Linda Treiber

Linda Treiber
April 04
a.k.a. Linnnn
You are cordially invited to close your eyes and throw a dart at any one of the titles listed in "My Links" below. Those stories are all bits and pieces of me. Let me know what you think...


Linda Treiber's Links

1 Act Play - 4 Generations of Women
The Beach Divas
Random, Because I Can
I Fought the Law and...
Ghosties and Paranormal Musings
Kids, Dogs, Cats, Family and Such
My Links
The Baby Tree. A ghostly 1 act play
My Blog Bog Elsewhere
Soccer Moms Are Fabulous
It WAS a Tumor! Tale of the Tumor
Serial Killers, Catholics, 9/11 Etc.
The Adventures of Dr. Dad
Plays Made Entirely by Emails
APRIL 12, 2010 9:47AM

Monster Among

Rate: 9 Flag

 *Inspired to post now by unbreakable's deeply nightmarish account, Pedophiles Are Forever. Written a while ago in an effort to just simmer down about it. But now, it's timely in view of the news from Cali about a decades-long abduction case where a predator roamed free for a lifetime because no one dared violate his "rights."

Nightly, when they were toddlers, I sprayed air freshener disguised as "Heavy Duty, No Fail Monster Extinguisher" in closets and under the bed to terminate those dreaded multi-fanged scuttling creatures of my children’s dreams. I placed small piles of salt in the corners of their bedroom upon the advice of a Filipino friend. The salt, she said,  is house pixie kryptonite so they wouldn't ooze from air conditioner vents to pinch my sleeping children and make their beds jump and vibrate until they came frightened and wide-eyed to my room. I carefully turned their pillow case openings away from the windows so the dark fairies couldn’t crawl in under their ears and imbed wicked stories into their dreamtime.

All this to soothe my children. Monsters are imaginary after all. If they were ever real, Mom would put herself squarely between the fangs of a marauding beast before allowing a monster even near them…I'd give my life for them.

A documented sexual predator with a taste for children resides five doors down on our dead-end street.

Mentally impaired and spawned from Washington State, he lurched to the furthest point on the continent away from the place of his atrocious crime. He peeks out from beneath the thin supervision of a deluded, yet I suspect calculating, couple who have informally “adopted” him. Their story:  They met him at a flea market, heard his sanitized "poor me" version of his crime, and consider him innocent. Their compassionate mission:  They make sure he is receiving his government checks and managing his living expenses properly.

Yes. Ding!  That's correct!  He receives government checks. According to his "caretakers," this is because he cannot make decisions for himself and has the I.Q. of a 10 year old. It’s not rocket science, then, to deduce that he cannot discern right from wrong. He has no filters. In fact, he was adjudicated unfit to stand trial for his offense in Washington due to his so-called impairment.  So we have a man-child sexual predator who doesn't know right from wrong living among us with no boundaries.

And the little girl he physically overcame, stripped and molested in front of her brother in Washington knows that the monster haunting her dreams is real, and somewhere, and free.

The neighborhood knows he is here. I found out when a television crew came to my door in the dark of night, shoved a camera and a flyer with his smiling stoner face at me, and asked how I felt to have a child molester living so near my children. Here was the same smiling stoner face that had been to my door to "get acquainted," to discuss his Jesus-led redemption from drugs and alcohol, to ask to fish from our dock, ask for a glass of water, and I can only assume, to study the potential in my kids.

He spent three months among us without registering with the state Sexual Offender database. They say he tried. That the paperwork was lost. His birth certificate was late. Not his fault. He is not responsible. For this omission, he was finally arrested publicly.  Had I not been accosted by TV reporters hot on a sweeps ratings bonanza,  I would not have known. Unless I had stumbled across his record on the FDLE website I would not have known. A free-range predator would’ve continued his long slow neighborhood stalk of kids within arm’s reach. My kids.

I had a "meeting" with his people. I did not serve tea and cookies. The topic was mine to drive since I called the meeting. I outlined clearly the kinds of things of which a mother is capable should she be provoked sufficiently to defend  her children from harm.  I defined the unpredictable instincts that come into play when, even in the natural world, offspring is threatened by an enemy.  Just wanted to know if they had watched Wild Kingdom lately and had observed the brutal ferocity and lack of remorse a female can bring forth in an adrenalin-fueled blind rage when her young is threatened.  Just askin'...

Now he sits, an obese shirtless trap-door spider at a tumble-down picnic table in his carport day and night smoking. Watching. Watching children going to and fro from four public schools, day care centers, convenience stores, a foster home chock full of tots and public parks that ring his residence like some radiant smorgasbord of opportunities. 

Driving in late at night, my headlights sometimes pick up movement in the lane and I realize it is him dressed in dark clothes, barefoot, walking somewhere, cutting though back yards taking shortcuts to his destination. Sometimes he waves.

The property on which he squats is shielded from prying eyes by a preponderance of haphazard shacks and derelict box trailers in varying states of disrepair.  Shiny new padlocks dangle from the doors on each of them.

There was a public meeting once. Halleluiah, a remedy, someone cares, an official help. Instead, we were told that there are 3500 like the monster living, watching and not capable of reforming in any way, in our greater community. And it is their right to do so.

The remedy: We were given tips to train our children on how to recognize and flee inappropriate advances from an adult.

My children activate the house alarm day and night. They know where the baseball bat is located. They take the dog on bike rides for protection. They joke about “Chester” but look over their shoulders every waking hour for the monster among us.

This is no benign Boo Radley leaving gifts in the hole in the oak tree. 

There will be no trick or treaters on our street under a festive fall moon.

The monster is real.



photos from Google images

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I'm not usually at a lose for words, but, as a mother, I'm filled with terror for you and your children. I know you are ever vigilant and that you have prepared and practiced with your children for their safety. There are suggestions I could offer but, if you took them, you would be residing in a different prison than you are living in right now.
Linn. Damn.

I know exactly what you're talking about and exactly how you feel. There's a moment when I *want* to feel humanity for such a person, but it dissolves more quickly than the notion arose as my own children come to mind. I feel for your situation and applaud your diligence and straightforward approach in dealing with the situation you and your babies are in. The responsibility of it all is overwhelming and I appreciate your ability to put it all into words other than, "if that fucker comes near one of my babies, I'll blow his damn head off." That's where I typically reside in such circumstances. Knowledge is protection and it seems you've done a good job of that. Such is the way of the soccer mom!

Now - off to find Unbreakable
Donna - None of the houses on our street are selling or even getting inquiries - and it is not so much because of the economy. Checking the FDLE Sexual Offenders database is now de rigueur for buyers. So it is not just a social problem, it is economic as well. And, yes, doing something overt outside of the law is always an option, but I would rather raise my kids hands-on than from behind bars. So I stand my ground.
1IM- Yes, sistah, we Soccer Moms are cut from a tough swatch of cloth. We take care of what we can control, and walk the walls on watch ever vigilant for the unexpected. Mother lions...
Lord, how do you have any hair left?? I nearly pulled all of mine out just reading this! Never mind having to live it. It's funny, but generally I consider myself a liberal, openminded kind of guy, who prefers counseling and rehabilitation over incarceration, but, in cases like this, I gotta say, this guy (and the other like him in the surrounding area) sound like candidates for a lobotomy and an Indian Chief best friend (reference to One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest)

~BIG HUGS to you and the kids~
Linnnn- what a living nightmare. But in some ways, the monsters who live among us that we don't know about are more frightening than the ones we do. In weighing the options of raising my children to be fearful of strangers vs naively open to them, I am afraid I'll have to choose the first. Living in a big city makes it almost easier-- we expect that there is danger, whereas in a nice suburb-- it's still there, just unsuspected. Best wishes to you and your family.
Linda Shuie makes a good post. There might be someone in the neighborhood just as bad, he just hasn't been caught yet. Vigilance should be the watchword even if your check of the database comes up clean.
Powerfully written, & I especially like the fairy tale quality of the first paragraph. Except then we realize the monster is not simply a character in a fairy tale.

I don't know what the solution is here. The guy has an incurable disease, he's a living disaster, I can't imagine anyone wanting to BE that guy. It's too bad we don't have an extra small continent lying around where we could send pedophiles (the way they used to send criminals to Australia) where they could smoke on the steps & wander the streets, but there would be no children, no potential victims anywhere.

And kids -- my grandkids, for instance -- could play in the streets & freely explore & wander & not have to be supervised in their own yard & not have to be afraid of every stranger who approaches the gate.
Terrifying, absolutely terrifying. I'm horrified just reading about this - can't imagine living with this knowledge .
what i applaud about you and this post is despite the fact that so much is under the umbrella of their 'rights' you lack the helplessness that normally is natural. instead you took the proactive route and did the best that's within your power.

fierce lioness you are!

roar on!
"A documented sexual predator with a taste for children resides five doors down on our dead-end street." This line chills me because I know the watch is absolute on your end. Rated.
PSM: I should be able to cite the studies, but I understand in general that there is no rehabilitation for a pedophile sexual offender. So we must remove them from society, not just set them free into it. hugs received and appreciated!
Linda: Yep, the pastoral atmosphere in the 'burbs sure gets screwed up when there's a deviant element out and about.
Cranky: SO many of these offenders are brilliant at covering their tracks and have not been caught, so yes, vigilance in general is very important.
suzie: Yes! The Botany Bay scheme would sure remove them from long as it's not "3 hots and a cot" and they worked to defray the cost of maintaining their place of incarceration. Arizona Sheriff Joe Arpaio is a great example of someone who could run the place perfectly, imho.
Unbreakable: Living with it is like living with a constant low humming noise that never lets up.
Renatta: I so flattered by your words! Self-reliance within the boundary of the law is the best approach, I think. ROAR!!!
scupper: Yes, we are where the street comes to an end and as recently as last month, he talked his way onto my property "to go fishing" with someone who HAS permission to visit but who had no idea of his status. Impaired? not. Manipulative? absolutely.