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Hi. I am an average white male, born with Tourette Syndrome. What that pretty much means is that I perform muscle and occasionally vocal "tics" involuntarily, unexpectedly, particularly under stress/fatigue/etc. Also can be absent minded. IQ in the range of Einstein, classic underachiever trying to make good as a Unix Administrator, have worked for several Fortune 100 companies.
I become pretty close to autistic under stress at times, actually. Not typically, but while in shock type situations I seem to have the symptoms creep over me. Naturally, despite being a capable and experienced driver, I have become a magnet for police scrutiny and abuse. Every wise cop knows that a man who looks twitchy is a degenerate junky, or so I have come to understand through repeated mistreatments. Worse than that, I have been on and off of psychiatric and self-medication for much of my life (tourette syndrome + speed at age 8 or so will tend to do that to you. Pot is a gateway drug? pfft.).
I was institutionalized several times just prior to becoming a legal adult, for what I would typically describe as a protracted case of teenage angst, and I think the PTSD symptoms first started during that time (dreams of being locked in a school or prison by parents and teachers who, vindictively, then set fire to the building and I am apparently the person who must save everyone, nasty dreams of fighting and physics somehow holding me back as though I am in water while my attacker is in air, enduring these brutal attacks repeatedly, depression/dysfunction/quick strange reactions/paranoia/etc)..
Well I endured, developed some pretty intense situational awareness, worked various computer jobs fairly competently (had fatigue issues - hyperengaging and adrenaline down to stupor and seeming narcolepsy, is that a PTSD trait as well?) and managed to be an ethically sound human being.
Fast forward 15 years - I have a son who I rarely get to see and cannot talk to but have been court ordered into 20K/yr worth of payments on the principle that I make money so obviously I am 100% financially responsible. The boy's mother has her own issues, many dealing with addiction, and in my case, lying and thievery. She pretty much turned into a methhead when I was not around - things like pawning/selling important items (of mine), squatting at my foreclosed farm house and melting down the computer equipment my grandfather left me for scrap (not her, but the tweakers she apparently thought were okay to bring, uninvited, while I was working 600 miles away), etc.
I think she has cleaned up but can never trust her after watching her turn from a person into that. So the DSS sends me friendly citations of being in contempt of court if I lose a job (have lost a few - turns out personality disorders are not as marketable as trade skills), puts out a warrant for not paying a fee I indeed had paid (finally after dodging the sheriffs for a few months (poverty) I made it to court 100 miles from my home and they dropped the warrant) etc. It's okay. They don't care about me. I don't think they care about my boy, either. They care that the money keeps coming in and it doesn't matter why I don't have it (will have to fight that battle shortly).
In August of 2011, after receiving a seemingly endless barrage of threats from the same woman who bore me that most beautiful baby boy, and having lost my job just 2 weeks earlier, due to legal issues making me miss work, and having just been chased through Memphis by the Memphis Kings who apparently thought I was a member of a rival gang, I get to my old apartment in Raleigh (was working in Memphis - awesome FedEx job - painful to lose), rent a box truck to clear out my apt and move it to Memphis where I am told my skills and experience are highly valued and hard to come by. I stop in Monroe (fiancee's place, now my home), have a rough night, am kind of manic and impatient and decide to drive out to the farm and just grab anything else I could put in that truck that was worth salvaging. I never made it there.
Apparently, I took a wrong turn and ended up in South Carolina, had broken one of the windows in the truck, was singing, someone heard this and called the sheriff's office. (Hilarity Ensues?)
I was driving wearing only a pair of Vibram fivefingers (great hiking shoes, they help you strengthen your feet without leaving them totally vulnerable) and a pair of loose shorts as I've had IBS since 1998. Apparently, I had slipped out of or tripped out of said shorts while being pulled over. Bad move.
So I'm standing naked (aside from shoes) in front of a deputy who is clearly younger than me and seems rather nervous, and he asks me what happened to the window. I was honest, a fault of mine, apparently (I wasn't trying to vandalize the truck, I was paying for it - I just had a kind of adrenaline surge and a tic and I think was holding something pointy). He puts me in the back of his car, without telling me why I am being arrested. There were surely several answers to choose from.
In the cruiser, I am becoming painfully embarassed and aware of my nakedness (there is apparently a tendency in Tourette people sometimes to do this), and I knock on the window to get the officer's attention, to explain about the Tourette Syndrome, my recent history, that I was not just some loon high on goofballs, etc. The officers response is to throw the door open and point-blank shoot me in the gut with a taser (no warning, no saying "TASER!", etc.).
Now I am really in a pickle. He fired far too close and I ripped the zapping stinging barbs out of my abdomen. Now I am in Fight or Flight mode. The officer said I exclaimed "I'm gonna end you.", I think I would more likely use "I will end you", but that's a little thing, and he proceeds to tase me for an unknown amount of time. I couldn't really keep track of time while being tasered, but with the hyper adrenaline I managed to step into the front of his cruiser (trying to get away from the pain and fear that were being graciously given by a man who had no idea about who I am or what I might be like) and tried to shield myself from his attack with the only thing loose in the cabin - an AR-15.
I'm lucky I didn't get shot, I reckon - but he has been bearing down on that taser for a few minutes at this point and all I can let out are shrieks and probably jumbled curses. I did not aim it at him or attempt to fire it and I was too clumsy to operate the car with all that electricity searing my insides. After this, I just know he got me out, and apparently there were two more officers arriving who, naturally, proceeded to tase me as well (because if one non-lethal implement won't put a feral trauma sufferer down, surely two more will?) - I think the last one might have been on my chin as it was gored as though punctured, but it might have simply been burned).
All I remember of this is that there more more hands and a bit more pain. Apparently upon watching me have seizures while lying on the road unconscious, they decide it's a good idea to call EMS. They arrive, presumably pull other barbs out, check my wounds, etc. and take me to the hospital. I remember coming to in the ambulance, still feeling like I was being shocked though I was not, screaming for the officer to stop tasing me (he was clearly scared at this point), more obscenities, etc. I could not breathe, the EMT loosened up the straps after a minute of me begging and the officer saying I wouldn't get them loosened), eventually the one restricting my neck or chest came loose allowing me to breathe properly, and I think I calmed down a bit, though still in feral rage and pain.
I arrived at the hospital, semiconscious. I am catheterized by a doctor who treats me like I had just stole the lord's supper. I find out that the official story is that the officer found "bath salts" in my truck. Now I have never seen bath salts outside of the internet, never seen them for sale, and given the recent incidents with crackheads looting me, had no interest in trying some amateur chemist's attempt to create grey market crank.. But that's what the officer said, apparently. The story changed while I was at the hospital, 3 bottles of bath salts, became one bottle, became "he thought you were on bath salts" - I'm guessing he had gotten some scary news about this stuff shortly before meeting me.
Doc is a star pupil and instead of treating me for electrical trauma, treats me for an overdose of heroin (no effect, obviously) and keeps me there over a week, most of it shackled to an ICU bed, as I find out whether I will live or die (liver and kidney failure, severe rhabdomyolysis) writing "the officer found three bottles of bath salts" on EACH page of the record. She does not note my Tourette Syndrome though she does pick and choose from several false positives from previous medical records in her own. Pretty quick thinking, that "let's skip the scientific part of this and go with heresay".
Of course, no bath salts are noted on the police report, nor any attempt made to test for them (luckily, the tests had not been fully developed yet, I understand they are available now though, I doubt they preserved my blood as I asked them to, after all I'm a criminal junky, and the ten PAIRS of taser wounds are incidental). The police leave before I get out of the ICU, I guess they figured me for dead anyway? I don't know.
I did recover mostly, am still rather gimpy and cannot stand or walk for long periods (I loved to hike and still do but it is difficult and fatiguing) and I was terrified to go out into the outside world, which was okay, as I was drawing unemployment and have a sick fiancee (fibromyalgia, diagnosed after this incident) to care for.
I never heard from that particular sheriff dept. again. Until a few weeks ago, I was back at work, making good middle-class wages in IT, starting to see some progress in my life, and I am pulled over (was told that someone called but I don't know why - I had some brake issues but didn't do anything dangerous). Happens I do not have a valid license (crippled fiancee can't drive me to work every day, lawyer won't answer my calls, probation officer has no suggestions, courts don't seem to know how to attain temp driving privilege unless I have a lawyer) and Boom - out of the blue - I'm a fugitive from justice (it's true, the ambulance did take my near carcass from SC to NC that night, but when I walked out of the hospital with no citation and no police attention I assumed I was going to be okay) for assaulting an officer (I guess that's what happens when you don't die while being brutalized these days) and SC has an affidavit from someone who was not on scene that night swearing I did.
So I get to sit in jail for 2 weeks, losing my job of course, now I am violating probation and have to face that in NC while the felonious unconscious assault of officer charge rears its ugly head in about a month and a half (my birthday, yay).
So, um.. I a at a loss as to what to do, and noone seems to want to help me. I hope someone in here will have some info as I think I should have some rights still, right? I mean, it's not a crime to not die while being tortured electrically, right? :/
I become pretty close to autistic under stress at times, actually. Not typically, but while in shock type situations I seem to have the symptoms creep over me. Naturally, despite being a capable and experienced driver, I have become a magnet for police scrutiny and abuse. Every wise cop knows that a man who looks twitchy is a degenerate junky, or so I have come to understand through repeated mistreatments. Worse than that, I have been on and off of psychiatric and self-medication for much of my life (tourette syndrome + speed at age 8 or so will tend to do that to you. Pot is a gateway drug? pfft.).
I was institutionalized several times just prior to becoming a legal adult, for what I would typically describe as a protracted case of teenage angst, and I think the PTSD symptoms first started during that time (dreams of being locked in a school or prison by parents and teachers who, vindictively, then set fire to the building and I am apparently the person who must save everyone, nasty dreams of fighting and physics somehow holding me back as though I am in water while my attacker is in air, enduring these brutal attacks repeatedly, depression/dysfunction/quick strange reactions/paranoia/etc)..
Well I endured, developed some pretty intense situational awareness, worked various computer jobs fairly competently (had fatigue issues - hyperengaging and adrenaline down to stupor and seeming narcolepsy, is that a PTSD trait as well?) and managed to be an ethically sound human being.
Fast forward 15 years - I have a son who I rarely get to see and cannot talk to but have been court ordered into 20K/yr worth of payments on the principle that I make money so obviously I am 100% financially responsible. The boy's mother has her own issues, many dealing with addiction, and in my case, lying and thievery. She pretty much turned into a methhead when I was not around - things like pawning/selling important items (of mine), squatting at my foreclosed farm house and melting down the computer equipment my grandfather left me for scrap (not her, but the tweakers she apparently thought were okay to bring, uninvited, while I was working 600 miles away), etc.
I think she has cleaned up but can never trust her after watching her turn from a person into that. So the DSS sends me friendly citations of being in contempt of court if I lose a job (have lost a few - turns out personality disorders are not as marketable as trade skills), puts out a warrant for not paying a fee I indeed had paid (finally after dodging the sheriffs for a few months (poverty) I made it to court 100 miles from my home and they dropped the warrant) etc. It's okay. They don't care about me. I don't think they care about my boy, either. They care that the money keeps coming in and it doesn't matter why I don't have it (will have to fight that battle shortly).
In August of 2011, after receiving a seemingly endless barrage of threats from the same woman who bore me that most beautiful baby boy, and having lost my job just 2 weeks earlier, due to legal issues making me miss work, and having just been chased through Memphis by the Memphis Kings who apparently thought I was a member of a rival gang, I get to my old apartment in Raleigh (was working in Memphis - awesome FedEx job - painful to lose), rent a box truck to clear out my apt and move it to Memphis where I am told my skills and experience are highly valued and hard to come by. I stop in Monroe (fiancee's place, now my home), have a rough night, am kind of manic and impatient and decide to drive out to the farm and just grab anything else I could put in that truck that was worth salvaging. I never made it there.
Apparently, I took a wrong turn and ended up in South Carolina, had broken one of the windows in the truck, was singing, someone heard this and called the sheriff's office. (Hilarity Ensues?)
I was driving wearing only a pair of Vibram fivefingers (great hiking shoes, they help you strengthen your feet without leaving them totally vulnerable) and a pair of loose shorts as I've had IBS since 1998. Apparently, I had slipped out of or tripped out of said shorts while being pulled over. Bad move.
So I'm standing naked (aside from shoes) in front of a deputy who is clearly younger than me and seems rather nervous, and he asks me what happened to the window. I was honest, a fault of mine, apparently (I wasn't trying to vandalize the truck, I was paying for it - I just had a kind of adrenaline surge and a tic and I think was holding something pointy). He puts me in the back of his car, without telling me why I am being arrested. There were surely several answers to choose from.
In the cruiser, I am becoming painfully embarassed and aware of my nakedness (there is apparently a tendency in Tourette people sometimes to do this), and I knock on the window to get the officer's attention, to explain about the Tourette Syndrome, my recent history, that I was not just some loon high on goofballs, etc. The officers response is to throw the door open and point-blank shoot me in the gut with a taser (no warning, no saying "TASER!", etc.).
Now I am really in a pickle. He fired far too close and I ripped the zapping stinging barbs out of my abdomen. Now I am in Fight or Flight mode. The officer said I exclaimed "I'm gonna end you.", I think I would more likely use "I will end you", but that's a little thing, and he proceeds to tase me for an unknown amount of time. I couldn't really keep track of time while being tasered, but with the hyper adrenaline I managed to step into the front of his cruiser (trying to get away from the pain and fear that were being graciously given by a man who had no idea about who I am or what I might be like) and tried to shield myself from his attack with the only thing loose in the cabin - an AR-15.
I'm lucky I didn't get shot, I reckon - but he has been bearing down on that taser for a few minutes at this point and all I can let out are shrieks and probably jumbled curses. I did not aim it at him or attempt to fire it and I was too clumsy to operate the car with all that electricity searing my insides. After this, I just know he got me out, and apparently there were two more officers arriving who, naturally, proceeded to tase me as well (because if one non-lethal implement won't put a feral trauma sufferer down, surely two more will?) - I think the last one might have been on my chin as it was gored as though punctured, but it might have simply been burned).
All I remember of this is that there more more hands and a bit more pain. Apparently upon watching me have seizures while lying on the road unconscious, they decide it's a good idea to call EMS. They arrive, presumably pull other barbs out, check my wounds, etc. and take me to the hospital. I remember coming to in the ambulance, still feeling like I was being shocked though I was not, screaming for the officer to stop tasing me (he was clearly scared at this point), more obscenities, etc. I could not breathe, the EMT loosened up the straps after a minute of me begging and the officer saying I wouldn't get them loosened), eventually the one restricting my neck or chest came loose allowing me to breathe properly, and I think I calmed down a bit, though still in feral rage and pain.
I arrived at the hospital, semiconscious. I am catheterized by a doctor who treats me like I had just stole the lord's supper. I find out that the official story is that the officer found "bath salts" in my truck. Now I have never seen bath salts outside of the internet, never seen them for sale, and given the recent incidents with crackheads looting me, had no interest in trying some amateur chemist's attempt to create grey market crank.. But that's what the officer said, apparently. The story changed while I was at the hospital, 3 bottles of bath salts, became one bottle, became "he thought you were on bath salts" - I'm guessing he had gotten some scary news about this stuff shortly before meeting me.
Doc is a star pupil and instead of treating me for electrical trauma, treats me for an overdose of heroin (no effect, obviously) and keeps me there over a week, most of it shackled to an ICU bed, as I find out whether I will live or die (liver and kidney failure, severe rhabdomyolysis) writing "the officer found three bottles of bath salts" on EACH page of the record. She does not note my Tourette Syndrome though she does pick and choose from several false positives from previous medical records in her own. Pretty quick thinking, that "let's skip the scientific part of this and go with heresay".
Of course, no bath salts are noted on the police report, nor any attempt made to test for them (luckily, the tests had not been fully developed yet, I understand they are available now though, I doubt they preserved my blood as I asked them to, after all I'm a criminal junky, and the ten PAIRS of taser wounds are incidental). The police leave before I get out of the ICU, I guess they figured me for dead anyway? I don't know.
I did recover mostly, am still rather gimpy and cannot stand or walk for long periods (I loved to hike and still do but it is difficult and fatiguing) and I was terrified to go out into the outside world, which was okay, as I was drawing unemployment and have a sick fiancee (fibromyalgia, diagnosed after this incident) to care for.
I never heard from that particular sheriff dept. again. Until a few weeks ago, I was back at work, making good middle-class wages in IT, starting to see some progress in my life, and I am pulled over (was told that someone called but I don't know why - I had some brake issues but didn't do anything dangerous). Happens I do not have a valid license (crippled fiancee can't drive me to work every day, lawyer won't answer my calls, probation officer has no suggestions, courts don't seem to know how to attain temp driving privilege unless I have a lawyer) and Boom - out of the blue - I'm a fugitive from justice (it's true, the ambulance did take my near carcass from SC to NC that night, but when I walked out of the hospital with no citation and no police attention I assumed I was going to be okay) for assaulting an officer (I guess that's what happens when you don't die while being brutalized these days) and SC has an affidavit from someone who was not on scene that night swearing I did.
So I get to sit in jail for 2 weeks, losing my job of course, now I am violating probation and have to face that in NC while the felonious unconscious assault of officer charge rears its ugly head in about a month and a half (my birthday, yay).
So, um.. I a at a loss as to what to do, and noone seems to want to help me. I hope someone in here will have some info as I think I should have some rights still, right? I mean, it's not a crime to not die while being tortured electrically, right? :/
