What is mobbing?

Early on my mobbing, those harassing me called themselves mobbers and claimed that they were mobbing me and would mob me at least until I left my home. “We’re the mob!” they would shout into my house.

I began looking online for references to “mobbing.” It took a long time until I found the United Nations article about “Forced Evictions” that listed “real estate mobbing” as one of the means of forced eviction. During that same period of time, I also found an Amnesty International reference to it as a Human Rights violation. And I learned about the recognition given to “mobbing” of all kinds as a problem in Europe. In Spain, in particular, there has been a great problem with real estate mobbing in Madrid.

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To catch a mobber, a note

In an earlier post with a title similar to this one, I described how I thought it might be possible to gather information in a mobbing case like my own. But perhaps the best way to catch a mobber, to catch those who are mobbing me, have likely mobbed others and will likely mob others in the future, is to follow me.

I want to make it clear that police authorities who seek to investigate this matter are more than welcome to follow me. I haven’t had any privacy for more than sixteen months so it makes no difference to me and I would hope that your interest would either give me some much needed relief or bring this to a close. So if you don’t feel that hands-off police work is likely to be productive–for example, interviewing people in the neighborhood who probably know there is something going on–please find a way to put surveillance on me or on the harassment.

In light of my beginning this blog, or perhaps in light of the failure so far of the “mobbers,” who may be experienced tenant clearers, professional harassers or “World’s Worst Neighbors” who harass people from communities for whatever reasons are supplied by those who pay them, or even people who actually move in around you and harass you out so they can take the property and profit off of real estate speculation, things have been rather intense as of late with round-the-clock harassment, deprivation of sleep, and even comments from the mobbers that they don’t care if they harass me into a health emergency of some kind of another. After my starting to use sound board sized for my windows at the recommendation of a private investigator, and since I have a device on order that should be able to pick up sound projected onto my windows… not to mention my writing more letters as of late to Seattle city officials, the mobbers are kind of testy.

So here is some information about what to look for.

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Why police should investigate

It seems odd that I should have to write a post, much less a blog, to get Seattle Police to investigate my being “mobbed,” but I do. I am in a situation of harassment so extreme that I have likely had few moments of privacy at least for the last sixteen months. And my requests to the City of Seattle and to Seattle Police Department for help date back at least three years. I’ll write a related post in the next few days or add a section to this one on why the police should probably refer the investigation to the FBI but for now I want to write about why an investigation of my harassment in this neighborhood should be ordered.

Monitoring someone in their home is a form of stalking and a felony. I have been monitored in and out of my home for at least 16 months. I know I am being monitored because the harassers let me know. Why? I have concluded that part of how mobbers “get you out” is to watch you in a manner that is oppressive, onerous, and deeply, deeply illegal. Even if they only have shotgun microphones following me around and are only tricking me into thinking that they also have eyes in my house, that is eavesdropping, especially when it continues when you are in the bedroom, in the bathroom and regardless of the clothing you may or may not be wearing. What’s more, it’s a sex offense. Anyway, realistically, the mobbers must either be so highly skilled at listening that they can tell where my hands are or whether I am bending over or they have a method of seeing me in my house. I doubt it is cameras — that was another early probable hoax used to get me, the victim, into a panic of checking each and every light fixture for cameras and I will write about that hoax another day. It’s likely that in this lakeside community where windows look into windows, they were able to gain a lot of information about me before I realized they were intentionally and continuously watching. But during the harassment, they have also claimed to have some infrared devices or night vision goggles. Might be another hoax, but it would explain their knowledge of my movements in my home. Anyway, they have let me know that they are not only listening but watching. I believe they are at least always listening because the harassment chatter confirms it. Either way, felony, felony, felony! And for more than sixteen months now! It’s tantamount to being in John Fowles’ The Collector, or Michel Foucault’s panopticon, which will be another blog posting in the near future.

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To catch a mobber

“On being mobbed” is written to document the many unethical and illegal acts in the “mobbing” of a Seattle tenant. She became aware of the mobbing in May of 2014 and has refused to be harassed out of her home. Because of the duration of this illegal effort and the day-in and day-out cycles of hoaxes, threats, insults and so on, it is difficult to apply a strict calendar to events. These blog entries are written thematically with the goal of inviting a criminal investigation that would expose the mobbers, end the mobbing and, hopefully, discourage this type of predatory behavior in the future.

This morning is like most mornings since I’ve become aware that I’m being mobbed. Except perhaps because of the sound board I had cut for one of my bedroom windows, and the packing materials and packages of toilet paper that I inserted between the storm windows and the interior windows on the other seem to have helped to quiet the mobbers. And it might not hurt that I’m becoming skilled at sleeping while propping my head up on the pillow without my ear touching the case and tend to use one, but not two earplugs in order to stifle and not amplify the sound. Anyway, perhaps for those reasons, my sleep was not broken at 3:00 am or 4:00 am. The mobbers may also be slightly more cautious these last few days in light of the information I’m imparting from this blog to anyone who will read it and might be persuaded to direct it to the attention of the proper authorities in Seattle or might themselves be the proper authorities, and perhaps because of my recent missives to city officials and legal authorities in Seattle.

At any rate, this morning, I woke up, had a nice stretch and a yawn, and thought about how I could help authorities to help me. Here goes.

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The method

I spent much of the last week traveling traveling out of state for work. It’s always interesting to see whether or how the harassment changes, as I move around, changing modes of travel and environment and experimenting to see how I can blunt the constant monitoring and harassment. As fall approaches and I continue to attempt to get help and an investigation from local and federal authorities in Seattle and in Washington State, the harassment is sometimes muted and the methods seem to become more circumspect, at least for a short time.

To continue trying to get help by sharing my story anonymously and doing my best to expose what, based on the practiced manner of the harassers, is likely a repeating crime or at least a sideline profession in “clearing” residents, this post will describe what I perceive as different forms of conveyance for the voice harassment and will then suggest the most likely source. I’m doing this because what has been done to me is criminal and it seems to be a crime hired by those gifted with the nasty combination of financial resources unrestrained by ethics or law. I would suggest that the most likely perpetrators of this type of crime would be those from nasty neighborhoods and out-of-control neighborhood watch groups, those with interests in speculative industries such as real estate development and investment, or both.

The following table is for those who might have the power to begin an investigation or to refer this matter to those who are able to make an appropriate investigation. What has happened to me began with physical and documented bullying in my neighborhood. It is not difficult to trace and I would welcome contact from legal authorities who read these posts and see that they make sense, and that what has happened to me may have happened to others who may not have been as persistent as I have been, and may well be done by an organized group of people who “mob” people out of their homes for profit.

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Clearing by smearing: The criminalization of tenancy (part I)

“On being mobbed” is written to document the many unethical and illegal acts in the “mobbing” of a Seattle tenant. She became aware of the mobbing in May of 2014 and has refused to be harassed out of her home. Because of the duration of this illegal effort and the day-in and day-out cycles of hoaxes, threats, insults and so on, it is difficult to apply a strict calendar to events. These blog entries are written thematically with the goal of inviting a criminal investigation that would expose the mobbers, end the mobbing and, hopefully, discourage this type of predatory behavior in the future.

My “criminal” nature has been a theme since the early days of my mobbing. This supposed constitution of mine, apparently better known to my mobbers than to me, consists of the imaginary crimes, thought “crimes” and everyday acts of which I am accused by the apparent paid harassers who have been mobbing me for going on sixteen months. In the hazy first weeks of the mobbing when I often responded to the harassment with incredulity, anger, and sometimes bemusement over the dovetail fit of “mobbing” with the virulent passive-aggressive pathology of those in the neighborhood watch, my “crimes” were the opening gambit.

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A day in the life

Fifteen months into mobbing me, the harassment continues pretty much day and night. I’ve experimented with numerous ways of quieting the harassment so that I can sleep and they increasingly try to interfere with my ability to function. The theory seems to be that if the threats, intimidation, and blackmail don’t work and I don’t die from the stress, perhaps sheer physical exhaustion will make it impossible for me to function enough to earn a living. Sometimes, between near exhaustion and the right combination of window coverings with open windows and earplugs, I manage to almost get enough sleep.

Like this morning.

I was drinking my coffee and working at the computer when the builder of a nearby house whose offer on my own home was refused more than two years back showed up with another older guy. They got out of his Mercedes and stood looking out toward the street from the house he built that has remained off-market pretty much since he apparently told my landlord that I was “just a renter” and attempted to blame me for an offer falling through on the property.

As the pair stood there, a large construction vehicle slowly mounted the hillside. As the truck passed my car parked in front of my driveway, the driver scraped up a loogey and spat it backwards, out the window.

Minutes later, the builder and his pal were gone. I went out with my camera and photographed the still wet spittle on my car window, nearly dribbling down to a bumpersticker I recently added: “PROPERTY MOBBING IS CRIMINAL.”

Not sure how long the DNA is good for.

Events and circumstances that came before the mobbing

If, like me, you grew up in a community that had a live-and-let-live attitude, it might be difficult to believe my story. Let me begin with a few of the events contributing to the constellation of circumstances in place before the mobbing began.

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“How are we going to get her out if we can’t see her?”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but in the days, weeks and months before the “mobbing” began, at least, before the events that make me realize that what was happening was more than malicious gossip or the nastiness of a neighborhood that combines unfriendliness with money, those who would be involved in mobbing me were preparing.

At least a year before, those living around me had begun to actively work in concert, if not to make my life so unpleasant that I would leave before the mobbing, to curb my expression of basic rights in a manner that allowed me to best hear the mobbing harassment and that would protect their access to me.

The summer before the mobbing started, the same people would begin to yell whenever I would open a door or a window. This consisted of the three houses closest to me, two of them so close that they would provide access to my every room for monitoring and harassment in the coming months; the third belonging to someone in the local neighborhood watch who had constantly complained about me and made bizarre accusations about me to my landlords and, presumably, to others. They would yell to each other that a window was open, they would yell that they would call the police even though it was not quiet hours. They would come outside and throw their trash cans around or turn on outside music so that there would be a price to having my door open in the summertime heat.

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The First Hoax: “They’ve agreed to sell us the house!”

“On being mobbed” is written to document the many unethical and illegal acts in the “mobbing” of a Seattle tenant. She became aware of the mobbing in May of 2014 and has refused to be harassed out of her home. Because of the duration of this illegal effort and the day-in and day-out cycles of hoaxes, threats, insults and so on, it is difficult to apply a strict calendar to events. These blog entries are written thematically with the goal of inviting a criminal investigation that would expose the mobbers, end the mobbing and, hopefully, discourage this type of predatory behavior in the future.

It was May of 2014 and I was balancing a full-time job and an academic program that I hoped would prepare me for a midlife career change. One day, as though by prearrangement, the neighbors on two sides of me stood in the driveway adjacent to my own, excitedly talking not far from my open windows. They were talking about an offer made to my landlords to buy the house in which I had resided for more than four years. One of the leaders of the local neighborhood watch congratulated the thirty-something couple who lived next door to me and, in her nasty way, began talking about how nice it would be to have me gone. Yes, they agreed. She went on to talk about the “green space” they’d have when I was gone. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard about this “green space.” One, maybe two years before that, she’d apparently called up my landlady and said she thought that the front yard or the front yard and driveway of the property that I leased should be “returned to green space.” They went on, talking about how glad they were that I’d finally be leaving, about their plans for the garden I tended after I was gone, and so on. It was an event obviously staged, one that continued through that week.

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