For background, read What Happened When I Was Stalked on the Internet, and for instructions on what to do if you’re targeted by a stalker. And you’re always welcome to message me for more information.
I went back to court for an Extended Protection Order, which lasts a year. I was awarded it, and Klugman has now been served by the Cumberland County sheriff. Each state is different, and Nevada currently only issues them for up to a year. If, after that time, Klugman ever contacts me again, I’ll go back to court for another one.
The Extended Protection Order is more serious. If he should defy it, he will be subject to arrest, even if he’s in his truck on a working trip. It will be towed, and cost thousands to retrieve. He will be brought to Vegas, put in jail, and will have to post bail to get out and go home. He will have to find his own way home. I hope he doesn’t call me to borrow money.
In the comments below, you will find a very sarcastic message to me from one Kittie Eubank, a Quora user, which is the website where I met all these lovely people. She’s a popular user, who grew her base, I believe, on her ‘abuse and sex’ posts. She’s made a stalker problem all about the Top Writer award on Quora. Words fail me. Not really; words will never completely fail me.
On coming to see my blog for the first time yesterday, she ignores the 100 plus other posts I’ve written, reads this one, and her takeaway is that ‘I’m an immature name caller.’ That’s it; that was her big insight on all this.
Not one of the women involved directly in this, or peripherally- like Eubank-has shown any compassion or offered help in stopping this sociopath. When his medical records come up for review, this will show in his records. I hope.
They like him, you see, so it isn’t possible he’s done anything wrong. I think all of these women have claimed abuse at one time, and I find it disheartening that it has taught them nothing, if indeed, their stories are true. Which I now doubt.
I’d be highly interested in learning how many women turn against other women who are being abused in some fashion, after they themselves have experienced it? Or are there women who have never experienced it, but have a modicum of imagination to offer compassion to a fellow woman? Or do they all remain blinded to what a friend or relative is doing, even though they’d be the first to call law enforcement should it happen to them or their female relatives?
What led up to this:
Finally, after two months of effort to get Klugman served with a temporary protection order, during which my attorney, Will Jennings, would not let me give it up as hopeless, he’s been served.
Fist pump! It’s a temporary protection order, or TPO, and I’ll hie myself to court before thirty days is up to ask for an extended protection order.
Klugman lives in one city, works in another, and has managed to evade every effort to be served any papers, either the notice of the hearing, or the TPO itself. He and his wife never answer their door, unless it’s for pizza.
He sent back all mail from the Las Vegas sheriff’s department with Hate-O-Grams all over them, as Mr. Jennings so elegantly put it. He wrote Stop Lying in bold black letters on the back of it, besides scrawling stupid crap all over the front of it.
One of his last messages to me was, “I’ll save you a place in hell, only it’ll be in the handicapped section.” Very classy. Because I’m disabled. His friend, Kelley Spartiatis, asked him in a comment thread why “The witch doesn’t die, already.”
A friend found that comment and reported it to the moderators as hate speech. But really, why shouldn’t people just die because you’re angry and hate them? Why not? Who cares if they are parents, spouses, or valuable to their family or community, friends or employees?
They should just die because Ms. Spartiatis and Mr. Klugman don’t like them.
Back to the Hate-O-Grams. Did he suppose the postal workers would read his messages written on the US Mail, and side with him? Did he think that by accusing me of lying on the envelopes and emails, I’d go, “Oh, yeah, this whole thing is made up. That’s just what the judge thought, too.”
Maybe he was trying to convince himself, I don’t know.
I’m not sure why he was so all-fired set against getting any of these papers. The hearing proceeded without him, anyway. As for the protection order, it began when he was served.
I thought his envelope from the Las Vegas sheriff, unopened by me, was sufficient notice, but apparently not. So, when the Bucks County sheriff had no luck serving the TPO, not having gone to his house with a hot pizza, I had the bright idea to send the paperwork to the Cumberland County sheriff’s office, the county in which he’s employed.
This sheriff’s department doesn’t give up until the TPO is served. Since my counsel used to be a sheriff, he told me sheriffs hate to make more than one trip. So the deputy sheriff probably went to Carlisle Carrier Corp in Mechanicsburg, PA and demanded his phone number, since he was on an ‘extended vacation, and had no plans to return to work any time soon.’
His employer probably tried to fool the sheriff about his whereabouts. Sheriffs don’t like to be fooled. So, the deputy got his phone number, which she kindly included in her report, and read the terms of the TPO to him. He appeared to have no problem with the terms, and the call ended amicably.
Now, I don’t know if it’s related, but two days ago, someone left an unused condom on the outdoor table next to my wooden rocking chair.
Who left it? What is the message here? Is it a metaphorical F**k you? It makes sense, much more sense than if it had been a used one. A used one is no good anymore.
And if it was just a gift, who was it from and why are they giving away good condoms? Goodness knows, I don’t need them anymore. If you have a condom in your pocket, I suggest you keep it there until you need it. Don’t go giving them away.
Or, having been left by the rocking chair, a really nice one, by the way, did the Gift Giver have ideas about a rocker, someone in his lap, and the rocker’s natural motion? Did this perp sit down, get ready to don said tiny jacket, and then fall asleep because of the rocking? And when he awoke from his innocent slumbers, he just got up, left and forgot it.
I’ll never know, I guess. But it all happens on the street where I live.