One program keeps spontaneously launching itself on my computer (wanting to change system settings), I’ve been logged out of my Kobo publishing account on it and my password no longer works – this stuff happens all the time; the hacker likes changing my password, contact details etc – and I am not receiving the reset link in my email. I have contacted Kobo. Maybe they got hacked or whatever. Who knows.
(There are also still about ten emails that I have not gotten a response to on that same address. That doesn’t necessarily mean much. My present housing association has previously claimed that they weren’t receiving my emails then I started emailing them, and now also the bailiff, from a different address, but they still don’t seem to be getting any of my emails, along with several other people.)
At another email address, I have been receiving a lot of the hacker’s usual kind of nonsense in the past ten days or so. Suddenly lots of emails from Brian Tracy and a Claire Zammitt, PhD, about female power. (The latter began after I wrote that I had asked Suzanne Hulscher for help.) (Many years ago, I was subscribed to Brian Tracy’s newsletter.) In 2010, he bombarded me with emails about bags and pens. Took me years to figure out what that was about. He’s obsessed with genitals and sex.
Not much else.
Am currently also getting bogus emails from Amazon KDP, with instant responses. Haha. As if.
And he’s stopping me from updating various things. And currently messing with this tablet again. Or this website.
This hacker crrrrraves attention. 👶🍼
A few minutesss laturrrr: he’s messing with another account too… He’s punishing me again for letting people know what he does, I’m sure. He’s always punished me when I didn’t keep quiet. He sometimes refers to that as an “oil spill”.
Dude, acceptance from others starts with you fully accepting and acknowledging who and what you are. Stop your Jekyll and Hyde games.
In Hatesville, I had to be afraid of you but I am no longer in Hatesville and I have literally nothing else left to lose. You’ve destroyed it all.
It’s a damn good thing that the Netherlands’ national science foundation and I didn’t click. (I showed up at the interview utterly gutted and defeated anyway. Btw, it’s been the only job application I’ve been allowed to submit without hacker interference after I left Hatesville.)
Because working for them would have required me to work from home. I’d checked in advance; their in-house IT security is likely up to par now. (Ransomware shut them down a few years ago and they learned from that. I talked with one of their IT guys.) But there’s no way that they could have shielded me from this interference here at my place. No way. And that’s not their fault.
(Of the last grant proposal I was asked to work on, by Suzanne Hulscher, in 2020, the hacker deleted the amended proposal and its backup. I had checked that the backup was on the stick before I shut down the computer, but my hacker’s forte is hardware hacking. It was my birthday. This was my hacker’s birthday present for me. Removing the files. 🤬 Worried that he might do a lot more to the file and screw up the grant application, I contacted Suzanne and let her know that I could not do any work on the proposal after all. Poor, undoubtedly somewhat frustrated Suzanne kindly left me a Skype voicemail; she thought that I was worried that the email with the proposal wasn’t really from her. No, Suzanne, my situation was far crazier than that, with a far more vicious and cunning character at work and lots of lock-picking going on and a lot more really vile stuff. I was later pleased to see that you guys got the grant anyway.)
(25 January 2024: Oh! That was another stupid word game. I turned 60. So no more proposals for me. Yes, the guy is a lunatic.)
You know what my tormentor wanted, Suzanne? That I let you pay for that flight which you did and which I got onto with only hand luggage and that I then not head to the meetings but disappear, leaving you stranded. Disappear, however, that would have been homelessness without access to any income. I had no money. I fell ill shortly after, btw, otherwise I would have used your project payment to disappear and build a new life, but I often wasn’t strong enough to even lift a suitcase.
This was the big problem for me in Hatesville. I could really only do manual work and stuff of which it didn’t matter too much whether the hacker messed with it. I left CVs in many small supermarkets and elsewhere, but usually I also had to tell them that they couldn’t text, call or email me. 🤢🤮 After all, he even messed with my Freecycle interactions all the time. I walked to an equestrian centre and left my details there. I even asked – in this case “begged” would be the appropriate word – a certain solicitor in Southsea for work, thinking that my tormentor would never expect that and she too would have had reason to keep such a cooperation quiet, both of us benefiting tremendously. I combined my walk over to her office with something else so that it would go unnoticed. My legal skills far outranked hers, as she’s well aware. I could have worked at the back of her office on weekends, out of sight, not even my vile sadistic stalker(s) knowing about it.
(I had earlier gotten a few shifts at a takeaway. It enabled me to buy food. I also had been to Hale Court, spoke with management and did what they told me to do but all that resulted in was one somewhat strange call.)
Anything that I did within view of my hacker almost always got turned into an opportunity to sabotage me or to ridicule me.
When people at a job interview for a project, without obvious cause, think that you don’t know how to tell time on a clock, watch or phone and don’t know what a calendar is, you know that someone has been feeding them bullshit about you. If half the town of Hatesville subsequently starts singing “got nothing in the brain, that’s what people say-ay-ay” when you walk past people in Hatesville…
In 2016, Suzanne, over drinks, you asked me about this project. Remember? And I also told you that I was being pursued by some psycho hacker(s). That conference wasn’t a good occasion to go into details about the bizarre shit in my life.
I was gutted when the abuse really geared up again in June after I had left Hatesville. So gutted that I felt like killing myself. I won’t give him the satisfaction, though. That stupid extremely shallow sadist. (I know he can’t help it, but…)
My sacrifice was for nothing. Now I’ll have to make it count.
Oh, and screw you, Robert Gerald Van Cortlandt Vernon-Jackson and your horrible bigotry. (Sorry, folks but that needed to be said. Long overdue.) (Hacker interfered again when I was typing this. Has been interfering with something else too; I just contacted the company in question and told them that they are much too easy to hack into. I’d gotten tired of that, so I decided to shut down my activities there, but the hacker interfered.)
I didn’t need your goddamn housing benefits for you to cancel again any time you felt like it, Mr Robert Gerald Van Cortlandt Vernon-Jackson, such as at the start of the first COVID lockdown when all the offices were closed and I couldn’t even stop by to enquire. “Circumstances have changed, benefits suspended.” Fuck you. That’s just plain nasty anyway.
Your misogyny and xenophobia completely blinded you.
What I needed was to be allowed to live my life like I had been ANYWHERE ELSE but Portsmouth. What I needed was for the goddamn lock-picking and vandalism and animal cruelty and all the other nasty bullshit to stop. What I also needed was to be allowed to communicate with other people, like normally.
I didn’t need your lesson in cruelty and bigotry. Or maybe I did. Maybe everyone in England is rotten to the core, with not a shred of decency left.
For people who don’t know that: these housing benefits went straight into the pockets of his pal. They weren’t benefiting me. I wasn’t asking for stupid housing benefits. I was asking for help with my bizarre situation. I wanted my life back.
You were living your life in freedom. But I was supposed to continue to watch YouTube videos, read library books and sleep a lot to fill my days. Fuck you.
So now that I am out of Hatesville, I can no longer read library books but little else has changed in terms of what I can do. Just like in Hatesville aka Portsmouth, I often walk back and forth in my flat to have something to do.
Because that goddamn hacking nightmare followed me. Because he followed me a few times. He was in the Netherlands on 16 May (Osdorpplein area), June (Amstelveen area), possibly July (but the interference with that piece of postal mail could have been done fully remotely) and then again on 25 September as well as a few weeks ago.
He tried to get me under his financial coercive control again, too. I refused. I’ve been doing what I can to get that vicious monster off my back. I want my life back!
Fuck you.
For obvious reasons, I stay away from the people around me here so that they won’t get affected by the nasty sadistic bullshit in my life that began on 9 June 2008, goddammit.
Did you know that he has a tendency to try to hack into everyone I interact with? Preferably people who don’t have a lot of IT knowledge so that he can really mess with them, preferably in a way that I recognize (to make me feel powerless).
Ik kan dit niet alleen oplossen maar de bakker op de hoek kan me hier niet bij helpen. In het verleden heb ik wel eens geprobeerd Roel Verseveldt te bereiken, vanaf een naar de kloten gehackte mobiel. (We’ve met so I had his contact details.) Heeft een personal security achtergrond (zangers als Stevie Wonder, denk ik, in view of who his wife is) en zat daarvoor bij de Nederlandse politie (of recherche). Misschien weet hij hoe je zoiets aanpakt.
Ik wil van deze halvegare gestoorde sadistische eikel(s) af en dat gaat met met de help van de bakker of groenteman echt NIET lukken.
De jongere dochters van melkboer Souren, ach, die willen nog steeds alleen maar weten hoe rijk mijn echtgenoot is, groot zijn jacht is en wanneer ik hen daarop uitnodig (en anders of ik nog steeds hun bedden wil opmaken). (Zodra bij pa het geld op was en hij niet meer op etentjes trakteerde, taaiden ze af, voor zover ik heb begrepen.)
Ik word al jaren volkomen naar de sloten gesaboteerd en geterroriseerd en de Engelse standaardrespons van de Lib Dems en entourage in Hatesville (die neerkwam op “bek houden, jij lelijke domme oude koe, anders pakken we je”) kwam me vierkant mijn strot uit. 🤮 Die pik ik in Nederland echt niet. In Hatesville moest ik wel.
Who did I ask for help in Hatesville?
The police, for starters. A million times. That only made things worse. It led to retaliation (except the first time I filed a report about this bullshit when I hadn’t moved to Hatesville yet but was still in Southampton). I completed an S-DASH risk analysis and gave that to the police too; my risk was high but the police ignored it. The Lib Dems (because I voted for them and had been interacting with the low level ones in various environments), Age UK, MP Stephen Morgan who emailed me a lot but never offered any concrete help, the local labour councillor who I had been referred to but who completely ignored me, the Red Cross, a women’s housing association, my landlord, neighbors who turned out to be extremely nasty themselves, Advice Portsmouth (YOU trust), Green Party members, random local people in shops etc who I asked whether they knew someone who was very good with Linux, and so on and so forth. Many newspapers. Medical professionals and the vulnerable adults department at the city council because they might be able to help identify who was so obsessed with me and what was ailing him and get the poor sod the support he needed.
My embassy (not from my home or from the library of course) and my consulate. (All they can do is possibly visit you in prison if you end up in prison; they don’t offer much support to residents. It’s different if you are a tourist.) I even contacted the United Nations and other organizations to see if I could get refugee status.
The only ones who I didn’t ask for help were the Conservatives but I did write to Dominic Cummings when he was looking for staff because I had been climbing the walls with boredom for so so long and was desperate for something to do.
There were many days on which I just slept a lot because I had nothing to do and if I fell asleep, that was less frustrating.
For about fifteen years, I was trapped in a horrible coercive control prison – I called it sadistic slavery – and all the locals did was mock me and abuse me and spread very nasty lies about me.
One of the things that recently happened was that I had said that I would make a certain payment on the 1st, scheduled it for the 29th, then one day logged into my bank and noticed that it had been moved a few days into the future. (Scared the shit out of me.)
That’s how people start perceiving you as unreliable. When you say that you will do things and then don’t.
My 4 November eye exam results took nearly two months because the internal automated forwarding process had failed.
My computer had an update that kicked one of my two screens into super magnification, in between. On 19 December. (I undid the update.)
(One of my eyes may need further examination, I was told later, but without any numbers.)
Funny? No. VILE SABOTAGE OF MY LIFE.
There’s been other shit, too.
Since I started posting this, my computer’s HDD has been making a heck of a lot of noise so maybe they really are getting out of my equipment but I have thought so a million times before when I was still based in Hatesville.
Also, although I would love to have the support from really smart people like HvP (RIP) and KS, I’m far from stupid myself but I can’t do this on my own and the reason for that is purely financial. It means that I really need the practical input from others. Others need to start stepping up for me. Women. Smart, capable, resourceful women.
