Granted, I’m of a more idealistic time and place, but I cannot fathom what must be the immense emotional disturbance of the co-captain of the local neighborhood watch who was instrumental in setting up my mobbing and who has likely participated, or has been “represented” in the parlance of the mobbers, in the mobbing.
Take, for instance, today, a sunny autumn day in the northwest. I slept in, able to ignore the insults and demands of the mobbings thanks to the pile of sound board in my north window and the two plus layers with beach towel draping in the west window. I got up and dared to remove the sound board from the front windows overlooking Lake Washington. Some days I’m just not willing to shut myself off from the natural beauty in this northeastern neighborhood of Seattle. Of course, it helps when I put the stereo speakers outside to listen to the radio. At least I don’t have a symphony row seating to it, and then the mobbers have to ensure that the sound isn’t so loud that passersby will pick it up, the same way they have to watch the street for police cars and other vehicles that have scanning radios that could pick it up. And if the sound is conveyed using CB radio with a linear speaker, apparently there may be the possibility of the sound appearing on the speakers of others as well.
So I was sitting at the front windows having breakfast and who should emerge from her house but the co-captain of the neighborhood watch, who seems to spend an inordinate amount of time out on the street side of her house when I’m outside or seems to emerge whenever I might sit at my windows, though her own garden borders every side of her house except for the street side. She comes out and moves her husband’s sedan out of her parking strip and instead of parking it in a real parking space, or even in the parking of an occupied house nearby that everyone uses and that, from time to time, is the subject of contention, she parks the vehicle pretty much in front of the driveway of the house whose driveway is merged with my own, so that her vehicle is pointed at my own vehicle on front of my own driveway.
And then she gets out and begins to sweep up the crackling autumnal leaves into piles, being as carefully loud as possible in moving her trash cans about and scraping her tools over the paving of her strip.
This is a woman who was described to me soon after she began complaining about me to my landlords, as someone who was very vindictive and passive-aggressive. Oddly, mobbing has been described as the utmost in passive-aggressiveness. And this is a woman who has let me know that she is instrumental in the mobbing, by the inclusion of her voice in the harassment from time to time, though I think less now (many of the voices that had been participating in the mobbing have dropped out; these were the voices of those who portrayed themselves as either being or representing certain not-so-notable neighborhood figures, numerous of them in real estate or acquisitive of real estate). She allowed me to hear her tell her then boyfriend, years back, that she was “getting rid” of me by announcing it as they stood on her parking strip, and she is a woman who admitted in the court proceeding in which she attempted to get a protective order against some other renters on my street, that it was she who had submitted the most complaints about my vehicles to Seattle Parking Enforcement.
This is a woman who seems to need me to know that she is the pivotal force in the felony harassment that I have been subject to for more than eighteen months now, harassment whose goal it is to force me from my neighborhood.
What kind of sickness is this that possesses a person to so want to hurt someone that she is not only willing to bring others into the area to commit crimes and to commit crimes at least of association with them that are felonies that could, and should, put her behind bars for decades? And what kind of sickness is this that makes it so important for her to rub it in my face that she knows what I am subjected to and that she invited it?
I am grateful that I cannot comprehend it.