The case of the Georgia Jogger who was murdered in cold blood by a gang of current and former police, prosecutors, their relatives and neighbors is about to come to trial, and I urge any and all researchers of organized gang stalking to keep an eye on the proceedings–but also note the incest problem governing small town America, and its surveillance and police state narrators too.
Ïts a small enough town…” indeed, Vice Magazine…..but far less incestuous than the authors that grace your pages.
Let’s recap the case first, and then discuss the odd circumstances around jury selection in a notorious Ku Klux Klan locality of America–the same problem that has been plaguing American Democracy since forever–small town’s where jurors know both the victim, and the murderers.
Oooops. Did I just say “murderers”?
I sure did! And they can sue me for that if it turns out I was wrong–because if they are “proven innocent under the law” and a jury returns a “not guilty” verdict, I am in DEEP SCHEIT!
They can sue the SCHEIT out of me, and take all my blogs offline! They can P*own all my email accounts! They can take “everything I have” should I be proven wrong about them–they will own me like a slave!
And we know how Good God Fearin’ Southerners like to fuck up slaves, don’t we folks? Woww! Whipping folks, and then washing down the lash marks with salted water…..what a legacy these people left behind for the last two thousand years….!
King James would certainly be proud of the buggery that those boys are capable of!
But Ahmaud Arbery’s mother, not so much, You see, she heard that her son had died, somehow–those poor black southern women! They fall for that one every time!!!
“”Missus Arbery, brace yourself,” says the white “law enforcer.”
“But I have to break some bad news to ya, and I don’t wantcha to take it the wrong way, Miss.”
The mother, suddenly feeling pain, all the way down to the uterine fibers of her clenching womb–a sweat instantly forms like tears on her brow–and she can smell that odor of monthly deaths of unborn children gone by in the very reaches and depths of her mind, though even in that moment, no such words as my own appeared there, to her–she listens the hardest listen that she has listened for many, many years, and–
“I hate to haf to tell you this, and praise the lord, but your son has died.”
She hears “was killed,” but she asks again, for clarity–her mind overcoming her own bodily sensations, and asking–with words–“what happened to my son?!”
Asking with words, and with strength, and with courage that she has built within her over the years of watching so many near fatal encounters between her son, and people who say “Ma’am” only when it could kill people.
And knowing it already, but waiting to hear anyways, she wants to hear “murdered,” for “God’s sake.”
But what she gets is:.
“Ma’am,” says the voice on the phone, “your son died today.”
And in that moment, her mind writes an all too familiar story–her son was MURDERED, and the man on the phone? Like many before him–just a mockery of such murdering. She has rehearsed this exact story, year after year, and hour after hour, and minutes…go by…and she asks “what happened?” Knowing that what follows will be part truth, part lies, and nothing at all resembling her sons journey through this life–OH MY GOD! MY SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
Her son “died.” One step away from “was killed” and two steps away from “was murdered…” such is the plight of African Americans. Two steps away from…Shotgun blasts, and more, if only….if only….
And those–they, them, these, those! This that………the Kings damned English!
My SOOooon….that little moonbeam in his eyes at four, stars in his eyes!–“Mama, is the stars really on fire?”
Those waterfalls of tears–that horrible wincing of her face–that gut punch straight to her baby making parts–NONE OF THAT will be heard over this phone call. Not a GOD DAMNED BIT OF IT will those bastards hear–and death to them all, and the messenger, especially!
She girded herself likely, that day, with what “good people” call courage. Her breasts heaving, her eyes noticing–her inner “strength like those books said to be– controlling her breath–she said:
“And how did it happen?”
Or, something similar–who can remember so long ago–so many marches, and protests, and other murders later–who the hell can remember such small details?
And the voice, on the phone….that white man.That voice–did he study that somewhere?
…..follow the links, connect the dots!
And indeed–Ahmaud Arbery’s mother DID exactly that! She used SOCMINT and OSINT to get a gang of stalkers prosecuted! And that gang? It was 100% current and former police, prosecutors, and their relatives, friends and neighors! Have a look at the Wanda Cooper-Jones method of tracing, trapping, and priosecuting “gangs of stalkers.
Its a real Jury Trial folks! The Scheit has Heit the fan!
Well, folks– the trial of the murderers of Ahmaud Arbery has begun, and guess what? They have the same problem with jury selection that the South has always HAD! Incestuous webs of relationships, governed by white supremacists who feed off the blood of the poor, the marginalized, and the black blood of slaves, going into generations and into today.
Being black is an interesting concept, isn’t it?
Well–the Black Guards are maybe, slightly more interesting, in my opinion.