Whistleblower: My Name is Elyssa.GAME ON!

Back to Square One...

Reality Bytes: Back to Square One... and a very special daily dose of TMI

She will be loved... she already is.

26 years ago this week, a coordinated effort between the united states government, the Philadelphia police department and counterintelligence [interesting concept] conspired to carry out what could become one of the greatest massacres in us history.

The crime that won't go down.

West Philadelphia. Osage avenue. 11 people. 5 children. One survivor.

People can not understand my deep connection to the people who died that day or the families that stayed behind hoping that the people if this nation would rebuild their homes after using extraordinary to means to silence the voice of a man who believed in the right to be free.

Vincent Leaphart was a voice to be reckoned with.

A voice that sounded just a little like my own. a little bit radical and a
whole lot misunderstood. He was a voice that needed to be heard because he
was ordered to be silenced.

The Powers That Beat.

When the United States failed to convict him in 1978, "the people" did not rest their case.

They just changed the rules of the game, and I know them all too well. I am, in every sense of the word a Co Intel PRO.

I was 12 years old at the time.

Something was brewing.

I was living in an upper middle class suburban neighborhood outside of Philadelphia. Bucks County, PA.

My father, a well spoken, well educated, well respected member of the international community took me into the dressing room between the the closet to show me where to get the guns.

Extra bullets (and guns) were in a bucket in the basement. Just under the stairs in where there was limited light from the small basement windows. Not enough space for an adult, but I was young and flexible and had just enough space to move about freely.

He stood behind me with his arms on tops of my own and held my hands together. The whole time correcting my posture and my stance using the force of his arms and his grip around my arms and my body as i held the gun with both hands.

It was probably one of the few times i remember him being so close to me physically. his rested on top of mine adding additional pressure demanding a calm, steady and calculated response.

I was trained. to stay calm, and stay in control as the helicopters began to take position over the city of brotherly love.

I learned how to stay calm in and around a fucking god damned massacre.

Marksman first class.

you don't just aim, fire, and hope for the best. you shoot to kill.

he had his arms around me to exert his position and to steady the gun should i falter, should i flinch. so he could stand behind me and watch me take aim. suburban KID and i already knew how to shoot a gun, how many twelve year-olds can say that?

so next time, boys, i won't be calling you. besides, from what i can tell you keep me pretty close under the radar.

so when see the car parked outside my window for four hours at a time, i may stutter, i may fall, but like father like daughter, i WILL come around.

"There are people who love me. They may not have met me yet, or they may have forgotten me by now, but they love me."

Firing Squad

speechless. it is difficult to even formulate a complete sentence.

this is not new. the violence the corruption, "the terror of knowing what this world is about..."

yet we fail to act. as a society we look away or we blame the victim because it easier than taking action and demanding reform and accountability.

enough is enough.

am i only person who is outraged?

disgusted and resigned.

despite overwhelming evidence of corruption and excessive use of force, violence and terror against the people of this country, we allow it to continue.

i will never feel safe in this country. i will never feel safe in this community. this little town.

i have no where to run to. no place to go should i need to escape the deadly violence that i know a times can be all too real.

i can not think of a single place anywhere that i might have access to. or even find transportation or an an evacuation if ever ordered to evacuate or should i feel the desire or need to leave all by myself.

wow.

i have no rights. i have no community. i have no reasonable expectation for anything to change today, tomorrow, next week or next year. i am trapped.

i also do not believe there is anything i might do today that will make things a little bit better for someone else tomorrow.

i will never feel safe. not here, not anywhere.

i can not say for sure that i would call the police next time i was either a victim or a witness to a crime in my own backyard.

not because i am afraid to get involved or fear gangs or thugs~ because i trust my instincts, and know when something is wrong.

something is wrong.

something has been wrong for a very long time.

this is not new. the violence the corruption, "the terror of knowing what this world is about..."

27 years ago this week, a coordinated effort between the united states government, the Philadelphia police department and counterintelligence [interesting concept] conspired to carry out what could become one of the greatest massacre in us history.

the crime that won't go down.

west philadelphia. osage avenue. 11 people. 5 children. one survivor.

people can not understand my deep connection to the people who died that day or the families that stayed behind hoping that the people if this nation would rebuild their homes after using extraordinary to means to silence the vice of a man who believed in the right to be free.

Vincent Leaphart was a voice to be reckoned with.

A voice that sounded just a little like my own. a little bit radical and a whole lot misunderstood. He was a voice that needed to be heard because he was ordered to be silenced.

The Powers That Beat.

When the United States failed to convict him in 1978, "the people" did not rest their case.

they just changed the rules of the game, and i know them all too well.

i was 12 years old at the time.

something was brewing.

i was living in an upper middle class suburban neighborhood outside of Philadelphia. bucks county, pa.

my father, a well spoken, well educated, and well respected member of the community took me into the the closet to show me where to get the guns. extra bullets, of course were in a bucket in the basement. under the stairs in where there was limited light and space to move about freely.

he stood behind me with his arms on tops of my own and held my hands together. the whole time correcting my posture and my stance using the force of his arms and his grip around my arms and my body as i held the gun with both hands.

it was probably one of the few times i remember him being so close to me physically. his rested on top of mine adding additional pressure demanding a calm, steady and calculated response.

i was trained. to stay calm, and stay in control as the helicopters began to take position over the city of brotherly love.

i learned how to stay calm in and around a fucking god damned massacre.

he had his arms around me to exert his position and to steady the gun should i falter, should i flinch.

marksman first class.

you don't just aim, fire, and hope for the best. you shoot to kill.

watch so he could stand behind me and watch me take aim. suburban and i already knew how to shoot a gun,

how many twelve year olds can say that?

so next time, boys, i won't be calling you. besides, from what i can tell you keep pretty close under the radar.

so when see the car parked outside my window for four hours at a time, yeah, i may stutter and i may fall, but i like father like daughter, i will come around.

and you can be sure that if i managed to stay alive after what happened last summer, you be sure of one thing... this is far from over.

no. i do not trust the boys in blue. i do not trust the my neighbors or community to do the right thing in the midst of a crisis. i barely have it in me to give a crap what happens to people in "my" community. those who turned away made jokes, or came up with their own version of actually went down that day, and in the months that followed.

it really is too late for apologies. i know you heard me. i also have the phone records and every letter and email that was sent through the "proper channels"

it won't save me. but if I'm lucky, i just might get a ticket out of here so i can actually breathe freely and walk out beneath the shadows, the shadows of death.

i simply can not watch this video without wondering how we allow this behavior to continue despite the overwhelming evidence that we are all at risk of being victimized by those we trust will be there to protect us.

remember this... you have no rights!