Showing posts with label ATF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ATF. Show all posts
20110117
20110112
There Is No Such Thing As A “Restraining Order”
Today was my scheduled hearing for the Order of Protection that Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives Agent John A. Stoltz requested the court grant him.
Back in August 2010, prior to my arrest at his behest, Mr. Stoltz had gone and gotten an Emergency Protective Order (EPO) against me.
Lemme explain the deal with these gooftard EPO thingies. Essentially anyone can get an EPO against anyone -- without notice to the other party. Pretty much all the alleged “victim” has to do is tell a compelling story to a magistrate. The tale doesn’t really have to be true, merely believable enough to get the chosen authority to sign off on the object. It’s not uncommon for vindictive people to venally embellish or out-and-out lie to get an EPO and considering the magistrate never needs evidence or to verify anything spoken or shown to him, there’s nothing to induce honesty or reasonableness in the procedure.
Case in point: according to records, Mr. Stoltz misquoted, in writing, things I published on I HeArTE JADE. It had to be deliberate; it’s not as if my words aren’t preserved here to be quoted verbatim. Hell, he could’ve carried in a printout if it was too much trouble for him to ink the exact comments down on paper by hand! Ya gotta figure if I’m as bad as he tried making me out to be, he wouldn’t have had to make stuff up. Plus, the magistrate could’ve adequately read my site to, at minimum, have some context, yet he did not. Shame on both of them.
Honestly, take yourself a close, serious, look at it and it’s not hard to understand how and why this what-otherwise-could-be-beneficial legal procedure is often abused.
Oh, did I mention an EPO is valid for only 72 hours? That’s right. Apparently it can’t go on, like, endlessly. Because somewhere along the line the person whom the EPO is not in favor of, gee, has to be afforded the opportunity to defend himself or herself in front of a judge. Isn’t that swell?
In my case, by the time The Game actually got around to slinging silver bracelets on me, the Emergency Protective Order Mr. Stoltz was granted had already expired without ever being served on me! Then due to the arrest, the conditions of my bail/bond, in addition to the interminable courtroom drama, basically I was subjected, with no objection from me, to an ongoing temporary Protective Order. Once my trial was over -- aw yeah -- a date was selected for my entitled full hearing on the issue.
Lemme explain the deal with these Order of Protection thingies. They can last for up to 2 years. They can contain any conditions and restrictions, imposed all at the discretion of a judge. Chilling. Yeah, that about covers it.
So. I arrived at the Greene County Courthouse at precisely 9:12AM.
The estimable Mr. Stoltz didn’t. even. bother. to. show. up.
I’d like to believe that after Agent Stoltz revealed himself as a fool, and a manipulative yellow-bellied government hire, during the past trial, and worried I would, in front of the, yes, same judge as always, debunk his antecedent prevarications to the magistrate, he was too embarrassed and conscience-afflicted to be present. Probably, though, the real reason is that he was just plain too dang lazy to come.
Regardless, guess this matter wasn’t as grave or important to him as he’d implied.
Well. The only thing the judge needed to do was release me from the binds of the temporary Order of Protection, which he did.
Wondering where this leaves me in the grand scheme of things relating to the spectacular ATF Agent Mr. John Stoltz? Right back where I started, I suppose. Free to ridicule him as I see fit. And post concomitant images. I’m free to do that again, too.
Back in August 2010, prior to my arrest at his behest, Mr. Stoltz had gone and gotten an Emergency Protective Order (EPO) against me.
Lemme explain the deal with these gooftard EPO thingies. Essentially anyone can get an EPO against anyone -- without notice to the other party. Pretty much all the alleged “victim” has to do is tell a compelling story to a magistrate. The tale doesn’t really have to be true, merely believable enough to get the chosen authority to sign off on the object. It’s not uncommon for vindictive people to venally embellish or out-and-out lie to get an EPO and considering the magistrate never needs evidence or to verify anything spoken or shown to him, there’s nothing to induce honesty or reasonableness in the procedure.
Case in point: according to records, Mr. Stoltz misquoted, in writing, things I published on I HeArTE JADE. It had to be deliberate; it’s not as if my words aren’t preserved here to be quoted verbatim. Hell, he could’ve carried in a printout if it was too much trouble for him to ink the exact comments down on paper by hand! Ya gotta figure if I’m as bad as he tried making me out to be, he wouldn’t have had to make stuff up. Plus, the magistrate could’ve adequately read my site to, at minimum, have some context, yet he did not. Shame on both of them.
Honestly, take yourself a close, serious, look at it and it’s not hard to understand how and why this what-otherwise-could-be-beneficial legal procedure is often abused.
Oh, did I mention an EPO is valid for only 72 hours? That’s right. Apparently it can’t go on, like, endlessly. Because somewhere along the line the person whom the EPO is not in favor of, gee, has to be afforded the opportunity to defend himself or herself in front of a judge. Isn’t that swell?
In my case, by the time The Game actually got around to slinging silver bracelets on me, the Emergency Protective Order Mr. Stoltz was granted had already expired without ever being served on me! Then due to the arrest, the conditions of my bail/bond, in addition to the interminable courtroom drama, basically I was subjected, with no objection from me, to an ongoing temporary Protective Order. Once my trial was over -- aw yeah -- a date was selected for my entitled full hearing on the issue.
Lemme explain the deal with these Order of Protection thingies. They can last for up to 2 years. They can contain any conditions and restrictions, imposed all at the discretion of a judge. Chilling. Yeah, that about covers it.
So. I arrived at the Greene County Courthouse at precisely 9:12AM.
The estimable Mr. Stoltz didn’t. even. bother. to. show. up.
I’d like to believe that after Agent Stoltz revealed himself as a fool, and a manipulative yellow-bellied government hire, during the past trial, and worried I would, in front of the, yes, same judge as always, debunk his antecedent prevarications to the magistrate, he was too embarrassed and conscience-afflicted to be present. Probably, though, the real reason is that he was just plain too dang lazy to come.
Regardless, guess this matter wasn’t as grave or important to him as he’d implied.
Well. The only thing the judge needed to do was release me from the binds of the temporary Order of Protection, which he did.
Wondering where this leaves me in the grand scheme of things relating to the spectacular ATF Agent Mr. John Stoltz? Right back where I started, I suppose. Free to ridicule him as I see fit. And post concomitant images. I’m free to do that again, too.
20101101
How Many Times CAN One Put Re- In Front Of Arrested?
Generally I categorize this site as humorous or entertaining. When things aren’t funny or fun to me, it makes it rough to update. I enjoy mocking the ridiculousness of various Law Enforcement members, along with the habitually-ludicrous frequently-oppressive judicial system, and often I forget how very real the absurdity and onerousness is; on rare occasions when I get a heavy enough dose of its reality, it truly makes me sad. Too sad to write, let alone write well.
This past Wednesday, October 27, 2010, was my trial in Greene County. Only there was no trial. Because the Commonwealth Attorney decided not to prosecute me. Instead he had me re-arrested. In court. For the same charge. Not for any new activity. No kidding.
In order to pull a nolle prosequi, the prosecutor has to show “just cause.” In this instance, CA Mr. Morris basically said “Well, gee, Your Honor, we think we may have found a better way to get her.” Which, people, is not “just cause.” But the former-State-Trooper judge I coincidentally keep getting shoved in front of was all like “Anything you want Mr. Morris. Slurp, slurp.”
So. The only thing that has changed is rather than the opposition being confined to substantiating the allegation within the scope of August 24, 2009 - August 24, 2010, the range goes from August 30, 2009 - August 30, 2010 -- the date they clicked the cuffs on me the first time ‘round for this. No new activity.
Oh. And I now have two arrests on my record for the same effin thing, involving the same effin people, and the same effin “evidence.” There is that.
Legal manipulation at its finest.
Kinda like ending up with Obstruction of Justice convictions in two different places for the same incident -- one in the City of Charlottesville, the other in Albemarle County.
Good thing I like balance… symmetry… stuff in pairs… all that. Yeah.
Ahem. To continue. I have a new trial date. In December.
Details from Wednesday:
This past Wednesday, October 27, 2010, was my trial in Greene County. Only there was no trial. Because the Commonwealth Attorney decided not to prosecute me. Instead he had me re-arrested. In court. For the same charge. Not for any new activity. No kidding.
In order to pull a nolle prosequi, the prosecutor has to show “just cause.” In this instance, CA Mr. Morris basically said “Well, gee, Your Honor, we think we may have found a better way to get her.” Which, people, is not “just cause.” But the former-State-Trooper judge I coincidentally keep getting shoved in front of was all like “Anything you want Mr. Morris. Slurp, slurp.”
So. The only thing that has changed is rather than the opposition being confined to substantiating the allegation within the scope of August 24, 2009 - August 24, 2010, the range goes from August 30, 2009 - August 30, 2010 -- the date they clicked the cuffs on me the first time ‘round for this. No new activity.
Oh. And I now have two arrests on my record for the same effin thing, involving the same effin people, and the same effin “evidence.” There is that.
Legal manipulation at its finest.
Kinda like ending up with Obstruction of Justice convictions in two different places for the same incident -- one in the City of Charlottesville, the other in Albemarle County.
Good thing I like balance… symmetry… stuff in pairs… all that. Yeah.
Ahem. To continue. I have a new trial date. In December.
Details from Wednesday:
- 32 degrees is not a comfortable temperature for a government building.
- It didn’t take as many hours to get to the point as it did the time before, but it might as well have.
- I was once more offered this joke of a “deal.” Naturally it wasn’t until I once more refused it that I was arrested and re-charged.
- ATFers David Stone and Michael Moore were present. Nice of them to come all the way from Washington to not testify in a planned-non-occurring trial. They will again be traveling all the way from Washington in December. Have I mentioned this is a misdemeanor case?
- I dredged my brain but couldn’t for the life of me recall Mr. Stone’s name; I had to look it up when I got home.
- Additional officers present included Charlottesville Detective Todd Lucas, Greene County Investigator Rodney Snead, and The Complainant. I didn’t see CPD Detective Nicholas Rudman, though that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. Have I mentioned this is a misdemeanor case?
- Not a shocker, Mr. Stone self-segregated in the special room with the other shield-swinging snoots. In remarkable contrast, Mr. Moore actually sat on a bench in the courtroom with all us riffraff. I think he just likes to show off his super-sparkly shoes. But it was cool to see him in there regardless.
- I am out on a $2500.00 (personal recognizance) bond. I don’t even remember if that’s the same amount as it was before or if it’s the sole different thing to break up the monotony.
20100908
A Change Of HeArTE
A black linen pencil skirt paired with an emerald green shirt, matchy-matchy patent leather skinny belt and sling-back pumps...
Today was my arraignment for the charge brought on by Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives Agent John Stoltz. There was also a hearing for an Order of Protection -- incorrectly but better known as a “restraining order” -- scheduled by the same officer. Oh yippee. Law Enforcement members must be safeguarded from being made fun of on the Internet, don’t-ya-know?
When I caught sight of the Greene County Courthouse, a flashback hit me full force: four years earlier anxiously glued to a rear bench inside that awful courtroom, me, in a multi-colored polka-dot shirt, jeans, a red rabbit-fur pom-pom scarf looped loosely ‘round my neck. The suited, decidedly-Irish-looking JADE TFO Mr. O’Donnell seated next to me, his knees relaxed apart, fingers comfortably intertwined, calmly reassuring me in whispers that facing down my accusatory husband would be okay -- that everything would be okay.
I vigorously shook my head to clear the reminiscence, pulled into an empty parking square, and appraised the surroundings. Mr. Stoltz’s eye-catching blue Dodge Charger was nowhere to be seen.
Once I was situated in the General District Court building, I noticed the Commonwealth Attorney, Ron Morris, and more memories of Mr. O’Donnell exploded like landmines in my brain. To distract myself, I focused on the many uniformed men muddling about. Checked me out some handsome Troopers. MmmHmm.
I was briefly entertained by some LaWanda Drama; the lively narrative of two local women beating “the devil” out of one another had many of the occupants in the room snickering.
By time I was called -- both first and last name pronounced wrong -- before the judge, I had learned Mr. Stoltz’s Order of Protection request had already been granted on a prior day. I’d been officially summoned to appear for the dang thing on this date. Not only did the ATF guy deliberately misquote and mischaracterize me, he’d circumvented me from defending myself from his malicious asseverations. How underhanded! I was informed I could appeal the decision, but, still, what the hell?
Due to the circumstances of my arrest -- my current Albemarle County attorney being a potential witness -- I was appointed another representative for this case. Good Lord, this is gonna get confusing.
As if I wasn’t feeling poo enough, to make it to my next destination I had to drive through an area where my estranged nearly-fifty-year-old husband would take the ten-year-old girl that he was sexually pursuing. Bile swirled in my stomach at the reminder and I raced to get out of the town before emesis.
For solace, I went all the way to Richmond to hang with the State policeman I’ve been seeing for months now. Only to have him tell me he could no longer swing cheating on his live-in girlfriend. Ho hum. Okay.
I was unsure whether I wanted to hear raging tunes or melancholic melodies on the ride home, so I opted instead to listen to the music of my thoughts.
I have ongrowing court costs and fines, two lawyers, one less lover, no GPS, and a website I’m afraid to update lest I be hooked-up and hauled off to jail.
Not exactly a Chart-topping song, is it?
Today was my arraignment for the charge brought on by Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives Agent John Stoltz. There was also a hearing for an Order of Protection -- incorrectly but better known as a “restraining order” -- scheduled by the same officer. Oh yippee. Law Enforcement members must be safeguarded from being made fun of on the Internet, don’t-ya-know?
When I caught sight of the Greene County Courthouse, a flashback hit me full force: four years earlier anxiously glued to a rear bench inside that awful courtroom, me, in a multi-colored polka-dot shirt, jeans, a red rabbit-fur pom-pom scarf looped loosely ‘round my neck. The suited, decidedly-Irish-looking JADE TFO Mr. O’Donnell seated next to me, his knees relaxed apart, fingers comfortably intertwined, calmly reassuring me in whispers that facing down my accusatory husband would be okay -- that everything would be okay.
I vigorously shook my head to clear the reminiscence, pulled into an empty parking square, and appraised the surroundings. Mr. Stoltz’s eye-catching blue Dodge Charger was nowhere to be seen.
Once I was situated in the General District Court building, I noticed the Commonwealth Attorney, Ron Morris, and more memories of Mr. O’Donnell exploded like landmines in my brain. To distract myself, I focused on the many uniformed men muddling about. Checked me out some handsome Troopers. MmmHmm.
I was briefly entertained by some LaWanda Drama; the lively narrative of two local women beating “the devil” out of one another had many of the occupants in the room snickering.
By time I was called -- both first and last name pronounced wrong -- before the judge, I had learned Mr. Stoltz’s Order of Protection request had already been granted on a prior day. I’d been officially summoned to appear for the dang thing on this date. Not only did the ATF guy deliberately misquote and mischaracterize me, he’d circumvented me from defending myself from his malicious asseverations. How underhanded! I was informed I could appeal the decision, but, still, what the hell?
Due to the circumstances of my arrest -- my current Albemarle County attorney being a potential witness -- I was appointed another representative for this case. Good Lord, this is gonna get confusing.
As if I wasn’t feeling poo enough, to make it to my next destination I had to drive through an area where my estranged nearly-fifty-year-old husband would take the ten-year-old girl that he was sexually pursuing. Bile swirled in my stomach at the reminder and I raced to get out of the town before emesis.
For solace, I went all the way to Richmond to hang with the State policeman I’ve been seeing for months now. Only to have him tell me he could no longer swing cheating on his live-in girlfriend. Ho hum. Okay.
I was unsure whether I wanted to hear raging tunes or melancholic melodies on the ride home, so I opted instead to listen to the music of my thoughts.
I have ongrowing court costs and fines, two lawyers, one less lover, no GPS, and a website I’m afraid to update lest I be hooked-up and hauled off to jail.
Not exactly a Chart-topping song, is it?
20100817
20100812
Yet Moore And More Funnies From Law Enforcement
Reminds me of Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Sgt. Joe Hatter whining over me showing everyone, via I HeArTE JADE, how I discovered where he lives, then, two months after the Task Force and the Virginia State Police use that as the basis for my arrest and two days after my end-result clone convictions on obstruction of justice charges, that same Sgt. Hatter appeared in video and print in a worldwide news story -- about how the City of Charlottesville got him a house merely for being a police officer -- which featured him, his residence, plus his wife and children. Seriously. Look it up.
The unction of these lawmen is deserving of typewritten unrestrained ridicule. Which I will commence. The second I stop laughing at them.
20100803
Cryptic Grape Juice
So I’ve gathered that members of the ATF can be identified, in, uh, certain places, under lowercase first initial/middle initial/last name. For example:
jastoltz
mamoore
jrhealey
While US Attorneys go with capitalized first initial/last name:
AGiorno
NHealey
Hmm… I wonder if Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms Agent David Stone finished that report of his yet. I think he should email me a copy.
jastoltz
mamoore
jrhealey
While US Attorneys go with capitalized first initial/last name:
AGiorno
NHealey
Hmm… I wonder if Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms Agent David Stone finished that report of his yet. I think he should email me a copy.
20100728
Today’s Entry Brought To You By The Letters ATF
Four cars with guys from the ATF in Washington showed up at my place this morning to “talk” to me. That’s right, four. With ATF Agents. From Washington. For little ol’ me.
(Two of the four, belonging to Agents Michael Moore and Dave Stone.)
I almost never answer the door to people I don’t know, so when I heard the knock this morning and, through the peephole, saw a couple of men in ties on the other side, I thought Meh. Jehovah’s Witnesses, and went back to what I was doing pre-interruption.
When the rapping came again, louder and far more insistent, I just knew something bad was up. A peek out the blinds of the window and my earlier thought turned to Oh my God -- FEDS! I mean, suits and shiny shoes? At my little hole in the Ghetto? Come on. Who else could it be?
I watched as two of their vehicles barricaded the parking area and a man standing outside the pair of automobiles fished out his cell phone. Aha! I know this trick. I ran for my own cell phone and toggled the option to “vibrate only” -- right as “Restricted” rang through.
Multiple Agents in attendance, their pounding on my door, their calling my number, their circling outside like vultures... the sad thing is, I know they’re just trying to intimidate me yet it still works on me. I was frightened. Plus, while they were busy terrorizing me they’d also simultaneously targeted for the same treatment members of my family who live nearby. Do you know how hard it is to think and function under such conditions?
I put Mr. Restricted on ignore and dialed my lawyer. Who was in court. After playing a bit of phone tag -- to the ongoing tattoo of knuckles striking the door -- I was advised to not get in a stand-off. A stand-off! Moi in a stand-off? Stand-offs equal dead. I can’t blog if I’m dead.
Ultimately I let the men in.
The sole reason they graced me with their presence is because of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Special Agent John Stoltz. You know, the not-really-a-JADE-Task-Force-Officer JADE Task Force Officer. The one I picked on minimally for site filler weeks ago. The one I insinuated I wouldn’t bother again if he didn’t make ado out of a nothing thing. Mhmm. Him.
What part of “I’ll leave you alone if you leave me alone” is confusing to these fellows? What part of “I don’t respond well to bullying” isn’t sinking in their collective head? You would think at least one affiliate with Law Enforcement -- just one! -- could figure out what does and what does not work with me and, I don’t know, go with it.
It’d be understandable maybe if I’ve been tweaking them lately, but, for the love of logic, my last post is, in part, an apology for my not blogging!
Anyway, I’ve done nothing illegal. (I feel like I should make that my mantra or something.) Apparently I haven’t even done enough to incur a search warrant. Or an interrogation. Or even an official announcement. But they sent four cars. With ATF Agents. From Washington. For little ol’ me.
(Two of the four, belonging to Agents Michael Moore and Dave Stone.)
I almost never answer the door to people I don’t know, so when I heard the knock this morning and, through the peephole, saw a couple of men in ties on the other side, I thought Meh. Jehovah’s Witnesses, and went back to what I was doing pre-interruption.
When the rapping came again, louder and far more insistent, I just knew something bad was up. A peek out the blinds of the window and my earlier thought turned to Oh my God -- FEDS! I mean, suits and shiny shoes? At my little hole in the Ghetto? Come on. Who else could it be?
I watched as two of their vehicles barricaded the parking area and a man standing outside the pair of automobiles fished out his cell phone. Aha! I know this trick. I ran for my own cell phone and toggled the option to “vibrate only” -- right as “Restricted” rang through.
Multiple Agents in attendance, their pounding on my door, their calling my number, their circling outside like vultures... the sad thing is, I know they’re just trying to intimidate me yet it still works on me. I was frightened. Plus, while they were busy terrorizing me they’d also simultaneously targeted for the same treatment members of my family who live nearby. Do you know how hard it is to think and function under such conditions?
I put Mr. Restricted on ignore and dialed my lawyer. Who was in court. After playing a bit of phone tag -- to the ongoing tattoo of knuckles striking the door -- I was advised to not get in a stand-off. A stand-off! Moi in a stand-off? Stand-offs equal dead. I can’t blog if I’m dead.
Ultimately I let the men in.
The sole reason they graced me with their presence is because of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Special Agent John Stoltz. You know, the not-really-a-JADE-Task-Force-Officer JADE Task Force Officer. The one I picked on minimally for site filler weeks ago. The one I insinuated I wouldn’t bother again if he didn’t make ado out of a nothing thing. Mhmm. Him.
What part of “I’ll leave you alone if you leave me alone” is confusing to these fellows? What part of “I don’t respond well to bullying” isn’t sinking in their collective head? You would think at least one affiliate with Law Enforcement -- just one! -- could figure out what does and what does not work with me and, I don’t know, go with it.
It’d be understandable maybe if I’ve been tweaking them lately, but, for the love of logic, my last post is, in part, an apology for my not blogging!
Anyway, I’ve done nothing illegal. (I feel like I should make that my mantra or something.) Apparently I haven’t even done enough to incur a search warrant. Or an interrogation. Or even an official announcement. But they sent four cars. With ATF Agents. From Washington. For little ol’ me.
(Their business card. Yes, really.)
20100630
Jeez, You Don’t Have To Make A Federal Case Out Of It!
I’ve gotten a few inquiries about my fresh string of John Stoltz posts. I know it’s completely cheezball to quote oneself but sometimes I kinda do feel like pressed curd surrounded by nuts, so this is one of my responses from last week to a reader to semi-explain the esoteric entries:
John Stoltz is the local ATF agent who works with the JADE Task Force -- whenever JADE is investigating dealers and there are guns and such involved. I found out Mr. Stoltz has files under my name on his computer so I thought it'd be funny to let him know that I know that -- much like I'd carry milk and cookies out to an undercover officer if I caught one watching me.
Apparently one girl’s humor is another guy’s affliction?
Through a couple of inerrant sources I’ve confirmed the ATFer is now resorting to filthy tactics in response to the modicum of attention I’ve recently shown him. I should’ve realized it’d be the route he’d take, him being a Detective Brian O’Donnell knockoff and all.
Since Mr. Stoltz is not a member of the Task Force, I am free to contact him -- both directly and indirectly. This would be the direct approach:
Dear Special Agent Stoltz,
You must be aware you won’t be able to have me locked up forever nor is Google going to cyber-assassinate I HeArTE JADE merely at your whim and behest. Please settle down and reconsider your strategy. Seriously, I really don’t want to have to pick on you for the rest of eternity. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m not interested in concentrating on you for even like a whole month. I mean, I’m already spread thin keeping up with JADE, tabbing the Virginia State Police, teasing various City of Charlottesville and County of Albemarle lawmen, et cetera.
You could keep trying to handle me the very same way your buddies did, but, c’mon, anyone can see how that worked out for them. I don’t believe you’ve yet crossed the line into bullying -- not me, anyway -- thus I’m not opposed to backing off if you’re not opposed to being reasonable. I’ll give you some time to think it over. You decide to truce, have your people call my people. ‘Til then, expect my minute occasional, one hundred per cent. legal, tweaking of you to continue.
John Stoltz is the local ATF agent who works with the JADE Task Force -- whenever JADE is investigating dealers and there are guns and such involved. I found out Mr. Stoltz has files under my name on his computer so I thought it'd be funny to let him know that I know that -- much like I'd carry milk and cookies out to an undercover officer if I caught one watching me.
Apparently one girl’s humor is another guy’s affliction?
Through a couple of inerrant sources I’ve confirmed the ATFer is now resorting to filthy tactics in response to the modicum of attention I’ve recently shown him. I should’ve realized it’d be the route he’d take, him being a Detective Brian O’Donnell knockoff and all.
Since Mr. Stoltz is not a member of the Task Force, I am free to contact him -- both directly and indirectly. This would be the direct approach:
Dear Special Agent Stoltz,
You must be aware you won’t be able to have me locked up forever nor is Google going to cyber-assassinate I HeArTE JADE merely at your whim and behest. Please settle down and reconsider your strategy. Seriously, I really don’t want to have to pick on you for the rest of eternity. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m not interested in concentrating on you for even like a whole month. I mean, I’m already spread thin keeping up with JADE, tabbing the Virginia State Police, teasing various City of Charlottesville and County of Albemarle lawmen, et cetera.
You could keep trying to handle me the very same way your buddies did, but, c’mon, anyone can see how that worked out for them. I don’t believe you’ve yet crossed the line into bullying -- not me, anyway -- thus I’m not opposed to backing off if you’re not opposed to being reasonable. I’ll give you some time to think it over. You decide to truce, have your people call my people. ‘Til then, expect my minute occasional, one hundred per cent. legal, tweaking of you to continue.
20100622
Love My Little Birdies
What do you do when you learn somebody in the United States Department of Justice (USDOJ) has an active file with your identity on it, last name first? You roll your eyes, laugh out loud, and post another “Charger photo” for his jastoltz collection:
20100610
20090704
20081216
Remarkable
When you drive a remarkable vehicle, there’s a chance someone is bound to remark on it. When you park a remarkable vehicle, and walk ½ a mile away from it, there’s a chance someone is bound to take pictures of it.
Although, the distance between driver and vehicle is irrelevant when the someone taking the photographs is me; I’ll snap shots at any given time.
I think I’m the only one who counts SeeSee -- the operator of that cute blue Charger -- as a full-fledged member of the JADE Task Force. He doesn’t work at the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement office but he’s down there too often to not connect him to it. I imagine he’s got the Untouchables poster tacked up on the wall in the place where he does work since SeeSee’s true calling is as an Agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.
SeeSee, I was told, is 39 (or maybe it was 40) years old. That’s around what I would guess his age to be. The exception to my estimation would be any time he’s got a Law Enforcement Officer as a passenger in the Dodge. Then I’d have to put his age at, oh, 17. You ought to see the way he drives when he’s got Longhead with him: like a punk kid who’s trying to impress his buddy. It’s remarkable.
Although, the distance between driver and vehicle is irrelevant when the someone taking the photographs is me; I’ll snap shots at any given time.
SeeSee, I was told, is 39 (or maybe it was 40) years old. That’s around what I would guess his age to be. The exception to my estimation would be any time he’s got a Law Enforcement Officer as a passenger in the Dodge. Then I’d have to put his age at, oh, 17. You ought to see the way he drives when he’s got Longhead with him: like a punk kid who’s trying to impress his buddy. It’s remarkable.
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