After much phone voice and text work this morning, I was able to flush out EXACTLY where the person who threatened my life, claiming he would shoot up my house, lives. He, Gabriel Fuentes -- brother of a major narco-trafficker who lives just south of the Texas-Mexico border -- is also the person who had employed my roommate (now fled into hiding) with murder after David requested pay for four days work. He had previously (unbeknownst to me) made David watch as he shot other undocumented Latinos in the face because THEY had demanded payment for their work.
I had been mis-led to believe he lived on Kerr Ave., north of Market, but 90 seconds after I seriously angered him through my electronic work, I opened the door to go on the porch for a smoke (tobacco). Imagine my shock when I saw him sitting in a van marked GOOD SHEPHERD MINISTRIES, sneering at my house -- or at me, I suppose!!!
He peeled out, and I got into my car and pursued him, flashing my lights as I watched him five blocks ahead, negotiating the several lights before pulling into the facility parking lot, just a skip, hop, and a jump down 8th Street to Martin. I parked on the street opposite him, and as he got out of the van, I yelled my identity and that I was now TOTALLY on to him. I promised I would soon swear out warrants.
I went by the store and bought more cigarettes, and then after I got home, watched as several Wilmington Police cars (as well as other Wilmington city vehicles not marked as cops) patrolled my block thickly. How cool was that??? These guys are really on top of things, and I salute them!!!
I called my mother to let her know that I had already found the connections between Good Shepherd here in Wilmington and the homeless shelters she was forever trying to get me to check into in Raleigh. I even then knew that they, especially The Salvation Army, were notorious for people checking in and then disappearing them, dead. I really had not expected to connect them to Good Shepperd. I called my mother's deputy in Raleigh, Pete White (919) 607-9692, and after listening to his music that identifies him as a drug dealer -- that Sinatra "Fly Me to the Moon" song -- I let him know what I had discovered.
He certainly had a fit!
I left messages on my brother and sister Jane's cell phones, and then called Good Shepherd (I never get anyone and had to once again leave a message), letting executive director Katrina's assistant know in no uncertain terms that the gig is up. I doubt the Board knows, but I had already alerted First Presbyterian to check into what really goes on there, and I bet the other churches who send them good money will soon find out as well.
Oh! and my father told me not to come up to Raleigh for dinner. (Now that I've officially become a Presbyterian, I'm charged to show my mother more respect and empathy than I had been doing, so I'd hoped to apologize and do so in person.) But Dad said Mom had duplicate bridge this afternoon (where they pass coded Nazi instructions among key operatives in the set hands of dealt cards -- a brilliant trick that I bet my mother came up with), and then Dad went on to say that "We've really had a few very bad days in a row here lately. Not really up to company for dinner."
Gee, Dad, I wonder why THAT is!!!
Poor fellow. I knew his "Restless Leg Syndrome" has been acting up, and the medication for it that Mom has forced him to take caused him to fall a week ago -- and has also mysteriously given him a serious arm infection that he's been to the doctor and even the hospital over.
Seems to me that "Restless Leg Syndrome" is just God's call to get up and walk away from the damn bitch!
Oooops! I hope the Lord will forgive my disrespectful language. LOL!!!
And so it is, Tuesday, Feb. 22, 2011.
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