psychoceramics: Hmmm...

[n--@b--.edu (N.A.F. McNelly)]

I'm not sure what's going on here, but it sounds awfully suspicious to me ....

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From: a--@h--.com
Subject: Self-policing is no policing.

This is about the response I got to a written complaint I once
made to the New York Police Department.

.......

Everybody in this story is white.

.......

I once complained in a letter to the NYPD's Internal Affairs Bureau
("IAB").  Months after I mailed the letter to an IAB address in
Manhattan, I got a phone call from Queens's Lt. Timothy Kolarik, District
20 of the NYPD transit police, whose telephone number is (718) 334-8100.
IAB eventually had referred my complaint to him.  (Maybe IAB waited
months in the hope that memories would fade, witnesses would move, and
evidence would be lost.)

He wanted to question me by phone.  I asked to talk to him in person, and
he allowed me to come to his office.  I went to his police station, and
asked for him.  Almost immediately, he came out to greet me and invite me
into his office.  We talked starting in his office at _about_ 10:00 a.m.
on a weekday.  He gave me an excellent opportunity to say everything I
wanted to say.  After we finished talking, he escorted me out of the
subway police station, and we shook hands.  I remember noticing that he
was about my height, that his cheeks were closely shaven, and that he was
light-colored even for a white (not necessarily blond, but still with
lightly colored skin and hair).  He seemed young for a
lieutenant.  He looked wholesome.

He asked me many questions.  Every question except one, he asked in a
deadpan way.  When he asked me if I knew who the subway cops were whom I
had complained about, he smiled and quickly turned his face down as he
smiled.  It seemed to me that he was one of the people I had complained
about, and that he was smiling because he thought I did not suspect him.
I emphasize that that was just a suspicion I had.

In my discussion with him, he told me that he would tell his subordinates
about my complaint.  This disturbed me much but I did not object, because
I wanted to be perfectly cooperative.  He also said that he would
personally visit my aparment building undercover (which I recommended
against).  He didn't have a business card but he gave me a piece of paper
with his name, address, and phone number.  I did not notice him limp when
he met me before our talk, but I am certain he limped afterwards (when he
walked me from his office back to the front lobby).  Maybe one of his
feet fell asleep while he talked with me.  I vaguely think that he wore a
red plaid shirt.

(BTW, I guess he's made some of the pretext telephone calls I've
complained about elsewhere, but I don't want to explain why now.)

.......


On a Thursday, at least one person (probably two) seemed to be
trespassing outside my apartment.  The next day, Lt. Kolarik called me to
say
that he had been there the day before.  This confirmed my suspicion that
he was one of those whom I had complained about.  I thought that his
coming to my building would not help me, and told him so.  In that
conversation, Kolarik assured me that he would never tell his
subordinates about my complaint (in other words, he would keep my
complaint secret from his subordinates).  This assurance was totally
opposite from the conversation in his office (in which he assured me that
he _would_ tell his subordinates).

Over the phone, he pronounced words with a New York accent.

........

One day, I made an appointment for the following Sunday by telephone with
a computer expert in Connecticut.  Later, a potential buyer (of my
apartment in Queens) called a real estate agent to ask to see my Queens
apartment at the same time I would be arriving in Connecticut.

On Sunday, I went by train to Connecticut to confer with the computer
expert.  (Incidentally, I went to Connecticut to confer because of an
unsolicited, computer-related RFP I had received from Kentucky's
Administrative Office of the Courts, in Frankfort.)  I was followed on
the train ride by cops.

While I was in Connecticut, the potential buyer inpected my apartment.


........


One or two Sundays later, a real estate agent (Dolores) brought two,
young,
potential buyers to my apartment.  The two buyers were a slim,
dark-haired (maybe black-haired) man much taller than me, and a
brown-haired woman about my height (whom I recently saw a few blocks from
my apartment, incidentally).

Right after they (the couple and the real estate agent) left, a different
real estate agent brought a solitary man to look at my apartment.  He
seemed kind of young to be buying my apartment.  She said that he was the
one who had visited my apartment while I was in Connecticut.  The
solitary man was a little taller than me, with pink, closely shaved
cheeks.  Because he wore his jacket collar upturned, and because he wore
a cap, I couldn't tell his hair color.  He walked past me very quickly to
a window, then told the sales agent that he needed to see the apartment
with the lights off.  She turned off the lights.  He then said that the
apartment was too dark to buy, and quickly walked past me as he left my
apartment.

I guess that he (the solitary potential buyer) might have been the Lt.
Kolarik that I had met.

........


At about 4:00 a.m. the next day (in other words, early on a Monday), I
made a surprise visit to Lt. Kolarik's police station.  I asked for him,
expecting to be told that he was not in.  After a long while, he came out
to me.  He was much taller than me, he wore a vest, his hair seemed not
to be light-colored (it might have been dark or gray), and he sounded
like the Kolarik who called me on a Friday to say that he had been at my
place the day before.  I handed him a letter (which I had written because
I had expected to be told that he was not in).  My letter referred to,
among other things, the couple that had visited the apartment  He read
the letter, then talked briefly with me.  For example, he asked me some
sort of question about whether I thought that the young couple were cops.
 Then I left the police station.

That Lt. Kolarik seemed different from the first one I met.  (For
example, I am certain that the first one seemed to be about my height,
but the second one seemed much taller.)  I am not absolutely certain that
they are different men. Maybe people look different to me at 4:00 a.m.
than they usually do.

.......


Wednesday (November 26, 1997), the young couple returned to the
apartment, this time with Dolores and two contractors (short, middle-aged
men with Italian accents).  While they were in the apartment, someone
found a seeming weapon seemingly hidden in the bedroom of my
apartment.

(The seeming weapon is a seemingly homemade, pointy, hooked club about
22.25 inches long.  The pointy, hooked end is gray metal and about 7
inches long.  The handle seems to be made of hollow wood with some tape
wrapped around parts of it.  I guess that there is nothing (e.g., drugs
or a microphone) hidden in the handle.  The handle is black and white,
with its end painted red.  The handle's blackness is from black paint and
black tape.  The handle's whiteness is from white tape.  The handle of
the seeming weapon looks and feels like a tennis racket's handle.  It has
a comfortable heft to it.)  It's difficult to think that someone would go
to the trouble of making a weapon like that just for me.  Maybe a cop
confiscated it and saved it.

I've seen and used many tools.  I don't think it's a tool.


........

I guess that the solitary potential buyer is a cop (maybe the same person
who is the first Kolarik I met, the one I met in the daytime). I guess
that at least one of the young couple might be a cop.  I guess that the
contractors are innocent people (who really are contractors).

I think that a cop planted the seeming weapon in my apartment (as a gift
which he mistakenly thought that I would appreciate?  as a threat?  to
frame me for something?  to play with my mind?).

(There is another possible source of the club.  About 2 Wednesdays ago, I
left an office on Manhattan's Fulton Street thinking to myself that people
in it might wonder how I got into it.  A few minutes later, two men walked
up to me, talking about clubbing baby seals to death.  However, the club
found in my apartment is not the kind used to club baby seals.)

........

Plainclothes street cops in my Queens neighborhood and in midtown
Manhattan (and a plainclothes cop in Manhattan on the subway) referred to
me about the RFP I got from Kentucky and about my response to it
(although I never told anyone about the RFP except two people in
Connecticut).

.........


There is sporadic, noisy activity in the vacant apartment above my
apartment.  For reasons I do not care to go into now, I guess that the
timing of the activity is related to the matters discussed above.

.........

The moral:  nothing good comes from writing a letter to he NYPD's IAB.

........................

To completely change the subject:  I think that there are many
plainclothes cops
near 5th Avenue and 59th Street.

Alan J. Munn

.................................................................
Nancy McNelly
http://www.halfmoon.org/ Rabbit in the Moon: Mayan Glyphs and Architecture
http://www.halfmoon.org/borden/  Virtual Lizzie Borden House