Life Story: Raine Street, Khandallah Road and Hutt Road (work in progress)

Life Story: Raine Street, Khandallah Road, Hutt Road (work in progress)

Let us write the story from the moment of my arrival at 6 Raine Street in Wellington on the 27th of April, 2023.

My father drove me from the Porirua Police station where I had been that morning to his mother’s house at 6 Raine Street in Karori, Wellington. It is just across the road from the Karori mall. I will post two pictures.

My father probably should not have been allowed near me, given that he had attacked me on the 25th of April 2026. But that’s a story for another day. The police attended the assault call out, but failed to lay charges against him or to issue a police safety order. Anyway, there was no one else to meet me and I was too crippled to walk anywhere and I had nowhere else to go. So I ended up going with my father. We got a strong cup of tea from the McDonald’s on the way from the police station to 6 Raine Street. Which I very much needed. The police didn’t have any tea available, only coffee and Milo. I can’t remember if we got anything to eat from the McDonald’s, or if it was just tea. I think we got breakfast as well. I needed a caffeinated drink. I’m a massive tea addict.

We arrived at 6 Raine Street, and I slowly got out of the car. I was achey and exhausted, and running almost purely on adrenaline. I was quite unwell don’t forget, and even holding myself in a stable way while riding in a car or the prisoner transport vehicle was a real effort for me. And so then, I walked down the side of the house towards the back door.

I climbed up the ramp at the rear of the house. I walked across the deck, and then into the lounge. I asked them for a bucket of warm, soapy water and also for another bucket of water so that I could clean my feet and then rinse them off. I was of course incapable of wearing shoes and socks, and so my feet were filthy from the dirt of walking through police stations and prison cells. I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless top at the time. I wasn’t feeling all that well. I washed my feet and I dried them with a towel.

My nana was there, as was my father.

My mother was staying elsewhere in town. She came to visit perhaps the next day. I can’t quite remember when exactly she first visited.

They put me in one of the two spare rooms. It was the one adjacent to my Nana’s room. All of my stuff had been moved there overnight. Or at least much of it. And so I had my own bed, my own chair and a fair bit of other miscellaneous items. It was nice to see that at least my bed and chair were there.

Sally: So when you arrived, what was in the room?

David: There was a desk, a chair, two beds, maybe a second chair. There were two small chests of drawers. One of the two beds was my own bed brought from home, the other one belonged to my Nana. One of the two chairs was my own, brought from home. The other chair was already there. We had a lamp on the desk as well. The room had three windows, but one of them seemed to be jammed shut. I had a wardrobe. And quite a bit of clutter. I had so much clutter everywhere. The room was full of stuff. It wasn’t exactly clutter, it was just stuff. They had moved all of my stuff in a hurry.

Sally: What sort of stuff?

David: Just everything I owned… or much of it. A lot of it was in the conservatory down one step in the front of the house. I couldn’t reach that stuff because I couldn’t use the steps. Which means I struggled with doing a full inventory. They should have put it in the other spare room, but they refused to. And instead they put it in the conservatory where I couldn’t reach it.

Sally: Who refused to? Who refused to put it in the spare room? Or I guess I should ask who moved your stuff from your old house?

This is my Nana, father, Uncle Andy (former mayor of Wellington and current member of parliament) who we are talking about here. At least I think that Uncle Andy helped out at that phase of moving. Yes, I think he did. And he came to visit once a few weeks later to help me to shift some furniture around. And he helped me to hunt for apartments too, but I’ll talk about that later. He was in between being mayor and being a member of parliament at the time.

And don’t forget that these guys were using cell towers and satellites to cause me to remain crippled. I repeat, they were actively keeping me crippled. And they were doing this after having crippled me in the first place. And they knew that they were keeping me crippled.

Next, I had to sort through all of my belongings and general stuff to find things and see which items I had and which items I did not have. And sorting through stuff and finding things and throwing rubbish away is a hassle at the best of times. But in my case it was even harder given my physical state. I also had to arrange things in such a manner that I could find things and make them accessible.

Sally: Was it difficult to get to your stuff in the front room? I.e. the conservatory? And did that cause problems for you?

David: Yes, it was difficult to get into the conservatory. And because I couldn’t get into the conservatory I wasn’t able to do a full and proper inventory of my things, sort them out, and tidy up all of my stuff. Also, all of my belongings were a mess! Even in my room. And I had to sort through them over the following 2-3 months to tidy them up, package things better, throw out junk and replace them. I should mention though that no one in my family was willing to store even a few large boxes of goods long term in their garage. Finding things in the boxes in my room was a hassle, as a lot of the stuff was just chucked in there in a semi organised manner.

One real struggle though is that I can’t navigate (physical environments) properly. And I can’t sort through drawers and stuff properly. And so I needed things to be organised in a particular way. I can’t just move properly. And so I bought things like laundry baskets to place on top of the spare bed so that I could access things inside them. Accessibility is a massive issue for me. Using things like baskets and keeping things visible and easily accessible is of vital importance to me, given my poor eyesight and mobility.

I also had to do things like ask other people to move even moderately heavy objects for me and also to open low down drawers for me, so that I could see what was in them.

And I also had to ask people to fetch things from the conservatory (front room) for me, because I couldn’t get in there myself. And I had a fair few boxes of goods to work my way through in there. I used to get one box out at a time to sort through and repackage. But I actually repurchased some stuff because I couldn’t find it or figure out where it was. I also lost a bunch of stuff because people hid it or I otherwise couldn’t sort through it. At least I think I did.

Anyway, I worked to sort through my belongings, and also to make sure that things were accessible and easy to reach.

My nana was quite mean to me about tidiness and mess and stuff like that. Which is unfortunate. For what it is worth, I really loved my nana when I was a child! But I guess she never really cared about me all that much. By the way, she used to be a devout Christian (or so I thought) who converted at a Billy Graham rally.

I’ll say a little bit more about her being mean about things like tidiness and organisation now.

She used to make a fuss about things like my keeping objects in baskets on the spare bed, instead of putting them in drawers. She would nag me, and act as though my being allegedly messy was potentially jeopardising my ability to stay in her home. I actually had to keep my belongings out where they were visible and raised to be able to reach them.

She also shifted all of my stuff to difficult to reach places. She shifted my food in the pantry up to a higher shelf. And she shifted my stuff in the freezer to a lower shelf than I could actually reach. And she put my pots and pans in a lower shelf than I could reach.

For example, on one occasion she insisted that I reach down low enough to retrieve a loaf of bread from the bottom drawer of the freezer. I actually had a habit of just asking other people to do it for me. That is how I typically retrieved a frozen loaf of bread from the freezer, to put it in the pantry to thaw. My body (electronically crippled as it was) couldn’t bend and reach that way! Not in a safe and appropriate manner anyway. She did that sort of thing, asking me to do things that weren’t physically sensible, or were otherwise bad for me. Another thing that she did similar to that was to take a great big box of books and just startle me with them and dump them in my arms, even though I shouldn’t be lifting them. Which seems like a minor thing, but these sorts of things were frequent and constant. Don’t forget that I was extremely badly crippled.

Next, she was very fussy about things like crumbs. And so I had to be vigilant about making sure that crumbs didn’t drop on stuff. Before I go on, I should point out that I had difficulty with things such as merely navigating environments and basic tasks such as preparing food or doing laundry. And so to always have to be vigilant about things like crumbs was a bit excessive. It was a hassle. I had to go back and tidy them again and again. She had this idea that ants would show up and cause problems. It was an “ongoing narrative” of hers.

And also, I was so screwed up physically that I might struggle sometimes with basic tasks such as merely sitting at the table to just eat. And I invented various techniques and kluges to get things done. For example, this is how I ate: I would get a lightweight plastic plate and put food on it, and hold it up to just below my chin using my left hand, pinning my left elbow to my ribs, and then I would eat off of it with my right hand. I did this so that I didn’t drop crumbs or food. But it had to be one of the lightweight plastic plates or I couldn’t manage it properly. And I preferred to eat standing up. Yes, tableware and crockery was heavy to me and a matter of tactical and strategic importance to me back then! My Nana had just two of these lightweight plastic plates in her house. Just as an aside, she used to hide or bury them sometimes in amongst a pile of crockery so that I had to dig through it to get to the plastic plates. And on one occasion I fumbled a ceramic plate and broke it (if I remember correctly).

And she had rules about doing all of the dishes straight away, or close to straight away. And she had these ideas that dishes shouldn’t be visible on the bench. The bench should be clear, or something like that. It should always be clear. And she had this idea that her support worker Addy shouldn’t do them, and shouldn’t be responsible for them. And that my Nana shouldn’t have to do them. Which led to problems.

I will explain those problems now. So when I had to do dishes back then I had to walk around back and forth to rest my back and relax it between individual physical motions in the kitchen. So I would scrub a few times, and then walk a bit, and then scrub a bit, and then walk. And rinse and then walk and so on and so on. And so it took much longer to do the dishes than it should have. And besides that, the kitchen was close to the lounge, and so I was walking past the doorway to the lounge again and again, and it got on my Nana’s nerves while she tried to watch TV. But that’s what I had to do to be able to do dishes. I had to walk around so that my posture could “rejigger” itself. And it took longer to do dishes than it should have. And I was always micromanaging my physical movements. And anyway, that was all just something to manage. Nana ended up choosing to do them sometimes. And sometimes I did them after she went to bed, although I was encouraged to not stay up late in the dining room and kitchen, for some unknown reason. And as for the lateness and nighttime thing, this was unfortunate because I liked to sit up late at night quietly listening to music in the dining room. But my Nana didn’t want me up late at night quietly sitting in the dining room to listen to music. I guess she just didn’t want people walking around the house late at night. But that’s just a bit of digression.

Now as for Nana’s support worker/s, even a rinsed plate, a rinsed and wiped knife, one teacup and a teaspoon….  These things can’t be left for Nana’s support workers to deal with. And I might have to rush to tidy them away or do them myself before the support worker did them (they sometimes just did them).

And also I wasn’t supposed to have Lilia, my support worker, doing the dishes at 11 am or whenever she showed up, because it was considered to be “disruptive” and the kitchen was an open plan kitchen with the dining room, where my Nana often socialised.

I have put much of this in here as an example of the micromanagement I had to do of my body and posture. And of the way that people made things difficult for me. Please don’t forget that they made an active decision, renewed every single day, to keep me crippled using their electronic weapons (cell towers and satellites).

We also had a dishwasher. Which she basically refused to use (always?). I don’t know why she refused to use the dishwasher, but she did. Perhaps she wanted to make things more difficult for me.

She was also quite cruel when it came to things like my having access to the accessible shower and also insisting that I trim my toenails (more about that later, it was actually a big deal), or else be kicked out into the street. And she also caused arguments, just plain, straight face-to-face artificially contrived conflict and confrontation. Perhaps she was trying to create a reaction so that she would have an excuse to throw me out (she was actually doing that). She was being cruel, to try to create a reaction. But I think that I will talk about those things a little bit later. They’re in a slightly different category to the other stuff. I’ll come back to it later.

Sally: Wow. I can’t understand why your Nana would be so cruel! What kind of a horrible woman would deliberately cause such difficulties to her grandson! And how dare she not tell him why he was crippled?

David: I think that she was under the sway of my father somewhat. But that at the same time I think she is just a bad egg. I feel that she is rotten to the core.

Let’s move on.

[[[later: talk about artificially contrived arguments and conflict a little bit later and also toenails and the shower and the podiatrist later as well]]]

[[[hygiene and grooming as a topic, especially being denied access to the shower]]]

[[[add in hints about the homeless shelter, and being kicked out. If I can remember the cues]]]

***

Now back to the day of my arrival

One of the first things I did once I got there was to borrow my father’s phone to get online to google “fertility clinics” so that I could try to chase up the IVF thing. And I got a list of all of the fertility clinics in New Zealand who offer IVF as a service. My phone wasn’t working for the moment. It just kind of cut out from the internet. I managed to get my own phone back on to the internet and on to my Nana’s wifi shortly afterwards.

But back to the fertility clinic thing.

I got a list of all of the fertility clinics in New Zealand where they do IVF. 

IVF and Lily

I knew that something had happened with Lily and IVF because Amanda had become pregnant when she was up in Auckland on holiday with her mother (which was when she was due to ovulate). And also because I had done a DNA test showing that the child was mine. And how can that happen other than through IVF? She clearly got IVF while she was on holiday up north (or pretended to be “up north”).

I actually suspected long before Lily was born that the child was created by means of IVF, and that the sperm was mine (they wanted a genius baby).

And I also felt that Amanda was probably infertile, for reasons I have probably explained elsewhere.

I had already tried contacting the Wellington Fertility Associates clinic, where I felt that it was mostly likely that she had received IVF treatment. I had contacted them by means of phone call, email, and a physical, handwritten letter. I hadn’t had any success with getting information from them. I had done this back when I was in Paraparaumu.

Amanda had gone to fertility associates in the past. They diagnosed her with endometriosis, and she also had been diagnosed with an ovarian adhesion (this is where the ovary sticks to the lining of something). And it was thought that the ovarian adhesion might be connected with her infertility. She got surgery for it which seems to have resolved the issue. And I think she had this done in connection with the Wellington branch of Fertility Associates. I can’t remember the details as to who did the actual surgery. But I think that a fertility associates doctor did it in an operating theatre in Wellington hospital and it was funded by Amanda’s mother’s medical insurance.

She also got some generic fertility testing done, in which my sperm was tested also. To see why she wasn’t pregnant. And I gave a sample for that.

I will now talk about that sample and that test.

I wasn’t healthy enough, or otherwise capable of going in to the clinic in Wellington to give a sample. But the sample needed to get into Wellington within an hour to still be suitable for testing. And so we weren’t sure what to do. And so the plan was that I create the sample at home (gross) and then give the jar to Amanda. Who gives the jar to her mother who drove quickly into town to give it to the testing clinic.

This was for testing purposes only. I did not give this sample to Amanda and therefore her mother for the purposes of creating an infant by means of IVF.

This sample was later used to conceive a baby by means of IVF (a test tube baby).

And that’s what I have to say about IVF for the moment.

*

Sally: So you never gave a sperm sample to Amanda for the express purpose of having a child by means of IVF?

David: That is correct. I never gave Amanda or her mother a sperm sample to be used for the express purpose of creating a baby by means of IVF.

Sally: Did you sign a permission slip telling the fertility clinic that they could do IVF with your sperm or that they could do IVF treatment on your wife?

David: No, I did not.

Sally: Did you ever see Amanda taking the drugs that you have to take in order to be able to do IVF? I am well aware that you have to take special pills or get injections to do IVF.

David: No, I did not.

Sally: She must have hidden that from you. And who knows how many rounds of IVF she had to do to get pregnant and how long she was on the pills.

David: Yes, she must have hidden it from me. I gather that actually it involves a lot of injections. Maybe up to 40 of them. She must have hidden from me the fact that she was getting IVF. She and her mother are very secretive and dishonest people.

I never saw her doing injections.

Sally: Were you trying to get her pregnant?

David: Yes. Out of guilt and a sense of obligation (we were married after all). But I might explain that another day. In the state I was in back then I would have preferred not to be having sex in the first place, and also I would have preferred not to try to get her pregnant. I felt that we didn’t really have the capacity to raise a child properly given my serious health problems. We didn’t have enough space in the house, and we didn’t have enough money. And also I felt that she had mental health issues (as a result of being molested as a child) and was probably not fit to be a mother.

*

Sally: Okay, please keep moving on.

David: And so I was thinking about contacting all of the other IVF clinics in New Zealand. There are Fertility Associates clinics across the country (it’s a chain of fertility clinics). And there are some other fertility clinics in New Zealand as well. I have since contacted all of them. Some multiple times. I haven’t got the information I wanted from them.

In the end, I decided to contact the Department of Internal Affairs instead, or at least first. The department of internal affairs has a database for this sort of things. It is called the HART register. That stands for the Human Assisted Reproductive Technology register. 

And I also thought of trying to get DNA evidence as well. In fact I bought some testing kits for getting DNA samples. This was to test for ancestry DNA. I was going to compare Lily’s DNA with my own DNA and see what the extra DNA was to figure out if it matched up with Amanda. And if it didn’t, then that was indicative proof of her being conceived by means of IVF.

I’ll talk about those two things soon. But first I want to address a few other things.

Sally: Okay, go for it. Tell me about the experiences you had in talking to the department of internal affairs, and also tell me about your attempts to do DNA stuff. But you can tell me about that in a moment. Because you have other stuff to talk about first?

David: Yes. Other stuff first.

I just want to tell you about my first days in Wellington. And arriving there. And trying to find a lawyer.

Sally: Okay, so you will talk to me about your experiences in finding a lawyer. But then also you will tell me more about the IVF thing, the DIA thing and also the thing about additional DNA testing.

David: Yes, that is the plan.

***

David: And so there I am in Wellington. I had just got arrested the day before. My father had attacked me two days prior, and I had called the police. I’d had very significant criminal charges laid against me. The charges had a potential sentence of up to 3 years in prison attached to them. I was badly crippled. It was a horrible situation. I had court in about 7 days where I was supposed to plead guilty or not guilty. And I was struggling to find a lawyer. And that’s where I was.

And so maybe let us talk about the lawyer situation.

I wanted a lawyer, and I needed a lawyer. I needed one very badly. I had tried several times to find a lawyer back in Paraparaumu. I’ll talk about that for a moment, and then I will talk about my trying to find a lawyer once I was in Wellington. Because that’s important.

I really needed good legal advice, and I hadn’t been able to get it.

And not only that but I needed a proper advocate, someone who would fight for me. And fight on my behalf. 

I needed someone on my side.

From my point of view I had been kept in a crippled state while on camera for years. And I was still badly crippled and facing massive legal charges and it was a situation that involved massive injustice, especially that of IVF, fraud and exploiting someone for reproductive purposes while they were crippled for 6 years, and were so crippled they couldn’t even shower or go for a walk around the block. And all of it on (apparently) on camera.

And also there were massive opportunities in front of me. Opportunities to put people like my father, Brynn and Amanda in jail (for crimes like fraud, perjury, assault, conspiracy to defeat justice, criminal abuse, making a false statement to police, and making a false statement to mental health services). And to potentially opportunities to sue Amanda and Brynn, and to sue the fertility clinic. There may have been a lot of money to gain in suing Amanda and Brynn. And even more money to gain by suing the fertility clinic. Furthermore, some of the doctors and nurses I saw might actually be exposed to civil liability, criminal charges or the possibility of losing their jobs and reputations, or losing their NZOM honours and designations.

There were also significant opportunities when it came to exposing the criminals who did this to me (such as shadowy politicians behind the scenes). And the opportunity to get custody and raise Lily.

Sally: What do you mean by fraud?

David: Well it’s obviously a crime, and a big one at that. A crime has clearly been committed. But which crime is it exactly? I think that perhaps fraud charges are the best charges for it. It’s fraud. It could done under the Crimes Act of 1961, section 240, obtaining by deception or causing loss by deception. The sperm sample was obtained through deception so that Amanda and her secret lesbian girlfriend could have a baby, after which I was discarded and/or driven out. This carries with it a seven year prison sentence. I have also been charged a fair bit of child support and stuff. As well as had legal expenses at the family court. And was attacked by my father as part of the cover up. Amanda also struck or otherwise attacked me multiple times in 2022, and cut me with razor sharp objects, and engaged in financial abuse.

Sally: That is utter madness….

David (interrupts): And as for criminal abuse, she was expecting and insisting on sex for procreation purposes even though I was crippled and she and her associates had literally crippled me for years, and then deliberately withholding from me the truth about why I was crippled for years (cell towers). I’ll talk more about this point later. The person whose finger was on the trigger for that was Siobhan, another of Amanda’s long term lesbian lovers. She and Amanda had been together since high school.

Oh, and I need to just add this, Amanda asked for a sperm sample because she said that she just wanted to do some general tests to see why she wasn’t getting pregnant. Obviously she lied. I have spoken about this elsewhere. I think I talked about it in the drop box of garbage v3.

Sally: What do you mean by “kept crippled”? And what do you mean by “while on camera”?

David: Well it’s like this. At the time I didn’t know that the cell towers, satellites and the associated technology existed. And so I didn’t know that they could observe your thoughts, or get readings off of your emotions, or get readings off of your physiological responses, or images from your eyes, or pictures from your mind’s eye. And I didn’t know that they could manipulate your muscles or nervous system or digestion or give you any number of symptoms. And I also didn’t know that they could disrupt your sleep, make you sweat, chill you, blast you with heat, give your brain fog or give you bad dreams.

Now as for the cameras, I kept on getting hints from social media (starting in 2022) that I was being watched. And they would reference things from the past in my life. Some of them were from things that happened inside the home. Some of them were from things that happened outside the home. Which led me to believe that I was being watched on hidden cameras and that I have been watched since childhood. They actually referred to a lot of things I was doing or saying or thinking. I can’t actually remember many of the things they did via social media, but they actually did a lot to make me feel like I was on camera. And so I came to believe that there were cameras in the house. If I ever do a rundown of everything that happened in that part of my life I’ll explain more. It’s a story for another day.

But anyway, to cut a long story short, I assumed that there were hidden cameras in the house, like pinhole cameras. And I even searched for them.

Now as to being crippled, I was crippled for years. And I didn’t know why. And I had some theories. But it was still a mystery. And I should also mention that my body awareness was toast (aka kinaesthetic awareness). Now, I knew my neck was tight, and my scalenes were rock hard. And I knew that my clivus was tight (under collar bones) and my chest and shoulders (traps) were tight. And I felt that my iliopsoas was tight. But I didn’t know what caused it. I didn’t understand or comprehend the root causes of my health issues. And so I felt that I was crippled due to medical conspiracy and bad advice. And bad luck, because I didn’t know about the cell towers and satellites. But I did know that I was being watched!

Sally: You didn’t know the root causes? What about all of the other parts of your life story involving health problems?

David: Yes, no. Of course. I see.

Yes, of course I knew all of that. I’d had chronic fatigue syndrome, digestive problems, back problems and sleep problems and many problems in my life. And there was a long road to get from being healthy in high school to being crippled in Princeton Road. But at the same time I didn’t know at the time that the root issue was… being attacked by electromagnetic radiation and quantum effects from satellites and cell towers. I hope to do another interview with you sometime about the years 2012-2021, so that we can talk about health problems in those years.

And so I figured that they had been watching me on cameras and keeping me crippled. And also watching me while I was walking around the house crippled.

And anyone who would keep a good person like me on camera all the time while crippled and covered in things like built up dead skin and other grime (I was filthy!), then that person is just plain horrifyingly evil. Just a diseased creature. And so I figured that all of these people were irredeemably evil. And that I needed help from someone competent.

And so I was like, I need a proper advocate. At least one good person who can fight for me. And if it’s not the lawyer, then I need at least one person on my side! Just one person truly on my side.

Sally: That sounds totally horrifying? Why didn’t you see a doctor back then? Back when you were crippled?

David: As it so happens, I saw a lot of doctors from 2007-2013. And they never helped me. And in fact they made me worse.  Ans so when I got crippled, I didn’t trust any doctors. And I didn’t want to see any. I thought that they would end up shunting me towards mental health services, or institutionalising me, or I would end up living at something like my father’s house. Or that I would end up at hospital. I didn’t think that I would cope well with being in hospital. I actually thought that I wouldn’t survive being in hospital or otherwise living in an institution (or perhaps a nursing home). And that explains my motivations for why I didn’t go to the hospital.

And I saw councillors and other such people and spoke with my church’s elders at certain points.

And I also saw some physiotherapists in maybe 2020ish. And occupational therapists. I forget exactly when. And they weren’t very helpful. And I saw some more doctors in 2022, and they were plain pure evil. Lying to cover up and sanitise the situation.

And so those are some of the reasons that I didn’t rush to go see a doctor. I actually need to write it up better sometime.

Sally: I see. That makes sense. Sort of. I guess that I will need to wait to hear the rest of the story later. Maybe someday. What a horrible way that people act.

Sally: So about finding a lawyer?

David: Yes, let us get back to the main story. And I’m trying to find a lawyer.

*

Trying to find a lawyer while I was still in Paraparaumu 

I tried to find a lawyer while I was in Paraparaumu, but I wasn’t successful. I did try a few things. For example, I asked my mother for help. I asked Uncle David for help. I called one or two local lawyers. But I didn’t manage to find a lawyer who would help me. I came to have the impression that I was unable to find anyone who wasn’t in cahoots with this system or conspiracy. I should say that I didn’t understand the system very well at the time.

Sally: Could you tell me more about that.

David: Yes, but maybe I’ll tell you more some other time. People were being weird at the time. It was strange.

My inability to find a lawyer harmed me quite a bit back then.

It hurt me in that I didn’t have good advice about things like trespass orders, protection orders, divorce settlements, possession of the house, spouses who hide assets or drain money out of bank accounts (Amanda closed off my access to bank accounts). And stuff like that.

*

Finding a lawyer in Wellington

I called about 20-30 criminal defense lawyers trying to find even one who would help me. I was just on the phone all day fighting frantically to find a lawyer. Any lawyer! And I ended up with Sophie Barclay of the public defense service. She agreed to represent me.

*

Here is my story of trying to find a lawyer:

I wanted a lawyer. I had tried finding one in the past, without much luck I might add. I might talk more about that at some point in the future and why it happened that way.

But anyway, once I was at Raine Street, my father and mother told me that I didn’t need to get a lawyer, and could just plead guilty when I went to court, and use the duty lawyer when I was there. I didn’t even know what a duty lawyer at court would do? Or even if they would have one at the Porirua District Court.

Why would my parents tell me not to get a lawyer when I was dealing with significant criminal charges!

[[[bold this statement here]]]

By the way, I had been charged in my absence. I was in the Porirua Police Station holding cells (the whole jail was totally empty at the time by the way) when I was charged. And I was just waiting about. And they said that the courthouse was just upstairs, in the same building, up a flight of stairs (it isn’t) but that they were unwilling to take me up the stairs because there wasn’t a lift or anything. Anyway, truth is that the courthouse is half a kilometre away from the police station. So they lied. It wasn’t “just up a single flight of stairs”. Anyway, my mother and father went to the courthouse and I was charged without being present. They facilitated the whole thing. They were there but I wasn’t.

And I had to reappear at court within about 7 days (?) to plead guilty or not guilty. And I didn’t have a lawyer. So that wasn’t ideal.

I think that they were trying to railroad me through the process.

I had briefly spoken to a duty lawyer in the basement of the Porirua police station. And also spoke to two psychiatrists in the basement as well. The duty lawyer gave me some forms to fill out to apply for legal aid and talked to me for a little bit. I filled out the forms, but got the wrong address on them. Which caused some problems with my application for legal aid.

So anyway, I wanted a lawyer. And my parents made a massive fuss about my wanting a lawyer, and suggested that I didn’t need one. And that a lawyer would just waste all of my money. And so I set about getting a lawyer. I told them (and myself), “I’m not doing this without a lawyer”. I don’t know how courts work!

I had to fight very hard to find a lawyer. I must have called about twenty or thirty of them. And most of them weren’t interested. I think that someone was talking to their mind  psychically on the other end of the call. To me at the time it was concerning, disconcerting and disheartening and worrying that many of the people I spoke to seemed to act like they were “part of the system”. They just said or acted in strange ways. How is it that so many important people and even criminal defence lawyers were part of the system! At the time I half believed that these people were all part of some sort of system of secret society, like the Freemasons combined with university style secret societies. I didn’t understand it. I really didn’t understand how it all worked. I eventually managed to get a lawyer from the public defense service. Her name was Sophie Barclay. I had wanted to get a proper criminal defense lawyer, a non government one. I tried to get Mike Antunovic, Cameron Lawyers, Phillip Mitchels and Gary Turkington, for example, but they weren’t interested (or I otherwise wasn’t able to hire them). At this point in time I was actually not really all that knowledgeable about how things worked. If I were back then doing that period of time over again, I’d be able to do it better. I’d know what to say. Iirc Phil Mitchels played silly buggers on the phone for example, but I didn’t know how these things worked. I ran around in circles and eventually found a lawyer.

Here is what it was like trying to find a lawyer. I would Google all of the criminal lawyers that I could find, and then write lists of lawyers looking them up online as I went. And then call all of them frantically. And I also wrote down my story, so that I could explain it from script. I was also somewhat hurt! I had managed to get hurt during the trips between the various police stations in the prisoner transport vans. And so I wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I was slightly mentally impaired. By the way, my main concern at the time was getting the pleading date delayed so that I could rest up and get the information I needed regarding Lily and DNA or parentage. That was the first task.

*

A quick note about the prisoner transport trucks

I had two trips in these prisoner transport trucks. That is, they transported me by means of the prisoner transport trucks twice. And they put me in the worst seat each time. They did this as a punitive measure. 

Here is how it went. They (the police) only did it because I insisted on talking about Lily and parentage and IVF when they questioned me. This was in the brief interview that they did shortly after they took me into custody. This was in one of the interview rooms at the Paraparaumu police station. 

Sally: Tell me more.

David: This was after fingerprinting and photographs, and after waiting around in the holding cell for a while. And also after briefly talking on the phone with a lawyer or two. And then also after attempting to have a phone call to find anyone decent I could trust. They gave me some chicken noodles in a cup while I was in the cells, and a cup of tea.

David: So there I was in the police interview room. And they talked to me for a bit. I had spoken to a lawyer briefly on the phone. And he wasn’t able to come to help me or to be there during the interview. And I had felt that I’m supposed to have a lawyer there. But I didn’t. But anyway. And I had tried to find a friend or any associate that I can call. But I knew literally no one trustworthy on planet earth who isn’t part of this. But anyway, I’m being interviewed. And then I think to myself, they’re recording everything I say on that CD there. And I say… “this whole thing is because Lily is mine genetically and not Amanda’s and she had IVF without my knowledge or consent. And she is trying to cover it up.” And I was crippled for 6 years. And the police officer (Detective Niall Deehan, Family Harm Division, NZOM) got upset with me and said, “that’s a load of complete rubbish” in an exaggerated manner. And then I was pulled outside to be taken to Wellington. And they got rather upset, and wanted to force me to take the prisoner transport truck instead of travelling in a normal vehicle. Also, I asked them multiple times if I could go in the back seat of a normal police car or police station wagon. I pleaded with them to not do it, because I felt that travelling by truck would hurt me. They said no, and put me into the truck. They also drove very, very badly and cornered badly and doubled back and took a bit of a “tiki tour” to jostle me. I had to use a great deal of “conscious control” of the tension within my body to keep myself upright, while they jostled me about. That might sound weird to you, but think of it as using something like “internal martial arts” methods to use tension tied in with my feet and legs to hold myself up. I connected tension all the way from my neck through my waist, into my pelvis and then feet and legs. It was hard! And I also braced through my neck, shoulders, chest and jaw. And I got rattled around pretty badly. They drove just hard enough that it was a struggle to stay upright, but not so hard that I collapsed. And in the end I was very tired and fatigued. It took me a week or two to recover. And I think it caused me a fair bit of cognitive impairment. It hurt me a bit. I was pretty “dinged up”. And I had physical symptoms for days. I had two trips in the prisoner transport trucks. It was a struggle to even get into them or out of them!

As for mentioning the IVF and parentage thing, I had wanted this information to be recorded on the police recording disc thing, so that it couldn’t get lost in the system. And so that if I got lost in the system, or died, that people could find it. Note: the police record interviews on a disc.

I had one trip from the Paraparaumu Police Station to the Wellington Police Station in one of these trucks, and one trip from the Wellington Police Station to the Porirua Police Station in one of these trucks. The first one was on 26th and second was on the 27th.

It was punitive.

*

Back to the lawyer story

And so I was not feeling 100% and yet I kept on looking for a lawyer and found one.

And then I talked to her. And we got the forms sorted. I sorted out legal aid (I wanted to be on the legal aid schedule for fees). And she told me that “she is my lawyer, and she is helping me”. But actually she wasn’t all that helpful. She was difficult. And she got the court date pushed back a bit. She played silly games and acted funny a little bit.

But she didn’t even come to visit me in person before we went to court, even though I was too disabled to go to her offices to meet her. That should have been basic. That should have been a priority. She should have come to Raine Street straight away. We first met in court. She was working for the system. She wasn’t working for me, she was working for the system.

I was sick, crippled, hurt, covered in dead skin and grime, had shaggy hair all over my face and matted hair on my head. I couldn’t walk. I knew no one. I hadn’t showered in six years. I had suffered terribly at the hands of these people. I had been exploited in terms of reproduction and defrauded in terms of IVF and subjected to massive injustice. I had been attacked by my father, threatened by him, and ordered to go with him by the police. And I was now living at my father’s mother’s house, where I was extremely unsafe! And she didn’t bother to come to even come to see me in person.

And another thing. I had to do weird stuff like photocopy things or scan things and deal with technology and sign stuff to get stuff to lawyers. And they didn’t always make it easy! I had to jump through hoops a little bit. And they weren’t willing to solve problems in a sensible way, such as visiting me. That paragraph might not make perfect sense, but you perhaps see what I mean. For example, I had to print, fill out and scan and sign a piece of paper to get them to delay the court dates. And I had to jump through hoops to get that done like asking my mother, who was there at the time, to print it out at the library. And then I filled it out, and she got it scanned. And I emailed it the lawyer. That’s a bad example, but they’re messed me around a bit.

Anyway, I told Sophie Barclay my story. And I tried to get her to help me with my legal problems. For example I asked her to help me to get my charges withdrawn. She then tried to advise me to apply for diversion. And we wasted a fair bit of time on that. Ummmmmm. You can’t get diversion for a charge of that magnitude! You can’t! And so she tried to waste time on that. I was unhappy about that. And at that point I realised she was going to play dumb and force me to micromanage her. I wasn’t impressed. And perhaps because of that, and because I had to micromanage her to even send an email to the police to attempt to get the charges withdrawn. And she sort of undermined my attempts to do that (she didn’t want me to mention that there were six police officers there on the day). And also because she didn’t bother to even meet me by this point in time! I figured that I was on my own when it came to solving problems like finding out about IVF and so on. And so I tried to do it directly via the DIA. They of course denied me the information. And as it so happens, they denied me that information just before I had to go to court. I got a letter just the day before court telling me that they didn’t have the information I needed.

I asked her to try to get my charges withdrawn and told her that I would contact the DIA myself to get the information that we needed. In hindsight, I should have asked her to send letters to the DIA and every fertility clinic in the country. And that we needed to do that before even asking the police to withdraw the charges.

I needed help getting evidence relating to the IVF thing. I don’t remember what happened with that. But I wanted her help with that. But I didn’t get it. I can’t remember why. I had to try to sort it out myself. And after the DIA ran me about in circles, and used false names (I think) and then denied me the information I needed. I then came to the conclusion that maybe the records had been destroyed. And left it for a while. My theory was that if they intended to be this unjust, there wasn’t much I could do against “the system”.

Don’t forget that at this point in time I couldn’t even get to the letterbox and back comfortably. And even basic tasks were a struggle.

Also, I spent a lot of effort “managing” the problems with my posture. I’ll talk more about that later.

Anyway, I had lawyer troubles.

Once I realised that the government had given me a bad lawyer and wasn’t going to give me a good one. And that the Department of Internal Affairs was also being dishonest, then I relaxed a bit and said that I’ll just work on my health. And sort things out once my body starts working better.

Again I have to say, but she didn’t even come to visit me in person before we went to court, even though I was too disabled to go to her offices to meet her. That should have been basic. We first met in court. She was working for the system. She wasn’t working for me, she was working for the system.

She also said a weird thing to me about Lily and IVF. I told her that Lily was conceived by means of IVF without my knowledge and consent. And that I had been crippled for years and years of my life, and that while I was crippled Amanda actually exploited me for reproductive purposes. But then what happened is that… Sophie said something weird. She said, that even if it turns out that Amanda isn’t the biological mother (DNA) that she is still Lily’s mother. But my feelings were that this is actually a very serious criminal matter! Keeping someone crippled for years and exploiting them for reproductive purposes, and the using corrupt police and courts to get rid of them! And all on camera and all part of a coordinated conspiracy. It’s actually extremely serious! But she sided with the woman just because Amanda was a new mother and had a baby to take care of. It’s appalling. If she had even a shred of moral decency she would have been strongly opposed to Amanda, including on grounds that Amanda was a serious criminal, and that a criminal shouldn’t be raising an infant! And if she had been a serious minded and worthwhile lawyer, she would have insisted on visiting my home to meet me in person.

And so that is one of the things I worked on: Getting a lawyer and dealing with legal troubles.

And anyway, I tried to get the charges withdrawn. But the police said no.

I will talk about that a little later.

*

The corridor and other floors at Raine Street

This is a totally different topic.

They had a nice corridor at Raine Street. It had a very nice hard wooden floor. It was nice to walk on. And it was perfect for pacing back and forth on. And much of the rest of the house was tiled. And also a nice place to walk.

I liked the floors at Raine Street.

At the time I didn’t know about the things they do with the cell towers. Such as manipulating your muscles via your nervous system to keep your body locked down.

I was crippled. And had theories about what caused it.

I was exercising. I was doing “mini squats”. I did hundreds of mini squats every day. And I walked a lot.

I will now talk about my exercise habits.

I would walk back and forth in the corridor doing squats.

The way it worked is that I would walk to the end of the corridor and back again.

And then do ten mini squats.

And then I would walk to the end of the corridor and back again. And then do ten more mini squats.

And then I would walk to the end of the corridor and back again. And then do ten more mini squats.

I would sometimes “reset” my feet and back after every few mini squats. By doing xyz.

And so I might be doing squats and walking for 45 minutes at a time. In the corridor. With the doors closed. Twice a day! Or if I had the whole house to myself, I would walk a path all the way from the end of the corridor to the rear end of the house and back again. And then do squats.

And sometimes I just walked for 30-60 minutes inside while trying to create “lift” in my spine.

And so I was working very hard to try to recover my health.

I had theories about how my exercises were supposed to work. It was hip hinges for the purpose of “reprogramming” my torso. I had this theory that it was the iliopsoas which caused me to have the problems I had. Not the neck muscles. And I thought that I needed to reprogram my body to have more “lift” through what I called “the central column”. But at the same time I viewed my iliopsoas and neck as being a part of the same sort of unit. And I thought that my neck was stuck tight because of my iliopsoas. But actually it was the other way around. My neck caused problems with my core muscles.

The truth is that my proprioception is totally borked. I can’t feel which thing is where. Or why or how.

I didn’t realise that the primary problem was the neck muscles. I thought it was the iliopsoas. I kind of use the neck, iliopsoas and so on right through to my feet as one unit. Don’t ask how!! But I just do. I might explain it better later. But I do.

It’s kind of the neck, the throat, the iliopsoas, the chest, the shoulders and the traps which are tightened up. And this leads  to problems further down the body. And I have to carry myself in a funny way, and I kind of stiffen my neck, chest and back just to walk. And I have to lean into my bones too. I kind of rest into my skeleton. It’s odd and difficult to do it, and even harder to explain it. I developed these techniques and coping mechanisms over time, by the way.

So anyway, I was doing 200 squats a day, or more. And walking for at least 45 minutes. And so that should have been enough to do it. That should have enough for me to recover.

But they actually had my body clamped down and tightened too much for me to actually recover.

***

David: I just want to talk about it not being “just de-conditioning” for a bit.

Sally: Okay. I gather that this has been a major point of contention hasn’t it.

David: Yes. It has.

Back in late 2022 and early-to-mid 2023 I was doing 200-500 mini squats a day. And walking for between 45-90 minutes a day (all inside).

Sometimes I would probably have walked more than that in a day.

I also spent a lot of time resting. I mostly did this while sitting on my chair and listening to music. I usually did this in 10-20 minute stints.

I started doing mini squats back in early-ish 2022. Back then I was doing fewer of them. But that was because I was still learning how to do them. But I built up to doing more. I might have started with 10-20 mini squats per day. And I built up to doing more of them over time.

Now as for doing 500 of them in a day. That was unusual for me and is quite a bit of exercise and movement. I probably might have been doing about 200-300 a day, is more likely. I think that doing 500 was pretty unusual for me! But I did it sometimes.

But the point I wish to make is that I was working hard to recover.

**

If I had been suffering from "just deconditioning" and this had been the cause of my mobility issues and posture problems, then I would recovered. That level of exercise would have resolved the problem.

Given that I did not recover, then it is clear that my problem was not "just de-conditioning" as some people suggest.

There we go, I have proven it.

**

These people crippled me for 8.5 years. And it isn’t “just de-conditioning”. I have debunked their theory. I have proven that it wasn’t “just deconditioning”.

Sally: Yes, I feel that this is quite conclusive. It wasn’t “just de-conditioning”.

If they asked for proof, then this is it.

David: Yes. I shouldn’t have to provide “proof”. But there it is anyway.

****

****

There is a set of people that I used to call the syndicate. But perhaps I could just call it the alliance and partnership of co-conspirators. This includes the Chinese Communist Party Clique, Xi, Paul, Matthew, Tedge, Brynn, Siobhan, Amanda, and various other lesbians and feminists. And some other people.

This set of people might have other views. But their views are stupid.

They might say that it was “just de-conditioning”. Or at one point they suggested that it was due to caffeine consumption!

But their point of view was stupid.

All I needed was for these people to tell me about the cell towers, and then ban the use of them on my body. And then I could have recovered fairly quickly.

I could have rehabilitated myself quite effectively within a few months. I think. I think I could mostly do the first stages anyway.

Sally: How much time do you want, really?

David: I want a year. But maybe 6-12 months would be enough. I think I could recover pretty good movement of my arms and upper body in just 3 months though, and a massive improvement in the hip hinge movement and maybe even the squatting movement.

Sally: It sounds complicated.

David: It is complicated. But I think I can do it. It’s more complicated than people think.

David: They also wanted me to have sex before I had rehabilitated and rebuilt my whole body. And also before I could find a proper apartment to live in. And they wanted me to start having sex before I could even shower at all! Let alone shower regularly, which I think is completely insane.

Not that I understood this at the time. I didn’t even know that the technology to bork my body existed. I just knew my body didn’t work

By the way, I thought they had me under camera surveillance and microphone surveillance at this point (Raine Street and trying to rehabilitate my body). Because I didn’t know about the cell towers.

****

****

Court Dates and other legal matters

[[[add the police withdrawing charges letter to this]]]

[[[and arrange the other legal matters, and then other matters below it]]]

[[[and then talk about a few other matters next]]]

Anyway. We had court dates coming up.

And the court dates were fatiguing and a real challenge.

I had things coming up in bother the district court and family courts.

And getting to and from the court was a major problem. The courts are in Porirua and I was in Wellington. And the courts were up some stairs. Stairs were hard!!

And when I did eventually get to the court dates, I needed to travel in my father’s car to get to them. And he would do things like brake suddenly to give me pain in my neck. I was struggling! Kind of like “mini whiplash” (not really, but still a problem for me!).

And every trip out of the house cost me a lot physically. And I wasn’t feeling great afterwards. And I had to rely on my father for transportation.

**

Trying to get my charges withdrawn 

I need to talk about my attempts to get the charges withdrawn just by asking the police prosecutor to withdraw them. It didn’t work, but it was a good idea and well worth trying.

Here is my email in which I asked to get the charges withdrawn.

https://www.howcommunicate.com/extra-uploads-sophie-barclay-email-to-police

Sally: You asked them simply to withdraw the charges?

David: Yes, it was my understanding at the time that the police sometimes just withdraw charges and let things go.

Sally: Okay, I see. That is actually quite an important thing. And you even managed to get the police report from the day when the police officers showed up to the assault call out after your father attacked you?

David: Yes.

**

The next topic is about the Department of Internal Affairs.

The Department of Internal Affairs didn’t give me the information I wanted. I wanted to get information about Lily and her parentage and DNA and IVF and stuff like that.

And so I contacted them by email and phone and I tried to get the information that I needed. I found out that I needed to fill in a few forms to get the information that I needed from the HART database. And to do those forms I needed to have some ID, which I also sent away for.

I had hoped to get the information I needed before I had to plead guilty or not guilty. If they had given me the information that I needed, then I would have just asked for a continuation. After that, then I would have just asked the police to withdraw the charges. And I wouldn’t have needed to plead anything. The letter I was waiting for arrived I think 2 days before I had to go to court. And I had been told that they didn’t have the information in needed. Which I think was a lie. I think that they have it, but pretended that they didn’t.

It probably it got blocked by someone like Brynn making a phone call! And pretending that I wasn’t relevant. And someone at the DIA sided with her. The DIA could get in trouble for that. A ton of trouble.

But anyway, I was denied access to information that think they had. And they pretended that they didn’t have it. And they did this probably to protect Brynn. Which is a bit of a “conspiracy theory”, but I think it’s a fair theory to have. She probably would have gone to jail in 2023 otherwise, as would have Amanda. And my charges dropped straight away otherwise. And then I could have negotiated a much, much better divorce settlement, and sued fertility associates for a lot of money. And possibly the police and the local DHB. And possibly… sued Brynn Huso!! For quite a bit of money!! Because I would be taking care of a child that she brought into the world by using my genes and sperm via IVF in a highly exploitative, fraudulent and illegal manner, which was then covered up in a similarly horribly illegal, corrupt and fraudulent manner.

**

DNA testing

I got a DNA test done of myself and of Lily back in Princeton Road. We took samples. Me, Lesley, Amanda and my father were present.

It showed that Lily is my child. It confirms it. This was done back at Princeton Road.

This will sound strange to me. But I had actually meant to test Amanda and Lily, because I suspected that Lily wasn’t genetically related to Amanda. But in the moment I just didn’t do it. 

There were two reasons for this. The first reason is that my mind was very foggy (or I was distracted or something). The second and bigger reason was that Amanda was issuing me an eviction notice. And trying to get me evicted. That might have been the other reason.

The police were supposed to come sometime. And they did come over. And we talked. But they didn’t end up evicting me. They let me stay because I said that I just needed a little while longer there to recover my health. I asked them to talk to my father as well, to persuade them to let me stay. By the way, the two police officers who were there were also present at the arrest some time later. A few months later.

Second DNA testing, intended

And so I needed to test her DNA against Amanda’s. Because I wanted to find out what maternity of the child was. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t figure it out.

And so I thought that I might get DNA testing of Lily done for ancestry DNA purposes. The way I would do this is to test her ancestry DNA, and compare it with mine. And then I would see what the “difference was”. And if the “difference” matched Amanda’s DNA or didn’t match it, that would tell me what her ancestry and maternity was.

And so I bought these testing kits. But after I got them, they changed the style of packaging and testing equipment. And so I had to reorder testing kits. And they became saliva spit tests, not check swab tests. And including do a saliva test! I can’t make that happen. So I sent it back and left it for the time being.

That was the second thing to try.

And I tried to get information through the DIA instead.

**

I later realised by means of close observation of photos that Lily was related to Brynn.

But by the way, they put makeup on Lily’s face often. And also they edited photos often. To try to cover it up.

**

And anyway.

I mentioned the IVF story multiple times to my family. My father denied that Lily was conceived by IVF. And so did Nana. I had previously phoned Fertility Associates and sent them emails and letters. All to no avail. I think they have the information I wanted also. But they didn’t want to give me the information I need so badly.

And yeah. So I had to deal with stuff involving the criminal courts and family courts. And the divorce settlement and stuff like that. And I was so sick that I couldn’t even go for a nice easy walk outside. But I didn’t know why I couldn’t recover and why I was unable to resolve my health problems.

And then at the same time my family kept on causing me drama and problems all of the time.

All I needed was one measly piece of information to clear the whole thing up. And quickly. One single document!

****

****

The lawyer from the mall

And anyway, there were some other things. There was a lawyer from the mall, who was supposed to help me with a thing to register a notice of claim on the house to avoid it being sold preemptively. But that didn’t work out. And I felt that he was a “system creature”. Doing the bidding of the system.

He wasn’t useful at all.

I didn’t trust him. I possibly could have better relied on him more than Barclay or Aitken. But maybe not.

****

****

The family lawyer

I needed a family lawyer too.

And that took a bit of work.

I talked to one briefly online. And then they quit working with me. I couldn’t scan forms and get them back to the people quickly enough. This was the law box Porirua. Or something like that. (I tried Rachael Dewar law back when I was in Kapiti. But they couldn’t help me! Complicated story, but oh well.)

I ended up with Sophie Aiken from Morrison Kent.

****

****

The family court stuff

There was a protection order. It’s similar to a restraining order. But instead of being from the district court, it’s from the family court (which is evil and hates men, or as a reputation for being evil and hating men).

This existed alongside the criminal charges.

I might explain the legal stuff a little bit more later.

And there was a parenting order as well.

There was a bunch of legal issues to deal with.

****

****

“Special effects” (these are what I called them)

There was also the freezing cold effect in the house. They used a chilling effect on me on a number of occasions. I felt that this was built into the house itself. I didn’t know that it was from cell towers and satellites.

And also they did this thing called ice skating. Where the floor was freezing and slippery. Nana’s support worker (she broke

 her pelvis some time back, and is in her 90s).

And then later on there was a subtle attack on my posture when it came to the far end of the house, where the back door is situated. Which is the main entrance. They pretended that an earthquake had occurred and then every time I went to the other side of the house, that the tiles were somehow wrong. And then something weird happened to my back. And I had to do stuff to reset it. Like sitting and listening to music for 20 minutes. Also, it meant that I couldn’t sit at the table to eat. I didn’t know at the time what caused it.

They also used to switch off the internet when I got too wiped out. Pretending the “internet is down”. And I was forced to walk across the shag rug to get to the reset box. Which caused me hours of suffering.

My family complained that I needed to shower, and to cut my toenails. Or else they would kick me out of the house. And I needed a hair cut. And they ignored the fact that I was very sick. Sort of. I had to have a podiatrist come through. And he managed and handled my feet so much that I ended up with cold/flu symptoms. I was pretty wretched.

I’m going to do a big segment with all sorts of problems and issues and complications that occurred while I was at Raine Street. But I’ll leave it for later.

****

****

A variety of points and statements

And I was crippled and presumed myself to be on camera the whole time.

My belief was that I was on hidden camera. And that also I was being listened to on hidden microphones. And I thought that Princeton road was kept under perpetual surveillance as well. By these cameras and microphones.

*

Everyone in my life seemed to be a part of the scenario. And they didn’t seem to really care that much that I had been crippled for years. They just… factored it in? But seemed un-caring. And supporting the situation. I actually had literally no one to turn to. I had even tried calling people I knew from years and years ago. And sending letters too.

I tried calling Mike Hocking, I tried contacting Brett and Sue Walker (they visited), I tried contacting Ambika Saha, I tried contacting Andrew Crawshaw, I tried talking to some people from church, at the CCC including Stan Rolston and Hayden Ward. And I think that I also talked to Geoff Orchard. I tried talking to my mother for advice, my uncle David for advice. I saw my grandma, my uncle Andy, my Nana, my aunty Anne and my Nana’s cousin Eileen, and Max Macfarlane and Andrew London in person at Princeton Road in 2022. And they all behaved as though they were in cahoots with the system. And they didn’t help me. Any of them could have told me about these cell towers and satellites and radio wave machines. Which had caused me to experience these serious and crippling health problems. Or explained to me how the world worked. But they all played silly “games”.

*

On the day I arrived, I was pretty dinged up. And sweating for days from the exertion and strain. It caused me all sorts of symptoms. I hadn’t washed or showered for soooo long. And I needed a haircut etc. I wasn’t feeling so great. There is a lot of history. Like I hadn’t had a shower since 2017.

*

*****

*****

********

********

*****

*****

And now for a ton of other stuff that happened while I was in the house at 6 Raine Street, Karori.

The Cold

They would hit me with cold attacks. I don’t remember when they first did this. But they filled the whole house with icy coldness. And the whole ground was cold too. I remember that the ground was cold and the air was cold and that I was cold. And so one of my main focuses was in warming up.

Nana had heaters about the place. And I had heaters in my room too. I had two of them. Maybe even three of them. Because I had carefully thought out ways to stay warm. I had a system.

Now at the same time, I couldn’t safely wear warm clothes. I couldn’t wear socks properly, if at all. I couldn’t wear a sweatshirt, a hoodie, a jacket or a normal t-shirt. Not reasonably. Now this is one of the things that the coalition (of Chinese Communists, Bisexual Harlots, Gay Pedophile Warlocks, and miscellaneous feminists and occultists) will complain, nitpick and kvetch about, so I’ll say it a little more precisely. But I couldn’t safely, comfortably and reasonably wear warm clothes, socks, shoes, or jackets. It was a problem for me.

Sally: How did you cope? What did you wear? How did you use heaters and other equipment to stay warm? Did you have blankets?

David: Well I’m glad you asked… Let’s talk about it. It could be a long conversation (not really).

Firstly… I had some sleeveless shirts that had been made for me by a woman named Geraldine. Geraldine was a registered nurse and had been with me from 2019 to 2023. That’s approximate dates, but I would have to check. She worked as a carer or a “support worker” for Geneva Healthcare, which functions as a private contractor for the government. It funded via the local health board. She helped me by making some shirts. The way that worked is that I purchased some oversized, long-sleeve, flannel shirts from a local shop, and then Geraldine modified them. She took them home, chopped the sleeves off and hemmed the arm holes. And she also chopped off a fair bit of the length at the bottom of the shirt, and hemmed those as well. And that gave me tops to wear. She also used to have to help me to put them on too, once upon a time. And so I still had those.

I also had some warm sweatpants. And I had a blanket, which I had to throw away. Then replaced it with a new one. Which wasn’t as nice or as good. I also bought some very lightweight polar fleece throws from the Warehouse. I bought a tiny radiant heater, but instead of turning it on and off again, I turned it on and off again using the switch on my four plug power board (I bought two of them which had individual plugs and switches in it). I actually couldn’t reach the dials on my heaters. And my nana lent me a poncho. Which I used on my legs to keep warm.

I struggled to use blankets over my shoulders. When I put blankets on my shoulders, I felt bad. And I didn’t know why. I think that maybe they tightened something in my shoulders, neck or back. And so when I tried to use blankets I got cold. The conclusion was that blankets were a bit of a hassle!

Next point, when I was in the lounge and dining room where my nana liked to hang out, there were two heaters. They were electric heaters, which were expensive to run. And they were convection current heaters, but actually quite nice to warm myself in front of. I liked them. And so I used those to warm myself.

Sally: Did you spend much time standing in front of the heaters to warm yourself?

Yes. They did this thing where they would chill the whole house. And then turn the heaters up. And so I would have to scurry over to the heaters again and again to warm myself. Like they’re islands of warmth and comfort.

This is going to sound weird and horrible. But if I stood with my back to the heater, to warm my back, I would have problems. There was a bad smell, an acrid smell. You see I had long standing problems with hygiene and stuff. Because I literally hadn’t showered in about five and a half years. I wasn’t able to shower. And also because of the postural compensations I had to engage in merely to remain upright, I had to press my butt cheeks together. And those two things had resulted in the skin on the inside edges of my two butt cheeks getting damaged and inflamed as a result of residue there that I couldn’t wash off. This resulted in skin irritation and weeping skin, and therefore a bad and acrid smell. And when I stood in front of the heater, the smell was amplified and then wafted into the air around me. It was pretty nasty. I know that is a sad, gross paragraph to read. But the condition in which these people forced me to live was quite horrific.

Another thing I found at her place that one of the best ways to stay warm was to close the door to my bedroom and turn the heaters up. They were making the place freezing cold, and I turned the heaters up. And I stayed warm that way. But then… the power bill went up! It was horrible!! And then she demanded more money for the power bill. And she wanted me to pay the whole of the power bill. But I asked instead to see the previous year’s bills before I moved in. And then paid the difference between the previous year’s bills and this year’s for the month.

She also complained that she didn’t want her bills to be too much higher, because she wasn’t supposed to have anyone living with her. Or something weird like that. And it might affect her welfare.

And so I had to be strategic in how I approached things.

Next thing, I had to pay cash for rent, which means that I had to rely on my father to collect the rent from the ATM, and then I paid cash to Nana and repaid my father via Internet banking. This was so that my rent payments wouldn’t show up on Nana’s bank statements, because she wasn’t supposed to be having people live with her. And it could affect her welfare. This was a minor problem for me, but a bit of a hassle.

Next, the house was owned by Uncle David. And there was talk of him evicting me. I forget what for.

Oh wait, Nana wanted to have a conflict with me. And then claim that I looked at her in a nasty way, and then claim that I needed to leave. And also I think that fake made up conflict with Matthew was used as an excuse to say that maybe I shouldn’t be hanging around and living with her in her house. Matthew basically started an argument and I shut him down, and then I think that Nana used that as one of the reasons for asking me to leave her house within about 16 weeks. I think that I was only there for about 16 weeks. I’m of the opinion that she should have been happy to keep me there for about a year. My family had tried very hard to get me to move into my Nana’s house after all.

I think that she asked me to leave. She just didn’t want me there. It was a repeated topic, of trying to boot me out. If I didn’t do things in the way I was “supposed to”.

Nana turned her radio up extremely loud at night, to disrupt my sleep. Even at stupid hours of the day. Umm.

They used other forms of noise pollution to cause me problems. Especially when I was dealing with legal documents and stuff. Such as doing construction next door. Loudly and on purpose.

They pestered me to take a shower. But I wasn’t allowed to use the accessible shower  in the house in 6 Raine Street.

The only shower I was allowed to use was the shower-bath in the main bathroom. Which was totally unsuitable. The sides of the bath were much too high. And my mobility was horrible. The shower-bath at Raine street was designed to be dangerous for me. And the shower head was extremely high up and generally unsuitable.

And they nagged me to take a shower. But I thought it would hurt me. I wanted to take a shower, but I wanted to use the accessible shower.

Nana has a mobility friendly shower in the house (she broke her pelvis once), which I asked to be allowed to use and they said no. It has no lip to get into it. And certainly no high sides. They never even let me see it. My father suggested that I need to wash at the pools or in the main shower-bath first, before I could use the shower in Nana’s ensuite. As though I was so filthy that I would contaminate the shower. 

Lilia deliberately hurt my back once. She was a support worker from Geneva Healthcare. I needed her help to wash my back (I couldn’t shower) and so I got a jug of water and a cloth, and she washed my back. But she was heavy handed on purpose. And kind of pressed my back down and in. And I felt bad for days. It had no strength or integrity. My back had no strength or integrity. You can actually just “push it in” back then. And hurt me via my arms as well. I asked her to wash my back, and she ended up harming me a bit. And after that I didn’t trust her so much and I didn’t ask her to do it again.

My mother insisted on trimming my hair. And when she did it, she shoved my head forward and down. She did this even though I told her that my head doesn’t bend that way. And she was particularly annoying in the way she cut my hair, so that she coils harm me and blame being forced to cut my hair. It made me feel a couple of days of symptoms. My body really doesn’t function properly.

Another incident, is that Colin hugged me firmly and pushed his two clenched hands into my upper back to push my thoracic spine in, which left me spinning. He is family. 

This is when they came to visit. I’ll tell you about that visit…

Colin and Glynn came to visit, and their mother came along also. They are all family.

We all had food to eat. And then I went to my room and they were getting ready to leave.

Colin is family. His mother is Eileen. And his late father Roy was Nana’s cousin.

And then when he left he hugged me (I’m not hugger, and I asked him not to hug me) and pushed his two clenched hands which were clenched together into my upper back to push my thoracic spine in. Which harmed/ hurt me.

*

Nana insisted that I put on shoes and socks and walk around. Which hurt me. This is a bigger deal than it seems.

She insisted that to build my health I had to go outside and back again. To the letter box. As often as possible. Which hurt me. I struggled with the ramp at the side of the house. And it depleted my energy and capacities every time I used it.

She and dad wanted me to walk outside and around and up the stairs again, outside the front of the house. I was trying my best to rehabilitate myself through walking and mini squats. They knew this. They also knew why I was sick. What else??

Nana would hide my things on lower drawers where I couldn’t reach them. And on high shelves that were inconvenient. This was in the pantry.

They would create chaos and drama to disrupt me and whatever I was doing.

They loosened the floorboards of the corridor so that I couldn’t enjoy walking as much. They just slightly disrupted the texture.

The tap of the bathroom didn’t have consistent hot and cold water. But perhaps only for me.

Lilia kept on hinting at me to have sex. Which is odd. And also I couldn’t shower and get clean!

I needed to “mop the floors”. There were hints galore. Mop the floors was code for “actually wash my backside”. But ummmmm. I had health problems. It was hard to do that! And massively inappropriate even to suggest it.

My neck and back problems were so bad that I struggled even to wash my backside, and the inside of my butt cheeks were weeping fluid. The fluid from my weeping skin on the inside of my but cheeks was pretty bad. I used to have to keep on going to the bathroom to wipe it off. Like again and again I had to go to the bathroom to dry it off. I’d wipe my butt just to dry it. It had to be dried off. It’s awful.

I tried to use wet wipes, but I had problems with those. There are serious neurological problems when you’re like this. Like, your muscles don’t work! You can’t move. I’ll explain that another time. Just trying to clean or wash my butt using wet wipes caused me problems. I actually used antibacterial hand and face wipes. Which may have been a mistake as well. Because it may have caused further irritation.

Next, I also tried washing my backside using a flannel and water (and disposing of the flannel, but this cause me symptoms for neurological reasons. I’m not sure how it works. But I have to keep my hips “turned back and out” just to function at all, and my butt cheeks pressed together and also “hold tone” in a weird way in my anal sphincter and pelvic region. But I have to do this without too much “conscious awareness”, or else do get problems. But to cut a long story short, I had problems when I tried to wash with a flannel and water. 

I had solid and significant symptoms when I did this.

Anyway, my family wanted me to get out of the house. And they pushed me out.

I had a lot of trouble finding a place to stay.

To cut a long story short, I ended up just taking a bad place as a last resort. This is because my family wanted me out! And I had to sign a year long lease. I needed more time at my nana’s house. And I asked to be able to stay. I just wanted to recover my health so that at least I could go for a walk down the street.

But they didn’t care.

And they pushed me out.

I pleaded with them many times to let me stay, but they were not sympathetic. Saying that if I were trying to recover, and find for walks down to the library. Or spending time out of the house. Or trying to improve. They might let me stay.

My father and Nana claimed that I caused too much stress to my Nana. And it was bad for her blood pressure. And that I smelled bad. Well, they refused to let me use the shower. Acting as though I was too gross to use it at all. As though I would make the shower itself filthy. Well, they had a shower available for me to use! But they wouldn’t let me use it.

Anyway, if they had turned off the machines that clamp down my muscles, then I would have recovered.

And if they allowed me to use the “accessible” shower, then I could have washed.

I hadn’t showered in five and three quarters years at the point at which I move.

****

**** 

Khandallah

David: I will now talk about my time at 1/106 Khandallah Road.

I moved to 106 Khandallah Road, Khandallah, Wellington on the 23rd of August, 2023. [check date]

Sally: Can you just tell me again how you ended up there?

David: Well, I found it because I didn’t know where else to go.

I had tried to find a better place. But I couldn’t seem to manage to find a better place. I was really struggling for a while. It was difficult.

I had issues when it came to money. And I didn’t really have enough money to rent a decent place to live.

I had issues when it came to my health and hygiene.

And I had some problems when it came to websites like Trade Me and other rental listings websites.

And last but not least, my family wanted to push me out of the house ASAP.

I will now discuss all four issues.

And I will also talk about the process of hunting for a place to live.

[that is five topics to cover]

***

Money

Firstly, I didn’t have full access to enough money to rent a nice place to stay. At the time I was relying on savings and welfare. But I had mostly run out of my savings. My savings mostly came from an inheritance I had received from my grandpa.

Most places to rent cost too much for me to be able to afford it. Unless I was to go flatting. But I wasn’t clean enough to go flatting. I needed to have the ability to shower. I had lots of dead skin built up on my body, and disgusting matted hair on my head. And a gross, filthy scalp and other such issues. I also would have been unable to help out with chores and such things. And so renting a room in a flat wasn’t realistic. I would have loved to have rented a room in a flat! But only if I had been both healthy and clean enough to make that happen. Renting a room in a flat is much cheaper than renting a studio apartment.

I had some money trapped in a joint term deposit account. Which I couldn’t get to. I actually had a fair bit of money in there. I tried to get access to it prior to the separation agreement, but I couldn’t manage to make that happen. The term deposit came to maturity while I was staying at Raine Street and then it got (automatically) put into a savings account in Amanda’s name.

I owned a half share of the relationship property, and so was legally entitled to half of the value of all of the property. But to unlock my half of the assets, we had to actually sort out the separation agreement, or otherwise go to court. Amanda had sent me a proposal for a separation agreement. But the downside of this was that it gave her custody of Lily for the foreseeable future. And it had maybe one or two other clauses that I didn’t like. Mostly to do with the protection order and parenting orders. And as another issue, I was probably owed more net assets. And so I delayed signing an agreement on the division of assets. Looking back, this was a mistake. To get access to my share of the assets and funds, I had to sign a separation agreement. And I wanted to negotiate a better agreement. In hindsight I probably should have signed the separation agreement ASAP just to get some assets, just so that I could get a better place to live.

And so I didn’t have enough money for a good place to live. Not right away anyway. 

I asked my lawyer for a bit of help unlocking funds from the term deposit. But I just didn’t get anywhere with that. 

I also talked to the ANZ bank a few times, to try to get better access to funds. But I couldn’t seem to make it happen.

Overall, I wanted to sort out my legal problems before moving out of my Nana’s place. I wanted to sort out the separation agreement and division of assets. I wanted to deal with my criminal charges. I wanted to deal with the protection order and parenting order. And I wanted to sort out the DNA and motherhood issues. And I wanted to do all of this before moving house. In particular, I wanted to sort out the financial situation first, so that I could afford to rent a decent place. Given that my health was so poor.

And I also wanted to sort out my health problems. Please remember that I didn’t know at the time what the cause of my health problems were.

*

Health and Hygiene

I also felt that due to my hygiene issues, I would have difficulty finding a place to stay. I was quite filthy and unkempt and I felt that many landlords might balk at the prospect of having me live in their property. They might feel that I wouldn’t take good care of it, given the way that I looked. And also, I felt that they might think that I would perhaps actually end up making the place gross. Just by dropping dead skin and hair everywhere. And I also felt that they might throw me out if I moved into a place but wasn’t clean enough to live there. Furthermore, I wasn’t going to be able to do my own cleaning.

I would have to find a very understanding landlord.

And so I wondered if I might have to offer to pay a little extra money to encourage them to put up with someone as filthy and unkempt as I was (I hadn’t had a shower in years). 

Now as to how I looked, I was barefoot, usually wearing shorts (or sometimes sweatpants) and had a custom made sleeveless, oversized shirt on. I had a ton of facial hair (at first). And my hair was caveman long and scraggly. It was awful. I actually wasn’t realistically able to wear shoes and socks, or to wear a long sleeve top, or to wear a jacket. And so I wasn’t exactly presentable!

I couldn’t move my arms and legs properly. I can’t move my legs properly, because I have special techniques and methods for remaining mobile and upright at all. And this means that I can’t actually use my legs normally. And I can’t move my arms properly, they’re stuck pinned to my sides. And I can’t move my torso properly. That’s a problem too.

And maintaining stability and holding my “shape” in terms of posture was a big struggle. Or in other words I had problems with the overall structural integrity of my torso and other stuff.

Some of the things I struggled to cope with were getting in and out of the car, getting up or down stairs, or up and down ramps. I also struggled to cope with car trips in particular.

I don’t want to explain fully how all of that works right now. But some of it has been discussed elsewhere.

And this made it a lot harder to find a place to stay.

For example, viewing apartments and flats was prohibitively difficult. I needed to be driving around looking for places to live and to stay. But to even visit an apartment or flat  just once would take its toll on my body. But to be constantly visiting place after place to find a spot to live would be hard, it would be unsupportable. I could manage one visit to look at an apartment or flat. But to manage visit after visit was prohibitively difficult. Even driving from place to place was challenging. And simultaneous to finding a place to stay, I had legal problems to solve in both the family court and in the district courts. And also had to sort out a separation agreement for dividing assets. And I also had to get evidence regarding Lily and her parentage to be able to solve certain legal problems. And so I was a little bit preoccupied.

And so I just didn’t make enough progress quickly enough when it came to finding a place to live. I needed to move more quickly.

[[[reread and redo that above section]]]

*

Trade Me and other rental listings websites

I had some issues with finding places on Trade Me. But it’s complicated! I will explain it now.

Trade Me is a popular place to find rental accomodation online in NZ. They do online auctions and both rental and purchases in real estate. When I first started looking for places on Trade Me, there were a lot of good places to choose from, or seemingly good places. But I had no money. And then later on I found that there weren’t as many good places. They stopped uploading good places, and started uploading just bad places. And once I had money, the good places were gone.

I’ll talk about this more later (and I’ll talk I about it more in the section under the heading Raine Street). Such as the pot plants and puns.

*

Getting pushed out

The next issue is that my family wanted me out sooner rather than later. Which seemed to me to be a quite alarming thing. I mean I was badly crippled, I had had multiple crimes committed against me, and was seemingly on camera, and all of my family were supporting this scheme, this conspiracy. No one broke ranks. And my nana, who had previously pleaded with me to encourage me to move in to her place, made it clear to me that she wanted me to move out. She gave me 12 weeks notice about 5 weeks in to staying there. I think I have explained that above. I think that her excuse was ostensibly something to do with a conflict or argument I’d had with my brother that she used as an excuse. This conflict was of course an artificially contrived thing.

They had been dropping hints that they would push me out of the house. Or ask me to move. There was actually of discussion about this back at 6 Raine Street. But I’m not sure how much to go into it here.

[I probably will add some stuff in about it in the section for Raine Street]

And so I was rushed into moving before it was appropriate.

*

Looking for a place to stay:

I put quite a bit of work into trying to find a place to stay. And I’ll talk about it here.

I kept on looking for places to live on Trade Me and on other websites. But if you want to find a good place to live, then you need to visit it. You need to visit it in person to see if it is any good, and to see if it meets your requirements.

And I found that you also have to visit the place for a viewing to have even a chance of getting the place. I think that you need to get your name checked off of a list before you can even hope to sign a contract to move in.

But I wasn’t realistically capable of getting out there to view a ton of places.

So I asked my father to help me out by viewing the places. And I asked my Uncle Andy for help viewing the places (he did  view three places). I even asked Uncle Andy if he knew of anyone who owned a safe and comfortable apartment that I could rent.

I also asked my Uncle Jonathan if I could move in with him. And we discussed that. I don’t remember why that didn’t happen. I think that it was because people dropped weird hints, and that he was clearly tied in with the system. And also because he had stairs to get into and out of the house. And I couldn’t handle stairs. I also think that he was only interested in having me there for a handful of weeks. And that combined with the stairs seemed like too much for me.

And so here is how it was hunting for accomodation.

I would often just be sitting in my chair in my room browsing through things on my phone looking for places to stay. And when I found a place I liked, then I would write up the first stage of the application. And then I would arrange to have someone view the place on my behalf. And then they (Paul or Uncle Andy) would view it. I would often call them on the phone as well.

And then I would check the box on the website saying that I had viewed it and hoped to get an offer to move in. But have to admit that finding a place to live was horrible.

It took a bit of doing.

We looked at a lot of places. Well they did the viewing, I didn’t searching online.

*

And then in the end I just took the Khandallah place, which I think was one of the worst of them.

Here is how that went.

I had seen it advertised online again and again. And I didn’t want it because it didn’t have good photos and it was $400 per week. Which was just plain too expensive! But anyway, here we are.

And I was hunting for one for a while. And I asked to have this one, even though I thought that it might be horrible. The time pressure was significant.

I had my father inspect it first. And then I asked if I could have a contract to move in. 

I just want to go on a brief digression about floors.

For a long time I had felt that what I needed for the sake of recovery was plenty of space to walk back and forth and also to do squats. And I needed this to be on firm floors. Now compact, firm carpet was fine, but hard, wooden floors would have been even better. And so I was always trying to find a place with good floors.

It had been a topic of conversation even as far back as in Princeton Road. In fact, my family had been trying to persuade me to move house for a while. And to move to my Nana’s house. One of the draw cards of my nana’s house was that it had a nice long corridor with hard, wooden floors that I could walk back and forth in. I had told my father (and others) that I didn’t want to move house. And the reason I didn’t want to move house was that I just wanted to recover my health by continuing to exercise and do squats and walk and stuff. And I liked the reliable house I had at Princeton road. The floors were firm and the carpet wasn’t deep. Please don’t forget that at the time I wasn’t fully aware of why I was crippled.

And so I said many times that the main thing I wanted in a new place to live was firm, level, even floors!

And anyway, he inspected it. And he told me that the place was fine and that the floors were fine.

[[[editing note, and he told me that the place was fine and that the floors were fine.]]]

And so I signed the contract and decided to move in. It was a 12 month contract, and bond was set at $1600 (note to self: check it). I had to borrow money from my father to afford to make bond.

But it was bad. I didn’t even see it before moving in. It had super cushy carpet with multiple inches of underlay. And my feet sank into it. It was horrible. And there was a basically impassable driveway. The whole area was hard to navigate. It was awful.

And it didn’t have an accessible shower, which was another massively important thing for me.

I had wanted three things: good floors, an accessible shower, and for it to be easy to get into the property, and out of it (basic accessibility). And I got none of those things.

**

Don’t forget, I had my father view it for me. I had him check it out for me, and check out the floors. And he said it was okay. And he talked to the landlords. My dad said that the carpets were all good, and not super soft and squishy.

And so that is how I ended up in the Khandallah studio apartment. 

The number one thing I wanted was nice, firm floors. But I ended up in a place with bad floors.

*****

*****

I moved to 1/106 Khandallah Road, Khandallah, Wellington on the 23rd or August, 2023.

Here is the story of moving itself.

I'm perhaps over emphasising this point, but here is an important detail about moving house and about finding a place to stay which is that my Uncle Andy helped me to move into the studio apartment on Khandallah Road.

What I mean by that is that he showed up to help Dad get my stuff all moved into Khandallah. And he used his car to transport things.

Half of my stuff got packed into his car.

But the other thing I'm not sure about is... I think they rummaged through my personal belongings, including all of my notebooks and stuff. And also my general belongings. I reckon that some stuff got damaged. And I some stuff definitely went missing. I can't remember exactly which stuff went missing or got damaged. And I can't prove it! But plenty of stuff like food, crockery, tableware, stationary, went missing. And a lot of stuff like notebooks and note pads, I just can’t find anymore.

But every move that I do comes at a price. And it costs me. Stuff gets damaged or goes missing. And I have to replace it.

Also, I asked Uncle Andy to help me find a lawyer. He visited Raine Street at least once back after I had moved in there. Presumably he did this to say hello. And I asked him for help finding a good lawyer and also in finding a safe and appropriate place to stay.  I asked him if he knew anyone looking to rent out clean and tidy studio apartments or one bedroom apartments. Anyway he didn't help me to find a lawyer, and he said that he didn’t know anyone who could rent me a place to live. I later asked him for help finding a place to stay, to view places for me. And he was willing to help me to find a place to live by “viewing them” and inspecting them for me. And then he “helped” out with actually moving.

And I asked him, pleaded for help to find a good place to live. I needed a good place. I asked him if he knew anyone looking to rent out an apartment, but he didn't know anyone.

He did help me look for apartments, which I thought might be very effective. Because I felt that having the former mayor of Wellington help me with hunting for a better place to live might be helpful! He viewed three of them for me. One in Martin square, one in Torrens terrace, and one elsewhere.

He viewed them for me, and I applied for them. But I didn't get them.

The next thing to mention is that he knew I was physically unwell. And he could have helped me to know why I was sick. One sentence: it's the cell towers making you sick. [[[bold that sentence]]] He just needed to say that one sentence. That’s it.

He is currently a member of parliament. He is in the nationalist party, "NZ First". He is a back bencher and the chairman of the transportation select committee. He is a part of the ruling coalition, because his party is part of the ruling coalition. He is a fairly significant politician in New Zealand. His boss is Winston Peters. 

[And as a brief digression, Winston Peters once showed up in disguise in Dannevirke. I can't confirm that! It could have been a doppelgänger for sure! He offered to sell me drugs. It might have been not him. I could go either way. I think it was him. Chris Hipkins showed up too, on a motorcycle. In Dannevirke. He is our former prime minister, from January 25, 2023, to November 27, 2023.]

**

I will now tell you about the move itself.

I woke up on the day of the move. I think I slept late, but when I woke up I think I was feeling okayish. Which was surprising. I had done some packing the night before. And I had been feeling out of sorts from packing the night before. And I thought I would sleep badly, but I slept okay. And then it was the day of the move!

And so we got to work.

I wasn’t well enough to do a bunch of trips to and from the car/s packed at the front of the house. By that I mean that walking from my bedroom, to the rear of the house, down the ramp, and down the path on the side of the house, to the cars and then back again. That was a struggle, and came at a price. It would have cost me to make multiple trips on foot to the cars and back.

And so I managed much of it from my room and inside the house.

The original plan was that we transport everything ahead of me. And then that I take the last trip at the end of the day. I didn’t follow that plan.

They showed up and everything went into cars. And it was chaos. And I directed the movement of goods from my end in Raine Street into cars.

And then after enough stuff had gone, I decided that the place for me was the Khandallah apartment on the other end. So that I could unpack things on the other end. 

And then after a load or two went, I jumped into a car and travelled to the new location (Dad’s car, because I dropped gross debris such as skin, hair and generic flaking off dead skin mixed with dirt on anything when I travelled by car). And then I was in Khandallah.

Once I got there, I had some trouble with locks and doors.

And then I’m in there.

The first thing I notice is that door is horrible, and will lock me out given half a chance, and the second thing I notice is that the entrance way will be difficult to navigate without fatigue and “consequences”. The door frame is a problem, and therefore is an awkward step into the place and out of it (I didn’t know how to handle steps and stuff back then, and tbh I still can’t do them properly now). And the third thing I notice is that the carpet is super cushy.

And half of the stuff is there. Several hours later the stuff from Andy’s car arrived.

And I have to get settled in.

I had to do weird stuff once I was in there. For example, I have to find a way to drink water. I can’t drink from a bottle normally and I can’t find my paper cups. And drinking from a pot with a straw isn’t fun. And I have to perform almost every task and physical movement in a carefully calculated manner. Oh, and they stole my cups. I think.

The whole place is freezing cold the moment my father leaves the room. Which makes me see that the whole place is wired up for cold. At the time I thought that the place was filled with underfloor tubes that had cold water in them. And that this was how they chilled me. I was appalled that they could do this to me. Also believed that the place was full of cameras.

And then I was at 1/106 Khandallah Road, Khandallah.

Sally: It sounds like a pretty crummy situation!

David: Yes, it wasn’t any good!

But that’s enough writing or talking for today and I’ll come back to it later.

****

****

David: Shall we talk about what the apartment itself was like?

Sally: Yes, what was the apartment itself like?

David: The carpet was tan coloured and super thick. Very thick. It was horrible. But it wasn’t actually the carpet that was thick, it was the underlay. There was a ton of underlay under the carpet. My feet sank deeply into it.

This actually hurt my feet, which had already collapsed inwardly. And by extension is harmed the rest of my posture. It really did cause me significant problems.

Sally: Was the posture and being crippled thing was a problem?

David: Yes, it was always a problem for me.

Sally: I understand. I read the page “torso integrity compromised” and “how I got this way part two” and I understand that things were pretty bad. I also understand that it wasn’t “just de-conditioning” as these people like to describe it.

David: Yes. It wasn’t fun. I just didn’t have any mobility. Arms pinned to the sides, and I couldn’t move my legs properly.

The whole place was full of windows with wooden frames that open outwards. It had a lot of windows. But I couldn’t reach them properly. The place didn’t get a whole lot of sun.

It contained a fridge and a microwave. The microwave didn’t work very well. It did not have a dishwasher. It has a heat pump.

It had a toilet, a shower and a basin. It has a washing machine and a dryer. The lights were LED lights and too bright. And I had thought that they were damaging my eyesight.

It had tiles on the floor and was close to a train station/stop. The bus drove close past the house.

It was actually just a lower down flat in a larger, three story house owned by a Chinese couple/family. I don’t know if they were a couple or not. They lived on the top two floors. I lived on the bottom floor.

It was smallish as a flat. And for someone who couldn’t go outside, it was tiny. 

The place was naturally quite cold (it was also quite unnaturally cold as well, but I’ll talk about that later).

**

And now I will talk to you about gait, posture and stuff like that.

**

Gait and stuff 

And my mobility and posture was so horrible that I just couldn’t do anything. It was hell.

I had a way of carrying myself back then, back before I moved into the Khandallah place. It was a kluge, but it worked.

But it was so bad back then in the place with the cushy carpet that I had to learn a new gait to even cope. It was horrible. My coping mechanisms and techniques for dealing with the issues that I’d had prior had actually stopped working. And I was in free fall. And had to come up with a new kluge.

I had to brace my shoulders back and down. And brace my ankles. And stiffen my feet. And kind of rest the whole of my body down and backwards into my skeleton. And also my feet hurt. I had to be quite vigilant.

Being in that place hurt me quite a bit. And I couldn’t see straight. I had eye sight problems too.

Next, the moment I stepped in there it was freezing cold. They chilled me. And please remember this: I believed that I was on camera, and all of these houses were modified. The actual houses. There are details I won’t add until I have done my full story. Like why I believed what I believed.

Sally: What do you mean by that? “There are details I won’t add until I have done my full story.”?

David: What I mean is that it would be a lot easier to tell my story if I could have first written the earlier parts first. Let me rephrase that, if I could write my story plainly and clearly start to finish in a sequential manner, and then edit it in peace, and have outside input into writing. Then we could get a better story together. But because I’m jumping back and forth, some details get missed. Or properly explained.

Next, unpacking my room was hard. And I didn’t have enough space! Also had a lot of trouble with getting enough rest, packing myself, feeding myself. The fridge wasn’t very good. I struggled with washing and laundry. I had to set up my room and buy certain items.

The process of setting my place up took a while. It was hard. I just couldn’t move around properly.

And so even basic tasks were hard.

****

****

Khandallah: What was it like being there?

David: And so let us talk about my time in Khandallah. We can answer the question of, “what was is like living there”?

Back in Khandallah which was I think mid 2023 through to early 2024, they attacked me many times and quite badly. And coerced me into playing their games. They forced me to play their games and to tell them that I was interested in them.

I was extremely badly crippled, and without total focus on controlling my body I would suffer symptoms and was worsening badly. And I struggled with walking on the carpet, which had very much padding beneath it. I had to learn a special new gait (way of walking) just to cope. And special types of bracing my body. Even so, it hurt me just being there. It took me weeks to figure out how to manage it.

And then while badly crippled, they repeatedly exposed me to hot and cold. To freeze me or chill me or overheat me all day, in an alternating fashion. I got no rest. Or very little. This is because I had to constantly change where I was in the room, or adjust the door just to survive the changing temperatures. All day long, I was battling the elements. Too hot? I have to down. Too cold, I have to warm up. If I’m at the right temperature, I just sit in silence and listen to banal music to relax. And then I repeat the process. They used attacks of hot/cold and hints to threaten me into chasing them.

This thing with the hot and cold, combined with being very badly crippled, and also walking around on extremely soft floors was extremely difficult.

[[[bold this segment]]]

I couldn’t dress myself properly. I couldn’t realistically wear socks and shoes. Nor could I wear slippers. I couldn’t manage to wear sweatshirts or jackets. I had to wear modified shirts with the sleeves chopped off and sewn up.

Anyway, they were pushing me to take an interest in them.

I will have to try to figure out how the whole thing went.

I suppose it goes back to Raine Street where they were teaching me about their system. About the fae. And they seemed to want to get into some relationships with me. The women did. And there was a ton of pressure. A ton of pressure to get into a relationship. It was weird.

And when I went to Khandallah, there was still pressure to get into a relationship. Something to do with olives. But I didn’t want to get into a relationship? Or have a “something” with the people there.

But I’ll have to jump back to Raine Street to rewrite that segment. And come back to this one.

Anyway, they put pressure on me. While I imagined myself to be on camera.

[And on one occasion when I ignored Brynn and basically said I'm just not doing anything you want me to do, I had my nervous system blasted 7-8 times in the night. I just listened to classical music all evening, and ignored them. And then after that they spazzed at me and attacked me with nervous systems throughout the night.[

I had made it clear that I didn’t want to get involved with them!

Also, I got blasted for going outside to try to attract attention from guys on the road. I had no real escape. I went out to stand in the drive way. To try to get away from the apartment. And they blasted me anyway.

Getting up and down the driveway was prohibitively difficult. It’s hard moving at all back then! I had to do so much stuff just to get around.

They forced me to masturbate all day and night with attacks on my nervous system and minds eye. And threats of worse.

And when I stopped masturbating, they attacked my back with something called gravity cannons.

I got attacked if I dared stop masturbating for even a few hours. I got physically attacked

It was horrible.

It was like something like mengel might do.

If our politicians did something like that to someone else, I'd be suggesting all of them be hung, drawn and quartered (before reminding myself of my principles). I don't care if it was the king or queen of England, the emperor of Japan or the Pacal the Great the ajaw of Mayan Palenque doing it, they should be tossed off of a cliff and killed.

The attack they did tightened my back badly and was putting a lot of pressure on my back. I didn't have a lot of resistance to it. It was hurting me. And it was the threat of that that induced me to keep masturbating.

And telling the "women" that I wanted them. I was obliged to tell them that I wanted them.

Even though I told them many times that I wasn't interested.

I told them so many times that I didn't want them. That I wanted to be left alone. That if I had my way I'd talk to zero members of the “fae”. That they are such horrible people.

And I said that I didn't want these women in my life, in my home, let alone in my bed. That they were a liability, not an asset.

I even did a literal art project to tell them "no thanks", which I will post here.

The art project involved a lot of references.

For example, they often called me a capybara (which is a totally harmless Guinea pig like creature). This was to suggest that they saw me as totally harmless.

They also had this thing where they called me “Fanta”, which was linked to calling me an orange, which is linked to calling me a “fruit”, which is of course a way to call someone a homosexual.

They also had this thing about pasta, which means “pass”. Which means you’re passing on other people. You’re passing on sex with other people.

I also made a reference to “riding off into the sunset”. Which had already been discussed multiple times.

The pasta was “Christmas pasta”, which meant that I was passing on having “Christmas”. I didn’t want to do Christmas (they all wanted to have sex with me, all the women from my past in my life). And I didn’t want to do this because of two reasons: STIs and also pregnancy. But also I wasn’t able to shower. And it wouldn’t have been safe. I couldn’t even manage to go on top. And I wasn’t safe or stable on my back…

And lastly, I used imagery taken from a picture of a rental car driving off into the sunset. “Omega” rental cars. They had used this image with me many times. And so I was referring to things that they had mentioned to me.

In the end, the overall message is…

Fanta capybara is “passing” on everyone and wants to ride off into the sunset…

I tried to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in getting involved with any of them!!!

And I had tried so hard to tell them I wasn’t interested, and had been ignored so many times… that in the end I had to try to print out pictures and make up artwork to tell them to get lost and that wasn’t interested!!!

I at the time had thought that I was being kept under camera and microphone surveillances. And so when I put the photo on the table, I figured that they could see it. I now know that this was wrong.

And I would have been much better off just getting a blog and telling people in that. Anonymously…

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

[I told them in so many different ways at so many different times that I didn’t want them in my life, in my home, let alone in bed with me]

[I tried so hard to reject them and make it clear that they weren’t my cup of tea and that I didn’t want to get involved with them]

[I tried very hard to push them out of my life]

[I told them that I didn’t want to do business with their brothel]

[and I told them that they had bad character and weren’t what I wanted in my life]

[And I told them that I needed a shower, not sex.]

[And I told them that if I had the chance to leave, I would just “bolt” and run away.]

[this is gist level truth, not quibble proof truth]

[the truth is I can’t remember everything I said or communicated. Also, I was often communicating through text in my phone.]

****

****

Extra ideas

Staying at midway Pacifica. And walking to Khandallah shops. And uncle Jonathan. Talk about all of that.

And talk about moving house and Nev and moving house and aunty Wendy. And Hutt Road in general.

Hutt road, teaser:

I told them again and again that all I want from them is to give me back what they stole from me. That is, my health. And I wanted to be left alone and to have the practical freedom to walk around town by myself on my own two feet. I wanted to have my mobility back. And that I couldn’t even walk to the shops to buy a stick of gum. And I said again and again I just want my health back and to be left to live in peace. And I want to be able to come and go as I please. And have my mobility back.

And to do that, I need them to “de-cripple” me.

When did I do this? I did it when they kept on asking me, “what do you want”. But strangely enough, they never listened to what I wanted. What I really wanted. They just tortured and tormented me until I said the words they wanted. But also, the words were part of the game in which I was supposed to earn the end of the game and also get my health back. I actually told them again and again that I care nothing for the women. I just want my health back and to be left alone.

I’m still reworking that bit.

I’ll keep writing the story

Mention uncle Jonathan at some point.

Talk to him to get advice and help. Floors.

They also told me that I had to use the words “fuck” instead of “sleep with” or have sex with.

Dad sabotaged one of the good places across town. I think it was somewhere like south of Brooklyn. Like in Vogel town. But can’t remember where it was!

I think I nearly had that one… and it looked good!!

They were so positive and so understanding. And I just needed a viewing. And my father denied it to me.

He was on his way there to do a viewing on my behalf. And then just before it he refused to go in. He got there and turned around. And flatly refused to go in there. He just looked at the outside and left.

If I had had that place, I might not have suffered even half of this harm.

He didn’t even go inside.

I think that place could have changed my life.

I berated him on the phone and pleaded with him to turn back.

But he refused to even view it!

And he insisted that it wasn’t good. And it was gross and down hill and had mould all down the outside.

I think that they were willing to help me! The landlords. So my father ruined it.

He was rude to them and didn’t even look at it inside.

I had talked to them a bunch in text messages and a phone call.

I asked them if they could wait for my father to go back, but when I talked to my father to get him to go back. He said no!!!!

He refused to go back to look at it. And he was being childish about it too.

I think I had a very high chance of getting it. Very high. But he stymied it. And then I ended up in Khandallah!

I should probably just focus on writing my story from 2011 onwards.

I should probably do 2012, 2013, 2014-2016, 2017-2021, 2022. Ummmm. Basically 2012 to 2022…. Those ten years might let you know better what needs to be said in later pages like this.

This page won’t make perfect sense.

And the system won’t make perfect sense of it until the earlier story is written.

You know the bit about damaging and maiming a guy so that he can be sequestered as part of a long term breeding scheme that then cripples him totally and insists that he try to get someone pregnant and then fraudulently gets ivf, and then tosses him out while still crippled and lose about everything. And uses massive corruption to cover it up and it’s backed by the president of China and when he tries to flee, the leader of the Labour Party of nz shows up and a member of parliament of the nationalist party of nz helps to cover it up and the leader from that part shows up to play silly games.

Stuff like that.

And the department of internal affairs sides with the lesbian perverts pushing this, and the whole set defends a literal pedophile and a police officer with the NZOM pushes bogus charges and a senior doctor with the NZOM pushes a bogus health report full of lies, that by the way Microsoft tried to delete TWICE. And so on and so forth. 

And a situation where the former head of the nz doctors union (salaried medical professionals) got involved in the whole thing.

That story.

The communication methods. Talk alllllll about that.

Talk all about…… the whole thing wheee I typed to them. And tried to say through an email or message where I spoke to them about “please don’t entrust me into the care of my father”.

*****

*****

Hutt road, teaser:

I told them again and again that all I want from them is to give me back what they stole from me. That is, my health. And I wanted to be left alone and to have the practical freedom to walk around town by myself on my own two feet. I wanted to have my mobility back. And that I couldn’t even walk to the shops to buy a stick of gum. And I said again and again I just want my health back and to be left to live in peace. And I want to be able to come and go as I please. And have my mobility back.

And to do that, I need them to “de-cripple” me.

When did I do this? I did it when they kept on asking me, “what do you want”. But strangely enough, they never listened to what I wanted. What I really wanted. They just tortured and tormented me until I said the words they wanted. But also, the words were part of the game in which I was supposed to earn the end of the game and also get my health back. I actually told them again and again that I care nothing for the women. I just want my health back and to be left alone.

They keep on saying, “we do soul gestalt”. But if they did that, they would have understood I just wanted my health back and to be left alone. And that I actively wanted  nothing from them.

Talk a lot about trying to communicate by typing stuff into my phone as though they get it through keyloggers.

And my assumption that I’m being watched on cameras.

Talk about the open letter.

Talk about masturbation and assuming that it is the infrared cameras.

The letter I sent to my lawyer, assuming that she was part of the system.

Dad and others disrupting me while I’m trying to get things done.

You must discuss the stuff about IVF and the DNA testing stuff more later.

Watching me masturbate, infrared cameras. Too evil for words. Too disgusting. Not proper people.

They loosened the toilet seat in the bathroom.

Add the contents of this to the story, but rewrite it slightly.

Talking about wanting a harem

I told these people again and again, back when I was living in Khandallah, which might be 24 months ago now, and when we first raised the issue of harems, that I did not want a harem.

They asked me again and again, “do you want a harem”, “do you want a harem”. I said no, not really. I don’t want a harem on your terms. It would be too coercive. And I don’t want to coerce women into having sex with me. It’s not my cup of tea.

By “harem” they meant do you want to have a bunch of “friends with benefits” supplied to you by us? Or if I were to use their language: By “harem” they meant do you want to have a bunch of “fuck buddies” supplied to you by us? Their preferred term was “fuck buddies”, I would have preferred the term “girl friends” or (voluntary) “friends with benefits relationships.”

Note: they wanted the harem to be a decentralised system of fuck buddies.

Note 2: Also, the women wanted to *be* the supply of fuck buddies. They wanted to *be* the harem.

**

I told them many, many, many times that I would prefer not to associate with them. And that I didn’t want a harem on their terms, and that I believed their type of harem to inherently coercive. To women.

But anyway, they used violence and threats to get me to “fight” for their harem. That is, to fight for the right to get them into bed, coercively.

**

Unbeknownst to me, they pretended that my mind had been wiped. And that I had been “de-logos’d”, whatever that means. I’m not actually sure if it means anything sensible. I don't think that it means anything much.

But because of that assumption they felt entitled to ignore the things that I told them in favour of merely looking at my mental images and impressions. 

**

They also ignored me when I said things like, “I want nothing to do with you. You are all perverts, creeps and horrible people. If I had my way, I’d get healthy, leave town and never so much as speak to a single one of you again.”

They ignored me when I told them that I didn’t want them (the women) in my house, let alone my bed.

They ignored me when I told them that I would prefer to remain celibate.

They ignored me when I said that, “I just don’t value it”. That is, sex from a fae concubine aka dregvant sex worker.

They ignored me when I said, through playing music, to just “shut up and let me go!”.

The ignored me when I said that I just wanted to go back to university to study something like science. And that getting involved with them would be a bad and sad thing to have to do.

They also tried to define the system of harems as “domination” rather than coercion. But I think that’s an inferior choice of word. And I think that coercion is a much better choice of word.

**

Coercion: 

“Coercion is the act of forcing someone to do something against their will through the use of threats, intimidation, or actual force. It removes a person's free will by putting them in fear of negative consequences if they do not comply.”

**

I tried to tell them that I didn't want to have a harem, because it's inherently coercive to the women. And I feel that that should be taken into account. I didn't want any of this.

**

Ps: unrelated matter.

Some people have been lying, and suggesting that between the age of 20 and 22 that Brynn Huso was a "prospective lover". The truth is that she was merely a friend to me, not a prospective lover.

That's the quick version.

**

And also they suggested that when she came to our home at 5 Weka Road, and visited to use our dining room table for sewing, or that when she used to show up after work and sat down in the lounge to wait for Amanda to show up back home so that she could socialise with her, that these were incidents of a romantic nature.

These were not incidents of a romantic or sexual nature. These were not decoded or interpreted as romantic advances by me. I did not see them as romantic advances, I did not feel that she was flirting with me. And I did not see her as a prospective romantic partner. She was a friend of mine, and a close friend of Amanda's. To me, Brynn was simply visiting because there wasn't enough space for her sewing stuff at home, or because she was waiting for Amanda to show up after Amanda finished commuting home for work.

Also, Amanda and I were married.

Finally, I think that Brynn + Siobhan confused and misled the computer system into thinking that these were events with romantic or relational undertones to them. I'm not sure what they did, but whatever it was, I think that it was dumb and dishonest. They are delusional.

Two of Khandallah, two of Princeton road, one of Lily

Here are some more photos:

The first five are of Khandallah, and then the last one is of Princeton Road in Raumati Beach, Paraparaumu.

Here is a photo of my place in Princeton road