Dear Ann (Part Eight)

Dear Ann, Part Eight :

I woke up in the empty apartment feeling groggy and disoriented. It was now the morning of September 2nd, 1989, a Saturday. I'm not sure what time it was, but I'd guess it was later in the morning, maybe 10am. Sunlight streaked through the plastic window slats. In hindsight I think this provided me with a sense of reassurance, though I wouldn't have been actively aware of that feeling. It would have been peripheral, just a general sense that it was a new day and I'd made it through the horror of the previous night, though at the moment I awoke I don't believe I was fully aware of all that had happened.

I remember a knock on the door, and then it opened. It was the apartment manager, and in fact it may have been her knocking that woke me. She walked in, all bright and cheery but cautious.

"Are you awake"?, she asked. As I stated, I was either just then waking or had done so no more than five minutes previous. I think she asked how I was doing, but what I specifically remember is that she asked me if I wanted anything to eat or drink. I said yes, and she left the apartment and returned with a small carton of orange juice and a snack sized package of cookies or muffins. I also remember that she wanted me to get up, and after I finished eating she helped me put on my socks and shoes, as I was still moving in slow motion.

It was beginning to dawn on me what I'd been through the night before, and while I was still intimidated, I was resentful enough to develop an attitude, though it was meek compared to what I'd have displayed had I been feeling like the "real me".

Once I finished eating my snacks, all I remember is wanting to go home. I know I said this to the apartment manager as emphatically as I could. I had my shoes on now, and I was ready to leave, to walk home if necessary. Had I been my normal self, I'd have simply walked out of the unit and out of the complex without even stating my intention. I'd certainly have felt no need to ask permission. With new energy inside me from the juice and cookies, I was pissed off, though I still did not have nearly enough strength to fully express it.

What I did was just to tell the young woman, flatly, that "I want to go home".

I have a specific, visceral memory of her reply, Ann. She told me, "you can't go home yet, because there are some people here who want to talk to you. You can't leave until they say so".

She didn't say anything about who they were. At that point I became pretty sullen. I may have asked "why"? or "who are they"?, but if I did I don't remember. What I do recall is being directed by this young woman, the manager, to come outside, to leave the unit and sit by the pool to wait for the "people" who wanted to talk to me. "They are in the office", she told me, meaning the business office of the apartment complex. She said they would be with me in a few minutes.

I remember it being longer than that : thirty to forty five minutes or more, and I remember growing impatient and more resentful as the minutes passed. The terrible night was over; I had survived it. I was an adult, 29 years old, and who the hell were these "people" - whoever they were - to tell me I couldn't leave the premises and go home?

Finally, they were going to come out of the business office and talk to me. I remember the manager telling me to go sit at a nearby table that had a metal umbrella awning. This was right next to the pool which was centrally located in the courtyard. I sat down, and a few moments later two men came out of the office and walked around the pool to join me. They sat down at the table, and it was clear that they were with a government agency.

My guess is that they were FBI, but I don't know for certain. I have no visual memory of how they looked or what they wore, though I am certain they were casually dressed rather than in suits, and may have even worn the kind of nylon jackets associated with FBI agents engaged in a field action. This is how I picture them now, rather than as black suited Washington DC types. They looked like "dudes", but "Official Dudes", and they had the immediate Command Presence of high level authority that I would come to recognize in other officials as the days passed, though in their meeting with me they approached me at first with restraint.

I don't recall them ever identifying themselves to me, and though they might have, in hindsight - because no other authority figures ever identified themselves to me throughout the course of the twelve day event - I would wager that my memory is correct and that these two casually dressed men did not identify themselves either.

One man spoke, his demeanor was low key but very serious. I remember him asking me : "Do you remember what you saw last night"? That quote is close to verbatim. I don't recall what my answer was because my attitude was gaining strength. The man continued to question me about my memory of the preceding night, but I don't remember his other questions or my responses. I was only focused on wanting to leave and though I was not anti-authority, nor have I ever been someone who walks around with a bad attitude, I certainly did not appreciate these guys being so cryptic with me, instead of coming right out and saying what it was they wanted. This feeling was made exponential by all that I'd suffered already. 

I thought to myself :"Who are these men and why won't they let me leave"?! I probably restated my desire to go home.

I remember leaning over the metal table with my head down, to show my frustration. The morning was hot and the temperature would soon be rising to a sweltering day. These guys in the nylon jackets now pushed a form in front of me.

Ann, please pay special attention here. I ask this favor of you because it took me twenty six years to remember this fact : The spokesman of the duo gave me this form that he wanted me to sign.

I will never forget his words, and this is verbatim : "We can't protect you unless you do". 

Under ordinary circumstances, I've have asked him what he meant. "Protect me from whom"? 

But I didn't ask, at least not that I can remember. Instead, I may have asked "if I sign it can I go home"?, but what I remember for certain is that he said, verbatim, "I strongly urge you to sign it". He then added that I should take my time, "and make sure to read every line very carefully before you sign your name".

It was a government form, with a form number printed in an upper corner and line items that were also numbered (1, 2, 3.....9,10, 11, etc.) I am certain the form was either double sided or consisted of two pages. There were at least 15-20 line items in total.

Each numbered item contained a statement of oath, such as "I will not disclose to any person (what I have witnessed, etc)" and a concluding paragraph stated that there would be a penalty for violations of such an infraction. There may have been a line item that listed a prison sentence as a possible consequence. The legal wording would have been something along the lines of "punishable by", as in "punishable by up to twenty years in Federal prison" if I violated the terms of the line items on this form, which was a non-disclosure agreement. "Punishable by" - as if I hadn't been punished enough already.

I did read over each numbered line item in the form, just as the government agent requested. I knew it was a serious agreement, but I was very angry at that point, feeling like I'd been forced into singing. I hadn't been, but the feeling of "sign or else" was nevertheless hanging in the air. I told the man I didn't feel comfortable singing the form, but both agents quietly intimidated me further, and as defeated as I'd already become in the previous 16 hours, I ended up signing their form without giving it further thought.

They had told me they needed me to sign, so that they could "protect me". The spokesman urged me to sign, and gave me a look like I'd better do so. So I did, I signed the form, because I just wanted to go home. It was now at least Noon. I wanted to be done with these men from the government, who I don't believe identified themselves to me, and who wouldn't allow me to leave the premises of the apartment complex, even though I'd done nothing wrong.

Indeed; I'd been the victim the previous night, and here were these men, treating me as if I were a citizen in some foreign dictatorship. To be fair, they did not put overt pressure on me, did not raise their voices, made no threats and may have discussed more of the situation with me than I can remember. However, it is certain that they were cryptic, and because of that, they were less than helpful to me. They gave me no specific information on what I'd been through, or why it had happened, and they didn't identify themselves so far as I can remember. All they did was to push me into signing their form.

And I did sign it, though I wouldn't remember doing so until 2015.

(to be continued tomorrow)