My Father, forced against his will.

Just as good as dead.

No restraints, since I'm going to die anyway. So they thought

The sluts were punishing my father to punish me. Kind of like a crack dealer saying you owe him money so he's gonna' fuck your sister

While on Hospice, my sister wrote me off as dead and in her mind had everything configured. She's a hoarder too, so, think of that mentality as well. It's by far no excuse at all, and I shouldn't even mention it, but there it is. Any kind of bottled up jealousy, animosity or spite she had her entire life is now easily resolved because, in her mind, I'm dead already.

But I wasn't. Not yet. But as her behavior increased as her crack-dealer and her biker buddies that watched me suffer, I slowly regained some strength, managed to sneak and sly my way by manipulation and lies to get treatment.

I had to basically play dead at times so they'd "write me off," which bought me time to figure a way out of this. And I did. And all that shit that was done to me was so well-known, documented in medical records, seen by many and as I got stronger, they did too. They had to hound me and be aware of who I talked to and where I went to save their asses.

It's important to note that my nephew, Justin Flemings, my sister's son, gave me some buffer room to establish methods and means to defend myself. Whether he was fully aware or not doesn't matter in this story. What matters is he helped me survive, as you'll see in one of the videos when I was still weak. I will update this site to include him as somewhat, my savior in this story.

Between me buying a hotpot and having somewhat clean water and Justin, I might not have survived.

It's also important to note that Frank Irvin, only showed up twice time while my sister was at my house. Once when I was cleaning the gutters (that's an important and interesting fact that will be explained another time because it involves Raebecca too) and once before I fled to Bloomington (no one knew I was going to Bloomington, including my father). But Frank arrived, giggling with unbridled joy with my dad and the only black, let alone gay female gangster neighbor of ours, thinking my doom was looming.

I punked out Russ Garver Jr at the "a club" in Decatur Illinois with the member's permission. The reason I had words with Russ is because at the Prarieland ABATE (a "free-to-join" biker bar), Russ "escorted two underage ladies", drinking, to the dungeon-like maze to the women's restroom and those ladies, and another lady witness told me, that he groped these underaged women. So, at 6 a.m. at "a club." A member said to Russ "You sure you got the house? You sure you're alright?" Russ said it was cool, and the member left. I then immediately got into him explaining what he did was wrong. He denied it at first, but then admitted that he touched these ladies and it would never happen again. It was settled, right? Nope. If you know anything about the frail male libido, resentment persisted.

And I did the same thing to Frank Irvin at the Wild Dog Bar on 22nd Street in Decatur Illinois with a buddy of mine from prison and, oddly, my counselor from Graham Prison, by the request of my father. That libido, man.

My sister, Malia, would arrive at the exact same time as my father, and they would sit on the porch. He was not to be alone at all without her monitoring him and what he said and who he came to. Ask for the police reports, and you'll see that it was a team. He would not come inside the house at all or my sister would terrorize him. A few days it was over 100-degrees outside and so fucking hot, and there he was, being my sister's little pet, displayed for all to see that Raebecca's crack-dealer has owned the Godsey's. They were wearing my father down through fear and intimidation.

Right fucking then I realized that, even though I known something is wrong with my health, my father is suffering right there. In front of me. And my sister now having control  of people (in her mind), is fucking thrilled. So thrilled she started wearing jean shorts and dressing like Raebecca Grabowski whom have bodies of those people you don't want to see dressed like that. My sister now had a bi-sexual friend which was in all reality, training her. Or as it's known "Turning out" my sister for the crack-dealer.

Like I said, Raebecca is a foul, nasty woman.

My father was dropping me off on no particular day and he went to stop and skidded on regular pavement, like you do in the rain on blacktop. Except it was around 80-degrees. His tires were that bald and my sister refused to let him use his own money to buy even used tires, unless they came from Frank Irvin, Russell Garver Jr's buddy - a "tough-ass" Decatur Illinois Prarieland ABATE member.

I kept pointing out things wrong with the truck and he would get pissed and say "There's nothing fucking wrong with the truck!" Except there were many malfunctions. That truck was nearly torn apart by my sister and Frank Irvin and my dad - being a typical guy - he wants to deny it because it's difficult to admit you made a mistake or that your [not-so] sweet daughter is actually a goddamn hoe. And if he says anything, he'll get abused some more. Of course he's going to smile and say nothing's wrong - that's what you do when you're abused.

I know. I accidentally did the same thing because I was ashamed. I had to use found packing tape to keep what few bandages I had to cover my fistula and couldn't bathe for so long, it became embedded into my skin. I forgot about it until my Oncologist pointed at it and asked what it was, and I said "Oh, uh... that. It's invisible tape I did as a joke." I didn't say that because of any reason other than being embarrassed.

So some weeks later, my dad was calling me names and called one of my friends a faggot, so, I took my 13-inch knife and I sliced every single one of his tires.

If that doesn't get a him a new set of tires, I don't know what will. Yeah, I handed them the gold ticket to remove me from the house, but it was coming no matter what and I left doing something good by doing something bad. And maybe they'd leave my dad out of this?