savior of poor children in Boston. But in some cases, like mine, they were ruthless, really, really ruthless.
The Punishment
The Demand
When I came to the Boys and Girls Club of Boston with my plea for help, on September 16, 1996, all I asked for was a weekly stipend lasting two years that I told the Club would enable me to continue the recovery I had begun just six months before after a lifetime of trying. Their response was most disingenuous insofar as they dared me to prove what I told them in my 1996 letter and gambled that I would never be able to do it. Though I started bringing them evidence, they were never able to fully grasp that I would take this to the end, regardless of what they threw at me. And they threw a lot. Their behavior was blatantly bad and they were shameless about it.
I did not ask to be kidnapped by an extremely sadistic young man, James Power, and his homosexual twin, Michael. In fact, I tried to escape, twice. Once, before they dragged me kicking into the office, and a second time, once I was in there, frantically trying to unlock the door before they caught me and stopped me by pulling my hands away from the door lock. I tried to escape, twice.
The Charlestown Boys Club and the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston, which are separate entities, are 100% responsible for what happened. And after it happened, then they really dropped the ball, covering things up. That was stupid. Certainly in my case, it came back to haunt them decades later.
The Harassment Begins
The first thing they started with was following me, which they wanted me to know they were doing. They would message me via Google search with my name and the address I had just walked by. I do a lot of walking, always have, since I was a boy.
Once, they had a guy follow me on a bus to a transfer point where I had to catch another bus to my job. At the transfer point, the guy was behind me and somehow got my attention so that when I turned around to look at him, he smiled and waved at me. I did not react in any way to him because I had never seen him before. When I got off the second bus, I went into Dunkin Donuts, as I did every day, and bought something. Then I would come out and walk to the back of Dunkin Donuts because I could cut through to get to the parkway where my job was. On this particular day, when this strange guy grabbed my attention and then made himself look like a clown, when I got to the back of the restaurant, he popped up, looked me right in the face, smiled, and then walked past me in the opposite direction.
The reason he was looking like a clown at the transfer station was to make sure I saw him so that when I saw him again at the back of Dunkin Donuts, as he planned, then I would know that he was following me.
This was Bill Bain’s doing. He was a guy who had a reputation for being ruthless right up there with the best of them except that he wouldn’t know when to stop. Once, when two associates resigned to start their own company, as Bain had done when he quit Boston Consulting, Bain kept them in the meeting long enough to get a Ropes and Gray attorney to draw up a lawsuit against them, which Bain then handed them before they left the meeting. That was what some people said about him, that he did not know when to stop it. And the best example of that happened in October of 2010.
Hacking My Phone
The stress reached such a level that I had a heart attack. However, the hospital, which was Beth Israel Deaconess, never told me. Go figure. It was called a silent heart attack because I did not know it was happening. It wasn’t until I left Beth Israel out of concern for the quality of care I was receiving there and went to Mass General that my new physician told me that I had suffered a heart attack and that now it was a necessary to determine how much damage had been done to my heart as a result. I attribute that heart attack to the pressures that Bill Bain put on me, peaking in October of 2010.
Another way they put pressure on me was by shutting down a computer repair business that I had been operating with mild success for a few years. I say the success was mild because Bill Bain was jamming my phone so that people could not call me. Early on, when they just started jamming my phone, a client with whom I had already spoken, rang me up and told me he had been calling my mobile phone repeatedly but kept getting a message about being unable to make the connection. That was my first suspicion that the Club was targeting my business and trying to shut it down. So I carefully went through my phone logs to try to determine if my rate of incoming calls was slowing, counting just the number of new calls, not existing clients. And sure enough, I was only getting a quarter of the number of new calls I had gotten previously. After that, I tried switching to using my landline exclusively, but the situation just got worse.
One day, I was with a client in her home and she had complained to me about having difficulty reaching me. So while I was sitting in her home, I called my landline on her phone and, sure enough, it just rang and rang without going to voicemail. Then, after hanging up, I called my landline again, using the client’s phone again, and I got voicemail on the second try. If someone had been on the other end, they would have heard the second ring and picked up. I know that because later, when I had two phones, I tested it and that is what happened. I heard the ring on the second call, but not the first. That day, in front of my client, we witnessed that together, and when it happened, she looked at me as if to say “What is going on?” But I never answered her — because she already knew herself. She knew someone was deliberately interfering with my calls. Fortunately, she was too polite to ask why.
What I eventually figured out was that someone calling in who had never called me before would get a ring that would never pick up because I would not hear the ring. However, if they immediately called me back a second time, then I would hear the ring. Somehow, these guys got someone to go into my Comcast account and reconfigure things so that a first-time caller would get no answer but a second-time caller would. So I wasn’t getting any new clients. Eventually, they started shutting out even existing, regular clients. I had to change my number so many times, it became too difficult to do business, and I closed the business.
But it took them awhile to get that perfect two-ring configuration that worked. They had to try different things at first. At one time, I called Comcast to try and determine the problem and I was told that my account had been put on vacation status or “do not disturb” status. Another time, I found out that incoming calls were being directed to a phone number in Washington DC. The Comcast operator gave me the name of the person to whose phone number my calls were being redirected. When I googled the name in Washington DC, I discovered that it was the White House curator’s phone number. And no matter how many times I called the number, no one ever answered. But because I was able to detect and undo these account changes, Bill Bain’s people had to figure out a new way, and they eventually figured out how to reroute only new calls coming in.
Planting a Listening Device
Eventually, my business dried up, and the biggest problem I faced as a result was eviction from my apartment. And when I tried to get legal help, Bill Bain’s people were waiting to slip me up. They had a listening device inside my Comcast set top cable box, which Comcast helped them plant.
Some guy from Comcast showed up at my door one early evening, carrying a set top box and asking me if I was interested in Comcast cable TV. The guy was wearing a shirt and tie, like he was an office worker, not a field tech or a door-to-door salesman. He gave me a business card which said that he had traveled all the way from the Comcast office in Allston, which was twelve miles away. There was a Comcast office in my town, Lynn, but this guy had come all the way from Allston, which I thought was strange. I also thought it was strange that a Comcast guy would be walking around, randomly knocking on people’s doors, while he was carrying a set top box, asking people if they wanted to sign up for service. But I needed cable TV service. And I hadn’t bothered to ask Comcast because I owed them money from my last address a few years back. But here was this guy saying, no problem with an old bill, we’ll sign you up if you just say yes. So I said yes. And the guy handed me my set top box, which I promptly installed. But then I started thinking. Was this a setup? Was there something inside the set top box for spying on me. And I quickly became convinced that maybe there was. On the front of the box, there was a round plastic “eye” that was the receiving device for the remote. I was worried that it would somehow be able to see me moving around my apartment, as if there was a camera inside, watching me, so I covered it up with a piece of paper. That’s how stupid I was. Really, back then, my thought processes were severely dysfunctional; I admit it. So I went ahead and used the box to watch cable TV, which I was delighted to be getting, despite owing Comcast for an old bill. But I never removed that piece of paper the whole time I had Comcast cable TV, which was a couple of years. What I didn’t know was that there was not a video recording device inside the box but rather an audio listening device. And Bill Bain was now listening to everything that was said in my apartment. But it took me a while to figure out that they had planted a listening device.
In any case, that is how they found out about one of my biggest clients, who often needed my help and provided me with some good income. As my client, they targeted his computer with a lot of malware. Someone hacked into his website and defaced it, which I promptly restored and fixed so that it could not be hacked into again. But then he was getting bombarded with emails containing attachments that contained malware and even ransomware. But I told my client never to open any of those attachments or to click on any links he got in an email, of which there were many. Still, I was able to keep him safe, despite obviously being targeted.
Eventually, my client passed away in only his fifties, but he had been sick. The day he died, his sister called to tell me, and I was quite overwhelmed with grief. I knew he had been sick. He was awaiting a lung transplant and had made arrangements with me to transport him to the hospital on a moment’s notice when he got the call that it was his turn. But he died just a few days later, without ever undergoing the transplant.
On the day he died, Bill Bain went to his website, knowing that I would see the access logs that recorded his visits to my client’s website. And sure enough, on the day he died, there was Bill Bain’s IP address from his Intercontinental Real Estate Corporation on Soldiers Field Road in Brighton. Matt Monkiewicz of Kayem Foods in Chelsea also visited my client’s website that day. I have the records. The question was how did Bill Bain know that my client died. Because he was listening with a listening device inside my Comcast box.
Interference with Court Proceedings
When my business dried up, my landlord initiated eviction proceedings against me. When I made arrangements over the phone to go to a free legal clinic in Lynn that would help me to slow down the eviction, Bill Bain knew about it before I had the meeting. And when I went to the meeting, they had me fill out court papers that would have slowed down the eviction process. And I sent it on to the Lawrence Court for filing. The next day, when the papers arrived at the court, someone at the courthouse in Lawrence went to my website. And I knew from that visit that the Boys Club people were aware that I was being evicted and also knew that I had filed court papers. Of course, I sent the papers by certified mail so I could get a signed receipt. But no one ever signed my receipt, which was returned to me unsigned by the USPS from Lawrence Court. And then I got notification that my papers had been received too late and that the eviction would be expedited without any delay, which it was. Within days, I was out of my apartment.
And that was when John Fish, who was quickly becoming a leading board member at the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston, alongside John Connors, made what he thought was an anonymous hangup to my phone. When I picked up, the person on the other end said nothing. Then I looked at my phone logs online, and it said that the call came from Suffolk Construction, which John Fish owned and operated. Obviously, Fish thought he was cloaked, but he wasn’t.
When something bad happened with the case, board members frequently called my phone just to hear the sound of my voice. I got a lot of hang ups when news of the DA’s investigation was leaked. Why anyone would want to call someone else just to hear their voice is beyond me; I don’t understand what they get out of it. It reminds me of arsonists who come and watch firefighters battle a fire that they themselves just started.
However, it’s also possible that Fish didn’t care if I caught him doing a hang up on me. It’s possible that he wanted me to know that the Club was behind the expedition of my eviction, given the timing of his phone call, which coincided with the court informing me that my papers had been received late and would not be considered. The Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston always wanted me to know that they were persecuting me. If I didn’t know what they were doing to me, then it wasn’t harassment.
Comcast Exposed
I quickly found a new apartment, which turned out to be a much better apartment with a subsidy, so I would not have to pay full rent, which was great. I was now better off as a result of the eviction. Plus the new apartment was in the same neighborhood, so there would be little disruption for me. I could still walk to the same local grocery store. I was happy.
A few days before I moved, a Comcast guy showed up my apartment. He said he had come to collect for the bill that I could no longer pay because I had lost all my income. How many times do you know of Comcast going to someone’s door to collect on an overdue bill? Never. When I told the guy I could not pay it, he demanded the set top box. That was the real reason for the visit. Comcast wanted back the listening device they had planted in my apartment. And that is when I knew for certain that, indeed, I had been bugged. I gave the guy the box and moved on to my new apartment. But Bill Bain was certainly not done with me — because Bill Bain always had a problem knowing when to stop. It’s what made him rich. And I am sure he was proud of himself for it.
Bill Bain Never Knew When To Stop
Given all that had happened, with the silent heart attack, my business going broke because I could not receive incoming calls, and then the expedited eviction, I threw in the towel on the fight with the Boys Club. To let them know, I added a secret message for them at the bottom of my Craigslist ad that I had posted every day, several times a day. The message said BGCB IQUT, UWIN. I had always put a small gif in my ad so that, when people read it, I could see that the ad was actually being read. And there was Bill Bain looking at my ad. And when he saw the message at the bottom, he was elated. He had won, so he thought. And he even called Judith Malone, who was now general counsel for Bentley College in Waltham, who had probably told Bain that I would never give up, because he wanted her to see the message where I quit the fight. And using my gif embedded in the ad, sure enough, I saw someone from the administrative office at Bentley go and look at the ad. After that, I took a break from all the stress, but, as I said, Bill Bain wasn’t done.
A few weeks after I moved into my new apartment, someone knocked on my door. But when I went to answer it, there was no one there, just like all the anonymous hangups, except this was right at my front door. That’s Bill Bain “on the cutting edge,” as he once boasted. That happened four more times that afternoon, and, each time, no one was at the door. The next time it happened, I was a little quicker on my feet and I went outside my apartment to see if I could find someone. There just happened to be workmen standing there at the elevator, and they told me that the guy had knocked on my door and then ran into the stairwell. So I followed him into the stairwell, and there was this twenty-something kid looking like he had been caught in the act, really guilt ridden. I asked him if he knocked on my door and he said he was looking for “Steve.” But he wasn’t looking for anyone because he knocked and ran. I just took what he said in stride and walked away. Later that afternoon, the guy came and knocked on my door one more time. And then I started thinking about what was going on. And I finally realized it was Bill Bain with a message. “We know where your new apartment is, we are not going to stop the harassment, and we are right outside your door.” That was the message I got. And Bill Bain never knew when to stop. That’s when I started worrying that these people might actually jimmy open my door some night when I was sleeping and sneak in. I’ll admit that I was scared. So I got a hotel lock that is a device you can place in your door that prevents it from being opened even with a key. And finally, I found some peace.
Comcast Cables Cut
One of the earliest warning signs of trouble ahead was when someone came out to my apartment and cut my Internet/TV cables one night in 2003, three years after BGCB and I stopped talking. The Comcast guy explained to me that it could not have been accidentally cut by another Comcast tech because the cables have to be capped after they are cut. Otherwise, he said, the signal “could go into airplanes.” So, it wasn’t an accident. Despite what the repairman said to me that day, I think it was definitely a Comcast employee who cut the cables because there were three apartments in that three-decker, and some of them. like mine, had more than one Comcast connection for roommates who did not want to share their Internet. No one else but Comcast would have known precisely which line to cut. And the reason he left them uncapped was so that I would know that someone came out and cut my wires.
Immediately before it happened, I had been searching the Internet for advocates of free speech. I thought that if I wrote to them and told them about my difficulties publishing my website about my fight with the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston that maybe someone would help me. No one would, but at least I tried. But after I wrote the letter, I gathered all the names and addresses of advocates from Google searches. And then, just as I was about to send off the letter, my Internet went dead. I called Comcast and they sent out a tech who showed me how the cables had been cut. That was the first clue I had that these guys were watching me very carefully. But I didn’t know if they had discovered my plans to send out a letter from Google itself, which was always very cooperative with demands from the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston to censor something about my website, or if they had found out in a more direct way, by hacking into my computer. I did not even think of the possibility that they had hacked into my computer; that was outside the realm of possibilities because it had never happened to me before.
The truth came out about a year later. I opened an account with a porn site. And I pulled a lot of pictures off the Internet into that account. One day, I went to log in and someone had changed my password. i did not need any cajoling to know that someone had hacked into my account and changed my password just so that I would know that they had done it.
Hacking into My Computer
I think the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston had been hacking into my personal computer for a very long time before I finally discovered it. One day, I took a very personal picture that I had no intention of ever showing anyone. After taking the picture, I plugged the camera into my computer to download it, and everything worked fine. A few minutes later, I went to remove the picture from my computer and it was gone, just like that, only minutes after I downloaded it from the camera to my PC.
I started researching firewalls and found ClearOS. And that stopped the hacking. However, one of the stupidest things about ClearOS is that it automatically enabled SSH upon installation, which meant it left open a backdoor that someone could try to hack. And sure enough, in no time at all, someone hacked in and went through a list I had of all my passwords. In order to let me know they had done it, which they always did, they deleted a line that I was supposed to see suddenly missing. But I didn’t see it, so they hacked in again and reformatted the characters so that the line had a strikethrough. And I saw that.
Since they got all my passwords, I had to change all of them, but, more importantly, I had to check the accounts that those passwords had previously secured. One of the things I discovered was that they had hacked into my website and allowed referrals from porn sites. I had noticed people coming from porn sites but I had already configured my website to reject visitors from certain websites, including porn sites, so I thought there was nothing more I could do. It didn’t feel good to know that my website was attracting people who were looking for porn, which is what the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston wanted; they wanted me to feel degraded, which they succeeded in doing many times. No doubt, the web visitors who came to see porn on my website were coming to see the pictures of the semi-nude boys in the pool, which is confirmation that the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston also considered the pictures to be porn. And remember, they took those photos and they published them.
When I looked at the website configuration, I discovered that someone had whitelisted specific porn sites, thus preventing visitors from those websites being blocked, as originally configured.
Theft of My Electronic Mail
Communication with the outside world was something they had to prevent at all cost. Every time I installed a new contact form, they found a way to hack it, and the hack did not require a password. There is something called SQL injection whereby, if you enter a website address that you concatenated with code, then you can inject code into the website that will damage it. And they did this repeatedly until I finally found a way to stop it. Consequently, while I thought the contact forms on my website were working, they were not, and no one ever contacted me about my writing.
They also blocked my emails. Once someone contacted me with some important information. When I got their email, I inspected it carefully, and I discovered that it had been electronically stamped seven months before I got it. That meant someone sent it and someone else intercepted it and prevented it from being delivered. The information turned out to be extremely important because it was how I learned about Ed Darragh. And since it is difficult to believe that the interceptor had a change of heart and decided to let it through seven months after the fact, I think it was accidentally released from some sort of quarantine and delivered.
On another occasion, someone contacted me and said that they wanted to advertise on my website. But I wasn’t getting enough visitors to justify charging anyone for advertising. Instead, I think the person just wanted to be a benefactor without really deriving any benefit from their friendliness. I responded to them, but I never heard back. And, in fact, I do not think they ever got my reply. I also think their original email to me was delivered, once again, by accident.
Once, I tried to contact a reporter. There was an incident a few years back when someone started up a local Boys and Girls Club but did some things with the money that were considered troubling, to say the least. It turned into a big scandal with the media reporting it widely. Apparently, there was some concern that the media attention would eventually lead to the discovery of my website. The guy who tried to start up the Club had fled to Hawaii, and I logged visits from Hawaii at that time. I also logged a visit from New York Attorney General Eliot Spitzer. And then, just before the media attention died down, I logged a visit from eop.gov which is the executive office of the President, who at that time was George Bush. Thus, there was a lot of concern about my website at that time. I tried to contact a reporter about it. I sent her an email, which she got. And I asked her to show some sign that she had actually gotten it and that it was her I was actually writing to. And she did that. In her next column, she deliberately misspelled the word “Reynolds wrap,” as she told me she would do. So I wrote her back and started to explain things to her. But she didn’t write back, and I presumed she wasn’t interested. However, several months later, I wrote her again and asked if she had gotten the second email I sent her. And she said she had not. So I wrote to her once again. And again, she did not write back. But that time, I knew I was being blocked. And they did that to me for years.
Theft of My US Mail
I suspected that my snail mail was being stolen for a very long time. If they were stealing my email, which was proven very early one (see above) and also blocking my incoming calls, then they were probably going after my US mail as well. But that was difficult to prove, until 2020. At that time, after the Suffolk DA closed my case, I sent a letter to James Power telling him that I was the individual who filed the allegations against him. He already knew that, but I wanted to accuse him publicly, not under the cloak of confidentiality provided by the DA.
I sent the letter by certified mail that would provide a receipt upon delivery. Given that it was certified, the US Post Office provided tracking of the letter as it passed through the system. When it reached Florida, it just disappeared from the system, with USPS tracking reporting that the delivery was running late but would eventually complete. But in never did. To this day (2023), USPS tracking still says that the letter is running late but will eventually be delivered. I then sent the letter again, also by certified mail so that I could see the tracking progress but without the requirement of a signature on delivery, just proof of delivery. And the exact same thing happened again, “running late, will soon be delivered.”
The second provable incident happened when I sent a letter to the US Attorney General, Merrick Garland. I sent the letter via Priority Mail, which meant delivery in two business days. I sent the letter on a Thursday, and it first went to the distribution center in Nashua New Hampshire. It should have left Nashua no latter than Sunday for the distribution center in Washington DC and then delivery on Monday or Tuesday, at the latest. But after it arrived in Nashua, all tracking ceased, as if it never left Nashua. Then suddenly, without ever going through the Washington distribution center, tracking showed that it arrived at a local post office in Washington. But it was Priority Mail, which meant it should have gone directly to the address on the envelope, not a local post office.
Some people might say that the reason it went to the local post office is because the Department of Justice does not allow in-person deliveries, given the pandemic. In fact, when I re-sent the letter via FedEx, it did indeed go to a local FedEx store where someone from DOJ came and signed for it. But the local post office reported that someone came and picked it up on Tuesday at 4:58 AM. No post office is open at 5 in the morning, and I do not think anyone came by at 4:58 in the morning to pick up a letter. There was no signature because I did not request one.
The Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston Put Me in Fear for My Life
On Super bowl Sunday in January of 2001, the Boston Police showed up at my door. The first thing they asked was if there were any guns in the house. Imagine? On the Friday before, after obtaining corroboration from Edmond Moussally, who said he knew about what had happened and gave me the first name of “James” as one of the perpetrators, I emailed Judith Malone, the Club’s attorney, and told her I would “move” on Monday. The word “move” was an expression she herself had introduced into our numerous correspondences as an indication of action to go forward, certainly not action to murder. But she then called the police and said that she feared I was about to launch an AK47 assault on either her and the other attorneys at Palmer and Dodge or people at the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston. After the police spoke with me, they acknowledged, after reading the posts on my website, including letters that Judith Malone had sent me, that the word “move” was first used by her. In the end, they told me that they viewed me as a victim and they had no concerns that I wanted to hurt anyone. Then they left. After they left, I went upstairs to see if anyone had visited my website. Sure enough, someone had Googled the website with the word “murder.” They then visited a forum I had just recently installed on the website to allow people to post their comments. As of then, there were no comments whatsoever. Nonetheless, someone searched for the word “death,” even though it was plainly obvious that there were no comments and nothing to search. That was a deliberate attempt to threaten and intimidate me, as was the visit by the Boston Police.
Years later, as reported above, following my eviction form my old apartment and my move into my new apartment, someone showed up at my apartment door one afternoon and repeatedly did a knock and run. As I have already said, that was intended to send me a message that said “We know you’ve moved, we know where your new apartment is, and we are right outside — still harassing you.” The cumulative effect of all the harassment was to put me in fear for my life. If they would go so far as to come to my door, repeatedly, and knock and run, is it possible they might try to enter my apartment one night while I was sleeping? Absolutely, I thought. And that put me in fear for my life, which I reported to the Suffolk County DA in my first letter (of allegations) in October 2019, just as I also reported the death threats to the Boston Police and the Woburn Police in 2001.
I should also point out that the individual who contacted me with corroboration as another victim also feared for his life.
Blocked My Access to Courts and Housing
In 2001, when my crazy landlady tried to constructively evict me by turning off my heat, I went to Woburn Court to obtain a restraining order against her and get my heat turned back on. It was an interesting experience because I watched a woman who had apparently lost her mind and continued to unravel in front of everyone in the courtroom being processed. The woman’s young daughter was there and she was experiencing a lot of pain, which made me feel sad for her. Then I watched the judge, Thomas M. Brennan, finish with the crazy woman and pick up a piece of paper that pertained to me and my case. As he did so, he reacted, and I saw the look on his face, as if he recognized my name and resolved then and there that he would not help me. And sure enough, I walked up to the front of the courtroom and stood before him as he mocked me for applying for a restraining order against a landlady who had turned off my heat and told me that he would not approve the application. I was stunned. Even the court officer standing next to me was stunned. When I asked the court officer why the judge refused my restraining order, first he said that the judge was in a bad mood, then he said it was because I could go out and buy a space heater, which would fix my problem and render the issue mute.
There were numerous other events in the court system that demonstrated an obvious discrimination against me, but the most notable event was related to an assault I experienced on the public transportation system on June 4, 2013. A crazy woman poured a cup of coffee on my head as we both tried to board a train. I asked for the police to come. When MBTA police officer Craig Simpson arrived on the scene, I showed him where I had been burned (only slightly) and he saw the coffee all over me. He asked me what I wanted to do and I answered “Press charges.” I asked him how I could obtain the video, which is recorded on all trains, and he said investigators would obtain the video. He also asked for the coffee cup that the woman had dropped and I had picked up because he said it was evidence. He then told me that I would be summoned to court along with the woman who made the assault. But that never happened.
When I called the MBTA police, I spoke with Det. Andrea Purcell. She was friendly, but she told me that they do not pursue cases that involve nothing more than a verbal dispute. When I explained that this was an assault on an elderly person, she promised to look into it and get back to me. But she never got back to me. When I called her again, she was noticeably unfriendly. Nonetheless, she filed a case with Boston Municipal Court.
On the day the case was to be heard, I appeared at the clerk’s office who told me that my name was not on the list to be heard. When I asked to see the list, he showed it to me and I pointed to my name, to which the clerk said “Oh.” We then waited about an hour for Det. Purcell to show up after apparently being told that the case would never be heard. When she finally arrived, she was noticeably angry and walked right past me without saying a word to me or even looking at me. Upon hearing the case, the magistrate said that she would not go any further with it, to which Det. Purcell replied something like “that’s fine,” which indicated to me that she was going along with it.
I then wrote to the Court Clerk and asked to be heard before a judge, who turned out to be Judge Raymond Dougan, and he heard the case. He decided to issue a complaint, telling the same magistrate who now sat on his right, “this complaint should have issued.” Having gotten the satisfaction of some justice, however, I then dismissed my complaint and left the courtroom. I really didn’t want to punish a crazy woman, but I did want to be treated fairly. And thanks to Judge Dougan, I was.
Loss of a Prestigious Grant
I do not remember the year in which this happened, but I began to notice a very prestigious foundation visiting my website and reading my essays. (At that point, I had not written any books.) I knew which foundation it was because I traced their IP address and it went straight to their building. Usually, a trace will go to a neighborhood, but this trace went right to their building, so I knew who they were. They issue grants every year and their choices get a lot of publicity; a lot, like worldwide. When I noticed an even bigger and more famous foundation subsequently looking at my essays, I thought the first American foundation must have shared what they discovered with the second international foundation who were in the same business: recognizing unusual talent with publicity and very generous grants. Then something very peculiar happened. The American foundation must have wanted to vet my essays so they consulted with a local, prestigious university, who promptly warned the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston that I was about to get a lot of publicity. (There was an acrimonious history between myself and this university that was directly related to my dispute with the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston.) Then, I saw someone from GE Capital in Connecticut looking and then I saw someone at the Rothschild’s firm in London looking. When the time for making the American foundation to make their announcements and I was not one of their recipients, I knew I had been blackballed. I firmly believe that someone at GE Capital, one of whose members serve as a board member of the Boys and Girls Clubs of America, was notified and then sought help from Rothschild’s, who then threatened the foundation with financial injury if they proceeded.
Imagine?