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My theory of this particular stalker/crack-dealer is that Raebecca Grabowski is the instigator and either they have always peeked in on people as a perversion for their shitty local version of World Star Or this fucker is absolutely fragile in a labido way and let his hoe fuck with his mind and he's so obsessed, he can't let it go. They definitely can't let go of their bed bugs, that's for sure.

But in general drug dealers sell drugs to harm people and make those buyers need them because they're missing something incredibly important to them and it's usually these three things: Power, Attention and Control

They join gangs/clubs because they're weak individually in both spirit and mind. Maybe they had terrible parents and maybe those horrible parents taught them this. Maybe not. Likely when someone is on this level of bullshit, they hurt inside and cannot deal with it in a normal healthy way so they lash out and single a person out for all their woes. A lot of people do that but more people usually blame everyone else, not just an isolated person - such is my circumstance. Isolating one person seems easier if you methodically focus everyone on that person, they, in turn, can displace responsibility. It's no different than "You smelled it, you dealt it." Yeah. The mentality of misplacing blame of a fucking fart.

He's been stalking me for over three years.

He beat up Raebecca's friend for her.

Sad. Raebecca was thrilled when her friend came over, beat up by her crack dealer

I know he likes to watch me have sex, but, really? His homosexual crush on me is aggressive, malicious, precise... and not wanted.

When Raebecca's crack-dealer beat the fuck out of Raebecca's supposed best friend, also after Malia and Raebecca robbed me, and before I met her crack dealer while arguing with Raebecca at 1001 W Main Street and also before I was arrested, I took her friend to the hospital and explained to the woman at the front that he "... made her wash before she could leave."

After dropping her off I went to Fred Born's to mow his yard since he said he wasn't capable of it - he didn't want to be high-as-fuck in front of neighbors.

Instead of mowing his yard he said smiling after Raebecca sucked his dick "Can you take me to Wal-Mart? I feel like lobster tonight." So I took him to get Wal-Mart lobster for him and Raebecca then went to St. Mary's Hospital to pick up Raebecca's friend.

He lives his life selling crack and shitty cocaine to white people. He exploits white people and his means is with Raebecca's white face. Gross.

When I know he's nearby, and I'm by myself, I tell stories loudly about Raebecca that's all 100% true. The way I tell stories, I get to laughing so hard, I can't breathe and I also make comments about what should have happened, the reasons I did what I did or said what I said to fuck up her scenerios. It's good shit. Really good shit.

And it piss. him. off!

Haha. Fuck him. At the Decatur Inn Motel he'd leave the room next to me and quietly go downstairs and throw the loudest, crying shitfit I've ever heard. Really. I'd make fun of his pockmarked side-kick, who I nicknamed Fat Tits (more about him on the 7 Fairview Pl page). He'd start screaming "Leave him alone!!!" and pound his fists on the table in the room below me, wildly throwing shit. And I couldn't help but laugh my fucking ass off. A big adult brown baby.

There's a ton of stories of how I fuck up a lot of his plans for me because seemingly he's setting me up to look a certain way, or, you know, actually setting me up because the baby wants what the baby wants. I believe he is associated with my black neighbor at 1205 Leafland Street because when my sister and dad would completely make shit up or do their Team-acting, they'd always run to her black, gay ganster-ass. Really.

Respectable white people don't want his crack-cocaine, though.

When I say "Bedbugs" I mean this kind of amount. At 420 Glencoe and 1004 W Main Street in Decatur Illinois. It's the crack-dealer's apparent signature (maybe patent-pending?)

He broke Alexander D Hays' Jaw.

He has Fatass put camera's in places.

His mother didn't love him or was a whore, so he has to see what real families are. Fat-ass is the guy in the middle on the 7 Fairview PL page

Like he conditioned my family, he instead outright broke Alexander D Hays' jaw. I guess Alex wasn't trying hard enough to fuck me over or, likely, he said something smart-ass to the pervert. Or it was a romantic disagreement because both Alex and the crack-dealer are homosexuals

I was at 1175 N Wilder Ave before, during, and a short time after hospice and obviously my sister likes to watch on behalf of the crack-dealer who has to show his homies what white family life is when a homeboy can't get that family (well, at least me and my dad) to buy his shitty crack-cocaine.

Maybe his dad beat him. Maybe he fucks his sister. I doubt it. As many times as he's been sitting in rooms next to me and watching me, plus having Alexander D Hays as his side-kick (Alex is now a homosexual after he was accused of raping a woman), he's definitely a homosexual himself. Guaranteed. No doubt about it.

Once when I "got a feeling" something was up at the Decatur Inn motel I quickly opened the door and there he was - face to face with his sister or (prostitute) looking like they were going to kiss. But he's a homosexual so that kiss never happened. The second day I was at the Decatur Inn motel after fleeing 1 Fairview Pl and an entire spectacle was had by many people, mostly black and I'll add details when I have the time.

One night at 1 Fairview Pl (directly across the street from CVS on Fairview & Eldorado in Decatur Illinois) I was doing computer things, likely wondering why there were so many networks on my iMac 2019 whenever I connected my phone's hotspot.

I put up most of the hardware and tidied up and just laid down about to sleep when I hear beating on the back door. I get up slowly because I still had the drain tubes attached to my back and it was relatively dark. I get to the back door and no one is there but now there's banging on the front door.

Alexander comes in and asks me to call an ambulance which I called the police station, which wanted me to leave a message - that was new to me. Then I looked up ambulance phone numbers - same stuff. He was starting throw a hissy fit and I offered him a pain pill in the meantime.

Then I told him "Why don't you go to the fire station? It's not even a block away." He paused, paused some more and then left. He came over a week or so later with his jaw wired shut and I knew who did it, but he was too scared to admit it and still wanted to help the crack dealer fuck with me (I still didn't know for sure who all were involved and when they participated - it doesn't matter why - they can make up shit or convince others with manipulation).

This fat-ass from 7 Fairview Pl

"​​Brutum Fulmen: An empty or ineffective threat or action is a brutum fulmen-it. It means "senseless thunderbolt" in Latin."

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