SPD pays a visit to the south mobbing house

I considered the alternate title of “Yet another tip for investigators” for this blog entry on this week’s visit by Seattle Police to the south mobbing house. This in the hope that they came away from their face-to-face with the snarky owner of the south mobbing house and his “friends,” with the sneaking suspicion that something is up. But that would be more optimistic than a woman who has been the victim of a continuous crime for more than two-and-a-half years should be.

Real estate mobbing, a complex of crime that is intended to forcibly evict residents and “turn over” properties for speculation, is very much a continuous crime, at least as it is done here in northeast Seattle at the behest of a corrupt neighborhood watch and its cronies in real estate speculation. In my case, the real estate mobbers providing the “tenant relocation” services don’t limit their offerings to the civil realm. When attempts to oust residents by civil violation, defamation, threats of lawsuits for “valuation” or the effective criminalization of a tenancy fail, the civil continues side-by-side with a criminal drive to achieve the same end. This is, as the mobbers once crowed to me during nighttime harassment, “property war.”

The “mobbers,” as they called themselves early on in the mobbing before they expected me to stay on and begin to figure out what was happening and how it might be done, use what I’ve dubbed the “surround sound” method of harassment—in this case, working from homes purchased by speculators or being speculators themselves—to flank the victim house and resident and efficiently and effectively co-opt victim and household communication, entertainment, and infrastructure to forcibly evict. On the home front, the mobbers deploy short-range methods including neighbor hacking, radio, ventilation and directional sound. Whether short or long range, the baseline criminal activities that are used to effect the end-to-end pipeline of mobbing harassment include stalking, cyber-stalking, and cyber-harassment. I believe these are all felony level crimes that beg for the involvement of the FBI. There are pronounced features of cell phone harassment—coincidentally called “mobbing—as well as following by wireless network and making use of speaker-enabled access points, public announcement systems and the audio speakers each network makes available. As I have experienced it, I believe that stalking victims across the wireless networks they traverse, by access to speaker-enabled access points and dial-up public announcement systems, is an extension of cell phone harassment and, indeed, mobbers make much of the phone.

This is the crime of real estate mobbing as I have known it as a middle-aged woman and legal resident here in a small older home I rented at the outset of the recession, a house my landlords have no wish to sell. This is real estate mobbing, dubbed a human rights crime by Amnesty International and deemed a leading cause of forced eviction worldwide by the United Nations.


Most of us take it for granted that when you’re victimized by a crime, you call the police. When you’re being real estate mobbed, it’s not always that clear cut. A major component of real estate mobbing is, in the early stages, a campaign of disinformation and defamation that has the purpose of raising suspicion about the victim and the victim’s presence in the neighborhood. The tenancy or residency of the victim is effectively criminalized. I didn’t realize this when I first began to be harassed in my neighborhood and did call Seattle Police Department, only to find that the neighborhood watch had got to them first. But it might be that when a property mobbing goes on as long as mine has done, it’s not just the victim who begins to understand that something is rotten in the state of Denmark. And sometimes, the mobbers make mistakes, like they might have done yesterday.


As I mentioned in a recent blog, I take note of the cars that are present around the mobbing houses. It’s not unusual for victims of crimes or those who suspect criminal activity to jot down plate numbers. As this crime has continued, I have noted patterns between the vehicles in attendance, the voices I hear, and the kinds of things that are said. For example, some of the mobbers have been more obviously cruel in their threats and insults than others. I note these things so that when these people are investigated and arrests are made, I can provide more useful information. I write this blog for the same purpose, to document a crime that is constructed to be unbelievable and to establish that I am its victim. When it comes to real estate mobbing where mobbers do not only attempt to defame and discredit but use tricks and technologies of an unfamiliar phenomenology, the victim may not be believed and her victimization therefore denied, even as she is continually stalked and harassed. This is not dissimilar to what men who are raped may go through when they report it to the police, only to find that because of the crime’s stigma police and even the crisis centers they rely on for help may not believe them, may assume they are gay or that the act was consensual.

Another reason for my noting plate numbers is deterrence. The real estate mobbing that continues to hurt me is not easy to live through. As the owners of the mobbing houses bring people to the houses to “mob” me—and the voice of the owner of the north mobbing house did once complain during mobbing harassment that he had people “coming from all over the state” to mob me—I defend myself by letting them know that their presence at a crime scene, the scene of a criminal property mobbing, is documented and will be turned over to police. And by defend, I mean not only that this is how I attempt to blunt the harassment, but that this is how I try to ensure that I stay alive. Because the first place authorities will likely go if anything happens to me, is to talk to those in the homes that the mobbers bragged “triangulated” me.

Make no mistake, when potential witnesses come up the driveway of the north house or the south house, to the best of my ability to assess it, the mobbing from that direction temporarily ceases. The people who come and go from these houses while mobbing is underway are almost certainly aware of what is happening even if they are not themselves mobbers. They are accessories and accomplices and should be held accountable. No one who becomes aware of an adult bullying situation advanced by methods that are criminal or considered “torture” should allow its continuance.


So yesterday during a day of intense harassment, the last day when I was here without roommates, I went out and to photograph the plate of a Subaru wagon on the south house driveway. As I raised the camera, a woman who turned out to be sitting in the vehicle opened the door and yelled at me, “You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” I said. I don’t remember my exact words but it was to the effect that there was a crime going on and if she was at that house, she was a part of it.

I took the picture of the license plate from the right-of-way area. Photographing into someone’s house is a violation of privacy but people and objects in the public sphere are pretty much fair game for the camera lens.

Then I continued gardening.

I was still gardening about a half-hour later when a Seattle Police Department vehicle pulled up. It wasn’t a great surprise. Complaints to the police are part of the strategy of the mobbers. By photographing a vehicle that someone turned out to be sitting in at a time when the mobbers are feeling a lot of pressure because the neighborhood watch is implicated in their unsuccessful crime, I’d given them a pretense to use in another episode of Criminalizing Tenancy or This Old House (Is a Nuisance House). You could almost compare my remaining in a state of being victimized by this crime as an act of civil disobedience. I say this because of the risk I face every day I remain, and because of the harm that’s already been done me. Women are killed in bullying situations. That could still happen to me, despite the 170 or however many blog entries I’ve now written to let the mobbers know that their crime is no longer secret and to give investigators the information they need for a productive investigation while the crime is underway and the mobbers remain next door.

It was dusk when SPD arrived, so although I’m familiar with some of the North Precinct officers and even have exchanged greetings with one of them when I’ve run into him on Capitol Hill or after a Patti Smith concert, I couldn’t make out the officer who greeted me as he walked towards the driveway of the south mobbing house. I dumped the can of yard waste I was carrying, finished blowing off a few plants, went into the house, turned on a few lights and waited for the police to come to the door.

They never did come.  I looked out the front windows finally and their cruiser was no longer parked across the street. For a time, the mobbing was very subdued, as though they were considering their next action.

It’s likely that the south house owner introduced himself as an “owner” and made sure they understood that I was a “renter” as well as someone who was, as his perhaps former franchise family girlfriend defamed me in court, the reason they would not be able to “have kids” in this neighborhood. Like the north mobbing house owner who ensured that he introduced himself in court by his noble profession, the south mobbing house owner almost certainly let the police know of his highly trusted profession. His privileged status as a white man no doubt spoke for itself.

(As an aside, writing is a noble profession, is it not? I mean, what am I? Chopped liver?)

Maybe SPD has grown tired of mobbers who cry “Wolf!” Maybe the police have started to see the forest as well as the trees. It’s possible that the police simply told them that I hadn’t committed a crime. I’d like to hope that the last time SPD was here and I insisted they allow me to file a report and give me a report number, that a shift occurred when one of the officers realized that the north mobbing house owner who threatened to shoot me in the face and come up with a pretense for having done so, has a noble profession. I’d like to hope that more than calling SPD on me, the south house mobbers, in their frustration with having failed to “clear” me, called SPD on themselves. Because one of the things that I’ve learned after more than two-and-a-half years of being mobbed, is that when you call the police, you risk focusing their attention on yourself.

Yesterday was a good day for the police to pay a visit to the south house mobbers. Not just because they didn’t come to mine, but because yesterday, in addition to the owner of the south mobbing house, the South Pacific Islander with the tribal tattoos and Crossfit brand consciousness, the one who brings his child to the south mobbing house, was almost certainly in the house; his red SUV was parked in the driveway. And so was the thin woman with long dark hair, having arrived a few hours before in her mini. Both of these, along with the owner, appear to be key players in the bullying who work from the south mobbing house. It might have been better if the blond woman in the white BMW was there at the time too, but you can’t have everything. Not yet anyway. But she is here tonight.

At any rate, I hope SPD got the names of all of those in the house. As for the woman whose car I photographed, I’m sure that not everyone who comes to the mobbing houses is aware of the mobbing. As I mentioned, usually the mobbing ceases temporarily when either house is approached and if the police are there, like the other night, the mobbing is discontinued from that house for the duration of the visit but does continue from the other flanking house. Those who are not aware of the mobbing but are brought to the house by the white male owners of the mobbing houses are unwittingly involved in a serious crime. It’s like what someone once told me about the nasty neighborhood watch lady when it was already too late for me: “She’s not a good friend.”



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