Chapter Twenty Eight An Opera in Three Acts But with Five Parts
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| But she just already had! And purposefully, too, I could tell it in her voice! She must have discerned sincerity, authenticity and legitimate substance in mine because she had clearly searched for –– and found –– a very, very telling way to get to me the answers to everything I’d asked of her … without compromising her duty and, ultimately, her very job, of course. “Of course,” I replied with probably too much enthusiasm to my pitch and timbre, “ … aaaah, of course! Ah, um … I won’t bother you any longer. I know it’s really, really late. Thank you! Thank you ever! For … for, well, thanks so much, Ma’am. Good – bye now.”
I have never known her name, but … but I know her. And thousands of such mothers like her do I know! At no time had I ever given over to her or to any other of the receptionists or nurses who had answered the late – night, infirmary switchboard sets at those various easternmost hospitals … Jesse’s middle name of Thaddeus. Coming as it was back to me and mentioned for the very first time all evening, exclusively and singularly throughout its pronunciation, there could have only been one way that that had happened: Jesse was, indeed, a patient there –– and currently there as in –– “… our patients here at this time, Mrs. True!” which she had, with me on the wire still, just looked up inside all of the reception registry’s chart – related mishmash which I had heard this other, West Virginian mother pushing around and so swiftly jumbling through. I was as thrilled as a mama could possibly be … … who has just learned the news that her child has been hospitalized. This is not electrifyingly delightful news –– yet it could be described in that moment as … breathtaking. I’d found Jesse! –– and obviously he was alive! Trying to piece together the time and date just then with what I could intuit from Mirzah’s overtones and inflections and with how many times I had tried telephoning out to any of the Boys since my return back to Iowa, it appeared to me that it was quite possible Jesse Truemaier had been in Blue Hazelnut Ridge, or at least gone from Herry – Daddee’s Grubtrop residence, for at least two weeks or longer. Perhaps from about as many weeks as I had been gone from Grubtrop in mid April 1994, to the initial time that Jesse … went missing. But Jesse Truemaier was alive! This much I finally did know! And, for the little bit of present time directly in front of me, this information and knowledge in to the mother and no longer withheld from me was … enough. That night at work was nearly a decade ago and still so harrowing for me that I remember it as if it were just last night’s endeavor! And Stormy? I’ve said it before –– in Ms. Emily Dickinson’s prose, “My friends are my estate.” … “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Stormy and Unidentified Blue Hazelnut Ridge Worker Woman!” Only vengeance – wresting, loathing fathers would ever cause a mother nearly a thousand miles away –– which might as well have been as far away as the other side of the Planet –– to have to hear from her 15 – year – old child’s brother, that is, from her other child, her 14 – year – old Mirzah, the following words, “If Jesse were, aaah,… ah, if Jesse was, um … ah … ah, dying, ya’ know I’d tell ya’, don’tcha, Ma?! You know I would, don’tcha?! If he was dying, I would tell ya’, Ma.” That was, however, the life stratagem and style –– indeed –– of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, Alleged Daddee and Healer. At the time I did not know that Blue Hazelnut Ridge Worker Woman was, after all, a nurse. When I first asked, she knew right away that Jesse Thaddeus Truemaier was there because … Jesse was her patient! She just didn’t have on the tip of her tongue his middle name so, hence, her need to quickly consult documents which held this all – important clue –– the one which she gave right back to me. My home telephone on Havencourt Drive rang there about 11 p.m. on the late night of Sunday, 08 May 1994, nearly a week after my wired encounter with Blue Hazelnut Ridge Worker Woman when we two were both at our respective places of work. “Hi, Ma, it’s me, Jesse. Happy Mother’s Day! I couldn’t call ya’ earlier today cuz I couldn’t get to a telephone by myself. Just wanted to tell ya’ that. An’, an’ that … I’m home. An’, O … ah, … ah, the nurse? She came and told me right after she talked to ya’ that you’d called for me.” Jesse didn’t say it, but I knew it: Blue Hazelnut Ridge Worker Woman was smiling directly at him that night when she told him I had found him; I know it. “Mom, they thought I was on drugs. That’s why they put me there. But I wasn’t, Mom. I wasn’t. You were just out here; I wasn’t on drugs, was I?!” It wouldn’t be that Mother’s Day 1994, when I also told Mirzah and Zane that I’d found Jesse the very night I promised Mirzah on the telephone that I would: it was too late on that specific one. But at some later point, I did tell both of Jesse’s brothers that I, indeed, had had two friends that frenetic night, one my boss and another whom I shall never meet nor know further … guide me straight to Jesse. Jesse didn’t know it either, and this fact I have never told any of the Truemaier Boys: that when Jesse phoned me up that Sunday night in May, his late – at – night call to me had been the first Mother’s Day in six years’ worth of Mother’s Days that I had had a call or a contact or any form of a remembrance from him or from Mirzah or from Zane because Dr. Herry Edinsmaier, with the more – than – willing, folie – à – deux assistance of Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive, had in his notorious kingly reign kept such a tight rein in on them all –– including the earlier times even –– when they lived with me but were gone over to Herry’s house or had been with Herry on weekend visitation when this one particularly special May Sunday on everyone’s calendars came ‘round! * * * * Just a few weeks before my pro se Iowa Court of Appeals appearance with those treasured –– and exact –– ten minutes’ worth of ‘argument’ time in front of a panel of three, even higher black – robed courtiers than ever before, that is, the thunderous ‘legal’ conclusion which would become the Part Five of the Third Act of The Opera, a letter arrived in that same, now infamously tarnished mailbox on Havencourt. From Dr. Herod Edinsmaier and one page only, the typed letter was addressed singly to me and described from its git – go how Jesse’s hospitalization, the ‘need’ for it and ‘everything else’ leading up to it, had been … all my fault. Not a mention about any adults’ ‘beliefs’ that Jesse had ingested illicit, street drugs. Not one word on that. Dated Mother’s Day 1994 also, apparently the day of Jesse’s discharge so no doubt written somewhat earlier on the very same day on which Jesse telephoned me … after soooo Small Man Syndrome – Afflicted Herry Edinsmaier had blithely drifted off to sleep, the Great and Wonderful Healer bitch – slapped me, the youth’s mother–, with the following three, slamming paragraphs of patriarchal, Hans and Franz – pump you up –fuck, “You deceived me and violated Judge Butcher’s ruling by visiting the children in West Virginia mid – April 1994, as you did in the spring of 1993. This last visit was emotionally traumatic to Jesse in particular, and immediately after he was unable to sleep. In a short time he was manic and eventually became so distressed that he required hospitalization. He has now been medicated and is to be discharged today. He will be taking lithium long term, but I expect him to return to all of his usual activities. I have been informed by the staff of the Blue Hazelnut Ridge Hospital at West Virginia State University in Morgantown that you have attempted to contact Jesse at the hospital. I object to that contact and point out that you are entitled to records only. I do not have the records of Jesse’s stay; you will have to obtain them at your own expense from West Virginia State. Because he is now beginning to take responsibility for himself, it would also be courteous to ask Jesse for permission. The shock of being approached by you in disguise in front of his peers and then beginning to realize the extent of your illness and his own cooperation with it was apparently enough to trigger a manic episode. I do not see how you (with probably the same illness untreated) could participate in a positive fashion in his recovery. To be involved in your plots, schemes and deceptions could only exacerbate his paranoia and delay his return to full integration into his school and social life. If you cared about his health as you say you do, you would stop doing that. You could help Jesse most by complying with Judge Butcher’s direction and seeking psychiatric therapy for yourself. Had you done so in 1992, you would probably have had your visitation reinstated by now and would not have to disguise yourself with hats, mustaches and rented cars in order to escape detection during your visits. Until you follow the court’s direction as regards seeking psychiatric therapy for yourself I believe that it is the Court’s desire and my duty to try to shield Jesse from your influence.” And then the Great and Wonderful, American State District Court – Decreed Ex – Husband Dominator – Doctor Edinsmaier signed it –– even signed it “sincerely,” according to the closure’s wording. But where was within the contextual body of this letter – and I searched long and repeatedly for it … over and over … a purpose. A purpose in sending this missive to me. O JYeah, there was one all right. That would be the one wherein … I fucking pissed Herry off! That purpose! Classic Dr. Herod Edinsmaier this patriarchal communiqué was with such of his slam – the – pussy catch phrases and domineering – doctoring jingoism to it as “your illness” and Jesse’s “own cooperation with it”!!! As well as the Jesse’s – daddy – gives – such – a – rat’s – ass – if – he – is – or – he – isn’t asininity of Herry’s phrase, “to take responsibility for himself.” “Take responsibility for himself” ?!!! I wanted to guffaw at the Slacker – Doctor’s hypocritical blatancy, “Hell, Herry, ‘responsible’? ‘Responsible’?! O say, Herry, then … then would that assuming of ‘personal responsibility’ have come on to Jesse, ah, um, before –– or would that be after … his paranoia and Jesse’s aggressiveness toward neighbors and teachers and his hospitalization for the label allya’all put onto him of bipolar or manic – depressive illness? Just exactly how and when had Jesse, at 15½, –– with a … literally … mother – fucking role model for a daddee such as your lazy – and laissez – ass – faire self, Herry ! ! ! –– when had Jesse become so friggin’ and personally accountable? When you … you Herry … soooo are not!? When you, Herry, are anything but. Are anything but accountable –– and, instead, have so secretly scripted in your own handwriting that you have “fears of others learning the Truth about me! ! !” I had fooled Herry. I had made a fool of Herry. I had … fouled … Herry! I, Dr. Legion True, that DEhuman critter, hell, that monster, who herself was so “ill” with such an “untreated” condition, ya’ know, ‘the psychosis she has there of … of yearning for her babes! ! !’ who, if she’d just been a good l’ttl’ girl an’ … an’ followed all the – big – men – in – charge’s directives, could have had her “visitation reinstated by now” –– had shamed him! And had shamed and foolingly fouled Herry Edinsmaier … baaaad. By successfully visiting two separate, consecutive years … no less … three different individuals –– over all four of whom Herry desired to have … total revenging control. ‘Cept he obviously … had had no such thing! And Herry –– … although never, never, ever telling such allegedly ‘responsible’ teenagers that he had deigned to physically send a tangibly berating and bellicose diatribe of a reprimanding reprisal, one so full of disdain and sneering scorn to their mother –– … Daddee – Herry Edinsmaier was, however, … not at all … about to let Legion True’s humiliating and mortifying him slip quiescently … by me. O, not at all! To follow? After Part Five of The Opera concluded there came to the foreground then in crescendoing clamor the utter, preposterous folly of Herry’s final sentence to me. The stupidity and silliness of the letter’s end was not in the fact that it was me to whom Herry stated the words: of course, it was to me –– because it was always … me … whom Herry blamed! For everything! The hypocrisy was in the very words with which Herry chose to upbraid me. Of all of the language Herry could have chosen with which to fuck me, he made a complete ass out of himself using the ones he did choose! “Until you follow the court’s direction as regards seeking psychiatric therapy for yourself I believe that it is the Court’s desire and my duty to try to shield Jesse from your influence.” Did Herry not just state there, lastly in this letterbox bomb of his blasted forth against me, that it was his “duty to try to shield Jesse from …” me, Legion True, Jesse’s mama? Was this not what the letter stated? Well, indeed, it most certainly was so stated –– … … –– just hours before Jesse himself telephoned me, … –– exactly, word for word, what Herry wrote to me –– purposefully –– upon the annual day set aside by others in society specifically to honor … mothers: Mother’s Day 1994. Interestingly enough and so, so the purposeful style of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, another harassing harangue arrived, as well. Dated 13 June 1994, it blasted forth one week after my Court of Appeals appearance, that is, just after Part Five of The Opera. Truly, however, this subsequent bomb equaled Herry’s rendition of an invoice, … his billing statement to me: I was being charged, that is, with all of the material expenses, the bucks, the money, for half of Jesse’s recent hospitalization at Blue Hazelnut Ridge. Merely three sentences long, Herry’s second letter began, “For Jesse’s recent illness the charges are as seen in the following table. Judge Seizer’s original decree directed the parents to share equally the uninsured medical expenses of the children, and that provision was never modified. In accordance with that provision, I am with this letter billing you for one half of the uninsured medical expense.” Meaning $3,529.17. I ignored it. More to my mind, at this very time, had just been … ‘the Argument.’ Before yet another elevated and funky walnut bench with black leather bumper trim and it loaded there with three, all frocked in flowing black robes, of Iowa’s allegedly most revered jurist – like folks, the date was Tuesday, 07 June 1994; and the appointed hour for our all convening inside their colossal Court of Appeals’ courtroom at the State of Iowa’s domed and gilded Capitol Building inside the midst of Des Moines and bearing there, as it did, its ornate ceiling – to – floor drapes, the carpeting of golds and browns and tart cherry red paisley and all of its solid wooden pews of the hardest and unkindest depths was … 9 o’clock in the a.m. Of course, Herry Edinsmaier did not show. As a matter of massive fact and in the exact manner as is Herry’s modeling from always before … that is, the one of women’s unimportance … the Esteemed Doctor’s Esteemed Employee – Attorney, Mr. Shindy Scheisser, didn’t even show up either! To the Court of Appeals’ precious ten minutes’ worth of my pronouncements, the two of them, Herry and Scheisser, thought it all so unimportant that for the Good Doctor – Daddee’s side of things they decided to send over to the State of Iowa’s Capitol Building the gilded legal firm’s most rookie, most junior, most inexperienced, most flunky lawyer –– only, … a Des Moines man whose name I was told then and promptly forgot, his statements so uninspiring, so without force and none worth remembering. And if I thought so and, subsequently did not remember them or him, … then, I am certain: the three panelist – jurists didn’t either! Furthermore, no one else at all bothered to come for Herry’s or his ‘representative’s’ support because, aforehand, all of them already knew it wasn’t one bit necessary to waste anyone else’s time doing so! They all already knew, aforehand, the Argument’s outcome. As it was a foregone, already decided conclusion –– only, of course, I was still hoping, still trusting … somewhat … which is why I pained myself to suffer through this tribulation in the first place. But it all … truly … was a done deal –– before any of it even started. After all, we were dealing here with males! And privileged ones at that! All of them … pillared ones! So screw … The Law. And fuck justice or what the moral and the Right Thing to Do was: ‘twasn’t necessary! None of it! NOT for us noncustodial DEhumans was anyone else’s time and efforts worth wasting! For damned, mother – fucking sure! Fuck The Law. Fuck us mamas’ perception of The Law. And we were dealing with male – identified females. Except, perhaps, besides me … for one –– –– with more on Dr. Legion True … later. A lone seamstress I knew who supported herself and her two, very young children by her tailoring talent sewed for me the perfect, three – piece, arguing suit replete with high – to – the – chin, ivory – hued, Edwardian collar and lace – trimmed jabot inside the exterior, western – stylized, pewter pinstripe blazer with silver buttons and solid yoke to match the similarly solid, full wool skirt to mid – calf. Blonde as sunshine, true enough, yet all of it coifed modestly –– swept upward into a prim and tight French twist, also Louise Sawyer – like … of Thelma and Louise … I thought. I applied the barest of matching ivory and gray eyeshadow and skimped ever so slightly on the brown – black mascara; we couldn’t have me painted for ‘the court’ like one of Larry Flynt’s covers or corner cunts now, could we? In gray flats I walked up front and sat down on the appellant’s side of this State’s stately courtroom, the leftists’, … er, its left one. Directly behind me and the four – foot wall of carved and shellacked walnut on the same, left side stretched an utterly filled number of pews. We had all had to come from various parts of Iowa –– “the We –– of Emily Dickinson’s ‘the estate’ who are all of my friends” –– and at least 45 minutes to an hour’ travel time down from Ames –– while Herry’s unremembered – , thus – nameless – rep ran himself up to the Capitol Building from … a couple of blocks away, that is, up from just downtown Des Moines. Almost all of the ISU Forestry Department was present including both Ms. Franklin and Dr. Joplin, and the Truemaier Boys’ and my personal friends since this shit all began … and many more since then. Sans Agnes and P.M. Flunk, of course, the supposed Quakers who were in no way quakerly, there were in attendance, however, Grace and Frieda with her cane and László and Linda and Cyan Song and Stormy and Teri Lynn, Adam and the Eldest Elder, Abraham. Slight in stature as she certainly had been in life, Margaret Sagely, now corporally … ashes only by then, flitted around inside my head, “If you were not hysterical, then, … then, Legion, is when I would be worried about you!” As did, too of course, … our belovéd Cinqué – styled AmTaham. In the very back row –– but on Herry’s side which was nearest to the room’s entrance and it is likely that they did not know there were two “sides” to the courtroom –– , my brother Sterling suddenly appeared … there accompanied by another – on – her – cane, Mehitable, almost right at 9 o’clock, she sporting that walk and the struggling, slumped stance of hers which all of the time silently shouts, “O, I’m sooo, so helpless here!” when … hardly at all … is that what Mehitable, most manipulative, truly is! Sterling arrantly and arrogantly refused ever to lock eyeballs with me. Not one time before nor after the entire proceeding did Sterling actually look at me, at my face, at my eyes. Needless to say then, too, there were no words of support forthcoming to me … from either one of them. Sterling and Mehitable simply strutted out as suddenly as they had surfaced … … when time was up. Their attendance at all, it certainly seemed, must have been out of morbid curiosity –– as Mehitable had yet to acknowledge, even one time, that she and Sterling, by their both, … behind my back and without ever telling me, let alone, even asking me if I needed for them to take my Boys anything, … by their both driving out to visit Herry’s next, haphazardly slammed – together, Grubtrop clan had –– at that previous October’s autumnal time –– wholly fucked with me. Let alone, acknowledged that Chicaners She and He had both been mother – fuckingly dead wrong to have pulled off that tricking thuggery of theirs at all. Not to mention that my own mother had yet to apologize to me for any of it. Morbidly meddlesome –– she, yes, … and serving quite possibly in the nefarious role of a proxy peeper, as a surrogate voyeur she was acting … on behalf of the Dick – Peeping – Tom Herry and the absentee King’s Cuntly Ms. Male – Identified McLive, as well. A court officer, male and nondescript, opened a door back behind the bench, proceeded forth through it and set down a timing device upon a stand – like structure to my right immediately between me and Herry’s no – name, ‘latest’ attorney. Within seconds after that was done, three people strode into the courtroom through that same door –– them all. Judge Pansy Shawshank first. Taking his seat in the black, leather highback in the middle was, next, this particular court’s worth of a chief, Allen Donnellson, and to his immediate left and lastly then came the Iowa Court of Appeals’ newest appointee, a man named Barry L. Crowrook who had only been added to and, thus, on this specific bench less than three months’ total time, … I was to later learn. A thing I noted right away was the fact that there were two different people this time: Shawshank and Crowrook –– different in the sense that, of the six possible judges for this particular appellate court, only one, Donnellson its Chief, had served for and decided upon … my first appeal. Gone straightaway against me, that is, … Donnellson had. Of The Opera’s appellate judges then, from its Act Two Part Three? Well, only one of these people was back now in this, its Act Three Part Five. And with that first appeal? Well, with that one, there had not been any courtroom presence for any of us ‘players’, er, ‘singers’ … at all. All, for it, had been done through Ms. Carlotta Klutz and, presumably, the ‘real’ Edinsmaier employee, Mr. Shindy Scheisser –– and, then, … all, for it, done only ‘on paper’. The people calling themselves judges, then, had decided from document arguments in briefs read, first, by their lackey law clerks with subsequent summarizations of same … by same … then given over to the ones –– or, quite likely, ‘their ghosts’ –– who actually performed the writing of … ‘their’ … er, these three judges’ … final decision. “Whew! Zero people calling themselves judges from that first appeal would’ve been best, but this? This is at least hopeful, not?” I am thinking to and querying myself regarding the two judges now, with Part Five, who were new to me … and to the Truemaier Boys’ and ‘my case’. With Act Three Part Five now, as with that first appeal ahead of and prior to this second one, there had been plenty of briefs and plenty of documents, a passel of paper again, all submitted beforehand –– as had been required by the Iowa Code and, following cookbook – like timeframes and formulations, almost recipe – like that is, I had met every single deadline on time and in its precise manner, right down to the correct colors of four different briefings’ and appendices’ covers: blue, gray, red and white! Twenty – one copies of each! Nineteen copies of all thingys up to the Court itself … inside that difficult – to – reach and hardly accessible – at – all, gilded Capitol Building … Nineteen! And one of absolutely everything else I was also required, by Code, to provide to as well as to deliver up to … the opposition! To the appellee –– to Herry! … by way of Dr. Legion True’s personally chauffeuring and acting as courier for them all … over to the Good and Wonderful Doctor’s team office of legalese gangbangers. Finally, of course, one copy, at the least, of all of these stuffs for myself! All of that printing –– at my entire expense of both money and time which equaled … thousands of minutes and thousands, literally, of dollars, too, which most folks, I have since found, would not believe … unless they had gone through the actual doing of it all … themselves! Most importantly to me about this gargantuan achievement of mine was my steadfastly constant, yet ultimately sooooo, so stupid, belief that any, let alone, all of it was, ahead of the Argument date of Tuesday, 07 June 1994 … actually being read. And thoroughly studied! And both read and studied –– by –– the exact folks … who were to become accountable for, as a matter of fact, the deciding of the Truemaier Boys’ and ‘my case’! All of this entire matter had certainly been submitted and file – stamped long, long in advance of this date so that there had been plenty enough time for all of it to have been meticulously studied, exhaustively researched, carefully cross – referenced and, quite literally, dug into for the very findings of all actual facts versus the ferreting out of fallacies! Most certainly this was so! Thus … I had believed that: THIS was so. Wasn’t it?! ! ! As did I aspire to myself, all of these people surely wanted to base their decisioning upon The Truth after all, didn’t they?! ! ! As would I of myself require, all of these people had, then, all of my copies’ matters completely read through and diligently studied up upon, not?! When, in fact, NONE of it all had been! ! ! Well, more on this in a wee bit! Back from West Virginia then and just passed the awful fright of Jesse’s latest nightmare, I had thrown myself into the writing and the oration of my words before these three. One of the thoughts that struck me as I’d drilled and rehearsed was the very real possibility that, for Iowa at least, ‘my case’ could be headed into the realm of legal … precedence. I thought on it seriously at some point before that Tuesday morning because I was beginning to catch drifts about far, far too many other of us DEhuman parents similarly threatened and terrorized with the state’s just swooping in and scooping up and away from us women … our babes! Was Dr. Legion True, the atheist feminist, being ‘blessed’ here with a ‘premonition’ about … precedence … as I wrote and as I practiced?! One of the thoughts that did not strike me, and one that, by now, so, so should have … was that no matter how important, how child – impacting I believed my passions and my struggles to be … all of them meant, as they likewise had meant to Herry, to Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive, to Mr. Shindy Scheisser and, for that matter, to Custody Evaluator Canard and to my very own former Attorneys Jazzy Jinx and Carlotta Klutz, … all of them meant exactly squat to appellate judges. And … these people were not about to care for, let alone, to even read my documents. Nor … to study them, to research them, to cross – reference any and to look for buried, not to mention, obvious lies, errors and contradictions between my written statements and those of Herry’s or of Judge Butcher’s?! Well … forgeddabooudit!! NOTHING… absolutely nothing, when Dr. Legion True began what truly amounted to nothing more than my argumentative soliloquy moments after Mehitable had sat herself down, had by even one of these three appellate judges been read through … ONCE! NOT EVEN ONE TIME!… read through. THE CRUSH of this realization came crashing in on me within just mere seconds of my ending the Argument’s very first paragraph. Word for word, the whole of it began, “Good Morning, your Honors. My name is Legion True, and I am the mother of Zane, Jesse and Mirzah Truemaier. Zane will be 18 and Jesse will be 16 in August, and Mirzah will be 15 in September. As you know, I am here to beg you to reverse in full the 09 December 1992 Ruling made by Judge Harley Butcher in Storm County, thereby causing full physical and legal custody of all these children to be placed with me. I am here this morning with my friends from all over Iowa to highlight only a few points from my written statements that, I am told, you have already studied.” Within one – half of the first second of my utterance of this introduction’s last eight words, “that, I am told, you have already studied,” I saw something inside my already started, precious ten minutes which set my essence on fire. And I still had 9½ of these minutes yet to thrash through! Judge Pansy Shawshank cranked her torso around and, quite literally in such that tornadic twist of hers, shot over to Judge Barry L. Crowrook a dazed visage of incredulity the likes of which made it perfectly crystal clear to me and to all of us who witnessed her sudden head jerk and her entire neck and shoulders’ forward swing in Judge Crowrook’s direction –– and his countenance similarly then returned right back at her! –– that she, he and their stone – faced and silent centerpiece who was Chief Judge Donnellson had no fucking idea as to what … I had just made reference! Because not a solitary one of them had read even Word One of any of my previously submitted documents. They didn’t even know who I was! They had never even heard of me until just that second opening sentence of mine, and none of them had had any previous inkling at all as to what Jesse Truemaier, Mirzah Truemaier, Zane Truemaier and Dr. Legion True had all been through! I wanted to break –– as was my heart. Premonition … all right! The Boys’ and my lives I could foresee, for yet one more time again, were in that friggin’ toilet and about to get its royal flush. My eyes blinked and my head shook one time ever just so slightly off to my right. Like those two simple motions were, alone, going to make for me and for ‘my case’ an entire untruth … of that which I had just beheld. I, by virtue of momentary denial of what I’d just seen, could make it all … all right again, couldn’t I? And … I continued my Argument through … to its complete and utter end, “The issue, of course, is clear –– and explanation, argument and authority surrounding it begins on page 14 of my Blue Brief and Argument: THAT Judge Butcher’s December 1992 Ruling is wrong and illegal, and the Truemaier children belong in my sole physical and legal custody. Both my documents, the blue Brief and Argument and the gray Reply Brief, of course give great detail as to why this is so … however, the TRUEMAIER BOYS’ lives, their spirits and their futures as adults –– AND THE LIVES AND FUTURES OF MANY, MANY DISPUTED CUSTODY CASE CHILDREN TO FOLLOW THIS ONE –– will be summed up in your answering –– BY YOUR DECISION ON THIS APPEAL –– two questions that the 1992 Trial raised: the first one is: WHY IS DR. HEROD EDINSMAIER ALLOWED TO CROSS THE LINE AT ALL, LET ALONE, ENCOURAGED AND ‘REWARDED’ FOR STEPPING WAY OVER THE SANE, MORAL –– AND LEGAL –– BOUNDS OF CUSTODIAL PARENTING? and the second question raised by the Trial that your decision on this Appeal will answer is: WHAT IS THE LEVEL OF CORRUPTION, CONTUMACY, CONTUMELY, INEQUITY –– AND PLAIN OUTRIGHT JUDICIAL ERROR AND INCOMPETENCE THAT THE HIGH JUDICIARY IS WILLING TO TOLERATE AND TO ACCEPT? The answers to these two questions are under your control by your decision after today … and will be used in future arguments where the cases then smack of the same treatment in them as was accorded the Truemaier Children and me by the state district court in December 1992. You see, the first question doesn’t ask IF he stepped over the line? WE ALL KNOW HE DID … OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER … it asks how come the court didn’t stop him from doing so, and instead, rewarded him, a community pillar, one of the nobility, a doctor no less, along with his chosen step – parent for the Truemaier Boys, Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive, for doing so … and then for committing perjury and witness tampering to boot. And the answer you give by your decision to the second question will, you see, be along the lines of what high federal courts decide is their answer to corruption. For example, with Congressman Dan Rostenkowski having been indicted recently over what are, to me, incredible instances of abuse by him of my meager tax dollar, the federal prosecutor last week at a press conference asked America the same questions: Should we not expect to have and accept only ZERO TOLERANCE for corruption in our national government? So, ANALOGOUSLY, I am asking you this morning, by this second question, HOW MANY EXAMPLES OF INEQUITABLE TREATMENT, HOW MANY EXAMPLES OF COMPLETELY SCREWED – UP “FINDINGS OF FACT,” HOW MANY EXAMPLES OF ABUSE OF DISCRETION IN DOLING OUT AND / OR ENFORCEMENT OF COURT ORDERS BY A DISTRICT JUDGE ARE YOU WILLING TO ACCEPT AND TO TOLERATE? FOR ARGUMENT’S SAKE, THAT IS, IS ONE SCREWED – UP FINDING OF FACT ACCEPTABLE TO YOU? ARE THREE, SIX, A DOZEN? JUDGE BUTCHER, IN JUST HALF OF THE 26 PAGES OF HIS RULING MANAGED TO ACCRUE, BUNGLE AND RE-WRITE INTO FICTION, AT LEAST … AT LEAST 40 DIFFERENT EXAMPLES OF ERROR –– –– THAT’S JUST THE ERRORS ON FINDINGS OF SO – CALLED “FACT” … SO I AM, FURTHERMORE ASKING YOU HOW MANY INSTANCES OF HIS NOT ABIDING BY THE RULES OF PROCEDURE ARE YOU WILLING TO TOLERATE AND ACCEPT? I mean, just for examples’ sake, it took Appellee Herod Edinsmaier 118 days to reply to an Application to the Court re Visitation which is in blatant violation of Civil Rule of Procedure #53. Then when he got around to it, he decided to counter – sue for child support –– this from a man who sends me a letter recently saying he lost my December 1993 support check, and can’t find it … so that’s why it hasn’t cleared my bank yet … BUT with regard to the 118 days late, nothing, nothing at all happens to him for his being this incredibly tardy about a matter of CHILDREN GETTING TO SEE THEIR MOM … OR NOT … AND THEN THAT APPLICATION IS WITHDRAWN WITH A FORMAL PETITION FOR FULL CUSTODY REPLACING IT … BUT … JUDGE BUTCHER, BY DECEMBER 1992, “FORGETS” THAT THIS 118 – DAY ‘ANSWER’ FROM THE APPELLEE, THEN PETITIONER EDINSMAIER, ISN’T EVEN AT ISSUE AT TRIAL ANYMORE BECAUSE THE APPLICATION THAT IT WAS AN ANSWER TO, WAS COMPLETELY WITHDRAWN WAY BACK IN APRIL 1992, AND REPLACED WITH THE PETITION FOR FULL CUSTODY. NOT ONLY DOES JUDGE BUTCHER ALLOW IT, HE ACTUALLY MAKES RULINGS ON IT … HE ACTUALLY GIVES A MAN CHILD SUPPORT –– –– WHO OBVIOUSLY DOES NOT VALUE MY MEAGER SUPPORT CHECK ENOUGH TO HANG ONTO IT !!! AND MORE EXAMPLES … WHY DID JUDGE BUTCHER LET MS. FANNIE ISSICRAN McLIVE STAY INSIDE THE COURTROOM AFTER HER TESTIMONY WHILE, INSTEAD, WILLFULLY AND VERBALLY AND STRICTLY KEEPING ALL OF MY SUPPORTIVE WITNESSES OUT? WHY CAN’T I MAKE OBJECTIONS?? WHERE ARE DR. EDINSMAIER’S MEDICAL RECORDS JUDGE BUTCHER, HIMSELF, ORDERED ON 13 OCTOBER 1992, THAT I RECEIVE FROM DR. EDINSMAIER BUT NEVER DID RECEIVE … WHY DIDN’T MS. FANNIE ISSICRAN McLIVE, WHO WAS SERVED A PROPER AND TIMELY SUBPOENA DUCES TECUM, BRING TO THE COURT THE DOCUMENTS SHE WAS SUBPOENAED TO BRING … WHY DIDN’T JUDGE BUTCHER ORDER HER TO COMPLY WITH THE SUBPOENA –– –– OR FIND HER IN CONTEMPT FOR WILLFULLY NOT COMPLYING? WHY DIDN’T I GET A WITNESS LIST, DOCUMENTS PRODUCED UPON DISCOVERY AND ANSWERS TO ANY INTERROGATORIES? HOW COME JUDGE BUTCHER SPOKE TO ME IN ABUSIVE, PATRIARCHAL MANNERS WHILE CHIDING WITH THE PETITIONER’S ATTORNEY, MR. SCHEISSER, FOR EXAMPLE, ABOUT ‘WHAT THE HECK IS RANK HEARSAY? … IF THAT EVEN EXISTS!’ HOW COME JUDGE BUTCHER ALLOWED ATTORNEY SCHEISSER TO CALL ME ‘HOSTILE’ AND ‘BELLIGERANT’… SIMPLY BECAUSE I COULDN’T HEAR?! AND –– FINALLY –– HOW COME JUDGE BUTCHER DIDN’T MENTION IN HIS DIATRIBE OF A RULING, ANY, NOT EVEN ONE, OF THE INCREDIBLE NUMBERS OF INSTANCES OF ALIENATION AND ABUSE BY DR. EDINSMAIER OF ME AND THE BOYS, STARTING WITH THE 25 SEPTEMBER 1990 AMES TRIBUNE ARTICLE AND DR. EDINSMAIER’S LYING ABOUT HIS INVOLVEMENT WITH IT RIGHT UP TO MENTIONING HOW IT WAS THAT DR. EDINSMAIER AND MS. McLIVE BOTH FALSIFIED THEMSELVES TO A CUSTODY EVALUTOR TWICE, NOT TELLING HER ANYTHING ABOUT HIS ‘FEARS OF OTHERS LEARNING THE TRUTH ABOUT ME’ AND ABOUT HER RECENT, DOCUMENTED HISTORY OF HOSPITALIZATION FOR PANIC ATTACK DISORDER AND POST – RAPE STRESS SYNDROME. EVEN DR. CANARD HERSELF STATED THAT THE BOYS FEEL THEIR DAD NEVER ACTUALLY WANTED THEM; HE JUST WANTED TO LOOK GOOD, THEY FELT, AND THAT LIKE THE OLD DOG – IN – THE – MANGER STORY, HE WOULD DO ANYTHING TO KEEP ME FROM HAVING THEM AS WELL … And the STALKING PHONE CALLS … SINCE JULY 1990, TO THE PRESENT HOUR … these have shown up on MY OWN 800# PHONE BILL ! FINALLY … DR. EDINSMAIER’S INCREDIBLE PERJURY –– ABOUT HOW IT WAS THAT HE, DR. EDINSMAIER HIMSELF, HAD HAD FAMILY AND INDIVIDUAL COUNSELING REGULARLY FOR A YEAR DURING WHICH TIMES, DR. EDINSMAIER TESTIFIED, A PSYCHOLOGIST COUNSELED HIM TO KEEP THE BOYS AWAY FROM THEIR MOTHER –– WHEN ALL OF THIS TESTIMONY OF HIS ABOUT THIS COUNSELING WAS SUBSEQUENTLY PROVEN TO BE AN OUTRIGHT LIE AS WELL … AND WHY DIDN’T JUDGE BUTCHER MAKE ANY MENTION IN THAT HEINOUS RULING OF HIS ABOUT THE FACT THAT DR. EDINSMAIER NOT ONLY DID NOT BRING FORTH ONE WITNESS TO SUPPORT HIM, … OR, FOR THAT MATTER, SUPPORT ANYTHING THAT JUDGE BUTCHER RULED FOR HIM … BUT THAT I BROUGHT FORTH 12, A DOZEN WITNESSES, RANGING IN AGES FROM 77 TO 12 … TO A CHILD OF 12 … AND 49 EXHIBITS WHICH INCLUDED AMONG THESE EXHIBITS WERE ---SIGNED AFFIDAVITS FROM THE BOYS THEMSELVES, THEIR ONLY MEANS, AS TEENAGED TALENTED AND GIFTED KIDS TO EXPRESS THEIR VOICE IN THIS MATTER OF THEIR SPIRITS AND THEIR FUTURES, TO SUPPORT ME … AND … THEMSELVES! |