A successful mobbing is a “white glove” forced eviction. And I use the term “white glove” because in the first weeks of the mobbing, among those voices heard in my house were the older voices that I was at least to presume belonged to the morally offended members of the neighborhood watch. Among their cries:
“There’s mold in the walls!”
“A white glove inspection!”
“You’ll be evicted!”
There were also cries of “Moral hazard!” and, I believe, even talk of “Seven Deadly Sins!” Alas, as someone lacking religious training, one of the essential miscasts of these real estate wackos was to assume that I would find such things meaningful. Some of these rather trite slings and arrows, however, probably do point to (1) the stereotypes that the mobbers play to; or (2) the active involvement of some of the septuagenarian members of the neighborhood watch, whose own lives may have been bounded and constrained by such stereotypes.
Both of these options may apply. I’ve seen numerous of the neighborhood watch coming and going from the south mobbing house. One day a member of the neighborhood watch, his neighborhood watch wife trailing him up the hill, shook his fist and angrily cried that “renters” have no right to park on the public streets. It was just after his wife put her hand on his arm to restrain him, that the mother of the south mobbing house owner marched down the steps of that house raising her own arm in my direction:
So said this woman who’d sniffed to me on first meeting that “most renters aren’t very good people.” It took a few seconds for the fist-shaker wife to respond to the rallying cry. She appeared to be preoccupied with minding the threatening position of her husband’s arm:
“Don’t you think she’s crazy?”
“Yes! She is!”
I was taken aback by this street-side denouncement. Yet, it was one of many times since living in this neighborhood that I have witnessed people saying or doing things that were out of the realm of the ordinary, especially for people who hold positions in community organizations or local government. Maybe I just wasn’t accustomed to people who would relish spending their lives ruining others. Perhaps if I hadn’t been raised in the free-thinking San Francisco Bay Area of the 1970s, a community of liberal mind and great generosity of heart, I might have understood the bizarre exchange between the two older women as a warning.
About a year later, the snarky bratpack attorney chum of the south mobbing house owner would trump up the same defamation in statements to police and the court in their attempt not only to discredit my reports, but with the apparent intention of once and for all coercing me into submitting to a third-party forced eviction from my legal home.
This was about the time I learned that another member of the neighborhood watch, a retired therapist I’d really only spoken to a couple of times in my five or so years in the neighborhood, had written unprofessional and unqualified letters “assessing” some neighborhood renters in an apparent attempt to persuade the Court that the renters were not only emotionally and mentally unstable, but dangerous. In truth, what could be more dangerous than abusing the power and trust that even a volunteer community position confers, not to mention that bestowed on a licensed mental health professional, if he was in fact licensed at the time and not “practicing” without a license.
Back to septuagenarians home owners and their public denouncement of this “renter” as “crazy,” it doesn’t take much consideration of their exchange to conclude that the voices of the elderly men and women in the mobbing were exactly who they sounded like. It was in these opening months of the mobbing when many bizarre statements were said for my hearing, another one of them a voice that sounded amazingly like the owner of the north mobbing house, sounding like the cat who just ate the canary, declared that he was in “black-ops” or “psy-ops.” I figure this was where I was supposed to begin looking around for those black helicopters.
From a distance, when you’re not the one who is being mobbed, it might be hard to imagine such incidents, or the mobbing in and of itself, having much of an impact. But for a vulnerable person, to be toyed with in this manner could be especially damning. And that’s before you even consider the impact of the defamations on how the victim is treated by those who become unwitting participants in the mobbing because they fail to see its true criminal nature.
An additional wrinkle in this whodunnit was hearing the voices of my landlords early in the mobbing, before it started to go awry and certain voices disappeared, anyway. This was suspect to me from the first. I was certain that my landlords would never have participated in harassing me out of a home they could have sold, had they wanted; there was a time early in the mobbing when I even asked if I might be able to move out immediately and they did not jump at the offer. Moreover, at least one of the statements of my landlady that was “replayed” in the mobbing harassment, was one I distinctly remembered as part of a conversation inside the supposed privacy of my landlords’ home. For these reasons, I have typically assumed that some of the voices in the mobbing were illegally sampled by parabolic microphone, for later reuse.
What’s the benefit for the mobbers of illegally recording landlord voices to include in mobbing harassment? The most likely answer is an attempt to implicate the landlords. After all, when a tenant is harassed, the first assumption is that the landlord must be behind the harassment. When third parties do not only tortiously interfere in a rental agreement but embark upon a campaign to forcibly evict a tenant and “turn over” a property, the best-case scenario is that the tenant can be led to believe that her landlords are behind the eviction attempt. If the landlords believe that the accusations of harassment might stick, they may choose to sell a property they would otherwise have kept, to avoid a lawsuit.
Another benefit to including landlords in a mobbing, at least in including their voices, is the power they weld over the victim’s life. Landlords are authority figures, and at the outset of my own mobbing, the heckling and prattle included no lack of authority figures as the mobbers morphed from “traffic cops” critiquing my driving, into attorneys prosecuting me at a mock trial—obviously, I was sentenced to expulsion from the bosom of the neighborhood—into the bosses who had found me deficient and the city inspectors who, I was told, would soon arrive for a “white glove inspection.” In mobbing, unquestioning respect of authority is a huge vulnerability, tantamount to playing the “patsy.”
At any rate, early and repeating incidents of defamation tend to point to a “method” in the mobbers’ accusations of “madness.” When you’re doing something criminal, you do what you have to do to protect the crime. At least, that’s what I gather from the antics of the nasty neighborhood watch and its scumbucket speculator friends.