If you don't want to read the small text, I've made an identical webpage
to the print appearing below @
* http://www.intrex.net/tallyman/Sharing1.html
where the text and font are larger and more legible.
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I'd like to share a piece of myself with all of you.
I've been asked to, recently by a number of people on the DB,
and even Pretty Prisca asked me to do so a few days ago, so hubba-hubba, here goes.
It's nothing so tender as the "first kiss" of a heterosexual or homosexual.
* http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/forum/thread.asp?id=6693&site=3
Nothing that squiggly, wiggly, giggly... but after I do my "sharing",
maybe I'll get some (((hugs))) or (((maybe not))) .
What I have to share won't be "warm & fuzzy", like a First Kiss.
Last night I was in a personal conversation with one of the good folks here,
and she cited that I'd never "used my victim hood" on this, Simon's board
and that I had every right too, but I replied back that, that whining and moaning
stuff gets old fast... but right now, I will use my " victim status " as I share this piece of myself with all of you.
My sharing is about a tragic event in my life which took place a year ago.
I shot and killed my brother.
I've had a "bad day" ever since, and things were not going so well for me
before, before, ohh, say, the last quarter of a century.
But things really do change for you when you take the life of a fellow
human being, and when that fellow human is your only brother,
things change drastically.
And you discover things about people all around you, relatives and friends
and people whom you thought were your friends. You discover longtime
relationships can change drastically, too.
I've spoken alot, over the years, about treachery in the Watchtower society,
within Watchtower families, especially the "divided" families, but treachery
is in full blown existence and practice in families completely non-WT or jW.
No one else, in my immediate or extended family ever converted to the
jehovah Witnesses.
But "worldlies" can be just as treacherous and evil as the Watchtower fanatics.
My immediate (and extended) family has been divided for years. Especially
has there been a rift between me and my two sisters. That rift is now a gulf,
and really more like a canyon. My older and younger sisters are now my
mortal enemies and are extremely dangerous. Still.
The older sister lives 25 miles away in Raleigh, North Carolina and the younger
one lives in Florida. I've had a few, thankfully brief encounters, with my older
sister in the last five years. I had not even seen or been in the physical presence
of my younger sister for the last five years, until the tragic even I state above.
Then I see more of her and the other one than I ever want to see, again.
My sisters hate me with a twisted passion. I have not reciprocated, in kind.
I was content to just leave them alone and hoped they would do the same.
They intensely hated my younger brother. He reciprocated. I've never lived my
life as if in a popularity contest. I'm outspoken. Always have been. I've been
outspoken verbally and in print to both of my sisters. They did not like what
I had to say.
In October of 1999, my two sisters tried to have me committed to a mental
institution, to get rid of me - permanently. They failed miserably, nevertheless
they put me through a horrible experience. On a peaceful, quiet, sunny,
autumn Saturday afternoon, several police cars enter our driveway. I see them
coming and meet them at the front door and let them in, wondering all the while
what this is all about.
Ambush, is what it was all about. My older sister, about a half hour earlier, had
driven down from Raleigh for (ostensibly) a friendly little visit with my father
and was in the house before the police arrived. She had set everything up, with
the full backing of my younger sister, earlier in the day, and was sure to be there
to see it all go down.
When I let the police officers in, they asked me: "Are you Thomas Farrar Talley?"
I answered: "Yes" and they told me to turn around and they hand-cuffed me,
all the while reading from papers they were carrying, telling me in a monotone
they were serving me with an order from the Wake County Magistrate's Office to
"Evaluate for Committal to a Mental Institution", blah, blah, blah. I didn't resist.
I was too perplexed to do anything but stand there frozen.
Leaving out a lot of detail, for brevity's sake, at some point my sister enters the
room to admire her handiwork, and my father followed to find out what the hell
was going on in the next room. Despite his protests, the police led me out,
shackled in metal and chains to one of their cars and buckled me in to drive me
to Raleigh to the Wake Mental Health Center.
The County Deputy, on the drive up to the city, apologizes to me the whole way,
saying he is just doing his duty, nothing personal, (yes, there are some good cops
but there are plenty of bad ones) and he acknowledges how very bogus he thinks
this whole deal is. We arrive at the Mental Health Center, and I am evaluated by a
psychiatrist who quickly realizes how bogus this situation was, but I spend the
required, perfunctory hour with him, anyway, and then he stamps:
"Does Not Meet The Criteria For Commitment" on the Magistrate papers the police
carried in, and the shrink declares me "psychologically fit".
(my illness(es) are physiological, not psychological)
The deputy returns me home and on the drive back, we talk about movies and
ball games and the weather. We arrive at my house and wonder of wonders,
my sister has disappeared.
Later, through considerable effort, I obtain a copy of the papers my sister filled out, before a County Magistrate, to explain why I should be committed to a mental
institution and how I pose a danger to myself and a danger to others... and then
signs it, under sworn oath, under the penalty of perjury.
I read what my sister wrote about me before this idiot Magistrate, and it was without exception, the biggest, wholesale, blatant pack of Lies, a person could squeeze into twenty blank lines on a form paper. I counted 18 lies in a row, written by my sister about me. And this airhead Magistrate signed off on it, putting the wheels in motion to have me put into a dungeon, without ANY background checking.
I found out the Magistrate did not even check to confirm my sister was who she said she was- my sister... and we live in the Computer Age with so much information a few clicks away... and the Magistrate had a computer sitting square in front of her.
I find out later, when I'm in the process of pressing charges against my sister
(my father talks me out of it for the sake of his grandsons - how would it look to
them and how badly would they be traumatized to see the police come to their door
and see their Mommy led away in handcuffs?...so, I relented) that it is SO ASTONISHINGLY EASY for someone, anyone, to walk in off the street into the County Courthouse, and claim before a Magistrate to be the relative of a person who poses a danger, and can be deceptive enough, after finding an idiot-enough Magistrate to sign off on the lies and fabrications.
In other words, if that someone can spin a convincing enough story to a Magistrate, they may well succeed in having someone committed to a mental institution.
The lawyer I talked to, said sorry, but that's just the way the law is in North Carolina and in quite a few other states, the Laws to Commit are even more liberal and lax.
But anyway, thankfully, as things turned out, my two sisters failed to get rid of me- Permanently. They would get another chance at it though, 8 months later.
Fast Forward to about 10 months later... to August of 2000
I am in the middle of preparing for a trial, having been charged with murdering
my brother, having my two sisters to thank for that charge of murder having been
pressed against me. My two sisters this time saw a Golden Opportunity to not only
put me away in prison, permanently, but maybe even to have me put to death,
to have me executed.
The original charge against me on June 30, 2000, was:
1st Degree Murder With Malice And Aforethought,
filed by the District Attorney's Office, at the urging of the small town
detective who had been conned and convinced all that day by my older sister,
that I was a murderer (and had planned to murder my brother?).
The next day, appearing in an article about my case (it was a "case" at that point)
in The News and Observer newspaper, the largest daily in North Carolina, the
reporter ended his piece by stating that I could receive the death penalty.
- - -
Here, I digress, but this past Tuesday morning, reading the articles in the same newspaper and looking at the images of the step-by-step execution of Timothy McVeigh the day before... well, as I was reading it, I lived and died through it all, vicariously.
That could have been me on the gurney being administered the lethal injections if
the State of North Carolina's Assistant District Attorney, if the Police Detective,
and if my two sisters had their way -- that could have been me accepting the same
FATE, to which McVeigh finally had to surrender.
Imagine my imagination!
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Do I get any ( ( ( H u g s ) ) ) now?
.
(edited for html "tags")